Keepin Corellia Weird
Miko Spar - The Drifter
NAME: Miko Spar
FACTION: N/A
RANK: Pilot/Captain
SPECIES: Human - Corellian
AGE: Early 20's
SEX: Male
HEIGHT: 5'8"
WEIGHT: 145 lbs
EYES: Blue
HAIR: Light Brown
SKIN: Light
FORCE SENSITIVE: Unknown
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STRENGTHS
- Free-Bird: Miko is... gifted... Behind the stick of almost any speeder, and most ships that fly. A hunger for speed and thrills make him take risks others would balk at and shy away from. Despite the attitude and risk-taking, Miko hasn't taken many risks his skills couldn't see him through to the other side of.
- Gear Head: Though not exactly able to program a star destroyer, Miko has a knack for the mechanical that lends itself to wrenches and grease and a few bottles of Corellian whiskey while working on a speeder or two. When business is slow, he's not above putting his ship in port and working this talent to make ends meet, though staying too long chafes at him.
WEAKNESSES
- No Titan: Unless it involves a shot to the kidneys or other bar-room brawlings, Miko is not exactly the fiercest of combatants. In fact, whilst he is okay with a shotgun or the like, and passable with a hold-out gun, he probably wouldn't even pass most military marksman programs. And Force forbid you hand him anything more than a utility knife.
- Winded: Even when running from danger, Miko has a limited capacity. An early habit of cigarras and death-sticks and other substances have already taken a toll on his body, and crazy strenuous physical activity over a duration will see him huffing and puffing and in danger of asthma-like attack symptoms.
APPEARANCE:
THEME-SONG:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ClQcUyhoxTg
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eb1TIGvvWWE
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eb1TIGvvWWE
BIOGRAPHY:
*the following is a first-hand account over drinks of his life to a now deceased co-pilot. Miko was unaware the conversation was recorded, or that it exists in the still untouched room in a footlocker of the dead man*
Who am I? Who am I? Well I'm Mico Spar... Most people would see a good looking young man with slick-back hair and a fast ship and a chip on his shoulder and figure tragedy. Not the case. I had a good home growing up. Loving mother who worked in a droid factory placing motivator units. Father worked in the same factory, as a reclamation and recalibration engineer and specialist. Suppose the old man is where I got the knack for turning a wrench or spanner from.
Anyway, yeah, nothing tragic. I had it easy. Middle-class you could say. Never the best of stuff. But never went without. My parents saw to that. I was an ungrateful poodoo though, I can tell you that with a clear conscience. I make no excuses about my attitude. Or how I was. It's just in some people to be certain ways. I missed more school than I attended, and eventually learned how to just make my parents think I was attending.
Spent a good portion of time in a swoop bike gang on Corellia. Running everything from legitimate Mon Calamari take-out orders to glitterstim and spice. The latter was my preference. I could get the goods there fast and never did get caught, so I usually got a bump for a bonus. Anything to take me out of my mind and life. Can't say I had anything to want taken out of, not back then. But, we're all poodoos when we are fifteen.
Anyway, comes the day that the whole Akala business comes down on us on Corellia. By then I had graduated to the big leagues, in my mind at least. Running as a smuggler for a Hutt Crime Boss. Speaking of, remind me to send him that loan payment later. Hutts and Corellians have a history, but you knew that, you Rodian tweak. Made Nar Shada my home, hadn't seen my folks in years. No reason, I just didn't see the point. My dad thought I was a disappointment, and said I broke my mothers heart. So I left. They were better off without me.
So the whole planet breaks in two, right? And then the Sith come in to occupy it, and I guess things went real downhill. Hurt the smuggling rings hard because Corellia was a haven and hub for us, in a lot of ways. But for a few years we could hardly smuggle grandmas stew. Now, instead of Sith we just have ATC and [member="Danger Arceneau"] to deal with. And now that [member="Julius Sedaire"] and his League and the Council they set up. But they know the score, and it's a bit easier to breathe now with them in charge and the Sith gone.
My old man left me with a tidy sum of money. Both his and mom's savings. I put it through black market contacts and invested. Got enough I can live alright with or without work. Better with work. Got a nice ship with it, doing a little after-market as I can. Nice bike. Rent the family home out to whoever has the creds. And I roam the hyperlanes like the king of thieves you see before you.
I'm nothing and nobody, and no one cares. That's who I am.
POSSESSIONS:
Weaponry:
SHIP:
KILLS:
N/A
BOUNTIES COLLECTED:
N/A
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ROLE-PLAYS:
Soon(tm)
