Pre
Character
NAME: Pre
FACTION: N/A
RANK: N/A
SPECIES: Human
AGE: 24
SEX: Male
HEIGHT: 1.9m
WEIGHT: 88kg
EYES: Brown
HAIR: Blond
SKIN: Light
FORCE SENSITIVE: Unknown
---
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES:
Addict: Pre has developed a habit of drinking ale and other alcoholic beverages quite frequently. While he has learned to function despite this, it can impair him at times.
Dexterity: Pre is well versed in melee combat and feels very comfortable fighting hand to hand or with blades.
Resilience: Pre has a high pain tolerance and can usually persevere despite injuries. This can occasionally lead to him brushing off wounds that are serious.
Technophobe: Due to his background, Pre lacks significant experience with technologies. Depending on what it is, he may struggle to operate it and he does not enjoy flying.
APPEARANCE:
Pre is relatively tall for a human. He often comes across as an imposing figure due to his large size and impressive build. He carries himself seriously. When prepared for combat, he usually wears a light suit of armor minus a helmet. Otherwise, he can be found wearing basic rugged garb and combat boots. He usually carries a pistol and vibrodagger on him in the event he runs into trouble.
BIOGRAPHY:
Part I: Backstory
Pre’s eyes scanned the street as he approached The Pit. The moon shined overhead on the rather chilly night. There weren’t many people around save for the occasionally swoop or speeder zooming by, but that was to be expected. Approaching the bar, he entered and found the place nearly as deserted as the street it was on. The interior was musky with a darkly blue environment. He strolled over to the bar and took a seat, away from the other patrons--he wasn’t particularly interested in socializing tonight. His mind was elsewhere. The Twi’lek bartender walked over to him as he sat down, his blue skin radiating in the light.
“What can I get ya?” He asked.
“I’ll have a Corellian Ale.” Pre replied.
The bartender nodded and moved to get a glass. “Ya don’t look like you’re from around here,” he speculated as he began pouring the drink.
“I’m not.” Pre replied, gruffly.
“Well then...where are ya from?”
“It’s a long story.”
“This place look crowded to ya? It’s a Taungsday. I got time. Tell me about yaself.” The bartender replied, sliding the Corellian Ale towards him.
Pre grabbed the drink and then took a sip before reaching into a pocket and pulling out a few credits that he tossed towards the bartender. “The name’s Pre,” he began. “I was named after an ancient Mando’ad warrior from the Clone Wars. Least that’s what my buir said, apparently I have the same lush golden hair that he did. He used to regale me with stories of the Mando’ad’s all the time as a child. Pre had a legendary darksaber, a blade so powerful it could cut through a Jetii'kad in one fell swoop, shattering the blade. Apparently he used that to overthrow an oppressive duchess and free Manda'yaim back in the day. Seems all a bit crazy now, but I used to love those tales growing up.” He paused and took another sip of the ale. “Growing up was hard.”
The bartender nodded. “That’s life for ya, kid. It’s all hard.”
“You ever heard of Mandrine?”
The bartender shook his head.
“Well that’s where I grew up. It’s in the Kessel Sector. Spice mines all over the place. My buir was a warrior back in the day, but when Manda’yaim fell he got shipped off to be a slave in the mines. It’s where I grew up. They had me working from the moment I started breathing. At least that’s what it felt like. It was a rough life but my buir looked out for me. Learned a lot down there--took a lot of beatings too. Nobody survives those places, nobody escapes. It’s a death trap.” He sighed and took another sip of the ale.
“Yet here ya are,” the bartender mused. “People have a way of survivin’, how’d ya get out?”
“My buir was resourceful. He knew his way around that place. He got me out six years ago. I think he knew he could never escape. An aliit just doesn’t disappear from one of those places, but a young guy by himself? It happens occasionally. He set up my escape one night--shortly after I turned eighteen. Leaving him was the hardest thing I ever did. It was the only time I ever cried, but I knew I had to go. Between the beatings and the lung damage, people don’t last long down there. I knew I had to go. I stole away one night under the cover of darkness. Trekked probably 20 kilometers through foliage to a town and stole away on a ship. Got me to Oba Diah. I started working for some wealthy businessman, took care of his ships. It wasn’t much but I was desperate, I’d do anything for a couple credits--anything to keep from going back to that hell. Job didn’t last long though. I had no clue what I was doing around ships--messed up one day and the guy went off. He hit me and threatened to send me to the spice mines where I ‘belonged.’” He took another sip. “Something in me snapped that day. Thinking back, I don’t think he’d have actually sent me back to the mines. He didn’t know I’d escaped. I think it’s just all those years of abuse built up.” He paused and finished the glass of ale.
