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X13-13 (Uwaamu)
-Intel-
Name/ X13-13 – Aliases/ Thirteen; Uwaamu – Force Sensitive/ Confirmed Yes – Gender/ Male – Species/ Human - Age/ 25 – Appearance/ 6’ 2’’; 210 lb; Blonde Hair; White Skin; Athletic Build – Physical Identifiers/ Dark birthmark over left pectoral; Large scar around nape of neck; Minor scars scattered over body – Affiliation/ Old Empire – Rank/ Sith Acolyte
-Intel-
Name/ X13-13 – Aliases/ Thirteen; Uwaamu – Force Sensitive/ Confirmed Yes – Gender/ Male – Species/ Human - Age/ 25 – Appearance/ 6’ 2’’; 210 lb; Blonde Hair; White Skin; Athletic Build – Physical Identifiers/ Dark birthmark over left pectoral; Large scar around nape of neck; Minor scars scattered over body – Affiliation/ Old Empire – Rank/ Sith Acolyte
Appearance
Thirteen is tall, standing at one-hundred and eighty-eight centimeters. He could easily see over a crowd and perhaps stand out in one. He’s symmetrical in appearance but close inspection would note a slightly crooked nose. His features are masculine with a square protruding jaw, cleft chin, and wide cheekbones. He often looks tired with slightly sunken eyes; brown in color. Atop his head sits a dreaded mess of blonde gold like hair: kept tied like a horses tail for comfort.
When disrobed, many could note the stone like visage that was hidden underneath. Almost like cut from marble. Even the way his abs are offset bring an interested eye to examine each well built section of marble white alabaster skin. Doted pink marks tell a tail of hardship that this man faced. Possibly the most noticeable facet would be a peculiar birthmark resembling a geometric shape.
Attributes
Strength
Thirteen is very physically fit and equally strong. He’s able to capably deadlift twice his weight with some strain. Wherein those effects are a result of equally strengthened muscle groups. Individually he is able to squat three times that weight, lift fifty pounds in each individual arm: though not comfortably and not for long periods of time; say twenty reps every three to five minutes.
Dexterity
Much time and care has been placed into speedy decision making and equally quick reflexes. Though his speed isn’t hard to rival, many would find it difficult to surmount when in close quarters. Paired with an average stamina, he’d likely grow tired should any time-consuming fight or long distance sprinting be required.
Stamina
Stamina is key to victory over those whom haven’t trained it. Thirteen understands this and continuously trains to increase it. Despite this, he’s of average stamina and can only train or fight for a couple hours without feeling exhausted; unable to gain more strength and exceed the limit of his dexterity.
Intelligence
Where physical fitness excels, his intelligence lacks. He’s perceptive but not too bright. Given enough time he could learn anything, that’s true of almost anyone though, but let’s just say Thirteen won’t be writing a novel anytime soon.
Wisdom
To say Thirteen is wise would be like calling a tree stump beautiful. It might be true but everyone else would disagree. Thirteen can make good judgment and has much experience but not the type which makes a truly great leader.
Charisma
Silver tongued he is not. Nice and otherwise welcoming in a conversation, sure, but not one to sway nations or impress diplomats: unless his unique quirkiness makes him influential.
Personality
Speaking honestly he’s not the brightest. Some jokes or phrases are bound to go over his head. This is the reason he doesn’t usually speak up on debates. Fearing that his ideals will be mocked. Still he can be outgoing when surrounded by comforting companions or by himself. Speaking to the open air in an attempt to work out an inner thought. Often he refers to himself as an introvert with extrovert tendencies.
He believes that not all beings and creatures are created, and should be treated, equally. Like himself, some are created for a purpose. Thirteen doesn’t dislike any particular species but he does hate weakness. Seeing anything, besides animals, begging for their life or cowering in fear makes him disgusted. The reason being that it reminds him of the past when he was child; afraid and incapable.
There’s no encaging sorrow. Just unbearable loneliness since loosing Fourteen: his twin brother. What instead harbors deep inside is an anger. One that twists his heart and leaves him feeling empty. The only release is through fighting. Despite that he isn’t one to start fights without provocation or command.
Thirteen enjoys music and likes listening to it on long trips or before bed. He’s also fond of funny videos and could possibly spend hours watching them. Animals are often a welcomed sight because he sees an innocence within even the most brutish creatures. However, the only thing he hates are books. The words often run and long sentences get lost as his brain continues. Quickly forgetting unless it was something he truly enjoyed reading.
