Post by Cain on Jul 30, 2011 16:25:44 GMT -5
Name: Lukas Caelum Makura
Species: Mitsukai/Human
Age: 65
Sex: Male
Height/Weight: 5'9" 175lbs
Appearance: Lukas appears smallish in stature (especially when his wings are hidden), and as a Mitsukai, incredibly young for a sixty-five year old. Lukas has dark gray hair, a color natural to Mitsukai, and he has his mother's icy blue eyes. Lukas' wings are almost black in color, having darkened from their original white over time.
Lukas usually wears a long black leather overcoat large enough to conceal his wings, along with fingerless gloves and boots. Lukas is armed with a katana which he wears on his back, and a lightsaber that he keeps in his overcoat's breast pocket, along with a pack of Corellian Bloodstripes. Cigarettes being one of Lukas' many vices.
Personality: Lukas is, in a word, an intellectual. He will often observe others, analyze them and think through each and every one of their actions, no matter how inane. This tendency also has lent itself to the habit of over thinking situations more often than not. This over analyzing of others causes Lukas to come off as some what out of touch, cold and social awkward as his interactions seemed contrived and forced rather than flowing naturally.
Lukas can't stand what he calls "inferiority" which is a category that can cover anything from a person's intelligence to their race or choice of friends. He is an extremely vain and pretentious individual, and nothing will get under his skin more than an insult to his pride or his intellect.
Character Rank: Overlord/Founder (Knights of Tishi)
Special Skills:
Highly skilled fencer and swordsmen
Chess
Advanced Healing (Species trait)
Lightsaber Forms:
Shii-Cho (Advanced)
Makashi (Advanced)
Physical Attributes
Strength: 40
Speed: 60
Intelligence: 90
Force Proficiency
Telekinesis: 55
Telepathy: 80
Body: 30
Sense: 45
Channel: 75
Alignment: -75
Bio:
The Fires of War (Age 0 - 5)
Born Lukas Caelum on Serroco to a dishonorably discharged Private in the Republic Army named Dashara Caelum, it is safe to say that Lukas' life got off to a rather inauspicious start. As a disgraced war veteran, Lukas' mother was more interested in Death Sticks then raising a son, and his father had left the picture long before he was born. Matters were only made worse by the ongoing war with the Mandalorians.
When Lukas was only two years old, the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders attacked the Republic forces over Serroco, using shockingly ruthless tactics that took the Republic by surprise. The Mandalorians rained nuclear fire down on Serroco, turning it's cities into little more than glass craters. Following the assault, the soldiers on the ground for both sides, as well as the small percentage of the population that survived were left to fend for themselves in a landscape choked barren by nuclear winter.
Over the next three years, Dashara did her best to look after her son, but her unfed addiction had rendered her weak and sickly. It could be said that five year old Lukas did as much to look after his mother as she did to look after him.
One particularly frigid night, Dashara and Lukas hunkered down in a dilapidated shack. The shelter provided little reprieve from the elements, as one side of the structure was almost entirely missing, but it was a roof over their heads nonetheless. However, Dashara and Lukas weren't the only ones wandering the post-apocalyptic hell scape that was the remains of Serroco. Something had been following them, hunting them for days now.
In the midst of the night, Lukas was awakened by a cold shiver. Their fire had gone out as they slept, but it was not this that had stirred the boy from his sleep. An intense sense of unease had washed over him, and suddenly he was almost paralyzed by fear. So overcome was Lukas, that it took him several minutes to even realize that his mother was not where she had been when he'd fallen asleep.
The hairs stood up on the back of Lukas' neck as he picked himself up, wrapping the rags he wore around himself as a strong gust of wind swept through the ruins of the shack. And then, there was a sound; a strange, sickening sound that Lukas could perceive over the skeletons of trees rattling against one another in the breeze.
For as long as Lukas could remember, he had the wings. Growing from either shoulder blade were fairly large, white wings. It was a trait that no alien on Corellia was known to have, and certainly one that no Humans shared. For this reason, Lukas was considered something of a freak by the other children, a mutation caused by a drug polluted mother's inebriated coitus with some off-world freight driver. Such accusations made Lukas' blood boil. He was quick to fight anyone who would mock him or his mother, despite harboring a personal hatred of her himself. Lukas rarely won the fights, being relatively small in stature, even for his age.
