Welcome to Gaia! ::

The Copy/Paste:


The Rundown:
Gaia Name: Duh.
Character Name: Please no ripoffs from the movies.
Gender: Duh.
Age: Has a bearing on power level, to some extent. No infant prodigies, sorry.
Race: Must be a real SW race. No Sith or Mandalorians.

Character Description: At least one paragraph describing your character's physical appearance and personality. Link all pictures.

Character History: At least one paragraph describing how your character became who they are today. It is acceptable to end your bio at initiation into your faction ad fill in the rest after your power level is granted.

Notable Possessions: No ships. The Company controls anything that flies. If you prove yourself as a good RP'er, you may be issued a speeder, if you want.

Power Level: To be issued by certain mods.
Faction: Must be chosen from the four.
Specialization: Examples include: Close Combat, Stealth, Sniping, Computers, Engineering. Whatever your character's main role is.
Skills/Force Powers: Skills are a result of your background, Force Powers are dependent on your PL, see the appropriate thread.


One character per person.

And the Captain spake, saying: "One shall be the number of the characters created, and the number of created characters shall be one. Two characters shalt thou not create, nor shalt thou create zero characters, excepting that thou then proceedeth to one. Three is right out." And the guild members did feast upon the jerk bantha, and the nerfburgers, and the photo-lipids in brazened fatty acid sauce...

I suppose you could create zero characters, if you really wanted to.

The Mod Characters:

My Character:

Gaia Name:Leni Da SporK PiraTe

Character Name: Ordon Vielas

Gender: Male

Age: 35

Race: Zabrak

Character Description: Ordon stands at 6 feet, a normal height for his people. His base skin color is a medium tan. Along his arms, back, and several places on his face he has tattoos given to him at birth by his family. He has a slightly muscled build, capable of the tasks required of his job. His skin is course from years of abuse of the elements and working for a living. His eyes are a deep shade of orange, which is not uncommon of the Zabrak race. His hair is cut short to avoid any complications of moving it out of the way or it getting caught in something. Of course every Zabrak has horns. Ordon’s are located on each temple, about two inches in length, a small dorsal horn on the top of his head, covered by his hair, two jutting from either side of his jaw for about a half inch. His clothes are mostly sophisticated, to hide his past.

Character History: Ordon was born into the famous Vielas family, and was a child of luxury from infantsy. His father was a well off merchant man who started with death stix and moved his way up to hotter peddling. Working his way up the food chain of sleazy marketing, Vielas was soon a household name and they never needed to work again. His father’s time with him seemed to dwindle as he made his way up the ladder of power. As a boy the trials of school weren’t required, that was for boys who’s fathers had to work their way through life. In lieu of schooling, Ordon snuck his way into the ruined jedi temple of his home planet. It was overrun with corrupt Jedi, as Corellia was known for its break from the modern ways of the other core planets. The teachings didn’t necessarily appeal to him, but he stayed long enough to swipe the light saber of a small boy who never paid attention.

Using his fathers allotted thousand credits per month; he purchased the necessary supplies to make his saber. A regular saber was for commoners however, so he purchased an extra-expensive light saber resistant metal to create a staff, on the tip of which would sit the emitter of his blade. After months in his room, his masterpiece was complete. Ordon quickly made his way down to the family room, where his father most enjoyed his wealth, to show his creation to someone he knew had a keen eye for the fine and beautiful. His trip turned out to be futile as he found the figure of his father hunched over his work table with a large bottle of alcohol. His face seemed distraught and for the first time in his life, Ordon thought he saw his father actually worried.
A few weeks later, the answer to the mystery of his miserable father slammed down on their family with a bill of 8 billion credits. Suddenly they were back down to selling death stix. Soon after their fall, Vielas himself was murdered by debt collectors when he couldn’t pay of his blood money.

Growing up in the seething city streets, far away from the world that Ordon had grown up in, caused a change in the boy. Suddenly his world seemed to be pessimistic all the time, no longer the carefree spender he once was. His attitude became cynical and began to do things he wasn’t proud of for money. As he grew up on the streets he learned the trade and the jargon, quickly adapting to the world around him. Soon he ended up where his father had begun: selling death stix to the junkies along the side of the road and the brainless drones that never lurked anywhere outside the bar. He almost felt pity for them. They would never amount to anything. Then he began to ask himself a question:
Would he?
Taking on as many jobs for low lives as he could, Ordon still didn’t seem to live up the legend of his father; no matter what he did he would never be good enough for the Vielas’.
Just as he was considering selling himself to someone as a slave, he came upon a Neimodian in a bar just outside the capital city. He seemed to be a little nervous upon approaching the now hardened Zabrak with the job offer. After all, Neimodians were the only species in the galaxy with a special organ connected to their lungs especially for panicking.

“Come work for me, on my Schooner. Free room and board, just work it.”

It almost seemed to good to be true. Upon his arrival, Ordon found his instinct to be true. Schooner was most defiantly an overstatement of the vessel. It was a trash heap with a crew that seemed to be picked up from all corners of the galaxy. It was better than the four by four space he was currently occupying, so he couldn’t complain. Soon he grew to love space travel, be it voluntary or not. He was unsure about the crew, save one.

The cook on the vessel was a Feeorin, by the name of Tork The thick skinned species from the outer rim who had a menacing face and thick head tentacles that went all the way around their head. He was never afraid to showcase his personality, as shown by an incident when a man lost his left hand to a cleaver on the slip in calling him a Nautolan. He wasted no time in taking Ordon under his wing, as both of their species were known for violence. Not only did he have a quick hand, but his mind was sharper than anyone Ordon had encountered. Over time he came to call Tork a friend, without the danger of losing an organ. His twisted mind had morphed what a normal person would take a psychopathic being, into a father figure.

The more time they spend together, the more things Ordon learned. The experienced Feeorin knew about the inner workings of most anatomy, marketing, and most of all fighting. When he found out of Ordon’s secret weapon he was elated. Not everyday did someone come across a weapon as elegant as a light saber. With time, Ordon had learned a fighting style worthy of the honor of a Feeorin salute, which he was graciously given by his cook comrade. The fighting style was that of Vaapad, which Feeorin had encountered on a smuggling run when he helped a jedi escape certain death. He was taught the style by the grateful refugee.

After three years aboard the nervous Neimodian’s schooner, their pay fell through. The cowardly being’s “endless” money flow had seemed to meet its end after the second year and the crew’s anger was visible. Before long, a mutiny was planed. The employer was to be killed and the schooner sold to the highest bidder and the money split betwixt the group. When Ordon refused, along with Tork they were immediately seen as a threat. Tork being more of a threat than the Zabrak, was killed immediately where they stood. Ordon was sent into a blind rage as he lashed out at the crew, before being stunned by the blunt side of a vibro-blade. Waking in the stank filled confines of the ships detention area, Ordon found himself in a haze. From the looks around it seemed that the crew had gotten what they had wanted. Taking a look out of the port side window he found that they were in orbit around a planet. Taking his weapon that he had concealed, Ordon quickly freed himself from the cast iron bars of the prison.

With the eyes of rankor Ordon looked upon the crew with a merciless malice. He would treat them exactly how they had treated his companion. He made short work of the men, not even twitching at the sounds of their screams as his frictionless weapon sheered through them like hot butter. The auto pilot made a clicking noise as the large ship landed at the main loading docks. The doors slid open to a squad of men with repeaters pointed at the Zabrak, their radios tuned into the distress call of the Schooner.

With a few strings pulled, Ordon landed it into the minimum security prison on Alderaan for a few years. It only took the sob-story of the Zabrak, and the proof of the innocent murder of the Schooner’s owner. Within a few months, Ordon was back to smuggling and on top of the bottom of the world, with a few more tricks up his sleeve.
This began to slow after a few run ins with hutts and eventually the rise of the company which thwarted his shipping business.


Notable Possessions: Electromesh armor that has tiny power cells, which generate a damage absorbing electrical field around the wearer, which works well against most energy weapons, discounting light sabers. The armor allows maximum flexibility.

Power Level: to be determined

Faction: citizens front

Rank: to be determined

Class:none

Specialization: none

Combat Style:vaapad, and guerilla hand to hand

Skills:engine work, close quarters combat.

Force Powers:
very very basic powers. they are not usually used