“Another one?”
“Yeah, I’ll take another.” Pre tossed another couple credit chips on the counter before continuing his story. “He had a trophy cabinet with some ceremonial blades. I cut his throat. Then I panicked. Luckily he had the keys to the ship on him, so I took off. Thinking back--it’s probably a miracle I didn’t get blasted out of the sky. He’d already had a course charted for Talos, so that’s where I went. I didn’t bother to change it--didn’t know how to be honest. The flight there was nerve wracking. I’d never traveled much and I was panicked, worrying I’d be caught. He had a couple weapons on board, some credits, and some clothing. I took what I could fit in a sack and left the ship the moment it landed.”
The bartender handed him another drink, nodding as the story continued.
Pre sipped the drink. “I found a gang in the underworld, worked with them for a while. It wasn’t the greatest life, but down there--everyone is equals pretty much. I think I liked that. But then I saw a sign--one of those posters advertising riches if you signed up to fight. So I did. I wanted more, I wanted glory. Like those Mando’ad warriors back in the day. Looking back, it’s a miracle I survived. Sure--I was pretty strong and fit from the mines and I’d had my fair share of brawls on the street, but I wasn’t trained. I didn’t know what I was doing with a vibroblade in my hands. I killed the first kid they put me up against--he was a spice addict, had no right being in that arena. Fight didn’t last long at all, then I started training--working my way up the ranks. I was unstoppable at first; maybe it was my bloodlines, maybe it was just instincts. I took on their champion and won. I was a damn hero. They loved me after that. Riches, spice, sex, ale--you name it, I felt like I had it all after that. Life continued that way for a while. Nobody could beat me for the longest time.” He paused momentarily, only to gulp down more ale. “Then I fought some Trandoshan kid. He was scrawny, but he was quick. He got me on the leg before I took him down. It was the underworld--anything goes. Must’ve been some poison on that blade cause no amount of bacta would heal that wound. I had a fight a few weeks later, against some guy they called ‘Ulfric the Krayt.’ Apparently he grew up fighting dragons on Tatooine--dunno if I believe it, they said I was from Mando’yaim even though I never set foot on the damn planet. Anyways, the pain was killing me, I hadn’t trained in weeks--I was drinking every night. It was a bloodbath. I think that’s when it hit me.”
“What hit ya? A vibroax?” The bartender asked, chuckling.
“Nah,” Pre took another sip of the ale. “That wasn’t glory. I was killing people for sport. A true warrior fights for honor, what happened in that ring wasn’t honorable. It was far from it.” He took another drink. “Anyways, I’d burned through almost all my prize winnings. Had nearly nothing left and I was worthless to them now--Ulfric was all the rage. It wasn’t slavery, but sometimes I struggle to see the difference. As long as you’re winning they parade you around to show you off, but when you lose? They discard you without a second thought. You have no more worth to them. But honestly, I was fortunate. I escaped with my life, most can’t say that and I lasted for three years on top. Most champions don’t make it three months. So, I left. I sold what I could and took off. That’s how I ended up here, I plan to set off to join the Death Watch tomorrow morning.” He finished the drink.
“Ya want another one?”
“Nah, that’s all for me.” He slid the drink towards the bartender and tossed a couple extra credits on the counter as a tip.
“Alright, well good luck on ya journey.” The bartender took the glass and the chips.
Pre nodded and stood up, heading for the exit. Telling his story brought back a lot of memories--some good, some not. It’d been six years since he’d seen his aliit. He wondered about them, were they even still alive? It’s funny, you think when you get old you’ll figure everything out, but sometimes it just creates more questions than answers. He had no idea what his purpose was now, but the morning would bring answers. At least that was what he hoped. He stepped out into the cold night and headed for the inn where he was staying.