Lukas also went to great lengths to hide his strange "mutation", wearing large, leather jackets even during the summer months. For this reason, among others, Lukas was seen as being an odd ball, an outcast, none of the gangs would have him. This rejection he experienced at an early age would come to shape Lukas' distrust of those unlike himself, and especially Humans.
When Lukas was ten years old his mother's addictions finally caught up to her, and she died of a drug overdose. Though Lukas had hated her for not being the kind of mother he needed, part of him was still severely wounded by her loss. It wasn't long after this time that Lukas began to experiment with Death Sticks himself.
The Long Spiral Downward (Age 10 - 16)
Lukas' teenage years were the worst of his life. Plagued by poverty and drug addiction, Lukas spent his time frequenting cantinas and scraping a living out of hustling bar patrons for their credits in games of chance. Pazaak was a particularly useful game for this. Lukas had an uncanny ability to anticipate a good card being drawn from the deck, or even if the opponent had a bad hand. It was something he would've never been able to explain, just a feeling that would come over him. These "feelings" proved to be accurate with astounding consistency and helped Lukas become a well known Pazaak player on Corellia.
However, much more than any card game, Lukas had a great love of the game of Chess. It was a game of strategy, a thinking man's game, and one from which Lukas found he could draw many parallels to everyday life.
By the time Lukas was sixteen, he was a shadow of the man he could've become. Lukas was skinny and pale with dark, sunken eyes, and his hands held a near constant tremor, all side effects of his drug addiction. It was during this time that fate, if it could even be called that, would intervene.
Even gambling wasn't enough to pay for Lukas' bad habits; cigarettes, booze and death sticks among them. As such, the boy owed money to quite a few people, most of them not particularly the forgiving types. One such debt was owed to an Exchange boss named Lagra the Hutt on Nar Shaddaa. After accumulating the debt, Lukas took off from the smuggler's moon with no intention of ever coming back. Three years later, one of Lagra's bounty hunters tracked Lukas down on Corellia. This particular bounty hunter was an Anzati who operated under the alias Syrus Darkstar. He had operated as Lagra's top assassin for over fifty years, and had an insidious reputation for draining his victims of their brain matter before shipping them back to Lagra as catatonic, organic puppets to add to his collection.
One evening, while Lukas was on a particularly hot winning streak at the Pazaak tables, Syrus sat down across from him to challenge him to a game.
Lukas acknowledged Syrus only with his eyes which glared at him from behind sunken, dark sockets. The kid looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. He silently studied Syrus for a moment, seeming to stare a hole right through him.
Finally Lukas gave a shrug, "If you say so, old man. It’s your money." He said, pulling a cigarette from his pack. The smoke had a pair of blood red stripes running vertically up its sides.
"You’re a Corellian?" Syrus observed, pulling out a lighter and offering it to Lukas before he could reach for his own.
Lukas hesitated, leaning forward to light up and taking a long draw from his cig, "Very astute," Lukas responded, tucking the pack back into his jacket, "Blood stripes. Corellia’s finest."
There was a long pause following Lukas’ comment as the two men stared each other down. The tension between them was thicker than the smoke and a hush had fallen over the crowd gathered around the booth.
"You here to play, old man, or not?" Lukas snapped at Syrus through one side of his mouth as he kept his cigarette pinched between his lips on the other.
Syrus straightened up, "Certainly, though Pazaak is so low brow. It’s a game for cretins and dregs. No, I’d prefer something a bit more sophisticated."
A mischievous grin spread over Lukas' face, "Something sophisticated, you say?" Lukas leaned to his side and retrieved something from the seat next to him. He produced a simple case made of weathered wood that looked as if it were older than it’s owner. Upon opening it up the case unfolded into a game board with a worn checker pattern over its surface. There were also pieces inside, half of them white, the other half black, which Lukas quickly arranged on either side of the board, "Are you familiar with Chess?" Lukas asked, nudging the game board into the center of the Pazaak table, the white pieces closest to Syrus.
"It has been a while," Syrus responded, studying the board.
