Vladimir van Lorsteyn
Biological
Age: 42
Sex: Male
Height: 1,9m / 6'3"
Weight: 101 kg / 223 lbs
Eyes: Brown, naturally. Nowadays reddish-orangeish-yellowish Dark Side Corrupted
Hair: Dark Brown
Skin: Tanned
Force Sensitive: Yes
Species: Epicanthix
Appearance:
Vladimir wears grey-white robes, pieces of armour on his arms, legs, and torso as well as an iron mask that hides his terribly disfigured face. Each piece of armour has ancient, mysterious patterns running all over them, creating wondrous geometrical shapes. The mask, however, remains almost surprisingly simple in design, composing of several metal plates worked together along with a few mechanisms for various features. To someone only taking a glancing look at the man, he would appear to be a droid, as none of his skin is visible, and even his eyes can seem to be less human and more machine or daemon, as they tend to have a reddish shine to them. He carries himself like a ruler, always upright and reserved, though he may seem like a slow and stiff figure, he is actually very agile and can be seen moving exceedingly quickly when the situation calls for it.
Social
Full Name: Vladimir van Lorsteyn
Faction: -̸̨͜ ̴̶̢̀͠.͞͝ ̴̛̀͠`̡̨͝ ̴̡͟´̸̧̨͜ ͢͟-̨̛̛͢ ̡̀͝,҉̶ ́|̷̢̨͝ ̛̀̀͢͜2̴̀ ҉̧͢͠#͢͡~̡̢ ͏͏§̸̡͡ ҉́͢^̧҉̸̡͜͡ ҉́͢ ̴̶̕ ͏̛̕.̶͘͢ ̛͢`̡̕͡͠ ̧̕͜͝͞´̨͏ ̡҉̴ ́̕#͜͝~̀͡͝ ͘͜͢§̢̛
Rank: +҉̸̷͡~̶̢́̕.͞,͏͘͠>̴͠|̢̨́-̕͟²̢̧̛͜ ̵̵̸̷>̕҉̕͠͝ | Sith Lord
Homeworld: ~̸̨̛~̷̛͜≮̵̨̕͝|̛́͡|͝#́̕͘#҉̷͢|̨̨́͡<҉́-̕͟͝-҉̶͞>̴́s̕͞|̴͝²̵̴̶̢̕ ͏̛̕´̨͏ ̡҉̴ ́̕#͜͝~҉̧͜͟#͏̷̴͝͝_̧̡͘.̡̡̀́͢
Alignment: Neutral Evil
Family:
Mother: .̷̛͞͝,͘͜͡q̢̡̨̨̕+̨̧͝~̸̨̛~̷̛͜≮̵̨̕͝|̛́͡|͝#́̕͘2̸̸͟͞͞³̶̡̛͠-̕͟͝-҉̶͞>̴́s̕͞|̴͝²̵̢͝~̸̨̛~̷̛͜≮̵̨̕͝|̛́͡|͝#́̕͘
Father: ²̷͜͝͏_̀͡҉~̵̨̨͘.͢͠,̸̴̀|̷͜͝͝´̛͟͞´͢ß͏̸́°̶̵͜´̕͢_͠~̶͢͡#҉̷͢|̨̨́͡<҉́-̕͟͝-҉̶͞>̴́s̕͞|̴͝²̵̴̶̢̕ ͏̛̕.̶͘͢ ̛͢`̡̕͡͠ ̧̕͜͝͞´̨͏ ̡҉̴ ́̕#͜͝~̀͡͝ ͘͜͢§̢̛
Siblings: #̵̴̢̕͘*̕͏̷̕~̷͏̶̢.̢̢̧͝҉,̷̶̧̡̨-̕͟͝-҉̶͞>̴́s̕͞|̴͝²̵̢_̨͝͞͏̕~҉̧͜͟#͏̷̴͝͝_̧̡͘.̡̡̀́͢´̵͘´̢͞͡
Strengths & Weaknesses:
+ Logical
+ Tech-Savant
+ Force Master
- Emotionally Distant
- Villain
- Disfigured
- Overconfidence
Biography:
"So, Mr. van Lorsteyn, may I call you that or do you prefer your full title?"
"That will suffice."
"Okay, let's begin then. There are many rumours about you, Mr. van Lorsteyn, some paint you as a benevolent ruler, others as a tyrannical murderer. We wanted to hear from you, which of these rumours would you say is more accurate?"
"Rumours are and will always be rumours, however, I would have to agree with both. Those who have lived under my rule and are compliant have some of the best hospitals, the most effective education, the most secure homes, and diverse culture at their disposal. They live in an almost utopian world that I have created for them. None hunger, none suffer disease, none live uneducated, none experience fear for their safety. I see to that personally. However, those who would work against my vision of a perfect future are threats and treated as such. I believe my past dealings with rebels and insurgents who have come from outside my lands have shown how I deal with those."
The reporter twitches slightly as the last words are spoken. "We certainly have. Very well, on to the next question. Not much is known about your past, would you be willing to tell us more about your earlier years, before becoming the esteemed ruler you are today?"
"I shouldn't, but I think a little bit wouldn't hurt. I grew up with my father and mother on Bastion, they were both high-ranking officials there. For many years we lived there happily, during our independent years, during Imperial Rule, then during independent years once more. However, life changed when new rulers came. First we had to flee due to those incompetent Mandalorians, later we were able to return, only to have to flee once more when new rulers came once more and let those vile beasts, The Vong as they are commonly known, loose on Bastion. It was a terrible time for me and my parents. We fled and sought refuge amongst the more civilised parts of the galaxy for good that time. During this tumultuous time, I never let my education get left behind, however. Changing locations so often caused me to not make many friends, so I had more time to study and be taught by my personal teacher, a good man he was. He's dead now, however, died during an accident when we were out exploring the wilds of some planet I don't remember anymore. I received these face injuries that day. It was a gruesome accident, luckily I lived where my tutor didn't. The rest of the days between then and now I've been spending consolidating power and expanding my education to the point where I am now. I think that is enough for now, however, wouldn't you agree?"
"Wow. I,- that is most interesting. Moving around that much must've been-"
"I don't think you understand. We are done here."
"But we've only asked 2-" A man holding a sceptre walks onto the scene, his face hidden beyond the frame. He hands it to the Darth, who extends a hand towards the camera. Choking sounds are heard, followed by a surprised cry of despair from the interviewer. The Darth's guards move towards the camera and the image cuts out suddenly.