Biography
Thirteen
The shadowy silhouette of a man stands before an entrance. “Iteration thirteen is ready to begin testing.”
Standing alone, a woman gazed at her reflection with intense golden eyes. Without turning she speaks in response. “Twenty-eight…” Notable silence would partition space between them.
Clearly there was something undesirable about that number. Both knew that in previous generations they had well over fifty prospective participants. “Apologies headmistress. It’s my fault.” The data pad in his hand turned off.
There came an audible sigh expressing serious discomfort: she detested bringing up the past. “X11-4 was unstable. It’s just another failure.” Many admired the perseverance embodied by this mortal woman. Even her steward, whom remained emotionless, found himself admiring the stalwart visage. “Begin phase one.”
“Ma’am… on the matter of subjects thirteen and fourteen, sho-“
She wasn’t one to interrupt but once again they were straying into a toxic conversation. “I’ll deal with it myself. Thank you.”
“Yes headmistress.” Clearly their engagement had ended. Light from the door faded as it closed. The mirror like glass turned two-way as darkness allowed its adjacent room to be observed. Within its walls held a myriad of species, newborns..
Subjects One, Four, Nine, Eleven, Thirteen, Fourteen, Twenty-three and Twenty-seven passed initial trials. The remaining infants were culled from their program. Facilitating a force rich environment sought after with each iteration. They, as in those whom progressed, were subject to overstimulation. Meaning that each individual was cared for to an extreme and, in hope of success, nurtured for nefarious purpose. This natural, yet unnatural, practice forced dependence which pontificated the ‘clandestine’ ideal of reliance within these youth. Subjects Thirteen and Fourteen, twins, rejected all but one. When the headmistress of this academy maternally raised them, it was like returning a newborn to their mother. With time and age she became their handler. Though, when training officially began, the practice ended and they no longer could rely on their handler for comfort. One spiraled into depression while the other sought impractical means because they could not seek comfort interacting with one another.
Phase Two
Eight years had passed since phase one. Each candidate was given individual training. Learning a plethora of martial combat and honing specific styles which utilized lightsabers. Theirs, a modified training sword with dampeners to hinder its lethality, became a keystone of weaponry. Many proved themselves to be natural born fighters while others barely managed. The observers found these conditions suitable to begin a second phase. One which would not just assess their practical application but mental fortitude for phase three.
Number thirteen proved to be exceptionally gifted with hand to hand combat but unbearably average when using a sword. His mentor changed focus to highlight those abilities. These new sessions taught him self reliance so he wouldn’t need use of a saber in situations where weapons were held by an enemy. Still, the progress of swordsmanship continued every other day so his unique abilities could flourish alongside. Ultimately phase two began without notice. Thirteen was sent to practice within a different setting. One which was more suitable for dueling; brandishing reinforced walls. However this would be different. Instead of meeting his master, he was greeted to a sight most unexpected.
Prospect nine stood at the opposite wall. His expression mirrored Thirteen’s. Both appeared confused but otherwise silent. Turning towards a stand which held a small audience. In attendance were the masters which trained each student, statisticians, and the headmistress. She spoke up amongst the whispering from their pew. “Today is something different: a chance to gain glory. You are not family, you are not friends. The two of you are enemies and only one may succeed. The countdown will begin and as soon as the buzzer sounds, I expect neither party to hold back.” Returning to her seat the others began chatting. Along their enclosure came a highlighted clock which counted down from three. In those few moments, Thirteen had little time to understand what situation was presented.
Three: ‘why are we fighting like this?’ Two: ‘If I attack first, what will he do?.’ One: ‘There’s no time to think!’
There came a loud almost deafening electrical buzz to signify the duel’s commencement. Thirteen sprinted forward, saber ignited. Nine shifted his position, emitting an equally crimson saber from its sheath. This young Nagai was positioning himself to counter. Smart but Thirteen was prepared. Countless attempts at full frontal assaults trained him well for such a scenario. However, once he disengaged the saber before meeting Nine’s, his opponent stepped sideways. The boys body turned and hands moved horizontally to char flesh in defiance. This came as a shock to both. Neither had been allowed insight to what nature their duel was destined. Nine looked, just like thirteen, upon those emotionless husks whom watched unflinching. Silence resounded and unanimously they understood. The test was not to see whom would be victorious by means of surrender but blood spilled. They hesitated for no one besides a cruel uncaring being could wast life coldly. Nine was the first to react: sending a barrage of well executed slashes from multiple directions. The boy favored overhand style, utilizing both hands to control their positions. Flesh cauterized upon Thirteen’s arms as defense left him. He screamed out in pain but danced with the flurry. His master Constant was adamant on teaching the boy to analyze not only slight movement but other factors which expressed actions before a strike.
Thirteen shifted to bring his handle to a ninety degree angle, pointing upwards. Then tilting in to left five degrees. Switching it on. Their blades met like old friends. Nine pulled back to separate the magnetic field which locked them in place. Thirteen disengaged and nine stumbled back unexpectedly. “I’m sorry.” He said, planting his right foot. “I can’t lose!” The unused left hand tightened into a fist. Propelled forward by strong determination, and well footed stature, a powerful strike shotgunned through the air. Thirteen slugged Nine in his abdomen. Sending the opponent backwards. Nine coughed and heaved. Thirteen stood above him, an indomitable statue. The boy surrendered and weeped. Thirteen turned to walk away but stopped as a familiar voice shouted. “Do not turn your back on an opponent!” Regretfully Thirteen turned. His saber spurred to life with a hiss of sporadic energy. Nine had returned to standing and was charging forward. Thirteen turned slightly to dodge almost lazily. Retaliating with grace and dignity. The sword pierced flesh and crackled in the open air. Nine dropped his weapon and shuddered. Tears streamed down Thirteens cheeks. Would this be a fate him and his brother might share?
Hope
Distant shadows hung behind Thirteen. Silhouettes of what innocence best remained forgotten. He had robbed one of their life and in turn spared his own. Duel emotions fought to rip from this shell to cope with what had been decided. Both born from embers of hate, each vying for supremacy. One blaming Thirteen for neglecting honor whilst the other spurned those whom ushered forward a new dawning of emotionless slaughter. For in the time which passed so quickly he had be guided by their hand to kill. Reaping as death does. Taking with it a part of humanity which desperately clung to what remnants remained. Each day he faced a different adversary: some prisoners whom would gain freedom but failed as they fell upon Thirteens sword. Other just mercenaries promised riches in return for slaying this young champion born from despair.
Those whom surpassed phase two were now allowed to socialize amongst themselves at hour long intervals. Still, all understood what monsters they had become and segregated in appeasement of their mangled souls. Five years had passed and what ensued during that time was a horrendous sin upon these youths. They had been subject to treatments. Pharmaceutical in nature but abominable in practice. Drug trials began immediately after the end of phase two, nurturing adrenal release in combat and endorphin overdose upon success. Turning each child into uncaring murderers whom sought release trough any means. Prior iterations found that this practice turned them mad but over time they perfected the art by grafting collars around their necks. These cuffs released a small amount of euphoric chemicals stored within the brain to ease unsettling desires.
Through abysmal darkness glimmered an incorporeal light of hope, freedom. Thirteen desired it more than any. Selfish though were its origins. Placating a need that all mortal creatures have. Chance at a destiny built by one’s own hands. He vowed to not only liberate himself and his brother but the other numbers as well..
Weeks passed by and when time came, Thirteen didn’t hesitate. The guards had grown lax. No longer did they bother with searching him as each instance yielded no result. Misfortune would befall them as thirteen had stashed a saber to aid in escaping his cell. There, within the threshold, he refused to move. Weighing a plethora of options that lay before him. Suddenly, and without provocation, Thirteen turned around to assault his guard. Successfully overwhelming him. What followed was a bloodbath which stained the hallways as each prospect was freed. Culminating in a hanger where they would seal themselves in. Thirteen ushered Eleven, Fourteen, and Twenty-seven into a small vessel. There came an explosion just as Thirteen was following up the ramp. Soldiers started flooding in.
“Get in!” Fourteen pleaded. There was time to bored but they wouldn’t make it.
“I’ll stay…” He said, forcing his brother inside with a gust of force wind. To give the others freedom was something he had decided before even venturing to escape. His saber ignited and the ship began lifting. Soldier after soldier fell before this child. Just as all seemed hopeful, a.ghastly light shown from behind. The ship exploded in a display of horrific fire that evaporated quickly without an abundance of air. Now there was no need to fight, no need to sacrifice, and even less need to resist.
Prospects and propositions
Perhaps it had been a year, perhaps less. Time passed in the confines of the small room in inconceivable darkness. Thirteen had been chained to prevent another escape. He had lost most muscle mass and now resembled a skeleton. The trial to convict him was postponed. While he waited; he was subjected to beatings, torture, and starvation but today was something different. It wasn’t an odd occurrence approached when two guards saddled in with disgusted looks. Denoting their will, spoke a man whom grabbed Thirteen by the head. Connecting their separated gaze. “Look at him Finch, nothing left in those eyes. Just a broken animal. Maybe we just kill him and say we found ‘em dead. Little runt deserves it after killing ol’ English.” Certainly those hollowed dark eyes could describe a lethargy reserved for defeated souls but not in Thirteen’s case. Wind whipped like a maelstrom. Flinging the guard back. He slammed against metal. His partner, Finch, drew a blaster. Before any shots could be fired, there came an impeaching command. “Go ahead, pull the trigger. You’ll be forfeiting your position and your life.” The headmistress was monotone but held conviction that trembled mortals like Finch. Trigger ready to fire but held by another’s restraint. Words won where actions defined a sole singularity. The finger pulled away and Finch admitted to derelict misconduct. “Smart man. Now, please, leave us.” It took only a few moments for Finch to lift his partner and shuffle away.
“Apologies.” Said the headmistress. “You deserved better treatment. Unfortunately you’ve left a permanent scare.” She kneeled low to look upon Thirteen with fond golden eyes. Her hand cupped his cheek warmly. They shared a silent moment before Thirteen lifted to meet her gaze with harsh murderous eyes. “That look, it sends shivers down my spine.” The grip around his cheek loosened with a disobedient shake. She stood up and turned towards the open doorway. “Everyone wants to execute you. They say this is another failure but I believe this is something else.” Her feet shift to bring them facing one another once more. “I believe you planned this to eliminate the other prospects.”
Thirteen looked down sadly. “No…”
“Yes.” She replied. “There was plenty of time to escape with them and you chose to remain. You felt something didn’t you?”
Tears streamed down the boys cheek. “S-stop.”
“You knew they would die! Every cell in your body told you to stay, didn’t it! Tell me it was your fault!”
“Shut up!” Whirlwinds of chaotic force energy filled the room. “I didn’t want anyone to die!” Slowly it calmed, receding into nothingness. “I wanted to save everyone.”
There came a soft loving whisper. “You wanted to save yourself. It’s okay.” She wrapped her arms around Thirteen. “Tell me you killed them. Let me burden that sin.”
Tears streamed onto the floor. Thirteen could barely control is anxious breathing. “I knew that I would die with them. I could have stopped them but I wanted to feel the rush… I killed them.” His chained wrists met as he buried himself into the headmistress. Sobbing uncontrollably.
She brushed his hair like a mother would her distressed child. “It’s okay, it’ll all be okay.”
An hour had passed before Thirteen fell asleep. Starvation and overexertion combined in an overwhelming strength which pacified him. The headmistress exited with a cold unfeeling expression. “Satisfied?”
Headmaster Cho-Chojita stood arms folded. “Not particularly, but enough to keep iteration thirteen from stopping here.” He began to walk away. “Wipe that tear off your cheek Eridat.”
She frantically brushed it away, unaware of the empathy showing through.
Uwaamu
First order of business was removing emotion from Thirteen. Having lost any notion of individuality and freedom had made the job easier than expected. Drugs turned killing into a rewarding dopamine addiction. Training made emotions meaningless. Adrenaline stimulant substituted dark side feeling which powered the force. Over time, Thirteen forgot himself. Changing into a machine. One that never questioned authority or conviction. Iteration thirteen had finally become successful and with it another soldier to command.
Thirteen stood opposite headmistress Eridat whom remained impartial to any feeling. “Today is your graduation. Aren’t you excited?”
“No.” He responded.
She chuckled slightly. “That’s okay, I expected as much.” Her hand palmed a control device. “I’m excited to see what you become once the collar is released.”
This seemed highly unceremonious but made little imprint. “What does it mean to graduate?”
She lowered her device, smiling. “You’ll be put to sleep, the collar removed, released, and given a new identity.”
Thirteen now showed uncertainty in what gaze passed his eyes. “Sleep?” Before more could be said, he slowly drifted into dark slumber. The last image he saw was Eridat’s smiling face. Something gleaming off her eye.
When Uwaamu came to, his head shot with pain. “Another weird dream…” The tortuous migraine pushed the memories into darkness. All that remained was a smiling face which slowly faded into nothingness. He grabbed a small folded piece of paper and emptied the powdery contents into a glass of water. It mixed quickly and emptied just as fast. He wiped spotty remnant from his lips. Today was appearing to be another hardship. The academy, at least to his recollection, was already an unwelcoming place. He seemed to fit in like a ghost and having a lonesome life drained the spirit more than anyone would guess.
The clandestine had successfully crafted their weapon. Years of research had turned into a fruitful endeavor with Thirteen. Now that their prospect had graduated, they removed what memories they could. Replacing them with engineered images and instances that were obscure enough to fit with anyone: thinking he was born a slave whom expressed force sensitivity in youth. Parentless, it was a welcomed experience to surpass those stations. The academy became his home and the life he lived was most humble. Students ignored him, which was exactly what he liked. Though these simple memories were easy enough to implant, sometimes strange scenes visit him at night. Once day breaks, they are forced into remission so as to keep his true identity secret. The Clandestine had realized that previous iterations rejected their programming. In this generation they decided to eliminate those experiences. Allowing their soldier to remain effective while ensuring complete submission. When selling him to the Old Empire, they expressed no concern. However, without the inhibitor around Uwaamu’s neck, he could easily go mad should his true past come to surface. Now, Uwaamu waits: to rise through the ranks, experience life, and fulfill a hunger nurtured since birth.
Skills
Hand to Hand Combat
Very well trained in martial art fighting. Using maneuvers to position himself for disarming or disabling. Paired with strength and dexterity, he is extremely gifted in this aspect.
Swordsmanship
Capable of wielding an array of hand weapons from swords, axes, daggers, and blunt weapons. Nothing is too difficult to use in battle. Even though he’s fully trained it’s only second to martial combat.
-Sub-Skill: Duel Wielding
Can wield two weapons effectively in combat. Utilizing hit and defend tactics.
Lightsaber Combat
His stance requires a particular style which usually begins as a single sword held by two hands while analyzing an opponent before either switching to duel wielding or hand to hand. The strength he’s gathered over time allows him to slide a saber along another’s but at great cost to stamina and almost always requires an enhancement skill to couple with it.
Force Sensitive
Strong in the force but weak without proper focus or emotions to help control. He relies upon simple applications to balance his inexperience and strength.
Force Power: Force Push
In three stages, this power requires minimal focus to send a gust of wind that could topple a bottle; second stage allows enhanced movement like jumping a few extra feet or setting an opponent off center; third stage is a powerful whirlwind that can send an enemy flying backwards.
Force Power: Force Enhance
Only a slight amount of concentration allows Thirteen to overpower himself to either increase strength, speed, or endurance. Used in fights to counter his own weaknesses: it leaves him severely exhausted and weakened.
-Sub Skill: Force Rage
As a last ditch effort in life or death situations, Thirteen goes into a blind rage which exceeds human limit. This effect lasts for a brief period of time and afterwards he’s completely useless: suffering muscular degeneration that takes weeks to heal.
Force Power: Telekinesis
Only through a free hand can this skill be utilized. For example: assuming there's a line of sight and manageable distance, he can gather energy like an arm to grab an opponent. Two hands are often his way to accurately detain a subject. To attain perfect control requires some fore sight and prediction. Otherwise he ops for close combat to ensnare an individual with proper preparation.
-Sub Skill: Force Choke
This skill is only used on unsuspecting opponents whom can't feel the subtle influence growing around their neck. It is used primarily to pacify unknowing targets when a situation has subsided to allow such things. More often than not, it's a skill reserved for intimidation.
Gear
Armor
Body: Combat robes cut short to increase mobility without sacrificing appeal. Underneath is a basic skin tight body suit.
Gauntlets: Metal talons made of compact steel.
Mask: Steel mask fashioned to look imposing and somewhat demonic
Weapons
Main Hand: Curved hilt duel-phase Lightsaber
Off-hand: Curved hilt duel-phase Lightsaber
Miscellaneous
Civilian Clothes
Credits
000001
Assets
Ship(s)
Vector-class Shuttle
Role Play
Threads
N/A
Relationships
N/A
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