Dorn B'Dinn

Wanderer, Mercenary, Opportunist

Description:

Name: Dorn B’Dinn
Race: Twi’Lek
Class: Scoundrel 5/Scout 2/ Ace Pilot 2
Gender: Male
Age: 31
HP: 79
Skin: crimson speckled w/yellow
Eyes: yellowish
Hair: hairless
EXP: 37430/ Next lvl: 45k

STR:13 (1) INT:14 (2)
DEX:17 (3) WIS:12 (1)
CON:12 (1) CHA:14 (2)
FORT:24 SPD:6
REF:26 ATK:5
WILL:21 INIT:7
F.Points:10 Threshold: 24

Feats
Force Sensitive, W.P Rifles, W.P. Pistols, W.P. Simple, Point Blank Shot, Vehicular Combat, Skill Focus: Pilot, W.P. Advanced Melee, Dual Weapon Mastery I, Rapid Shot, Force Training, Quick Draw

Force Powers
Mind Trick, Move Object

Talents
Space Hound, Hyper Driven, Evasion, Elusive Dogfighter, Vehicle Dodge +1, Force Perception

Race Traits
Deceptive, Great Fortitude, Low Light Vision

Trained Skills
Deception: 10(reroll x1), Gather Info.: 10, Mechanics: 11, Persuasion: 10, Pilot(F): 17, Use Computer: 10, Use the Force: 11

Class Skills
Acrobatics: 7, Initiative: 7, Knowledge (all), Perception: 5, Stealth: 7, Climb: 5, Endurance: 5, Jump: 5, Ride, Survival: 5, Swim: 5

Weapons
Vibroblade (hip), Hvy B.Pistol (hip holster), Ion Rifle (stowed), B. Carine, Ion Grenade x2, Frag Grenade x9 (x7 stowed), knife (ankle)

Items
Memory’s Shadow (dock 7), Space suit, exotic box (containing Blue Crush Spice vial, smoking utensil, and fire), pocket full of code cylinders, short-wave com, electro-binoculars, hip holster, breath-mask, utility belt, rations x5 stowed, common cloths + alltempcloak, Long-Shot (dock 2),

Bio:

A Nar Shadaa Nights Tale

*"C’mon kid it’s not gonna bite back. Not yet at least," a sleek looking Twi’Lek said cool and collected as he looked over Dorn’s shoulder.

“Sorry Das. I’ll be less afraid,” Dorn responded with Ryl in a young unpolished voice.

Das fingered Dorn’s imagination, “If you can’t get past these advanced modules Dorn you’ll have to start the project over from scrap. Until you’ve mastered this one thing there’s no way your gonna be a ship’s Wreck and get off this rock. No Captain around here has any use for a mechanic that can’t weld a fuse box casing’s body to the modulator of a G-x9 air pump. That’s a really basic thing on a star-ship’s inventory that can easily malfunction installed improperly. Hold the welder angled away from you.”

Dorn was staring at Das as if he were a respectable teacher. A heavy arch-welder resting on the frame of a mechanical arm sat lazily over Dorn’s shoulder. He looked down at the job he was doing and attempted to finish. After Das was done instructing he left the small bay, the sound of the hangar doors sliding shut made Dorn jump.*

Dorn opened his eyes to a soundless room. Raising his hand to his face to view the scar his eyes traced the shapes, a bunch of lines criss-crossing his palm. Looking at the scar made memories return, dark memories. He adjusted himself to face the com screen, his lekku wrapping around his neck and body to keep him warm. Coming out of the sleep coma Dorn’s eyes slowly adjusted to the spice hangover of the morning. His pulse drummed in his ears, and after a few minutes of trying to relax he was forced over the side to heave a meager load into the trash bin. After that Dorn reached across from his bed to open a small metal box marked with foreign lettering. The box ejaculated a pipe, a small glimmering tube, and a flame tongue device. Minutes later the heavenly exotic puffings of Blue Crush Spice filled the room. His favorite.

A few hours later when he’d come down Dorn donned his pants, with boots and his pistol belt. He walked out of the small apartment, the streets of Nar Shadaa made a ‘pang’ noise beneath his feet and the air smelled of nasty exhaust leaking from every stinking hole in and out of sight. Looking back and forth to stretch his neck Dorn wondered about the time, at when he was needed. Thinking about it made him hungry. He migrated from the apartment to gather his things and then to 7th street Alpha District F-97 block T Room 1354, the hot spot for early morning munchings. The 7th street eatery. There was no other place on Nar Shadaa that made authentic gruuvan shaal.