Lukas chuckled, drawing back on his blood stripe and exhaling another cloud of smoke which hung over the table, "It’s a wonderful game, perhaps my favorite. Only the keenest intellects and the sharpest minds can prevail at chess, there is no luck involved."
"I think you and I both know there is no such thing as luck," Syrus retorted quickly.
Lukas smiled, nodding slowly, "As always, very astute, Mr…"
"It’s Darkstar."
"Cute name," Lukas chided, "that the one your mother gave to you?"
There was another pause with only the steady rhythm of the relentless house music to ease the tension. Not a soul in the mass of onlookers dared to so much as cough.
Maintaining an arrogant air of confidence, Lukas slipped back in his seat, reclining slightly, "Well old man, I’d say we have ourselves a game. What’s your wager?"
Syrus’ expression didn’t flinch as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pair of binders which he then slapped down on the table, "I wager you, Lukas."
The smirk on Lukas' face faded and for the first time he shifted in his seat as if he were uncomfortable. Still composed, he took one last puff of his cigarette before snuffing it out on the table, "I’m listening."
"You win, I take you back to the Hutts in one piece, let them have their way with you. But, if I win…" as Syrus spoke his long Anzat tentacles began to emerge from his cheeks, "if I win I get a taste of what’s inside that ripe skull of yours, then I send you back to the Hutts as brain dead as a Bantha.”
"Hmph," Lukas snickered, "That sounds to me like kind of a shitty deal. My only question is what’s to stop me from sending you back to Nar Shaddaa stuffed inside this chess set?"
"Haha! Not this time, Caelum. This time you don’t escape. There are fifteen of Lagra the Hutt’s top assassins in this cantina, and all of them are here for you," Syrus explained, his expression finally cracking into something resembling satisfaction, "If you should win the game then at least you would be able to return to Tagrenn competent enough to beg him for mercy, though considering the amount of money you owe him, I wouldn’t count on any."
Begrudgingly Lukas agreed to the game. The chess match went on for nearly an hour before ending in a stalemate. Lukas was bitter at having been unable to best this brute. For some reason his ability to "feel" his opponent wasn't working on this Syrus.
Purchases:
Species: Mitsukai/Human
Age: 65
Sex: Male
Height/Weight: 5'9" 175lbs
Appearance: Lukas appears smallish in stature (especially when his wings are hidden), and as a Mitsukai, incredibly young for a sixty-five year old. Lukas has dark gray hair, a color natural to Mitsukai, and he has his mother's icy blue eyes. Lukas' wings are almost black in color, having darkened from their original white over time.
Lukas usually wears a long black leather overcoat large enough to conceal his wings, along with fingerless gloves and boots. Lukas is armed with a katana which he wears on his back, and a lightsaber that he keeps in his overcoat's breast pocket, along with a pack of Corellian Bloodstripes. Cigarettes being one of Lukas' many vices.
Personality: Lukas is, in a word, an intellectual. He will often observe others, analyze them and think through each and every one of their actions, no matter how inane. This tendency also has lent itself to the habit of over thinking situations more often than not. This over analyzing of others causes Lukas to come off as some what out of touch, cold and social awkward as his interactions seemed contrived and forced rather than flowing naturally.
Lukas can't stand what he calls "inferiority" which is a category that can cover anything from a person's intelligence to their race or choice of friends. He is an extremely vain and pretentious individual, and nothing will get under his skin more than an insult to his pride or his intellect.
Character Rank: Overlord/Founder (Knights of Tishi)
Special Skills:
Highly skilled fencer and swordsmen
Chess
Advanced Healing (Species trait)
Lightsaber Forms:
Shii-Cho (Advanced)
Makashi (Advanced)
Physical Attributes
Strength: 40
Speed: 60
Intelligence: 90
Force Proficiency
Telekinesis: 55
Telepathy: 80
Body: 30
Sense: 45
Channel: 75
Alignment: -75
Bio:
The Fires of War (Age 0 - 5)
Born Lukas Caelum on Serroco to a dishonorably discharged Private in the Republic Army named Dashara Caelum, it is safe to say that Lukas' life got off to a rather inauspicious start. As a disgraced war veteran, Lukas' mother was more interested in Death Sticks then raising a son, and his father had left the picture long before he was born. Matters were only made worse by the ongoing war with the Mandalorians.