ITEMS:
Small Amount of Clothing
Small Amount of Credits
Light Battle Suit
Vibroweapons
DL-18 blaster pistol
SHIP: N/A
KILLS: N/A
BOUNTIES COLLECTED: N/A
FACTION: N/A
RANK: N/A
SPECIES: Human
AGE: 24
SEX: Male
HEIGHT: 1.9m
WEIGHT: 88kg
EYES: Brown
HAIR: Blond
SKIN: Light
FORCE SENSITIVE: Unknown
---
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES:
Addict: Pre has developed a habit of drinking ale and other alcoholic beverages quite frequently. While he has learned to function despite this, it can impair him at times.
Dexterity: Pre is well versed in melee combat and feels very comfortable fighting hand to hand or with blades.
Resilience: Pre has a high pain tolerance and can usually persevere despite injuries. This can occasionally lead to him brushing off wounds that are serious.
Technophobe: Due to his background, Pre lacks significant experience with technologies. Depending on what it is, he may struggle to operate it and he does not enjoy flying.
APPEARANCE:
Pre is relatively tall for a human. He often comes across as an imposing figure due to his large size and impressive build. He carries himself seriously. When prepared for combat, he usually wears a light suit of armor minus a helmet. Otherwise, he can be found wearing basic rugged garb and combat boots. He usually carries a pistol and vibrodagger on him in the event he runs into trouble.
BIOGRAPHY:
Part I: Backstory
Pre’s eyes scanned the street as he approached The Pit. The moon shined overhead on the rather chilly night. There weren’t many people around save for the occasionally swoop or speeder zooming by, but that was to be expected. Approaching the bar, he entered and found the place nearly as deserted as the street it was on. The interior was musky with a darkly blue environment. He strolled over to the bar and took a seat, away from the other patrons--he wasn’t particularly interested in socializing tonight. His mind was elsewhere. The Twi’lek bartender walked over to him as he sat down, his blue skin radiating in the light.
“What can I get ya?” He asked.
“I’ll have a Corellian Ale.” Pre replied.
The bartender nodded and moved to get a glass. “Ya don’t look like you’re from around here,” he speculated as he began pouring the drink.
“I’m not.” Pre replied, gruffly.
“Well then...where are ya from?”
“It’s a long story.”
“This place look crowded to ya? It’s a Taungsday. I got time. Tell me about yaself.” The bartender replied, sliding the Corellian Ale towards him.
Pre grabbed the drink and then took a sip before reaching into a pocket and pulling out a few credits that he tossed towards the bartender. “The name’s Pre,” he began. “I was named after an ancient Mando’ad warrior from the Clone Wars. Least that’s what my buir said, apparently I have the same lush golden hair that he did. He used to regale me with stories of the Mando’ad’s all the time as a child. Pre had a legendary darksaber, a blade so powerful it could cut through a Jetii'kad in one fell swoop, shattering the blade. Apparently he used that to overthrow an oppressive duchess and free Manda'yaim back in the day. Seems all a bit crazy now, but I used to love those tales growing up.” He paused and took another sip of the ale. “Growing up was hard.”
The bartender nodded. “That’s life for ya, kid. It’s all hard.”
“You ever heard of Mandrine?”
The bartender shook his head.
“Well that’s where I grew up. It’s in the Kessel Sector. Spice mines all over the place. My buir was a warrior back in the day, but when Manda’yaim fell he got shipped off to be a slave in the mines. It’s where I grew up. They had me working from the moment I started breathing. At least that’s what it felt like. It was a rough life but my buir looked out for me. Learned a lot down there--took a lot of beatings too. Nobody survives those places, nobody escapes. It’s a death trap.” He sighed and took another sip of the ale.
“Yet here ya are,” the bartender mused. “People have a way of survivin’, how’d ya get out?”
“My buir was resourceful. He knew his way around that place. He got me out six years ago. I think he knew he could never escape. An aliit just doesn’t disappear from one of those places, but a young guy by himself? It happens occasionally. He set up my escape one night--shortly after I turned eighteen. Leaving him was the hardest thing I ever did. It was the only time I ever cried, but I knew I had to go. Between the beatings and the lung damage, people don’t last long down there. I knew I had to go. I stole away one night under the cover of darkness. Trekked probably 20 kilometers through foliage to a town and stole away on a ship. Got me to Oba Diah. I started working for some wealthy businessman, took care of his ships. It wasn’t much but I was desperate, I’d do anything for a couple credits--anything to keep from going back to that hell. Job didn’t last long though. I had no clue what I was doing around ships--messed up one day and the guy went off. He hit me and threatened to send me to the spice mines where I ‘belonged.’” He took another sip. “Something in me snapped that day. Thinking back, I don’t think he’d have actually sent me back to the mines. He didn’t know I’d escaped. I think it’s just all those years of abuse built up.” He paused and finished the glass of ale.
