Viktor Noali
Coo-Coo for Cocoa Puffs
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THE BASICS
+Full Name - Viktor Noali
+Gender - Male
+Species - Human
+Race - Lorrdian
+Age - 25
+Homeworld - Lorrd
+Faction - None
+Languages - Galactic Basic, Lorrdian Kinetic Communication
+Force Sensitivity - Yes
+Alignment - Chaotic neutral
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APPEARANCE
Eyes - BrownHair - Black
Skin - White
Height - 6'2
Weight -200 lbs
Build - Athletic
- Description -
Upon first inspection one could confidently assume that this taller then average human is that of a meticulous sort. Each strand of his jet black hair seems to have been individually groomed and placed, its symmetry almost eerie. Though he is clearly no longer a child, his age is hard to discern. His skin appears youthful and healthy though perhaps too pale, colored slightly blush occasionally by the blood that fills his veins. The only visible blemish upon initial inspection are dual horizontal scars, warn from time, around the sides of his neck. When it comes to clothing and other fineries, Viktor doesn't hesitate when it comes to spending. You will find him often in the finest of clothes, drinking the finest of spirits, and abusing the hardest of spices. Smoker - Yes
Drinker - Yes
Drug User - Yes
Addictions - Carsunum
Ailments - Mentally unstable
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BIOGRAPHY
Being Viktor has been complicated, to say the least. He is Lorrdian, being born into poverty on Lordd, though Lorrd has never really felt like home to him but more a fading memory. He was born to a father and a mother who he likes to think loved him at some point but of whom he only retains fading memories off and none of them particularly pleasant. Viktor’s father was a man of many vices, his particular favorite being gambling. His mother was no better. She had a preference for spice and alcohol, but her deadliest obsession was his father. He was a drug she could not kick.
Hunger is the earliest memory Viktor has. Many days and nights of Viktor’s youth were spent roaming the streets and back alleys in search of food. To say his parents neglected him would be a bit of an understatement. They would often disappear for nights at a time with no warning and leave him to fend for himself. When they were around they scarcely paid attention to him. Viktor likes to think that they weren’t all bad. In between his fathers spice and alcohol binges he can remember a man with dreams, a man who would speak with such passion about wanting a life of adventure. The sad reality was that he lived a life consumed by his drug and gambling addiction and nowhere was the only place he was going.
Viktor lived the life of a scavenger and a beggar child until he was about twelve. At this point his father had borrowed money and become heavily indebted to the wrong people. After a day spent on the streets Viktor returned home to a bloody scene. In front of him laying torn apart and scattered throughout his blood stained home were his parents. Before he had much time to react to anything he noticed standing at opposite sides of the room two blood covered trandoshans dawned in armor. Bounty hunters. Instead of being killed as he assumed he would be he was taken. A slave collar was placed around his neck and a new life of servitude began.
For the first year of captivity Viktor was isolated and locked in a four walled, polished durasteel room which he was not allowed to leave. They would slide him in food through a panel on the door. He had small toilet and sink in the corner of the room and a small military style cot he would sleep on. Once a week a trandoshan wielding a high powered water hose would come in and spray him down for nearly an hour. Viktor remembers nearly drowning a couple of times, beginning to fade into the blackness to awake coughing up water to the sounds of a laughing trandoshan. Every other night he would be visited by one of his captors and would be tossed about his cell, beaten bloody. He would lay there hugging the blood covered steel floor and cry, attempting to fall asleep to the sounds of other people screaming and of laughing trandoshans. Strangely enough the screams reassured him. They told him that he wasn’t alone in his torture. It didn’t take long for Viktor’s mind to break.
After the first few months of constant beatings Viktor started to hear a voice in his head. Laying there hugging his familiar spot on the floor after a night of beatings it started off speaking words of comfort. Viktor though it was pleasant to finally have somebody to talk to. Alone in his cell Viktor would often sit in font of one of the polished walls and converse with his reflection. He would carry out complete conversations with the voice in his head and when his captors would return to carry out their beatings Viktor would often be found standing in front of the door waiting for them. He never cried again.
About a year later when Viktor began to show signs of physically maturing the beatings stopped. For a month they left him alone in his cell to heal. Aside from the weekly hose shower and to bring him food he had no visitors. The first time they brought him out of his cell was the first time he had seen anyone other then his tormentors. After being led through the ‘cell-block’ he was being kept in he was ushered into a larger holding room with ten other children his age. Each child wore a restraining collar similar to his. He assumed these were the other screamers he had been hearing at night. This room was even quieter then his cell. Shortly after his arrival the other trandoshans in the room barked at their respective slaves and they were all led into an adjacent room. In the center of the room was a large painted red circle surrounded by over a dozen armored trandoshans. Viktor was tossed into the circle with the other ten children. A chill ran up his spine as the sound of steel hitting steel started to echo throughout the room. They had begun to toss several small make-shift blades into the circle. As the realization and terror of what was about to occur began to sink in Viktor began to hear that reassuring voice in his head again. To this day he cannot remember that fight. He only remembers being covered in blood, surrounded by ten corpses and listening to the sounds of excited trandoshan cheers.