When Lukas was only two years old, the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders attacked the Republic forces over Serroco, using shockingly ruthless tactics that took the Republic by surprise. The Mandalorians rained nuclear fire down on Serroco, turning it's cities into little more than glass craters. Following the assault, the soldiers on the ground for both sides, as well as the small percentage of the population that survived were left to fend for themselves in a landscape choked barren by nuclear winter.
Over the next three years, Dashara did her best to look after her son, but her unfed addiction had rendered her weak and sickly. It could be said that five year old Lukas did as much to look after his mother as she did to look after him.
One particularly frigid night, Dashara and Lukas hunkered down in a dilapidated shack. The shelter provided little reprieve from the elements, as one side of the structure was almost entirely missing, but it was a roof over their heads nonetheless. However, Dashara and Lukas weren't the only ones wandering the post-apocalyptic hell scape that was the remains of Serroco. Something had been following them, hunting them for days now.
In the midst of the night, Lukas was awakened by a cold shiver. Their fire had gone out as they slept, but it was not this that had stirred the boy from his sleep. An intense sense of unease had washed over him, and suddenly he was almost paralyzed by fear. So overcome was Lukas, that it took him several minutes to even realize that his mother was not where she had been when he'd fallen asleep.
The hairs stood up on the back of Lukas' neck as he picked himself up, wrapping the rags he wore around himself as a strong gust of wind swept through the ruins of the shack. And then, there was a sound; a strange, sickening sound that Lukas could perceive over the skeletons of trees rattling against one another in the breeze.
For as long as Lukas could remember, he had the wings. Growing from either shoulder blade were fairly large, white wings. It was a trait that no alien on Corellia was known to have, and certainly one that no Humans shared. For this reason, Lukas was considered something of a freak by the other children, a mutation caused by a drug polluted mother's inebriated coitus with some off-world freight driver. Such accusations made Lukas' blood boil. He was quick to fight anyone who would mock him or his mother, despite harboring a personal hatred of her himself. Lukas rarely won the fights, being relatively small in stature, even for his age.
Lukas also went to great lengths to hide his strange "mutation", wearing large, leather jackets even during the summer months. For this reason, among others, Lukas was seen as being an odd ball, an outcast, none of the gangs would have him. This rejection he experienced at an early age would come to shape Lukas' distrust of those unlike himself, and especially Humans.
When Lukas was ten years old his mother's addictions finally caught up to her, and she died of a drug overdose. Though Lukas had hated her for not being the kind of mother he needed, part of him was still severely wounded by her loss. It wasn't long after this time that Lukas began to experiment with Death Sticks himself.
The Long Spiral Downward (Age 10 - 16)
Lukas' teenage years were the worst of his life. Plagued by poverty and drug addiction, Lukas spent his time frequenting cantinas and scraping a living out of hustling bar patrons for their credits in games of chance. Pazaak was a particularly useful game for this. Lukas had an uncanny ability to anticipate a good card being drawn from the deck, or even if the opponent had a bad hand. It was something he would've never been able to explain, just a feeling that would come over him. These "feelings" proved to be accurate with astounding consistency and helped Lukas become a well known Pazaak player on Corellia.
However, much more than any card game, Lukas had a great love of the game of Chess. It was a game of strategy, a thinking man's game, and one from which Lukas found he could draw many parallels to everyday life.
By the time Lukas was sixteen, he was a shadow of the man he could've become. Lukas was skinny and pale with dark, sunken eyes, and his hands held a near constant tremor, all side effects of his drug addiction. It was during this time that fate, if it could even be called that, would intervene.
Even gambling wasn't enough to pay for Lukas' bad habits; cigarettes, booze and death sticks among them. As such, the boy owed money to quite a few people, most of them not particularly the forgiving types. One such debt was owed to an Exchange boss named Lagra the Hutt on Nar Shaddaa. After accumulating the debt, Lukas took off from the smuggler's moon with no intention of ever coming back. Three years later, one of Lagra's bounty hunters tracked Lukas down on Corellia. This particular bounty hunter was an Anzati who operated under the alias Syrus Darkstar. He had operated as Lagra's top assassin for over fifty years, and had an insidious reputation for draining his victims of their brain matter before shipping them back to Lagra as catatonic, organic puppets to add to his collection.
