Deus Gor Bel

[Deus Gor Bel]

Deus Gor Bel

Social:
Aliases: Gorebell
Titles: Son of Phent, Kin of Vom
Homeworld: Coruscant - Underworld
Age: 46 yrs.
Sexuality: Straight
Marital Status: Single - Sworn to Chastity
Force Sensitive: Yes - Entirely Untrained
Force Alignment: Neutral - Until Trained
Voice: George Carlin
Theme:

Physical:
Gender: Male - Infertile
Species: Human
Height: 5'11 ft. (1.8 m)
Weight: 190 lbs. (86.2 kg)
Eyes: Auburn - Void of emotion.
Hair: Red (Tinged w/ Gray) - Knotted back in sparse dreadlocks.
Complexion: Olive
Tattoos:
• His right eye, without the scar, is traced in black ink, tattooed in formal rite during some unknown venture; earned in permission to enter a sacred fallow so he might stalk his chosen prey.
Scars:
• A long, ragged scar danced down his left brow and ending south of the right cheek, effectively crossing at a descending angle across his aged face and biting well into the bridge of his nose. The edge of the wound reveals the rather rudimentary nature of its cause, though he is never known to speak of it, much less acknowledge its very presence upon his damning expression.
• His entire body is shrouded in the presences of small bites of scars, varying in their history; they range from blaster bolts, to knives, to simple bites or accidental injury, caused either by the misuse of tools or the dangers of secluded exploration. Large portions of his figure are void of hair, no longer able to be grown, and this gives his nude body a 'patchy' appearance.
Birthmarks & Miscellaneous Features:
• Vitiligo dances along the fingers of both his left and right hands, bleaching them a rather vibrant, pale shade of pink; the lack of pigment in his digits give the appearance of strange scars, which often attracts attention and remains a rather distinct detail, easily recalled by passersby. He prefers to conceal this feature, even from those closest, and thus is always seen with hands embellished by a pair of gloves.
• Boils sparsely lay across the breadth of his shoulders, laced between patches of moles and freckles.
• In his age, his face is weathered and wrinkled deeply; he appears more akin to the passions of a sage than that of a killer. However, the hardness of his eyes, that no longer sparkle with the light of life, reveal his true nature: a soulless scourge, fettered to the rustic coffin of the body.
Physique: Well Built

Strengths & Talents:
(+) Charismatic
(+) Strategic & Intelligent
(+) Professional
(+) Experienced
(+) Chivalrous

Neutral Traits & Versatile Characteristics:
(+/-) Sarcastic
(+/-) Enigmatic
(+/-) Rambler
(+/-) Aggressive
(+/-) Chaotic Neutral Archetype

Weaknesses & Disabilities:
(-) Dishonest
(-) Cruel
(-) Greedy
(-) Narcissistic
(-) Manic

Factions & Allegiances:
Factions:
• The Shadow Dynasty
Ranks:
• N/A
Associations:
• N/A
Past Occupations:
• Assassin
• Bodyguard
• Smuggler
• Spice Trader
• Escort
• Miscellaneous Work
Occupations:
• Bounty Hunter
• Mercenary
Companies:
• N/A

Relations:
Familial:
• Phent Bel: Father - Deceased, 72 yrs.
• Thressa Bel: Stepmother - Deceased, 51 yrs.
• Mirtha Vom: Mother - Deceased, Jedi Master, 34 yrs.
• Solant Bel: Uncle - Deceased, 86 yrs.
• Fenris Vom: Brother - Jedi Master, 39 yrs.
• Alessia Vom: Sister - Jedi Knight, 39 yrs.
• Laudias Loff: Cousin - Ship Captain, 24 yrs.
Allies:
• N/A
Enemies:
• Yul Grimm: Opponent - Nagai Bounty Hunter, 61 yrs.
Pets:
• N/A
Droids:
• R4-68 - Agromech Droid, Steel Blue, 15 yrs.
Forces:
• N/A
Other:
• N/A

Abilities:
Proficiency Scale:
■■■■■
■■■■■
■■■■■
■■■■■
■■■■■
Force Techniques:
• Mind Trick ■■■■■
- Self-taught through extensive attempts; cast over numerous decades.
Skills:
• N/A
Lightsabre/Fighting Styles:
• N/A
Languages:
• Galactic Standard - ■■■■■

 

[Deus Gor Bel]

Biography ​

​

Prologue​

"Oh, how the mountains shivered in this biting wind; encapsulating the breadth of the egregious spine of dark stone, split with ore. Such metal would be paid for by blood; it was the way things were: 'for all currency held no measure in the gain, but through the absence' such were the words Solant spoke to me, the day of his departure to whatever lay beyond this meaning of breath and bone. Take this naught for sadness, I never mourned his death; he was an arrogant dredge of alcoholism and waste; but, rather, take me beyond the literalism and shed this fundamentalist fixation you find yourself enthralled by. Take me for what I am, perhaps; an old man, masked by these threads of blue and soft gray; aye, I am a strange figure but one should suspect to find what might yet be undiscovered within those who are different, and thus forfeit of a companion's boon. What I suggest is the meaning of the sacrifice of a life: nothing. No paradise; no Hell; just an absence and as such, we revere the departed of benevolence, we lie to ourselves - it was I was doing on that damned mountain.

"It was supposed to be a quick job; I was a guard - Head of Security in fact - supervising the protection of some duros miners on some backwater, frozen cesspool; I can't be bothered to even recall the name. All I know is that the ore in those mountains... ah, a fine export, import - whatever you capitalists do with the crap you wretch from the ground. Well, all I know is that these underpaid paupers were deprived of the proper equipment and I watched - I watched - from the comfort of my ship as they hammered at those monolithic colossi of black stone, peeling away the fragments of the earth's bounty; special only in our own perceived value; and watched them freeze to death upon the snow. Sad, right? I didn't do a single thing, I just watched, transfixed, fascinated; what was it that I truly saw? I was simple: they were already dead, thus the importance of death, and their wasteful martyrdom, was never fully grasped, if at all. They had no purpose, an absence which I resonated.

"So I walk into the backroom of that ship, some parked yacht, adorned with fine fur; this merchant was some greedy slug, a hutt or something of that ilk; fat and slimy, obese and swollen as if bloated by its own indulgent avarice; he's in the warmth, here only to entertain his fellow aristocratic guests, overseeing the investment venture they had so dutifully committed to in that warmth. They were watching some poor slave girl... I shot her. Worthless. That got their attention, and their displeasure, boiled in their voice, earned only my own ire; purposeless, I would not be. They deign to see me die in the snow, an empty vessel? I shot them, yes; I shot the fething workers, too; I don't recklessly kill but in that moment it was sacrifice, it was spilt blood, much as we would to obtain that precious metal, so I might obtain a transcendent mind. I truly feel no assertive terror to the prospect of death now, for I would fully experience it; the nothingness. I will go there regardless; by your hands or by another's."
- Deus Gor Bel, Date Unknown

Deus truly began his story somewhere near the lower southern marshes of Naboo; a smuggler's den, known as the Ramgul Three; it was there he was forgotten, lost to chain and collar. It was in this manner he was seemingly destined to serve his sentence, life-long at that, for the sudden spree murder, costing the life of a money launderer for the Drek'fang Cartel, Golgamum Tar, and his associates during a mining excavation upon Hoth. Originally employed as a security detail, through some borderline-schizoid revelation Deus turned upon his proprietor, and killed all involved with the mission heartlessly, leaving them to rot in the snowblown tundra as he made his escape; however, the sloppy retreat left a trail - one that was soon hounded by bounty hunters; particularly a Nagai, who was named Yul Grimm, a young, talented tracker with a venomous streak of malignant will. The resulting confrontation left piles of corpses, as they most often do; but Grimm was left victorious over a dearly wounded Deus; resulting in permanent injury that would leave him crippled.

Gor Bel never was executed for his crime; though the sentence left many rumors afloat upon the dark sea of confusion; and one particular whisper, one must often hushed in paling terror: Deus had spoken with silver tongue, weaved with Force into words, and commanded his sentence alleviated to a lenient term of servitude. However, such implications were never pursued out of stark disbelief; and Deus continued to serve in the den until the day of his departure; a moment that left the land blackened by blood and ashen flesh, charred from the corpses. It was never truly understood how he had managed, but in the span of a week Deus had successfully organized his escape with the help of two fellow slaves; both of which he betrayed and killed, so he might leave no loose ends. All that can be viewed, as some revelation to his prowess, would be the skeletal remains of the Ramgul Three, charred and sinking into the mire, and adorned with the cleanly-pecked bones of its patrons, lain dead, scratching at the decrepit walls of the cantina; forever attempting escape at some frozen, phantasmal monstrosity that once lurked within.

