- Joined
- May 11, 2008
- Messages
- 891
- Reaction score
- 446
AGE: 34
SPECIES: Human
FACTION: Mandalorian Dominion
RANK: Mand'alor
HEIGHT: 1.9 Meters
WEIGHT: 102 kg
HAIR COLOR: Light Brown/Sandy Blonde
EYE COLOR: Deep Blue
FORCE: Negative
-
“It will be a rough path. A lot of us will die. A lot more than what we saw back at the camp. I know that now. In order to keep it from happening again, we have to drive back the threats ourselves and end it where it begins. That is a path I will follow you to, Ral.” - Moira Kryze
Born on the outer rim world of Mandalore, Ral Vizsla was born to an influential, if somewhat radical noble of House Vizsla, Gideon. His father was a Mandalorian who believed that diplomacy, negotiations, and accords could help to settle differences before they turned bloody. Needless to say this branded him a bit of a pariah by most of the warrior societies on the planet, but Ral's father was not deterred and quickly plotted and schemed his way into positions of power, and when statecraft failed, he reverted to the old warrior ways of the clans ensuring he obtained what he desired. It was with this set of skills, and this notion of "diplomacy first" that Ral's father passed on to his son.
Growing up on Mandalore, Ral was caught in the dichotomy of his father's desire for him to learn the art of politics and statecraft, and the societal norm of martial adeptness and glory in combat. It was not an easy childhood for the young scion, and he didn't take to either the history and speechcraft lessons, nor the weapons and martial arts exercises. However, wishing to please his father, whom he respected and loved deeply, Ral continued on, persevering despite not particularly enjoying the coursework. Eventually, the young Mandalorian became quite good at what both diplomacy and the more aggressive forms of discourse.
When he was sixteen, Ral joined the Mandalorian militia, a typical thing for most young Mandos his age. While serving in the militia went on his first raid with a group of similarly young Mandalorians. They ambushed a group of smugglers and liberated their prize, bringing it back to Mandalore as part of their spoils. It was an eventful year for the eager young Vizsla, winning more than a few accolades and personally leading another raid on marauders on the border of their space.
The Golden Age
At seventeen, Ral was selected to help lead a hunting expedition to the wild fringe world of Felucia to help work with some younger trainees learn the necessary skills that would help them later on as warriors. There he met Moira Kryze, a young and energetic blonde girl a few years younger than him, in a muddy puddle. It was she who volunteered to go with him on a patrol. On their patrol, they were attacked by a nest of Felucian Rippers, and escaping them, found themselves falling into a long buried network of ruins where they were beset upon once more by aborigines. Before they escaped back to their camp, Moira found an amulet strong in the dark side of the Force, though neither knew it at the time. When they returned to their camp, they found everyone there slaughtered by an unknown foe who used a weapon which burned and cauterized as it wounded. After a sullen funeral for their fallen comrades, the pair returned to Mandalore to tell their fathers what happened. Over the next year, the pair became very close, a pair of warriors who could read each other's movements during battle, and the deepest of friends as well.
When Ral was eighteen, his father was brutally murdered by Force Users in the streets of Sundari. A group of cloaked Force Users attacked a group of Mandalorians near Ral's house looking for something, so his father, Ral, and Moira joined in the fray. Together they managed to kill several of the shrouded Force Users. However, their leader proved to be too powerful, and he bested them. Blasting Ral's father out of the sky with lightning, and injuring Moira, and gravely wounding Ral, claiming his arm. During the next two weeks, Ral recovered slowly, being fitted with a new prosthetic arm. His grief, shame, and anger for being defeated drove him away from the planet though as he began his quest for vengeance. Ral felt the burning compulsion to hunt down the masked man who had wounded himself and killed his father. This didn't go over well with Moira, the girl Ral had grown to love more than a friend. Before he left they exchanged helmets and Ral asked her to wait for him.
Unsure who these Force Users were, Ral could only guess at what their true identity was. Due to Mandalore's proximity to the Sith border, and the nature of the Sith to use such underhanded tactics, Ral presumed it to be the work of a Sith assassin.
A Soldier On His Own
During his twenty-third year, Ral found a former Jedi, left for dead by his companions, and in the hands of a Sith raiding party. Reaching the lost Jedi, Ral saved him, and upon realizing the man was of Mandalorian stock offered him a place where he'd be accepted and not left for dead.
At the age of twenty-four, Ral rescued a female Togruta from slavers named Zevi. After he freed her it became readily apparent the alien was tenacious and contained a warrior's spirit in her heart. Seeing this, and desiring another companion, Ral offered a spot by his side as a friend. She accepted, and the two began a long and frugal relationship fighting outlaws, marauders, pirates, and sometimes corporations at the behest of rival corporations. They'd often work with Ral's cousin Caedryn on various jobs.
Time passed and Ral met many people over the course of his many years wandering. Realizing he would never find his father's killer this way, Ral realized it was time to return. He had heard of the complacency in the Mandalorian government, and how it had become inept, full of men and women who only cared about personal gain. Now he has returned to Mandalore with the hope of seeing his people become great again.
Ral returned to Mandalore to gather support for his cause. Early on he was captured by the Republic and imprisoned in a place they put people they didn't want to deal with, a gulag for political prisoners. Eventually, Caed and Bardan rescued him and they went about the process of undermining the Republic and gaining support for their movement. During this time, Ral met with Moira, but now she was Moira, but Talia Al'Saif, professional bounty hunter and cold-hearted bitch. She broke his heart, took the helmet of her's that he had kept safe, and stormed off. Later on, she would come after him because of the bounty on his head. But instead of collecting, they made love, and Ral hoped it would be the beginning of a relationship. Unfortunately, things were not meant to be, for as Ral's movement began to gain momentum, he was nearly killed on a shuttle ride, leaving no evidence or word of what happened to him, merely rumor. -
I don't know who I am, or where I came from. I don't even remember the night I was found. The fishermen who discovered me described a loud flash and a deafening bang before a star fell from the sky that night into the vast expanse of the midnight blue ocean. They said they found me floating amidst debris covered in blackened armor not long after that. My body was burnt, scarred, and for all intents and purposes, broken. They didn't think I would last the night, or the week that followed. Eventually, my body would heal, but my mind would not.
My first memory is waking up in bed with a beautiful redhead sitting over me. Well, more like awoke to a blur of warm golden light which slowly resolved into the fiery haired woman leaning over me, saying something I couldn't understand to someone I couldn't quite see. Another man entered the room and started examining me. To be honest, I don't remember much about that time other than I spent all of it in bed covered in bandages, barely able to make it the half dozen steps to the refresher. Days passed, weeks, finally I started to regain my strength. The redhead was there, her name was Maria I learned, her father was captain of the fishing boat that discovered me. I then learned how they had to rush me into surgery and throw all new things into me to keep me alive. Apparently, I'm quite the cyborg now. Besides the plethora of different cybernetic parts which prevented me from dying, and which now gives me a slight edge over a typical member of my species, I have an entirely cybernetic right arm. Anyways, after my surgery, I was kept in a bacta tank for a week just so my body could heal. Sometime after that is when I awoke.
After the initial shock of waking up wore off, the doctors arrived and started asking me questions. Questions about who I was and where I came from. It was like trying to answer a question for a quiz, only you were never taught what was being quizzed. My mind drew only blanks. It became pretty apparent that I had some form of amnesia. While I could function normally, read, write, even play basic games with ease, I didn't know a single thing about myself. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Eventually, the doctors were satisfied and left, giving me a "clean" bill of health and the hope that my memory will eventually return. It still hasn't. Some believe when I receive the right trigger it will, but I haven't found one yet.
Maria was sweet to me. She was a diminutive woman who made up for it with eyes like stars, a voice like a harp, and the body of a voluptuous maid. I don't know what it was that made her constantly come around to check on me, maybe she felt bad, maybe she was intrigued, maybe she just thought I was cute, but whatever the reason, I was appreciative of her presence. Needless to say, we became close friends. Once I was strong enough and healthy enough to walk without support she showed me around the small harbor town I had been the guest of. Everyone seemed to know who I was without even coming within spitting distance. I guess it must have been pretty obvious who I was. The locals welcomed me and made me feel just as at home as Maria did. I thanked them for being so kind and gracious to me. It was a little difficult at first; I couldn't remember a name to tell them, so everyone began calling me Asterion, which meant roughly the Warrior borne of the Stars in their native language, or Star Warrior for short.
Life carried on for days, weeks, maybe even months. I ended up losing track, and where I was there really weren't seasons. After a while I began helping Maria's father with his fishing, as well as doing chores and whatever oddjobs around their cottage; I ended up moving in with them once I was discharged from the clinic in the town. One thing led to another and Maria and I started seeing each other in secret. It was romantic and enjoyable; it made me feel like I was ten years younger and had never been blasted to bits. Things eventually became serious between us as romantic relationships are wont to do and we came to her father to ask for his blessing. Amusingly, he already knew. Told us he figured it out by the way we had been looking at each other. He, of course, approved of it, was even overjoyed I'd say. His wife had died years ago and Maria was the only family left to him. He had hoped she would find a suitable partner, and he was glad it was me. With a half joking smile he commented now I just needed to marry her and get it over with. With us living in a small town, soon everyone knew. Not long after that Maria and I considered getting married. We both wanted it, so it seemed like the right thing to do. After long talks late at night or walking along the beach we decided to make it official and set a date.
This is where things take a turn for the worst. Two days before our wedding a ship appeared on the horizon. Not a normal boat. No, this was a space ship. Normally a cargo hauler will make a round once a month and trade supplies with the port. But it wasn't the right time; it was too soon. As the setting sun silhouetted the incoming craft in hues of warm gold and fiery orange, my world quickly exploded. Literally. Crimson bolts of energy traced their way through the town, leaving balls of conflagration and death wherever they struck. People started screaming, dying.
I was nearby, working in the small shed the served as the family's tinker station, trying to repair a damaged fishing net when the attack started, though I did see the craft approaching through the open windows, and I heard the whine of its engines and the report of its blaster cannons as it began its assault. What happened next I'm not entirely sure how to accurately describe. Muscle memory took over and I found myself diving for cover and reaching for a weapon. Once I made it back in the house Maria's father looked at me with terror in his eyes. With a whisper, he handed me a key and pointed to his bedroom. In his closet, there was a modest safe, and when I opened it I found the armor I had been wearing when arrived on this world. It was still blackened and scorched. With it was some sort of ancestral Vibrosword, the fanciful and delicate detailing on the grip and scabbard indicating it must have been important to me, maybe a prize or an heirloom. The last pieces were a Sunspear blaster pistol and a golden locket. I pocketed the locket and grabbed the pistol, donning the armor and sword as quickly as I could. For whatever reason or instinct drove me forward from this point I can't quite say other than it only felt right for me to go out and fight whoever it was trying to kill us. With a kiss and a quick goodbye to Maria, I charged out of the house.
By the time I made it outside the spacecraft was hovering off the ground, disgorging a plethora of aliens into the center of the town. There was some sporadic fighting, but for the most part, it was a slaughter; these were peaceful fisherfolk, not fighters. Most of the men were killed outright while the women were captured and dragged back to the alien craft. Slavers. The word burned across my mind and I knew that I had to defend these people, I had to defend Maria. Taking the pistol in hand I began my fight. I fired on them, and for whatever reason, it took them a few moments to realize what was happening, then a few more moments to get over the shock of it all. Some seemed to sneer, others squealed in fear. There was one word that was repeated over and over again that I managed to make out: Mandalorian. I guess that's what I am, or at least that's the armor that I wear. I'm not sure which. That first group of slavers didn't last too long, the shock of meeting actual resistance was something they were prepared for and they paid the price for their aggression and arrogance. It was a scene which would be replayed several more times over the coming minutes, but no matter what I did there seemed like there was always more. For every step I took in pushing the slavers back they took two more steps towards exterminating the village. Eventually, their leader came and challenged me directly, some sort of archaic honor duel. The leader was a large alien, who looked like a massive lizard on two legs. He was a good fighter, but I ultimately killed him.
That's when it happened. As his last act of macabre defiance, the lizard fired a rocket which missed me and hit the ship's engines. It began spinning faster and more out of control by the second until it crashed in a ball of flame and pressure which sent even me off my feet. Debris rained down crushing buildings and people alike. I don't know how long it took me to recover, but when I did I saw the house on fire. My house. Maria's house. I ran. I ran as fast as my tired legs could take me. The closer I got the more I could see how bad it was. A large piece of the ship had broken off and slammed through the house, collapsing walls and a significant portion of the roof. By the time I made it inside the damage was done. The roof had fallen on Maria's father, crushing him almost completely. Maria was... pinned by a chunk of metal to a wall. She was as pale as porcelain, a pool of carmine gathering below her form. I was there when she passed. We managed to say our goodbyes before the life went out of her perfect blue eyes. I remained there and wept.
When my sorrow passed I was filled with only vengeance. With a dark fury, I scoured the shattered ruins of the town for the surviving slavers, executing each one I found as painful as I could make it. By the time I was done I was the only living thing in that town. I buried who I could from the town, and then I burned the slavers. The trade hauler arrived two weeks later to the site of the devastation. Seeing that I was the only survivor I explained what had happened and bargained my way off the world. They took me to a world, well moon, called Nar Shaddaa and told me I could find work or transport to another place from there.
The moon was beautiful, it's towering skyscrapers mesmerizing to a person who had seen only oceans and palm trees and sand. That night I found the golden locket buried in the pocket of my clothing. Opening it I saw a young woman, maybe a teenager. The picture was old and so was the locket, so I figured it was something from my childhood. For a reason I can only guess as familiarity I felt like I could trust the female in the picture. Perhaps we were close in an old life. It was then I decided I was going to find out who I was eventually. The odds are against me, but this will give me something I have lacked. Purpose.
-
Everything began to change the day I went to Coruscant. I arrived there looking for a medical cure for my memory. Instead, I found myself in the middle of a Sith invasion. There, I met her. Talia Al'Saif. Though, at first I didn't know it was her, and we fought our way to the old rotunda before I saw her face. In that moment a flood of memories came rushing back to me, and I knew immediately who she was. I was there when she killed Prudii Kyramud, and it was I who carried her unconscious body back to the ship. Sadly, she was not nearly as happy to see me, as I was to see her.
After a few choice words, we parted ways, and I devoted myself to the Dominion and making a better galaxy in her name, for her. Months passed, and slowly my memories came back to me as I helped build the Dominion. Eventually, they all came back to me, and then Talia abdicated the throne, saying that it wasn't really for her, and that I was always the one who was meant to lead. Though I took it, I secretly wished Talia had remained on to lead with me, but knew she had no taste or desire to do so. Five long years passed as I led Mandalore and the Dominion. We expanded our borders and grew strong, gobbling up what we could of the crumbling Republic. Now, we stand ready to expand again; the Galaxy is ripe for the reaping. -
Ral is handsome, but in a plain sort of way. He is not angelic or beautiful like some artfully crafted ritual weapon like Geir was. He is handsome the way that a good blade is handsome, like the Mand'alors of old were considered handsome. There is a dutiful line to his law like Bardan, they share a nobility. There is the great strength of the Bear Tannen, and vitality of Aiden. There is, sometimes, the rogue glint of his cousin, Caedryn, in his eyes, or the solemnity of his father, Gideon. There is none of the bitterness that shadows poor Barr. There is never any of the deliberate mystery that obscures Mikha'el, and he is more open than that buries soul Fenn Saxon. He never displays the pitch of fury found in Corvo Vis, nor do his eyes ever ignite with the psychotic gleam of Prudii Kyramud.
His body is fit, and though he has a muscular build, he is lean. This makes him strong and surprisingly fast. Scars cover his body from the numerous wounds he has suffered over the years; the faint outline of surgical scars can be seen where life-saving cybernetics were placed inside of him. His right arm is entirely prosthetic below the shoulder, though there is a convincing layer of synskin cover it. The rest of his body is covered with tattoos, many are Mandalorian in nature. -
Ral seeks to make order out of chaos, even the chaos of war, something he often creates because of his warrior nature. He is a man of strategic thinking, often playing the long game and making choices which may seem baffling in the short term, but often pay off at the end. Ral very much believes the ends justifies the means, and though he is not cruelly ruthless to the point of being a heartless tyrant, he is a very pragmatic individual. One who is not above manipulating and burning people to achieve his goals. The lessons of his father and the necessities of life have turned him into an able statesman.
Ral is not the best at what he does and he knows this. He is not as skilled with the blade as his friend Talia, nor is he as smooth a talker as his cousin Caedryn. Still, Ral is ever trying to improve and outdo himself, ever aspiring to become better than he was. Perhaps rather surprising to some is the fact that Ral believes the Galaxy would be a much safer place if they were united against the Sith. To this end, he seeks to make alliances and spread the Dominion's message about hope, strength, and unity. -
-CCT Mk. II Armor, Cobalt Blue with Gold Trim, Laurel of Pink, Purple, and Powder Blue Tu'lips and Lilies
-House Vizsla Ancestral Vibrosword
-PB-1s Heavy Particle Beam Blaster Rifle (8 30-round Power Packs)
-Sunspear Heavy Blaster pistol (6 Power Packs)
-B-8R Blaster Pistols (x2) (3 Extended Power Packs Each)
-Kukri
-Thermal Detonators (3x)
-Locket
-Various cybernetic "enhancements" and prosthetic right arm.
- TITLE — Short description [LINK] ● (thread status)
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