One evening, while Lukas was on a particularly hot winning streak at the Pazaak tables, Syrus sat down across from him to challenge him to a game.
Lukas acknowledged Syrus only with his eyes which glared at him from behind sunken, dark sockets. The kid looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. He silently studied Syrus for a moment, seeming to stare a hole right through him.
Finally Lukas gave a shrug, "If you say so, old man. It’s your money." He said, pulling a cigarette from his pack. The smoke had a pair of blood red stripes running vertically up its sides.
"You’re a Corellian?" Syrus observed, pulling out a lighter and offering it to Lukas before he could reach for his own.
Lukas hesitated, leaning forward to light up and taking a long draw from his cig, "Very astute," Lukas responded, tucking the pack back into his jacket, "Blood stripes. Corellia’s finest."
There was a long pause following Lukas’ comment as the two men stared each other down. The tension between them was thicker than the smoke and a hush had fallen over the crowd gathered around the booth.
"You here to play, old man, or not?" Lukas snapped at Syrus through one side of his mouth as he kept his cigarette pinched between his lips on the other.
Syrus straightened up, "Certainly, though Pazaak is so low brow. It’s a game for cretins and dregs. No, I’d prefer something a bit more sophisticated."
A mischievous grin spread over Lukas' face, "Something sophisticated, you say?" Lukas leaned to his side and retrieved something from the seat next to him. He produced a simple case made of weathered wood that looked as if it were older than it’s owner. Upon opening it up the case unfolded into a game board with a worn checker pattern over its surface. There were also pieces inside, half of them white, the other half black, which Lukas quickly arranged on either side of the board, "Are you familiar with Chess?" Lukas asked, nudging the game board into the center of the Pazaak table, the white pieces closest to Syrus.
"It has been a while," Syrus responded, studying the board.
Lukas chuckled, drawing back on his blood stripe and exhaling another cloud of smoke which hung over the table, "It’s a wonderful game, perhaps my favorite. Only the keenest intellects and the sharpest minds can prevail at chess, there is no luck involved."
"I think you and I both know there is no such thing as luck," Syrus retorted quickly.
Lukas smiled, nodding slowly, "As always, very astute, Mr…"
"It’s Darkstar."
"Cute name," Lukas chided, "that the one your mother gave to you?"
There was another pause with only the steady rhythm of the relentless house music to ease the tension. Not a soul in the mass of onlookers dared to so much as cough.
Maintaining an arrogant air of confidence, Lukas slipped back in his seat, reclining slightly, "Well old man, I’d say we have ourselves a game. What’s your wager?"
Syrus’ expression didn’t flinch as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pair of binders which he then slapped down on the table, "I wager you, Lukas."
The smirk on Lukas' face faded and for the first time he shifted in his seat as if he were uncomfortable. Still composed, he took one last puff of his cigarette before snuffing it out on the table, "I’m listening."
"You win, I take you back to the Hutts in one piece, let them have their way with you. But, if I win…" as Syrus spoke his long Anzat tentacles began to emerge from his cheeks, "if I win I get a taste of what’s inside that ripe skull of yours, then I send you back to the Hutts as brain dead as a Bantha.”
"Hmph," Lukas snickered, "That sounds to me like kind of a shitty deal. My only question is what’s to stop me from sending you back to Nar Shaddaa stuffed inside this chess set?"
"Haha! Not this time, Caelum. This time you don’t escape. There are fifteen of Lagra the Hutt’s top assassins in this cantina, and all of them are here for you," Syrus explained, his expression finally cracking into something resembling satisfaction, "If you should win the game then at least you would be able to return to Tagrenn competent enough to beg him for mercy, though considering the amount of money you owe him, I wouldn’t count on any."
Begrudgingly Lukas agreed to the game. The chess match went on for nearly an hour before ending in a stalemate. Lukas was bitter at having been unable to best this brute. For some reason his ability to "feel" his opponent wasn't working on this Syrus.
Purchases: