Sep — Roleplayer Guild

Name: Denon Brimarch
Species: Human
Age: 27
Appearance: 

Equipment: DLT-19 Heavy Blaster. Battle armor. Weapon repair kit. 
Abilities(For Force Users): That’s just old superstition. 
Skills: 

Heavy Weapons guy: Years of training with the most outlandish and experimental gear have taught him how to use nearly every type of weapon with deadly proficiency no matter how impractical they appear. If it looks big and unwieldy, give it to Denon and he’ll show you what it can do.

Juggernaut: With the strength and endurance to match a wookiee, it takes more than a shot to bring Denon down. He can shrug off most small attacks, especially when armored up. And if he gets close… Well, don’t let him get close.

Blaster Crafter: Denon could disassemble and reassemble an E-11 with his eyes closed since he was a child. As long as the parts are available, he can build, repair, and modify practically any weapon needed for an occasion. 

Rapid Deployment: Down time, sleep, proper meals, all things Denon has learned to go without. Whenever the call for action comes, be it the middle of the night or just after a different fight, Denon will answer. Ready to take on any threat.

Weaknesses:
Indecisive: A lifetime of fighting for a cause that turned out to be a lie has left Denon questioning everything; especially himself. While he can still make snap calls on the battlefield, don’t expect him to contribute in the war room or to speak up in meetings. 

Stealth is optional: Denon likes big guns and heavy armor. If subtlety is needed, it is best to leave him at base. Or waiting in the shuttle in case the alarm goes off.

Flex-inability: Despite how easy Denon can swing around giant weapons while covered head to toe in armor, all that gear still weighs a great deal and restricts his mobility. Running and crouching is about the extent of movement he can manage.

War never changes: After everything he did and saw in the corps, Denon has grown numb to violence. It’s the only thing he’s good at after all. He lost track of his kill count years ago and accepted the fact he too will perish one day. Death surrounds him, and it doesn’t bother him anymore.

History:
For Denon, life under the empire was a dream. The youngest son of a BlasTech executive, he was spoon fed the propaganda of the empire. Led to believe that their legacy was not one of arms dealers profiting off war, but businessmen helping provide the tools needed to secure peace. Tools to bring order and spread the prosperity of the empire so that all could enjoy the luxury they had. Tools Denon had quite an affinity for. While his father and older brother negotiated contracts with the empire, Denon would be at the shooting range learning and mastering all the creations BlasTech R&D had to offer. Longing for the day he’d be able to use his skills to defend the galaxy from any threat. 

Though his father refused to let him enlist in the stormtrooper corps, it was only a matter of waiting for the right opportunity. When whispers of disloyalty among his family began to spread across Coruscant, Denon was quick to suggest he enlist. In his eyes, he would finally be serving the empire that had given him so much. And to his family, having a son in the military would certainly quell the rumors. Reluctantly, his father gave him his blessing. It was only later in life he understood his hesitancy.

Due to his familiarity with the weapons of the corps, Denon was already ahead of the other cadets. Blasters of all sizes, scatter guns, rockets, he was a natural at all of them, earning him a place among the Heavy Assault Troopers. Even better, a lifetime of obeying his father’s every command meant following orders without question was second nature to him. Not since the clones had the empire seen such a perfect soldier. 

After several years of service with an exemplary record along with his family connections, Denon was selected for advanced training to become a shock trooper. After completion, a small ceremony was held to acknowledge those being promoted. Yet while his family celebrated his advancement and his superiors commended his accomplishments, Denon showed no delight in his new position.

Despite now dawning the red and white armor of the empire’s elite forces, Denon had become completely disillusioned. In his time as a stormtrooper, he had crossed every line and committed unspeakable atrocities across multiple planets all in the name of the empire. He made every excuse he could to keep going, but eventually he found he couldn’t deny the truth any longer. The foundation of his family’s luxury and success was built on the blood of the innocent. He wasn’t there to uplift anyone, merely add countless more bodies to the pile. Everything he believed was a lie. The empire had shown itself to be nothing more than an oppressive regime, and he had let them twist him into their instrument of death. 

There was no longer a man behind the helmet, merely a shell with his visage. A husk still following orders not out of a sense of duty or righteousness, but because it was the only thing he knew. There was nothing for him outside the corps. Besides, he’d rather die than return to his old life of ignorant bliss. And if he tried to go on his own, leave everything behind. Both his family and the empire would put a price on him. They would prefer him dead to being noncompliant. The best option it seemed was death. At least, that’s what he told himself as he watched a rebel ambush descend on his squad at the battle of kattada. His last thought before his armor gave to the barrage of blaster bolts.

That should have been the end. The force, however, had other plans. Denon awoke to find himself far from the battle. In the care of a Twi'lek named Korsu; a gifted medic and rebel information broker who had brought him back from the brink of death. Not for any gain, but simply because she believed it was the right thing to do. 

In that selfless act, Denon was reminded why he had enlisted in the first place. His desire to defend the weak and fight for a better galaxy came flooding back. The empire might not have stood for these things, but this Twi'lek did. With his unit having been declared KIA, and seeing as he owed his undeserved second chance to her, it only made sense he offered her his services. 

Since that day, Denon has acted as Korsu's personal bodyguard. Wherever she went, he was there protecting her and those in her care, as well as helping track down and chase any leads the rebels may have. Even if that lead just had their X-Wing shot down and was now being hunted by every stormtrooper in the system…
@Awesomoman64

Species: Twi’lek 
Age: 30

Equipment:
Medical Satchel - bacta patches, coagulants, pain suppressants, wraps, traditional Ryloth tools.
Diagnostic Scanner - Civilian grade, held together by tape and dreams at this point
Vibroknife - Concealed and rarely used.
Datachips, Credit stash, cache map - Favours, whispers, and contingency funds. 

Skills:
Traditional Healing & Trauma Medic - First and foremost, skills that are deeply ingrained rather than trained. A calm and nurturing touch and intuition. She can sense what is wrong before her equipment can confirm it. Later training means she can rapidly stabilise real wounds through diagnosis and improvisation of what she has available.

Discretion and Trust - Go hand in hand, and people speak freely around her. She does not pry, posture, or judge. Korsu adjusts her speech patterns and body language to blend in, and can calm individuals without authority or threat.

Survivalist Stealth - Korsu knows the lay of the land of where she is. She knows when patrol routes change, and she picks up on trends quickly and knows how to fragment and pass on information effectively. She can sanitise and clean up a space to avoid forensic detection.

Calm Under Pressure - Korsu can keep her wits about her in crisis situations. Threats and chaos rarely shake her focus, meaning she can function when others panic.

Weaknesses:
Physically Vulnerable / Non-Combat - Korsu can be very easily overwhelmed. No formal weapons training, and minimal experience and exposure to any kind of arms. In a violent encounter, she would be reliant on others - and her quick thinking to get out of there…

No Tactical Awareness - She relies on instinct over practical and lived experience of being part of a tactical team. 

Avoidant of Direct Confrontation - Korsu prefers subtle action and delay over decisive confrontation.

Self-Reliant - Fiercely independent and stubborn and will rarely ask for help, even if allies and resources are available.

Heavy Moral Compass - Every life she fails to save, every consequence of passed information erodes her emotional resilience over time.

Unyielding Ethical Lines - Once Korsu has decided something is wrong, she will not participate in it to a stubborn degree.

History:
For Korsu, life under the Empire was hell. She lived under two banners; scarcity and control. Born far from privilege and brought to Imperial space as a young child she spent years moving around and between labour districts and fringe settlements. Long before Imperial clinics Twi’leks relied on line healers. Keepers of anatomical knowledge, tradition, and ritualised care. Methods passed from lekku-to-lekku in the form of a communal and ancient art. The emphasis of returning to a state of calmness. Such a manner was passed to Korsu; not from a living lineage, but a broken one. Korsu does not remember her family clearly. All she has are impressions of them. Names are gone and faces blur together and whether it was through displacement, sale, or evacuation, she became separated when she was young. Just one of countless Twi’lek strays left scattered across the galaxy.

In the fringe settlements, her methods developed from spiritual instinct to actual skill in the field; a field she never asked to be in but she learned to treat wounds out of necessity, and later out of principle, all the same. What began as mutual aid hardened into her own oath. If she had the means to save a life, she would not choose who deserved it.

Information brokering grew naturally from her work. People tended to talk when they were tended to and when they felt they were safe, and they always were. She never sought power and influence; simply remembered what she had heard and found where it should go to have the best effect. She learned where information needed to go to prevent raids, soften crackdowns, or give a desperate family a chance to disappear before it was too late. Such whispers led her to her current path. Such whispers tested her oath eventually.

A wounded Imperial Shock Trooper left bleeding out with armour cracked and his squad, if he ever had one, gone. All gone. He was an easy target. Leaving him would have been easy. Should have been easy. Leaving him would have been justified. The Empire had taken years from her and innumerable others but when she looked into his eyes, she could not reconcile that this soldier was part of that same machine. He was just dying, and if he did then the Empire had killed him too.

It was in secret that she treated him, and it required resources she could barely afford. Still, when he happened to survive she expected him to report her, to kill her, or to disappear. He stayed. Together they draw little attention and wander through just as yet another odd pairing on a planet full of them.
@Stormyx

I can't wait to see the two of these accepted characters use an Uber-charge.
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