“Another one?”
“Yeah, I’ll take another.” Pre tossed another couple credit chips on the counter before continuing his story. “He had a trophy cabinet with some ceremonial blades. I cut his throat. Then I panicked. Luckily he had the keys to the ship on him, so I took off. Thinking back--it’s probably a miracle I didn’t get blasted out of the sky. He’d already had a course charted for Talos, so that’s where I went. I didn’t bother to change it--didn’t know how to be honest. The flight there was nerve wracking. I’d never traveled much and I was panicked, worrying I’d be caught. He had a couple weapons on board, some credits, and some clothing. I took what I could fit in a sack and left the ship the moment it landed.”
The bartender handed him another drink, nodding as the story continued.
Pre sipped the drink. “I found a gang in the underworld, worked with them for a while. It wasn’t the greatest life, but down there--everyone is equals pretty much. I think I liked that. But then I saw a sign--one of those posters advertising riches if you signed up to fight. So I did. I wanted more, I wanted glory. Like those Mando’ad warriors back in the day. Looking back, it’s a miracle I survived. Sure--I was pretty strong and fit from the mines and I’d had my fair share of brawls on the street, but I wasn’t trained. I didn’t know what I was doing with a vibroblade in my hands. I killed the first kid they put me up against--he was a spice addict, had no right being in that arena. Fight didn’t last long at all, then I started training--working my way up the ranks. I was unstoppable at first; maybe it was my bloodlines, maybe it was just instincts. I took on their champion and won. I was a damn hero. They loved me after that. Riches, spice, sex, ale--you name it, I felt like I had it all after that. Life continued that way for a while. Nobody could beat me for the longest time.” He paused momentarily, only to gulp down more ale. “Then I fought some Trandoshan kid. He was scrawny, but he was quick. He got me on the leg before I took him down. It was the underworld--anything goes. Must’ve been some poison on that blade cause no amount of bacta would heal that wound. I had a fight a few weeks later, against some guy they called ‘Ulfric the Krayt.’ Apparently he grew up fighting dragons on Tatooine--dunno if I believe it, they said I was from Mando’yaim even though I never set foot on the damn planet. Anyways, the pain was killing me, I hadn’t trained in weeks--I was drinking every night. It was a bloodbath. I think that’s when it hit me.”
“What hit ya? A vibroax?” The bartender asked, chuckling.
“Nah,” Pre took another sip of the ale. “That wasn’t glory. I was killing people for sport. A true warrior fights for honor, what happened in that ring wasn’t honorable. It was far from it.” He took another drink. “Anyways, I’d burned through almost all my prize winnings. Had nearly nothing left and I was worthless to them now--Ulfric was all the rage. It wasn’t slavery, but sometimes I struggle to see the difference. As long as you’re winning they parade you around to show you off, but when you lose? They discard you without a second thought. You have no more worth to them. But honestly, I was fortunate. I escaped with my life, most can’t say that and I lasted for three years on top. Most champions don’t make it three months. So, I left. I sold what I could and took off. That’s how I ended up here, I plan to set off to join the Death Watch tomorrow morning.” He finished the drink.
“Ya want another one?”
“Nah, that’s all for me.” He slid the drink towards the bartender and tossed a couple extra credits on the counter as a tip.
“Alright, well good luck on ya journey.” The bartender took the glass and the chips.
Pre nodded and stood up, heading for the exit. Telling his story brought back a lot of memories--some good, some not. It’d been six years since he’d seen his aliit. He wondered about them, were they even still alive? It’s funny, you think when you get old you’ll figure everything out, but sometimes it just creates more questions than answers. He had no idea what his purpose was now, but the morning would bring answers. At least that was what he hoped. He stepped out into the cold night and headed for the inn where he was staying.
ITEMS:
Small Amount of Clothing
Small Amount of Credits
Light Battle Suit
Vibroweapons
DL-18 blaster pistol
SHIP: N/A
KILLS: N/A
BOUNTIES COLLECTED: N/A
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