No more than two bites into the best lizard meat he had yet tasted in his many years Dorn was forcefully knocked out of his chair. A sound so piercingly loud expelled him from his seat. Agonized and gripping his head he tried to stand but tripped across the floor and finally came to a halt against a wall with the gruuvan all over his body and the shaal splattered, like bean spread, all over his face. The sound ceased, but a ring in the ear helped him to not forget. Eyes wide and trying to realize what it was that had happened Dorn drew his pistol and gazed about. People lay around everywhere some with their mouths agape, others frantically slapping their ears. He then realized his hearing was off when no ones mouths were making voices. When he reached for his ears his fingers drew back blood. Adjusting to the situation Dorn noticed the windows lay about shattered, even certain plastic wares were bent or crushed. He withdrew for some clue to the massive disturbance.

7th street would have been a steadily busy street, but when Dorn walked out of the eatery all was in chaos. Flying cars were falling out of the sky and people had dropped their valuables and bags to hold their brains in. It was too much for him. This early morning crazy shit that never would happen to anyone on a good morning like the one he was just almost starting. It went from bad to worse as down about half a block a man appeared, cloaked in black storming out of a building. The shrouded stranger rushed in Dorn’s direction, a black robe catching the air just enough to make him float. As he maneuvered around, Dorn noticed his face was covered except for the eyes which aimed a path for the buoyant phantom. The eyes were some empty, yellowed and cold lumps. A hollow vision peeled away at Dorn’s core as he gazed into the Twi’Lek’s eyes. Dorn’s skin crawled with a sensation that made him freeze. For a brief moment as Dorn blinked his mind flashed with the glowing of green magical embers clashing against lava sprays sending brilliant white sparks showering away the colors in all directions. And when Dorn’s real vision returned the specter was gone. It left a weak feeling in Dorn’s stomach that caused him to double over with shivers that shot bullets of sweat down the back of his head. Staring at his feet the world began to twist into a tunnel of vertigo when suddenly his eyes adjusted to the well shaped boot of a woman’s foot. She lay her hand upon his shoulder, and the sickness was gone. When he looked up into her eyes, tan colored lekku came into view.

“Brother. Why are you out here all alone? You have a scent to you,” the strange Twi’lek said. She was dressed like a spacer, an array of gizmos and gadgets hung from her belt and suit. There were people all around though. He wasn’t alone. The Twi’lek woman was confusing him. An armed human on his feet with a strange device straddling his skull appeared.

“Myanne lets go. He went this way.” The trooper pounced away on a hunt. Myanne peered at Dorn and cocked her head, as her hand left his shoulder a high-pitched bell began to ping his hearing. Dorn watched her turn and leave in the direction of blaster fire. Curious for anything he followed. The morning was still dark out, he had enough time.

Dorn didn’t know what to expect. He tried his hardest to keep up and by the time they were at the shuttle bays on this level for general parking for personal star-crafts and yachts he was out of breathe. It must have been a few miles or more, and the chaos that had reigned outside of the 7th street eatery was effecting the bays as well. Everyone was incapacitated due to the trauma of the noise. What could he do for now but try to keep the stranger’s pace? As he entered the main bay doors he lost track of the couple.

The entrance gave no sign as to their direction. Folks were just starting to come about as Dorn passed, like a memory, through the room of people who would never understand the day when those weird things happen to you. Dorn really wanted to know at this point, it cost him a very pricey plate of gruuvan shaal. As he scouted the hallways for a sign he came across the charred body of the man the woman was with. His belt was removed and his body lay in a charred ruin, steam still rising from the crisped matter. The only thing Dorn could deduce was the headpiece now lying smashed to pieces about where the skull used to be. Part of the cybernetic was grafted to the brain stem, it wasn’t just a hat. ‘This guy must have been a bounty hunter to look so freelance with this headgear,’ Dorn’s conscience spoke up. He armed himself with the dead man’s blaster rifle and continued.

In bay 9 Dorn caught the tail end heat on the back wall of a ship taking off. Peering into a sky hole he witnessed a needle shaped, pitch black vessel flying into the sky. Snooping about he found the woman Myanne in the cockpit of a sleek, two-seated Z-95 Headhunter. She had a hole shot through her stomach. Barely alive she reached out to touch his cheek with the tips of her lekku.

In a dying whisper she exhaled, “C’mon kid it’s not gonna bite back. Not yet at least.”

Dorn was no stargazed lover, and generally took no interest in women at all, but the look on this dead Twi’lek’s face made him feel otherwise. Myanne’s glazed eyes were looking off to the side as if she’d glimpsed something in the corner, her lids drooped in a kind drape. The tear streams shimmered down her face like holy water-falls. Her lips barely parted to exhale and the calm sensation he got from the lure of her beautiful face had him staring for a good minute.

Seeing all the emergency lights flashing on in the shuttle bays Dorn decided to high-jack the fighter. Facing forward in the cock-pit, he slid the top closed. Noticing a small crystal hanging from a leather strap in the ceiling he took it in his hand and felt a strange presence about it, although it looked to be a cheap mimicry of a stone; Dropping it he engaged the engines of the ship and read out loud the name on the heads up display: “Memory’s Shadow.”

/END

Dorn B'Dinn

Starhounds Quixotic_Earthling