Rule Number One - All men will die. Rule Number Two - Doc will go through hell to break Rule Number One
NAME: Declan Ross
FACTION: The Underground
RANK: Surgeon, Paramedic, Bartender
AGE: 29 years old
WEIGHT: 176 lbs
HAIR: Dark Brown
FORCE SENSITIVE: Yes. Latent and Undeveloped.
- (+) Steady Hand, Calm Mind: Declan has been through a lot in his life. A rough and shattered childhood. Wars. The horrors of being a trauma surgeon and doctor of emergency medicine. The end result is a penchant for calm thinking and action even under the worst of stresses. It is also incredibly difficult for mental attacks to disturb his calm or induce fear, paranoia, or the like.
- (+) Feet First Unto Hell: When first trained in the military, Declan was nothing more than a grunt. Assigned as airborne infantry, he was the squads pilot first before volunteering to be trained as the medic as well. The years of flying straight into battle, and living to fly back out, have made him one of the best pilots in combat. His time on the hyper-lanes as a Warden, traversing the Outer Rim have also made him one of the best navigators and explorers.
- (+/-) Willfully Unknowing: While he is Force Sensitive, and knows it, he has willfully remained untrained and ignorant of his potential. Some aspects of it he cannot shut off, such as his skill with piloting, or his knack for knowing danger. But he refuses to learn the true hallmark abilities of a Force User, and absolutely despises lightsabers.
- (-) Post Traumatic Stress Disorder: Many claim it. Many say they know of it. But the horrors of this disease and its' scars of the mind are largely unknown and unexplored or dealt with. There are certain sounds, sights, smells or places Declan simply cannot deal with. Despite his indomitable will, they will break him like a twig, and he will often take days or weeks to fully right himself from such an episode.
- (-) Loner: Though some might not view this as a weakness, when carried to the extremes that Declan has done, it is near crippling. Associates, business partners, lovers and acquaintances he has innumerably, in every corner of the Galaxy. Very few know of him truly, only a piece or sliver. There is no one in truth that he can rely on or be reinforced by.
- (-) Whiskey Tooth: The common ailment of stress and likewise called 'The Human Burden' by several species. Declan is notoriously well educated in various brands of famous galactic brews, to the point where he suffers from several related liver, heart, and kidney issues. The vice may one day kill him without suitable replacements to his organs, a costly prospect that Declan toys with in his drunken stupors. He's prone to mistaking any random face for that of a lost associate, switching between moments of vaudeville and maudlin at the drop of a hat.
Lanky. With haunted eyes and a constant sardonic grin. His hair is light, thin, and usually tousled by a hand through it when Declan rises in the morning. Grey eyes with a hint of blue shading stare out at most with a lack of care or recognition. His pale skin is unmarked, at least to the casual glance when he is clothed. Several old tattoos from his time in the service. Unit markings, a cadecus with the skull grinning, draped with a banner that says 'Feet first unto hell' to represent his time as a paratrooper. Typically he is dressed in a black peacoat, tight black muscle shirt, and loose black slacks and dress shoes, a black messenger bag over his chest.
His status as a Force-User is sort of a half-developed thing... He knows how to meditate, calm himself, a very light version of Force Sense, and a latent but unknown talent at Force Empathy. But nothing really conscious or controllable. His father, Odishi was a non-Force User smuggler type. His mother, Kaelie, a Warden of the Sky. His mom got the axe on a job went wrong, betrayed by a friend in the local government who decided money was better than loyalty. Word was, his parents had uncovered something, a relic of the distant past. Declan doesn't know what, just that they were killed for it. Since then he drifted around from place to place, with various more respectable family members raising him until he finally strikes out on his own around sixteen, working as a courier for various criminal elements, and discovering a knack for small-ish vehicle piloting.
When old enough, he winds up joining some the military as a grunt. With his test scores, he is trained as a medic, fights a number of wars, then leaves after a few tours, at the rank of Sergeant. This leaving his calling was after having sustained an injury, getting a cybernetic right arm, and falling for the Nurse who takes care of him post-op. A whirlwind romance occurs, but whenever sees her after his medical discharge from the field to rehabilitation...
'It won't be drink that kills me, girl. Won't be that. I'll be in some hideous zone, trying to keep up with the squad, when that ache from the last few weeks suddenly blooms into real, real pain. I'll hit the floor. Mobility, zero. A sniper down the street will pull me up in their sights, and that's all she wrote for Declan. So feth it. I'm putting my papers in for military pension today. I'm going to get some bum democracy to pay for my addictions until I can comfortably pass away at the bottom of a Corellian whiskey barrel.'
Using his pay and severance, he decides goes to a University on Denon and graduates damn near the top of his class, MD with a specialty in Trauma Surgery. After, his benefits running low, he takes on work at a prestigious hospital, galactically well-known onDenon, and winds up Chief of Surgery in the Trauma Unit, and a mentor for several gifted young doctors. As he ages, his gifts in the Force that were once passive latency become more burgeoning, and a habit for booze turns to any substance that can dull the sensory and empathic effects he begins to experience.
Eventually, he winds up meeting the same Nurse when they get an influx of wounded from the same company he had served in. They have a fling, realizing the serendipity of it all. Then one day, all seems well, but she goes missing without a trace. Maybe she didn't want to get tied down with Declan. Maybe she was kidnapped by Hutts, he doesn't know. The disappearance spawns a descent into further drug-fueled apathy and cynicism.
After a bit of a recovery, thanks to a few jobs with more helpful sorts takes to the space lanes, the loss sort of breaking his resolve but feeling a duty to still use his talents. Piloting one hunk of junk after another, trying to follow in what he barely remembers of his mothers' footsteps. Trying to be a Warden of the Sky without knowing what they really are or how to be one. Just mainly with the goal of protecting 'the little people'..For steady work, he poses part-time as a bartender on some backwater Outer Rim world, fixing up those who need it in a back room operating theatre. Eventually falls in with the Underground, finding a love for their cause, and follows them as they evolve.
- A Bottle of Booze (Old Crumb Sour Mash)
- Half-pack of stimsticks
- E-911 MD "Doctor Bolts" a.k.a. "Henry"
- Plasma Surgical Scalpel
- CS Micro Analyzer 09A
- CS MicroLab 06B
- CS EV-118 Enviro-suit
- VT-Bacta Glove
Total: 2 | Complete: 1
Total: 0 | Complete: 0
Total: 1 | Complete: 1
Total: 1 | Complete: 1
Total: 0 | Complete: 0
Apprentice - Knight - Master - Specialist
Dashes denote skills generally not available before master of the Force.
- Precognition/Danger Sense: ||||
- Force Empathy: ||||
Miscellaneous Force/Fringe Force Skills:
- Instinctive Astrogation: ||||
Thanks go to Jorus Merrill and Seydon of Arda for the inspiration, help with details, and as always, stupendous sounding board abilities!
Edited by Declan Ross, 29 March 2018 - 04:14 PM.