What followed was several years of training and pit fighting under the watchful eye of his master, a trandoshan he knew as Tosshk. He had been fighting for Tosshk for about three years when he turned sixteen. At this point he had gained a certain amount of respect from his master after being such a successful fighter and adaptable student that Tosshk took a liking to him. Even though Viktor still wore a slave collar, a universal sign of servitude, Tosshk let him live more or less freely with him. Aside from being given his own sleeping quarters and a seat at his masters table Tosshk taught him to understand the trandoshan language of dosh and introduced Viktor to a Teräs Käsi master who called himself Wa’tu who would change his life forever. Though Viktor was shown a certain amount of kindness by Tosshk he never considered the man a friend nor did Tosshk consider Viktor anything more then property. Tosshk would often remind Viktor of this fact by infrequently testing him in combat and often leaving him near death.
When Viktor turned twenty he had garnished quite the house hold reputation in the underground pit fighting world for being one of the most exciting and vicious combatants actively fighting. For the past four years Tosshk had Viktor educated in many fascist of combat. He had been receiving training in the art of Teräs Käsi from a man named Wa’tu. Viktor wasn’t sure how much Tosshk had been paying him for his training but Wa’tu made it abundantly clear over the years that he didn’t train Viktor because he felt he was a worthy student. In fact Wa’tu’s lessons would’ve been considered lack luster. Luckily for Viktor he was a Lorrdian and his natural ability to read peoples subtle movements and body language allowed him to more-or-less teach himself by mimicking Wa’tu almost exactly. His lessons were taught almost entirely through one-on-one combat which often left Viktor bruised and bloodied.
Up to this point Viktor’s mind was consumed with his lust for freedom but the voice in his head bid him to take his time and be patient. He told him to learn, to study and to become strong. It would let him know when the time was right. So Viktor did just that. It was during one of his Teräs Käsi lessons when he was informed it was time. Aside from underestimating Viktor’s abilities Wa’tu had become lethargic in his training, having no real desire to pass on his more advanced lessons to a slave. It was during one of their sparring fights that Viktor got the upper hand on Wa’tu surprising him long enough to deliver a fist strong enough to the human’s throat to break his windpipe. When Tosshk came to collect Viktor from his lesson he found him covered in blood and the Teräs Käsi master ripped in pieces. He was surprised when instead of attacking his trandoshan master clapped and laughed. The voice then told him it was time. Without hesitation Viktor approached his master with bloodlust in his eyes. After a short altercation Viktor ended the life of his master and after eight years removed the slave collar from around his neck.
Viktor’s bloodlust was something that he could not remove however. Though he was no longer a slave having taken back his freedom his entire existence had become fueled by combat and he was addicted to that high. Without being able to fulfill his urges in the pit Viktor started to lose control and go out actively seeking confrontation for no other purpose to instigate violence. As a result Viktor turned to a spice called carsanum as a relief. Though highly addicting the effects were euphoric and had a calming effect on Viktor. Due to a lack of steady income Viktor was never really able to sustain his addiction and when he would start to through withdrawals from the drug he would become even more violent. It didn’t take long for Viktor to return to the pits.
((WIP))
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STRENGTHS
+Fearless - Fear means nothing to Viktor. If life has taught him anything, its that there is no place for fear. Fear is weakness. Fear gets you killed. Whether its due to that extensive trauma as a child, or the experiences that have led him to this point, fear does not exist within him.
+Close Quarters Combat Adept - As a slave who fought in underground life or death matches he was given extensive close quarters combat training. His training in the martial arts of Teräs Käsi has made him an exceptional hand to hand combatant. Aside from a variety of varying small blade skills, Viktor is also an exceptional sword fighter and duelist. He prefers to fight using a single blade using a mixture of sword and hand to hand techniques.
+Lorrdian Kinetic Communication - Through subtle movements and gestures he is able to communicate fluently with Lorrdians and others who use this technique. Learning this communications technique also increased Viktor's ability when it comes to reading other being body language in general. Subtle movements are easily discernible down to the subtlest of muscle twitches.
WEAKNESSES
-Bloodlust - Once a confrontation is started, it is hard to Viktor to stop. His blood-lust is less of a driving motivator and more of an uncontrollable trance. Often when fighting Viktor will lose himself in the barbarism completely.
-Reckless - His fearlessness comes with a price, and it is often a foolish ego. Little though is given before making certain decisions, especially those that pertain to combat and addiction.
-Mentaly Unstable - Viktor is insane and is manipulated by different voices in his head. As a child he was guided by only one, but as he has grown older the voices have become many. For the most part Viktor is in control and maintains such through self medication. It is on rare occasion things seem to spiral out of control.
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KNOWN FORCE ABILITIES
-Telekinesis- 'The ability to manipulate physical objects with the force.'
Particularly gifted, though chaotically unstable
Force Push - (skilled)
Force Pull - (skilled)
Force Lift - (skilled)
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Items: None
Ships: None
Kills: None
Bounties Collected: None
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THREADS [ARCHIVED]
[Public]
Personal Story - Lorrd. Just like I remember it.
[Private]
Pesonal Story - "Bright Jewel? Right..."
[Sith Assassins]
Skirmish - The Shadow of an Assassin (Sith Assassins vs Jedi Shadows)
[One Sith]
Dominion - A Watery Grave (OS Dominion of Glee Anselm)
Skirmish - Knives Out (OS vs GR Skirmish on Ruusan)
Training - This is my lightsaber. There are many like it but this one is mine.
[Development Threads]
Qixoni Crystals - Mudhole?! Slimy?! My home this is!...
