- Joined
- Mar 19, 2014
- Messages
- 858
- Reaction score
- 35
Rymann Vizsla
An original character by Stormthroe
An original character by Stormthroe
General Information
Full Name: Rymann Kolyat
Alias: Rymann Vizsla
Faction: Border Alliance/Galactic Republic
Rank: Lieutenant
Species: Kiffar/Human (Mandalorian)
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Force Sensitive: N/A
Appearance
Height: 1.75 Meters (about 5'9")
Weight: 68.04 Kilograms (about 150 lbs.)
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Hazel
Skin: Caucasian
Personality
Rymann is confident and strongwilled, and something of a natural leader. He can be charismatic, but unfortunately, his youth sometimes leads him to be reckless and stubborn. He has a disciplined mind and is a very strategic thinker, however, he has poor control and understanding of his emotions at times, and reacts poorly to failure.
ENTJ
Attributes
As most farmers do, Rymann was raised to be a hard working, strong person, fit in both body and mind. While not as physically powerful as some others, he is fit and athletic from time spent in both farming and training, and spent equal time in classes goofing around and paying attention to his studies. In the end, however, he is merely human (well...near-human), and while a match for many, he is bested by those who have devoted their lives to combat and falls short of the intelligence of dedicated scholars. Quick-witted and able-bodied, he will do well as a soldier in the Border Alliance.
Skills
Marksmanship - Having served honorably for nearly four years as one of the constables of Concord Dawn, the Journeyman Protectors, Rymann is well versed in the use of most small arms and is a capable marksman, trained at least to a military level.
Hand to Hand Combat - Also due to his training as a Journeyman Protector, Rymann is a talented martial artist, using the brutal techniques common among many Mandalorian forces.
Multilingual - Rymann speaks Basic, Mando'a, and Twi'lek.
Combat Medicine - While no doctor, Rymann has a basic understanding of first aid and combat medicine.
Survival - Rymann's upbringing as a farmer on Concord Dawn lent him a decent level of survival knowledge, but this was further honed during his time as Journeyman Protector.
Equipment
Border Alliance Battle Armor
Combat Knife
Utility Belt
Range Finder
DC-15A Blaster Rifle
Biography
"Rymann. Rymann, is that you, ad'ike?"
Kessa listened intently from where she lay in her bed, weakly lifting herself from her pillow as she heard the door to her small, poustone hab close and the sound of furniture being scraped across the simple floor. After a moment, she heard footsteps approaching her door from the short hallway outside, before the handle turned slowly, and a tiny crack of light illuminated a sliver of her face.
"Ad'ike," she smiled faintly, "Come in." Kessa touched the small glow-lamp next to her bed to illuminate the room.
The door opened wider in response, revealing a handsome young man dressed in simple farmers' clothing, his face marred by the dust of a hard day's work, hiding a portion of the royal blue tattoos that stretched across his face. He wiped his hands on his trousers, before approaching and setting his hand into Kessa's own outstretched palm, caressing her gently.
"Buir," spoke Rymann softly to his mother, gently sitting down on the edge of her bed, "You should be asleep."
Kessa waved off her sons protest, smiling at him. "Relax Rymann. I'll have plenty of time to rest soon enough. How were your studies today, my son?"
Rymann gazed at his mother for a moment, reaching up to stroke her own yellow-hued tattoos before she brushed away his hand. "They were fine, buir. Nothing worth talking about."
Rymann listened half heartedly as his mother scolded him, telling him to pay more attention to his classes. It had been four months since his mother had gotten sick, just a few months before his 16th birthday, and he could see that even though she attempted to give off an air of strength and authority in her words, her breath was already running short. He silently nodded, as if her chiding had taught him some new lesson, but in his mind he bit back the bitter sting of knowing she was not long for this world.
"Rymann?"
His mother's voice drew him from his thoughts. Kessa was looking at him worriedly, expectantly as he met her deep green eyes.
"I'm sorry, buir. I was distracted. I need to rest as well; I need to be at the training field first thing come morning," he spoke, yawning as he did to attempt and sell his story. He attempted to get up from the edge of the bed, but his mother's hand grasped his wrist with a sudden strength, and he paused.
"Wait, Rymann," she spoke softly. For a moment, she looked away from him, staring at the decorative scroll that hung on the wall bearing the Mandalorian Code. Rymann waited patiently, unsure of how to react without upsetting her. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, she turned to him with a serious look.
"There's something I need to tell you. Something important. Its about your father."
Rymann swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, before nodding. She had never spoken of his father before, even despite his incessant questioning as a child as to why he did not work and train alongside his father like the other children at school. The word itself was bittersweet in his mouth, and he stayed silent, allowing his frail mother to continue uninterrupted.
"Its time you knew the truth, ad'ike. I've...I've not much time left to tell you." Kessa scowled as Rymann opened his mouth to protest, and he quickly bit his tongue. "We both know I won't last to the next harvest, and when that time comes, I want you to stay strong. You've become a fine man, and every man needs to know the truth about their father before they are expected to fend for themselves, so just listen. I'll tell you about him."
Kessa coughed lightly, shifting slightly higher on the headboard and letting her head lay back against the wall behind her, closing her eyes, as if she was straining to remember the story. She smiled to herself, her eyes still closed, as she began to tell her son about the man who'd sired him.
"I was a servant girl on Kiffu when I met him, your father. Only a handful of years older than you are now. He was an emissary from Mandalore, visiting on a political mission of some kind at the palace where I worked. He was handsome....strong...charming...not unlike yourself, ad'ike."
Rymann barely smiled at the compliment before smirking sheepishly, but listened closely as she continued.
"His name was Torm. Torm Vizsla. He was a powerful man, a noble no less, from one of the great Houses of Mandalore. I was smitten from the moment I poured his drink, and at the time, it seemed he was as equally taken with me. As quickly as we met, however, he left...and as luck may have it, he left me with you."
Kessa frowned, opening her eyes as she felt Rymann's weight lift from the bed. The young man stood a few feet away from her bedside, his eyes wide.
"What...how...what do you mean he left me with you?!" he shouted, his fists clenched in a mix of rage and disbelief, "What honorable man, what kind of noble would abandon his blood?!" Rymann raised his arm and thrust a finger at the Mandalorian Code that hung on the wall, its faded parchment suddenly seeming limp and worthless, "The Resol'nare speaks on raising one's children as the duty of every Mandalorian! Why would a member of House Vizsla abandon one of the Actions? If he were so -"
Rymann's words caught in his throat as he saw his mother's eyes tear up. His breath, ragged from his outburst, quickly caved into a sob as he realized he was crying too. He almost turned to leave, but stopped himself, returning weakly to the foot of the bed. They both sat in silence for several minutes, each stifling the emotions of the moment.
"If I was born...," Rymann was the one to break the tension, his voice still weakened by dejection, anger, and frustration, "If I was born on Kiffu, why was I raised on Concord Dawn? Why was I raised a Mandalorian?"
Kessa wiped away her own tears, swallowing before speaking. She couldn't bear to see her beloved son in such pain, but she had already begun to tell the tale and the only way she could help him was to finish it.
"When you were still just an infant, I contacted your father to tell him of your existence," she spoke, her word slow and soft, "It was he who brought you, brought us, to Concord Dawn. He told me it was to provide a better life for us, that neither you nor I deserved the life of a servant. But I knew better."
Kessa's voice grew stronger as she reigned in her emotions, having seen Rymann turn to face her, his face hard as he listened intently.
"It was not because he loved me, nor you. He had a title to protect, a reputation, and he brought us here because it was far harder for us to be of harm to he or his family. You know that what I say is true; though you've lived here your entire life, and still, you are an outsider to them. No one would take my word, or yours, if we tried to move against him."
Rymann frowned, realizing the truth in his mother's words. His entire life, as far back as he could remember, the people of Concord Dawn had treated him differently. As a child, the other children teased him as a stranger, for the qukuuf that marked him as a Kiffar and the way he mixed his Mando'a and Basic. The adults that treated him with indifference or outright hostility as he grew up. Even now, while he worked the fields to support Kessa and himself, he knew that others would avoid him if possible. He had friends, yes, but many ignored, or outright shunned him and his mother. It was something he had learned to ignore, but the weight of his mother's words brought the isolation he'd felt to the forefront of his mind.
The touch of his mother's hand on the back of his neck snapped him back to the present.
"Gar taldin, ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la. Nobody cares who your father was, only the father you will be, ad'ike. But its something I thought you should know. And I...I needed to tell you before I leave this world. Before I no longer had the opportunity to."
Rymann looked at the floor quietly, then wiped his own eyes and rested his hand on hers as she gently stroked her fingers along his scalp with a faint smile. The proverb resonated with him; he had heard it many times before, with the overseers at the school as they pushed him and the other students to their limits. Now, however, now it truly had meaning for him.
"Vor'e, buir. Thank you for telling me. I'm ok. Honest." He was anything but, but he needed to be strong; if not for himself as a man, but for her. He turned to her, helping her move back down into the bed, and putting the sheets around her shoulders, gently kissing her on the forehead.
"Goodnight, buir. Rest up. I'll see you in the morning."
Kessa smiled weakly, the emotion and strain of speaking through her sickness having drained her ability to keep her eyes open.
"Goodnight, ad'ike."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rymann stepped from the dropship onto the paved courtyard of the Border Alliance Headquarters on Mandalore, the heavy duffle on his back swinging down painfully into his back as he found his footing and moved away from the ship. As the ship lifted off, several other members of the Concord Dawn Journeyman Protectors rushed past him in their excitement to enter the headquarters, shouldering past and moving in a small group towards the massive blast door that lay open for the new recruits.
The young man turned on his heel, facing out over the city that he'd always dreamed of visiting. In the distance, he could vaguely make out the spire that served as House Vizsla's seat of power on Mandalore, kept close to better watch over the Alliance they'd helped form.
"Gar taldin, ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la," he softly whispered to himself, remembering the words his mother had taught him what seemed like forever ago.
"What was that, Rymann?" asked a female voice from behind him. Rymann turned to face his squadmate, Nateri, quickly, somewhat startled by her sudden appearance. She was grinning as she stood behind him, her fiery red mane drawing the eye of several of the landing zone's crew. She offered her arm to him, and he promptly took it, clasping her forearm in a warrior's greeting.
"Nothing, Nateri. Just admiring the view. I can't believe we're actually here," he spoke smoothly, looking back out over the bustle of the city.
Nateri suddenly knocked his arm away, wrapping her arm around him in a playful hug, before turning him towards the blast doors, another dropship approaching the landing pads as they stepped away.
"You'll have plenty of time to sight-see after the welcoming brief, ner vod," she mocked him, pushing him aside lightly and nearly causing him to drop his duffle. "Come on! We're already late!" Nateri broke into a quick jog, catching up with the rest of the recruits that had been called to join the Border Alliance from Concord Dawn.
Rymann gently tapped the small, metallic tube that hung from his belt to make sure that it was still there, ensuring he hadn't lost it during the trip. For a moment, he paused to catch one last glance of the Vizsla spire in the distance before the incoming dropship's descent blocked his view, then ran to join the rest of the recruits heading into the audience hall to listen to their new commander's speech.
Kessa listened intently from where she lay in her bed, weakly lifting herself from her pillow as she heard the door to her small, poustone hab close and the sound of furniture being scraped across the simple floor. After a moment, she heard footsteps approaching her door from the short hallway outside, before the handle turned slowly, and a tiny crack of light illuminated a sliver of her face.
"Ad'ike," she smiled faintly, "Come in." Kessa touched the small glow-lamp next to her bed to illuminate the room.
The door opened wider in response, revealing a handsome young man dressed in simple farmers' clothing, his face marred by the dust of a hard day's work, hiding a portion of the royal blue tattoos that stretched across his face. He wiped his hands on his trousers, before approaching and setting his hand into Kessa's own outstretched palm, caressing her gently.
"Buir," spoke Rymann softly to his mother, gently sitting down on the edge of her bed, "You should be asleep."
Kessa waved off her sons protest, smiling at him. "Relax Rymann. I'll have plenty of time to rest soon enough. How were your studies today, my son?"
Rymann gazed at his mother for a moment, reaching up to stroke her own yellow-hued tattoos before she brushed away his hand. "They were fine, buir. Nothing worth talking about."
Rymann listened half heartedly as his mother scolded him, telling him to pay more attention to his classes. It had been four months since his mother had gotten sick, just a few months before his 16th birthday, and he could see that even though she attempted to give off an air of strength and authority in her words, her breath was already running short. He silently nodded, as if her chiding had taught him some new lesson, but in his mind he bit back the bitter sting of knowing she was not long for this world.
"Rymann?"
His mother's voice drew him from his thoughts. Kessa was looking at him worriedly, expectantly as he met her deep green eyes.
"I'm sorry, buir. I was distracted. I need to rest as well; I need to be at the training field first thing come morning," he spoke, yawning as he did to attempt and sell his story. He attempted to get up from the edge of the bed, but his mother's hand grasped his wrist with a sudden strength, and he paused.
"Wait, Rymann," she spoke softly. For a moment, she looked away from him, staring at the decorative scroll that hung on the wall bearing the Mandalorian Code. Rymann waited patiently, unsure of how to react without upsetting her. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, she turned to him with a serious look.
"There's something I need to tell you. Something important. Its about your father."
Rymann swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, before nodding. She had never spoken of his father before, even despite his incessant questioning as a child as to why he did not work and train alongside his father like the other children at school. The word itself was bittersweet in his mouth, and he stayed silent, allowing his frail mother to continue uninterrupted.
"Its time you knew the truth, ad'ike. I've...I've not much time left to tell you." Kessa scowled as Rymann opened his mouth to protest, and he quickly bit his tongue. "We both know I won't last to the next harvest, and when that time comes, I want you to stay strong. You've become a fine man, and every man needs to know the truth about their father before they are expected to fend for themselves, so just listen. I'll tell you about him."
Kessa coughed lightly, shifting slightly higher on the headboard and letting her head lay back against the wall behind her, closing her eyes, as if she was straining to remember the story. She smiled to herself, her eyes still closed, as she began to tell her son about the man who'd sired him.
"I was a servant girl on Kiffu when I met him, your father. Only a handful of years older than you are now. He was an emissary from Mandalore, visiting on a political mission of some kind at the palace where I worked. He was handsome....strong...charming...not unlike yourself, ad'ike."
Rymann barely smiled at the compliment before smirking sheepishly, but listened closely as she continued.
"His name was Torm. Torm Vizsla. He was a powerful man, a noble no less, from one of the great Houses of Mandalore. I was smitten from the moment I poured his drink, and at the time, it seemed he was as equally taken with me. As quickly as we met, however, he left...and as luck may have it, he left me with you."
Kessa frowned, opening her eyes as she felt Rymann's weight lift from the bed. The young man stood a few feet away from her bedside, his eyes wide.
"What...how...what do you mean he left me with you?!" he shouted, his fists clenched in a mix of rage and disbelief, "What honorable man, what kind of noble would abandon his blood?!" Rymann raised his arm and thrust a finger at the Mandalorian Code that hung on the wall, its faded parchment suddenly seeming limp and worthless, "The Resol'nare speaks on raising one's children as the duty of every Mandalorian! Why would a member of House Vizsla abandon one of the Actions? If he were so -"
Rymann's words caught in his throat as he saw his mother's eyes tear up. His breath, ragged from his outburst, quickly caved into a sob as he realized he was crying too. He almost turned to leave, but stopped himself, returning weakly to the foot of the bed. They both sat in silence for several minutes, each stifling the emotions of the moment.
"If I was born...," Rymann was the one to break the tension, his voice still weakened by dejection, anger, and frustration, "If I was born on Kiffu, why was I raised on Concord Dawn? Why was I raised a Mandalorian?"
Kessa wiped away her own tears, swallowing before speaking. She couldn't bear to see her beloved son in such pain, but she had already begun to tell the tale and the only way she could help him was to finish it.
"When you were still just an infant, I contacted your father to tell him of your existence," she spoke, her word slow and soft, "It was he who brought you, brought us, to Concord Dawn. He told me it was to provide a better life for us, that neither you nor I deserved the life of a servant. But I knew better."
Kessa's voice grew stronger as she reigned in her emotions, having seen Rymann turn to face her, his face hard as he listened intently.
"It was not because he loved me, nor you. He had a title to protect, a reputation, and he brought us here because it was far harder for us to be of harm to he or his family. You know that what I say is true; though you've lived here your entire life, and still, you are an outsider to them. No one would take my word, or yours, if we tried to move against him."
Rymann frowned, realizing the truth in his mother's words. His entire life, as far back as he could remember, the people of Concord Dawn had treated him differently. As a child, the other children teased him as a stranger, for the qukuuf that marked him as a Kiffar and the way he mixed his Mando'a and Basic. The adults that treated him with indifference or outright hostility as he grew up. Even now, while he worked the fields to support Kessa and himself, he knew that others would avoid him if possible. He had friends, yes, but many ignored, or outright shunned him and his mother. It was something he had learned to ignore, but the weight of his mother's words brought the isolation he'd felt to the forefront of his mind.
The touch of his mother's hand on the back of his neck snapped him back to the present.
"Gar taldin, ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la. Nobody cares who your father was, only the father you will be, ad'ike. But its something I thought you should know. And I...I needed to tell you before I leave this world. Before I no longer had the opportunity to."
Rymann looked at the floor quietly, then wiped his own eyes and rested his hand on hers as she gently stroked her fingers along his scalp with a faint smile. The proverb resonated with him; he had heard it many times before, with the overseers at the school as they pushed him and the other students to their limits. Now, however, now it truly had meaning for him.
"Vor'e, buir. Thank you for telling me. I'm ok. Honest." He was anything but, but he needed to be strong; if not for himself as a man, but for her. He turned to her, helping her move back down into the bed, and putting the sheets around her shoulders, gently kissing her on the forehead.
"Goodnight, buir. Rest up. I'll see you in the morning."
Kessa smiled weakly, the emotion and strain of speaking through her sickness having drained her ability to keep her eyes open.
"Goodnight, ad'ike."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rymann stepped from the dropship onto the paved courtyard of the Border Alliance Headquarters on Mandalore, the heavy duffle on his back swinging down painfully into his back as he found his footing and moved away from the ship. As the ship lifted off, several other members of the Concord Dawn Journeyman Protectors rushed past him in their excitement to enter the headquarters, shouldering past and moving in a small group towards the massive blast door that lay open for the new recruits.
The young man turned on his heel, facing out over the city that he'd always dreamed of visiting. In the distance, he could vaguely make out the spire that served as House Vizsla's seat of power on Mandalore, kept close to better watch over the Alliance they'd helped form.
"Gar taldin, ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la," he softly whispered to himself, remembering the words his mother had taught him what seemed like forever ago.
"What was that, Rymann?" asked a female voice from behind him. Rymann turned to face his squadmate, Nateri, quickly, somewhat startled by her sudden appearance. She was grinning as she stood behind him, her fiery red mane drawing the eye of several of the landing zone's crew. She offered her arm to him, and he promptly took it, clasping her forearm in a warrior's greeting.
"Nothing, Nateri. Just admiring the view. I can't believe we're actually here," he spoke smoothly, looking back out over the bustle of the city.
Nateri suddenly knocked his arm away, wrapping her arm around him in a playful hug, before turning him towards the blast doors, another dropship approaching the landing pads as they stepped away.
"You'll have plenty of time to sight-see after the welcoming brief, ner vod," she mocked him, pushing him aside lightly and nearly causing him to drop his duffle. "Come on! We're already late!" Nateri broke into a quick jog, catching up with the rest of the recruits that had been called to join the Border Alliance from Concord Dawn.
Rymann gently tapped the small, metallic tube that hung from his belt to make sure that it was still there, ensuring he hadn't lost it during the trip. For a moment, he paused to catch one last glance of the Vizsla spire in the distance before the incoming dropship's descent blocked his view, then ran to join the rest of the recruits heading into the audience hall to listen to their new commander's speech.
Roleplays
Combats
N/A
Kills
N/A
Threads
Iron Curtains Cost Money - In his first mission with the esteemed Defiant Squadron, the Border Alliance sends Rymann and two other soldiers to investigate rumors of sabotage on one of the large shipyards of Abhean. After finding out that a top secret device, capable of destroying the entire station and effectively crippling Abhean's economy were it activated, was stolen, he and the team must quickly investigate the theft and put a stop to the criminal's plans before they can come to fruition. Success means gaining the support of the Abhean government and grants the Border Alliance access to their dry docks for the war effort, while failure means not only the loss of Abhean and its shipyards, but possibly their lives.
IN PROCESS
IN PROCESS
Profile Edits
3/12/16 - Edited for format, added thread logs
Last edited:
