Name: Wes Arrel
Race: Human
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Occupation: Part-time smuggler, full-time pilot
Appearance: Wes’s physique is a curious mix between sedentary pilot and professional Smashball player, earned from a lifetime of zero cardio and poor diet mixed with anaerobic workouts. Wes is certainly large, but his muscles lack the definition of a seasoned warrior thanks to his love of junk food; much like a seal, a persistent layer of fat encompasses his body. It seems no matter how often he shaves, a certain amount of stubble remains on Wes’ face, and the battle against his furry chest was lost long ago. His back is raked with brutal, raised scars, about three feet long, likely from some form of torture; the rest of his skin is flecked with the occasional scar, but nothing major.
Personality: Bombastic, hyperbolic, and a bit of a liar, Wes imagines himself as the hero of the galaxy, but he's really just another scoundrel with an inflated ego. That isn't to say he's all bad; as far as smugglers go, Wes is up there with the more friendly ones. Sure, he breaks the law, but that comes with the job. To date, he hasn't killed anyone (on purpose, anyways), and while he would if needed, Wes would much rather knock them unconscious or simply run away. He has a soft spot for the struggling and weak in the galaxy, going out of his way sometimes to help them, though he finds ways to justify it as "personal gain" to maintain a tough-guy exterior. Still, his ego gets the better of him, and Wes loves exaggerating his exploits. Tell the same story enough times, and it ends up being a fleet of pirates you escape rather than two ships. These tales become increasingly tall when there's a female presence, since Wes will do almost anything to win over the opposite sex, to a fault. It may seem that Wes is pretty overconfident, perhaps even arrogant, and that's because he is.
Wes is pretty aimless in his life, seeking mostly pay and pleasure. His head tends to be in the clouds, and his current "life goal" (if you could call it that) is to get his damn ship back from the pirates that stole it; working for the Republic is just a means to an end. He doesn't fight for any real cause, and doesn't believe in much save for himself. He can be trusting, but prefers to keep strangers at arms length, unless he's had a couple drinks. The pilot won't warm up to you immediately, but he certainly won't throw a fellow scoundrel to the wolves once a bond is established.
History: Wes was born on Corellia to two brilliant scientists working for the Corellian Engineering Corporation. Unfortunately, their brilliance was not passed down to their only son, as they quickly discovered from his less-than-stellar performance in school. It became apparent that Wes was much more interested in girls, exploring, and flying star ships than actually designing them. So, once he was of age, Wes’ parents sent him off to the flight school for the Republic Navy, where he promptly flunked out. “No focus” the instructors said. It didn’t take long for another pathway to open up for Wes though, working aboard a dingy cargo freighter, The Lucky Loth, under a shady Devaronian captain named Jacqisa. The Devaronian functioned both as his first mentor and first love, but the older woman saw 16-year-old Wes as a ship boy rather than an equal. He worked hard on her ship, motivated mostly by lust, but nevertheless the young spacer learned the foundations of piloting a freighter. As he grew older, Wes saw Jacqisa as less of a muse and more of a partner, especially once she offered him a position as her first mate. This lasted a few years before Jacqisa retired, selling the freighter to him. At a discount, of course.
Now the captain of his own starship, Wes began shipping and smuggling goods with his own protégé, a Twi’lek man named Loreher. The Twi’lek was significantly older than Wes and lacked any real spacing experience, but was undergoing something of a midlife crisis, so Wes took him aboard. The two kept this up for many years, getting into their fair share of trouble, but all good things must come to an end. Loreher ended up “settling down” after discovering a seemingly innocent fling on Tatooine had resulted in triplets. A week after his partner’s departure, Wes sat adrift in The Lucky Loth’s escape pod, with the rest of the ship flying into the stars with a new pirate captain.
With no money and no vessel, Wes' only option was to sign up as an independent contractor with the Republic; they gave him a freighter and sent him on his way to some hellhole corner of the galaxy called Gamorria. With any luck, he’d find the bastards who took his ship there.
