Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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HA’RANGIR’S CHOSEN
"Butcher’s Blade"


BACKGROUND
Name: Vrirrig Awaud
Alias(es): -
Class(es): Warrior
Birthplace: Yavin IV
Force Sensitive: No
Force Alignment: -

PHYSICAL PROFILE
Species: Taung
Age: Mid 20s
Gender: Male
Height: 7’4"
Weight: 393lbs
Eyes: Yellow
Hair: Jet Black
Skin: Pale Bronze

SOCIAL INFORMATION
Rank(s): Runi’kade
Allegiance(s): Iron Covenant
Language(s): Galactic Basic, Mando’a

PERSONALITY
Personality Traits: Brave, Diligent, Zealous
Education Traits: Tough Soldier
Lifestyle Traits: Venator
Character Alignment: Lawful Evil

HISTORY
They found him in the wet season. A patrol of Clan Awaud had gone out after a downed supply crate and come back instead with a squalling, sun-starved infant, wrapped in a strip of flight-suit lining and left beneath the roots of a massata tree. No mother. No marker. Just a child the color of old ash, small enough to fit in a single vambraced palm.

They named him Vrirrig, and Clan Awaud raised him as their own.

He grew up pale by Taung standards; the red long since bled thin out of his people's skin after generations under Yavin's canopy. It left him looking washed-out, half-finished, next to the old holos of his ancestors' homeworld. He did not mind. The jungle was the only home he knew, and he learned it the way other children learned language: barefoot, silent, counting the seconds between a predator's breath and its strike.

What caught him early was not the hunting itself, but the ritual around it. The clan elders spoke of Kad Ha'rangir in low voices around the fire-pits, and Vrirrig listened the way other foundlings listened to bedtime stories, except he never grew out of it. He was young when he first heard the tally kept in the old verses, the idea that every kill, every act of discipline in the field, was written down somewhere by a keeper who never slept and never forgot. It gave the Hunt a shape. A ledger. A god who was watching and counting.

When the branch of Clan Awaud folded into the Iron Covenant, Vrirrig went with them without hesitation. He found, among the Covenant's ranks, others who knelt to Kad Ha'rangir and who spoke the Scorekeeper's name with the same reverence he'd carried since childhood; men and women who understood that a kill wasn't just a kill, but an entry. A mark against the tally. He trained hard for the honor of adding to it.

He came up through small-unit doctrine. Sudden insertions, close kills, no witnesses. It suited him. He had learned to move through undergrowth before he'd learned to walk properly, and the discipline the Covenant demanded of its Special Forces was, to him, indistinguishable from prayer. Freshly blooded now, he wears the marks of a Hunt only just begun, and he means to fill the rest of the ledger himself, one tally at a time.

His beskar'gam carries the evidence of that devotion plainly. No clan flourish, no gaudy paint, just a working dark matte finish scored with small deliberate notches along the vambrace, one for each confirmed kill, and a scrap of yellowed bone lashed at the pauldron's edge, taken from his first true hunt and never removed since.

SKILLS, ABILITIES, STRENGTHS & WEAKNESSES
Abilities and Skills: Manhunt, Tracking, HVT Elimination, Close-Quarters Combat, Marksmanship
Strengths: Discipline under stress, Physically gifted, Survivor
Weaknesses: Rigid honor system, Single-mindedness, Zealotry

INVENTORY
TBA

RELATIONSHIPS
TBA

 

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