Jace Padder
Member
Name: Jace Padder
Faction: None
Rank: None
Species: Human
Age: 26
Sex: Male
Height: 6'2''
Weight: 189 lbs
Eyes: Hazel
Hair: Light Brown
Skin: White
Force Sensitive: No
______________________________________________________
Strengths:
- Nimble, quick
- Marksman with small blasters
- Fast thinker, can immediately provide a plan and put it into action as if instinct, a true brawler
- Working pilot, yet not overly skilled in the field
- Works well under Stress
- acceptation at talking/flirting with women
Weaknesses:
- Doesn't think about his actions/words, often getting him into trouble
- In a straight up fight (melee or ranged), without a specific point of attack or working plan he is relatively easy to defeat
- If cornered in combat, he is a simple opponent
- In close quarters melee combat he has little to no skill other than bare knuckle brawling. Any experienced melee fighter would find him an easy opponent
- If caught while intoxicated, combat is not a possibility for him, and he will almost always run if the situation rises.
Appearance:
- Wears a leather jacket at all times, switching between his bantha leather brown jacket and his Korinthian hound leather white jacket.
- Forehead length brown hair, molded outward on his head
- Normal body type, not an extreme amount of muscle but not to little
Biography:
The uncomfortable sound of the door buzzer exploded as Its enforced durasteel cage slid open. It was a small room, one way glass on one side, a table in the middle with two chairs symmetrically placed on each end. Any republic spy who had seen this place had sure seen better days.
In marched A tall slender man, pale skin and short hair, dressed in the drab grey uniform all Sith captains wore. Along with him came two Sith soldiers, escorting their prisoner to one of the seats. Setting him down harshly in the cold steel chair, the two armored guards left, closing the cage doors behind them.
"Could have been a little more caring, you know!" Spouted off the prisoner, chained to his chair with bruises around his wrists.
"Ah, Prisoner 36902. Good to see you again" The Sith captain mocked, looking him in the eye.
"The names Jace, scumbag" the smuggler fired back.
Taking a seat across from the man, the Sith captain took a moment to eye his defeated opponent. "Name: Jace Padder, Age 27" He spoke calmly. "Grew up on Narr Shadaa, hmm? Your father was a highly respected acolyte, how disappointed he must have been when he learned of your... should we say... lacking in the family trade." He shot a glance up at Jace.
"Wow Captain, I didnt know you could read!" The smuggler shot off a remark.
The captain brushed off his insult , looking down at Jaces file and continued. "Hmm, but theres more. Mother was struck down trying to defend you from your fathers ""teachings"", how exciting.. And even more remarkable, in your own defense and anger, you shot him. Is this correct Jace?"
The smuggler kept looking down at the table, letting out a chuckle as to seem that he didn't care. He knew how these interrogations worked. This scumbag was simply trying to break him so he poured out all his information. He wasnt that easy of a book to crack. Those memories where long forgotten.
"You escaped, stealing a vessel you no longer possess, I presume. Worked your way into the darker reaches of the workforce and ended up in a firefight with the wrong men, ending up here. Am. I. Correct." He stated viciously.
Jace looked up for the first time since the captain had started speaking, eyeing him with a smirk on his face. "I think the only option you have is to imprison me, captain! it only seems appropriate!" Jace mouthed off.
"hmm. Very well." He replied solemly, opening the door for his guards to take Jace away.
All in an instant, the table flipped, and just as the guards and the captain recovered from the tremendous experience of a steel table impacting you, they saw Jace sprinting down the hall of the Sith institution.
"After him!!" He screamed, but it was all in vain, nobody could catch Jace Padder.
Ship: None yet
Kills: 0
Bounties: 0
Rps:
Between a Hoth and a Hard Place
Faction: None
Rank: None
Species: Human
Age: 26
Sex: Male
Height: 6'2''
Weight: 189 lbs
Eyes: Hazel
Hair: Light Brown
Skin: White
Force Sensitive: No
______________________________________________________
Strengths:
- Nimble, quick
- Marksman with small blasters
- Fast thinker, can immediately provide a plan and put it into action as if instinct, a true brawler
- Working pilot, yet not overly skilled in the field
- Works well under Stress
- acceptation at talking/flirting with women
Weaknesses:
- Doesn't think about his actions/words, often getting him into trouble
- In a straight up fight (melee or ranged), without a specific point of attack or working plan he is relatively easy to defeat
- If cornered in combat, he is a simple opponent
- In close quarters melee combat he has little to no skill other than bare knuckle brawling. Any experienced melee fighter would find him an easy opponent
- If caught while intoxicated, combat is not a possibility for him, and he will almost always run if the situation rises.
Appearance:
- Wears a leather jacket at all times, switching between his bantha leather brown jacket and his Korinthian hound leather white jacket.
- Forehead length brown hair, molded outward on his head
- Normal body type, not an extreme amount of muscle but not to little
Biography:
The uncomfortable sound of the door buzzer exploded as Its enforced durasteel cage slid open. It was a small room, one way glass on one side, a table in the middle with two chairs symmetrically placed on each end. Any republic spy who had seen this place had sure seen better days.
In marched A tall slender man, pale skin and short hair, dressed in the drab grey uniform all Sith captains wore. Along with him came two Sith soldiers, escorting their prisoner to one of the seats. Setting him down harshly in the cold steel chair, the two armored guards left, closing the cage doors behind them.
"Could have been a little more caring, you know!" Spouted off the prisoner, chained to his chair with bruises around his wrists.
"Ah, Prisoner 36902. Good to see you again" The Sith captain mocked, looking him in the eye.
"The names Jace, scumbag" the smuggler fired back.
Taking a seat across from the man, the Sith captain took a moment to eye his defeated opponent. "Name: Jace Padder, Age 27" He spoke calmly. "Grew up on Narr Shadaa, hmm? Your father was a highly respected acolyte, how disappointed he must have been when he learned of your... should we say... lacking in the family trade." He shot a glance up at Jace.
"Wow Captain, I didnt know you could read!" The smuggler shot off a remark.
The captain brushed off his insult , looking down at Jaces file and continued. "Hmm, but theres more. Mother was struck down trying to defend you from your fathers ""teachings"", how exciting.. And even more remarkable, in your own defense and anger, you shot him. Is this correct Jace?"
The smuggler kept looking down at the table, letting out a chuckle as to seem that he didn't care. He knew how these interrogations worked. This scumbag was simply trying to break him so he poured out all his information. He wasnt that easy of a book to crack. Those memories where long forgotten.
"You escaped, stealing a vessel you no longer possess, I presume. Worked your way into the darker reaches of the workforce and ended up in a firefight with the wrong men, ending up here. Am. I. Correct." He stated viciously.
Jace looked up for the first time since the captain had started speaking, eyeing him with a smirk on his face. "I think the only option you have is to imprison me, captain! it only seems appropriate!" Jace mouthed off.
"hmm. Very well." He replied solemly, opening the door for his guards to take Jace away.
All in an instant, the table flipped, and just as the guards and the captain recovered from the tremendous experience of a steel table impacting you, they saw Jace sprinting down the hall of the Sith institution.
"After him!!" He screamed, but it was all in vain, nobody could catch Jace Padder.
Ship: None yet
Kills: 0
Bounties: 0
Rps:
Between a Hoth and a Hard Place