Equipment: Wes doesn’t carry too much on his person on a day-to-day basis, and even then, he’s a little forgetful. When his mind isn’t in a hangover-induced haze, Wes’ll remember to strap on his DH-19 Pistol and throw the accompanying bandolier of tibanna gas cartridges on, with a knife or two stashed into his boot and jacket. He rarely forgets to grab a few credits, or whatever currency might be useful in the corner of the galaxy he finds himself in. However, inside his VCX-650 light freighter, one can find all sorts of junk; Wes’ ship contains enough heaps of scrap, food, and other assorted supplies to colonize a small moon, and that’s before the Republic loads his cargo bay up with shipments. Of course, like any good pilot, Wes keeps his tool kit near the cockpit, filled to the brim with hydrospanners, data pads, fusion cutters, and other useful items to repair Republic property.
Force Powers: Wes is pretty damn force sensitive; unfortunately, he’s too dumb to ever utilize, or even recognize, his sensitivity, so his ability manifests itself as “luck”.
Skills:
- Space Trucker: Wes has probably spent more time in the cockpit than on solid land, and he’s developed keen skills as a navigator and pilot, along with the occasional repair job.
- Indomitable Spirit: While far from the most elite fighters, Wes has been in his fair share of brawls on backwater planets, and even tortured a few times by corrupt government officials putting the squeeze on smugglers, so the pilot can take one hell of a beating. He’ll still complain in the morning though.
- Wes Radio: Wes runs a somewhat-successful holonet show in his spare time when he’s jumping from planet to planet, composed of his mostly-coherent rambling intermixed with music. His audience is mostly other smugglers and pilot who tune in to hear his grossly exaggerated exploits, though rougher cantinas will occasionally air his vulgar music. As such, Wes has gained something of a cult following amongst the underclass of the galaxy, and can occasionally rely on his few fans to help him.
- Hokey Religion: Call it the Force or call it luck, but Wes has a whole lot of it, and if he didn’t, the pilot certainly would have died in a fiery explosion or something long ago; by most galaxy standards, Wes simply does too many dumb things to live, but something out there seems to be looking out for him. The dice always seem to roll in his favor, the blaster bolt zipping by just inches from his face.
- All in the Wrist: While a terrible shot, Wes is at least quick on the draw, be it drawing his blaster or throwing a knife. He’s been practicing the latter lately, judging from the number of holes in his freighter’s cockpit door.
Weaknesses:
- Why Run When you can Fly?: Wes’ cardio is, to put it simply, pretty awful. Short sprints are painful enough, but running long distance? Forget about it.
- Bumbling Tourist: For a man who’s travelled the galaxy three times over, Wes is surprisingly ignorant of local customs and culture. He navigates the underworld well, but that’s about it. Plop him down at a dinner table anywhere and he’s bound to offend someone, though their reactions may vary. As if this weren’t bad enough, Wes thinks himself the world’s greatest polygot, able to speak almost any language, but in truth his Huttanese, Cheunh, Gamorrese, and a plethora of others are more likely to get him shot than a room at the local tavern. That won’t stop him from trying though.
- Terrible Tactician: Wes can barely think 10 minutes ahead, let alone create any sort of viable battle or espionage plan. When he does, it typically involves intricate costumes, outlandish accents, and access to heavy ordinance. His plans never end well.
- Rancor in a China Shop: Aside from the occasional saving grace from his “luck”, Wes is extraordinarily clumsy when not in the cockpit. Dropping things, getting knocked over, and sometimes simply falling over his own feet is an everyday occurrence, so don’t ever ask him to walk a tightrope.
- Luststruck: Wes is a sucker for a beautiful woman. Show any interest in him and he’ll be wrapped around their finger in the blink of an eye; that is, until he gets what he wants, then the pilot will be halfway across the galaxy the next day.