Tavel Darjin
"Some kid could bullseye womp rats? Big deal. I could hit a Jawa. I'm not stupid enough to turn off my flight computer, either."
Attributes:Strength: d6
Agility: d10
Vitality: d8
Alertness: d8
Intelligence: d12
Willpower: d10
Derived Attributes:Lifepoints: 18
Initiative: d10+d8
Endurance: d10+d8
Resistance: d8+d8
Assets:In Plain Sight d6
Born Behind The Wheel d6
Attuned To Technology d6
Photographic Memory d8
I'll Bet You Have! d4
Complications:Amorous d8
Insatiable Curiosity d6
Smartass d4
Predjudiced (Galactic Empire) d4
Skills:Athletics(Dodge) d8
Pilot(Starfighters) d12
Pilot(Ship Weapon: Laser/Ion) d10
Tech(Slicing) d12
Tech(Advanced Sensors) d8
Covert(Sneaking) d10
Covert(Disguise) d8
Guns(Blaster Pistol) d8
Perception(Hearing) d10
Mechanic d6
On Person:Macrobinoculars(Normal,Heat,IR,Sonar) with shoulder strap
Custom Datapad(Slicing)
Light Grey Trousers with Black Inner (Lightly Worn)
Light Grey Shirt with Dark Brown Inner (Lightly Worn)
Dark Grey Vest with Light Brown Inner (Lightly Worn)
Matte Black Multipurpose Boots (Worn)
-Custom Built Dampening System (Sound)
Chest Mounted Holster
-Fits one blaster
-Also fits Custom Datapad(Slicing)
Physical Description:Tavel Darjin is just over 177 centimetres in height. His dirty brown hair is worn short, for convenience. His clothing is mostly light and dark greys, nearly all of which can be turned inside out for a quick change of colour. His worn boots are a matted black which conceal their special nature. He wears these both in and out of flight uniform. Any scars or markings that life may have left him with are faded and nearly unnoticeable - the way he likes it.
Backstory:Life for Tavel Darjin is like watching a holoprojector flick through slides. Ever since he has had a memory, it has been near perfect. The past events of a day lie clearly before him. Often he will dream about them. Most will fade to a dull memory within a day or two. Those will take a few minutes of thought to bring up. There are a few memories though, that will stay with him.
He can remember the colour of the eyes of the female employee who kicked him out of the orphanage for breaking into the other kids lockers and personal data files one too many times. They were a bright green that he found oddly distracting, even at age six.
He can remember the password of the shipyard foreman whose identity he stole to try to add himself to the roster of employees allowed to ferry ships. Who the hell uses "imperialdogs" as a password, anyhow?
He can remember the tight curve of the singlet worn by the attendant of the crime boss who took him in when he got reported to the authorities of his attempt. It pinched her breasts together in a way that made him wonder if they were real. (They were.)
He can remember the chair he was sitting on when he finally sliced into the Imperial Database successfully. The pain of reading information on how his parents really died was only marginally offset by the comfort of the chair in the crime boss's private office. His security was definitely in need of improvement.
He can remember the date that he sentenced the crime boss to death by turning him in. Anyone who worked for the Imperials was going to die eventually, no matter how much they taught you. He celebrated it every year, calling it his "Day of Freedom".
He can remember the horrible smells that emanated from the first starfighter he piloted. The exhilarating feel of the craft and how much it felt like home was well worth it. He would later recall thinking that infiltration and bounty hunting for the Corellian military is as good as any career. Such recollections would always make him chuckle, as only the highest ranking military operatives knew he joined at barely ten years old.
Finally, he can remember the feel of the dry parchment the first Alliance operative he met used. Such low-tech methods confused him slightly until he saw the allure of not leaving any trace on the holonet. That he hadn't thought of such ideas first intrigued him.
Background:Tavel's parents were killed by Imperials simply by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Up until the age of two, Tavel had always sat in his Dad's lap at the cockpit, nearly piloting the ships himself. Once in the care of the government, he quickly learned to break into things that were secure - physical and electronic - without getting caught. Eventually he was, though - and all the past cases were linked to him.
Finding himself on the street, he longed to get into space without really knowing why. This lead him to attempt to put himself on an employee roster so that he could at least just dock newly created freighters. Sadly, six year olds don't normally do this work, and he was caught. The employee who (should have) sounded the alarm happened to also be in the employ of a local crime boss. Seeing talent in the boy, he was taken for training.
One week before his tenth birthday, he turned the crime boss in to the Corellian military, earning him the respect of some high up officers. He managed to persuade them to allow him to pilot a starfighter, and after winning a few dogfights in the most broken down ships they could find they started giving him some real equipment and training.
He never advanced into the upper military ranks, as intelligence agents aren't allowed to do so. As a compensation he was given training in whatever manner of stealth and sabotage that caught his eye. After he turned twenty one, they even insisted on training him with a blaster - there's no use being totally defenseless while you're stuck at a computer terminal.
At twenty five he entered the service of the Rebel Alliance - a lucky thing too, as a good portion of the female members of the Corellian military had filed complaints against him for his advances. Not that he hadn't tried with the others, they were either just used to it...or gave in.
After a few successful missions with the Alliance, they started to figure out just how useful it was to have a man of his skills around. Apparently he was going to be assigned to a new squad. He hoped there were women on this one...
Personality:Tavel is usually open, and doesn't mind small talk. He tends to have good relations with most males. Females either don't know him, hate him, ignore him, tolerate him, think he's cute but bothersome, or have slept with him. More time spent with him usually moves them further along the list, as well. He likes to know how things work (perhaps too much) and prefers to fix the starfighters he pilots himself. He's been known to modify them as well. Having near perfect memory tends to leave him a bit mentally fatigued at times. When there are dark circles under his eyes, his wit can be a bit more piercing than usual.
Author
Topic: Penumbra Squad (Star Wars Pilots/Agents!) PBF (Read 8293 times)