Deus Gor Bel never sought vengeance for his imprisonment, however; instead, he retired from the rather particular niche of work he had carved for himself and sought a career as a successful bounty hunter and soldier, dictating himself solely to jobs, often low-paying, that involved work upon the front lines. He sought to temper himself in the fires of combat, and even in his waning age, he became all the stronger for it; he sought longevity, a pursuit he chased in the least obvious direction: he challenged death at every conceivable moment, a fundamental perception that tore him away from reality, and remained hypocritical to his often stated belief that 'literalism is a cripple's wounded sight.' However, upon the eve of his impending fame, it would seem, Deus vanished into obscurity; an employment upon a civil war, between two neighboring tribes - Gor Bel assailed a village alone, massacring the inhabitants and burning all of its potential resources to the earth, giving the soil ashen texture; the earth lain gray behind him, he continued, leaving a vast scar of cinder behind; but he disappeared soon after into a deep, eternal fog.

Part I: The Scholar of Thorns​

"Recognize me as an augur of malevolence; you would be dearly mistaken, but I hold you to no blame. I kill, it is a profession you may not understand. I doubt even those who follow me in this mantle truly do. What give is the gift of opportunity: your freedom to recognize the tender wealthy of the life you hold and its true value. Do not despair; waste not what has been given - that soul you treasure not. I will spare you, if only for this moment, so you might understand this blessing. Take not from this a mirrored figure cast from the bias; take this as a lesson, so you might grow - I have invested blood within you."
- Deus Gor Bel, Date Unknown

Sixteen years to the eve of his disappearance, Deus Gor Bel appears upon the molten coast of Sullust; dressed in foreign garb of grays and azure, accompanied by a queer, blue agromech droid promptly christened R4-68 (nicknamed "Jeeves"). His manner is altered, his poise stalwart; he seeks a ship, one of fine quality; and while his appearance betrays finesse in garb, he lacks any semblance of wealth. He seeks a village; it lays upon a path to take him far from here; he has seen a vision, one of a life beyond his own and it is a prize he so desperately seeks.

Chapter I: The Shores of Cinder
[Ongoing]
Chapter II: The Pallid Understanding
[Ongoing]

 

[Deus Gor Bel]

Possessions:
Attire:
• Plain Gray Pneumatic Synthcloth Robes - Air-Filled Cavities (Reinforced with Nerf Hide) to Reduce Blunt Damage; Elongated Hood for Mask
(Medium Quality)
• Elongated Plastoid Mask: "The Eye of Eraborus" - Head-mounted Flashlight; Unique
(Medium Quality)
• Synthleather Tabard - No Special Qualities; Adorned Over Casual Garb
(Medium Quality)
• Average Attire - No Special Qualities; Worn and Dirty; Common Fabric
(Low Quality)
Weapons & Tools:
• 6' in. (15.24 cm) Durasteel Knife - Black Synthleather-bound Grip (Weathered) & Chipped Blade
(Medium Quality)
• Dl-44 Heavy Blaster Pistol - Removed Scope (Replaced by Iron Sights); Damaged Cooling Unit (Faster Overheat)
(Very Low Quality)
Vehicles:
• N/A
Starships:
• N/A
Homes:
• N/A
Holocrons:
• N/A
Mementos & Personal Items:
• WIP
Other:
• WIP

About:
Appearance:
• WIP
Personality:
• WIP
Philosophies:

"Death is subjective to one's tenacity; who are we to fear such a trivial fact of such a life, wrought with fundamentalist interpretations of what composes and comprises our nature? I spend my life not causing death, but paying that price, which we all think to absolve our sense of self from, directly to remain void of hypocrisy."
- Deus Gor Bel, Chapter I: The Shores of Cinder - Post 16.

• Deus believes in the absence of death's impact; that men hype up upon the final breath with fear and exaltation, rather than viewing it as a natural and acceptable course of life that all things come to: nothingness.
Habits:
• WIP
Kills:
• N/A
Bounties Claimed:
• While claiming a relatively successful bounty hunting career prior to his disappearance upon Isis, Deus has yet to reclaim the mantle he had once discarded.
Other:
• WIP
Crimes:
• WIP

Factory Submissions:
• SIP/MVII-0018 Assailant-class Star Destroyer