Okay, here’s the updated Desh. Mechanically, very little has changed, though I switched his campaign trait given the turn his backstory took. I also like that it reinforces his “every man” feel, which I think also makes his Fate-marked angle stand out. Free skill rank goes into Profession: Soldier, for obvious reasons. The religious angle has been pulled out completely, as that's one of the main things that just felt tacked-on before. And I traited into Know: Local to reinforce his local connections even further.
I like this backstory and motivation WAY more.
Background (New and Improved!):
A Marked Beginning
Desh is a local boy, born and raised in Kenabres. His father was a huge bear of a human blacksmith who worked out of a smithy in southern New Kenabres. His mother was a half-orc crusader, a quartermaster and natural leader. And from day one, Desh was marked by fate … born with a body wrapped in naturally-occuring, mysterious tattoos. Some local priests said it was a good sign. Some said it was bad. But all seemed to agree they were old markings. Markings of power. Markings that set him apart (Sacred Tattoos, Fate’s Favored, and Destined bloodline).
Desh grew up doing what every little boy in Kenabres does … running around playing at killing demons from the Wound, emulating the stories they heard every day of the men and women in crusader’s colors they saw walking the streets (City-raised). Desh loved it. With his natural size, strength, and athleticism, he excelled when his parents taught him the blade. And while he had no mind for academics or the arcane, he was a confident, charming child with a penchant for making friends, bullying bullies, and talking his way out of trouble. He and his buddies dreamed of the day they could swear the oaths and take up arms against the hordes of the Abyss.
Desh took that oath nearly one year ago. His parents looked on with pride. He was nineteen, and he and his friends were convinced they would shatter the Wound and save the world. Well, as they soon found out, the daily routine of a crusader—particular trainees—was far more … well, boring. Sure, there was arms training and war exercises (all of which Desh loved), but the rest was all running errands, assisting crusaders, and attending meetings and classes. A never-ending lesson that defending the world was as much administration and tedium as it was bloody-handed heroics.
But he endured. Being the son of a weaponsmith, he wasn’t unused to hard work, and he continued to excel beyond his peers. His unusual size, uncanny charm, and unpredictable luck made him a bit of a known up-and-comer in the ranks. He couldn’t wait for the day he got his first real assignment.
A Fateful Day
That day came a few months ago. Some merchant and military transport wagons from up north hadn’t arrived at their expected time. It was not an unusual thing given the weather this time of year, but with the growing number and concerns, a crusader company was gathered to investigate. Desh and two of his cadet buddies were assigned; a way to give them a little practical experience outside the walls.
It went horribly wrong.
The wagons weren’t being held up by weather, but by cultists. And they must have seen Desh’s small company approaching, because the company walked right into an ambush. It was a massacre. The combat awoke some thrill born into his blood, but it was also terrifying. In what seemed like seconds that lasted a lifetime, most of the unit was dead or dying. Desh, a recruit with under a year of training and no actual combat experience, found himself pitted against fiends from the Worldwound. Needless to say, it wasn’t much of a contest. His instincts and luck saved him, though, and as a demon’s spear drove for his gut, Desh rolled defensively. Searing pain lanced through his thigh, but then it did so much more. As the abyss-wrought iron drove into and through his leg, the power of his tattoos finally fully awoke. ‘Wound-founded foulness and the power of his heritage mixed in his veins, rippling throughout his mind and body like fire racing across the surface of oil-slicked water. Then there was a dull sensation of a thunderous impact, then nothing. Black.
When he awoke, he couldn’t see. He could hardly breathe or move. And as awareness returned, he realized the cloying stench of burned flesh gagged him. He was pinned to the ground by one of the company’s dead and burned horses. His armor had saved him, keeping enough of his ribs intact and giving him just enough room to breathe. As he struggled painfully to free himself, he put the clues together, and realized that his luck—his lifetime companion—had saved him again. Apparently, the horse, battle-crazy and on-fire, had slammed into him at the last second, burying him and shielding him from the killing blows of cultists or demons. And as he took stock of what must have been a half-dozen broken bones, it was the terrible pain in his leg and mind that dominated his focus. Desh still doesn’t understand it, but the demon’s attack did more than simply pierce his leg … its filth had crawled into his veins and infected his mind. Some piece of them now resided somewhere in him. He could feel the taint in his leg, in his veins, and in his mind (Exposed to Awfulness).
Desh was able to scavenge enough burned rations and water skins to survive the slow, staggering return trip to Kenabres. At least partially … a reinforcing company met him after nearly a day of walking. He reported what he could, and they patched him up enough to survive a ride back to the city. The next few days were a whirlwind of debriefs and medical check-ins. And afterwards, he was left with simple instructions. ‘Rest up and heal up, soldier.’
A Picture of Today
For the most part, that’s what Desh has spent the last few months doing. His bones healed, his flesh knit, but something of that taint lingers. His leg won’t heal properly. The healers have tried many times, but in the end they always shrug and suggest it might just take time. But the pain never really fades. And that’s not all. Whatever happened when the filth spread into his body didn’t stop in his leg. It left something in his mind. Desh has terrible, nightmarish dreams most nights. And he can feel a power growing in him (Oracle). He’s visited the Iomedaeans about it, but—like his un-healing leg—they aren’t sure what to make of his condition. The best solution they could come up with was ‘maybe understanding will come through contemplation' … whatever that means. So he wakes every morning and runs through their mental exercises. Surprisingly, they do help focus his mind, though no real answers are found that Desh can see.
Otherwise, he’s spent the last few weeks trying to recover his body. Looking to regain his edge, he not only works himself tirelessly, but he’s signed up to deliver weapons training to the new recruits … something that he’s easily qualified for. Between the exercise, the additional work in the practice yards, and the Iomedaeans meditations, he feels himself getting stronger every day. And with his strength comes his old confidence. And with it a growing personal fury at the cultists and demons. They tried to kill him … he’s of a mind to return the favor.
Appearance & Personality:
Desh Smithson is a tall, powerfully-built half-orc. His green skin is scarred along the right side of his body, from his shoulder all the way down to his deformed right leg. He’s got a constant limp, which is exaggerated when he’s tired. He carries a military longhammer as a walking stick when needed. Lately, he’s accustomed to wearing his armor nearly all the time in an effort to rebuild his constitution, and he does best to keep it, his simple soldier’s attire, and his weapons well-tended and polished. Beneath his armor, and peeking out from under his cuffs and collar, is a huge, dark tribal tattoo.
He’s not really handsome in any conventional sense, though there’s an open charm that everyone finds welcoming. And while he’s not overly-educated or particularly mannered, his easy, simple way with people has a disarming effect. This personal gravity can be turned on its head when necessary, though, becoming a focused intensity that can be unnerving.
Desh is a simple young man who prefers simple, straight-forward speech and solutions. He’s physical by nature and prideful the way young men are (Pride drawback) … making him more than a bit reckless and impulsive. He’d prefer to make friends than enemies. He believes in the ideals of the Crusaders as well as those of society, but he generally values people above those ideals when the two conflict.
Role: Still shooting for the Guardian/Heirophant dual-path, but his backstory will make the Guardian primary (and I’ll likely Multi-path at first opportunity to pick up additional Healer-y goodness).
Reeling from the last few seconds, Desh turns the barrel of the gun emplacement up at the fighter. "ComeonComeonComeon!" The stream of plasma is like a white-hot rooster-tail springing from the back of the speeder.
E-web Repeater plus force point (braced on auto):1d20 + 6 - 2 + 1d6 ⇒ (5) + 6 - 2 + (4) = 13 ---> Damage (1/2 on a miss):3d12 + 3 ⇒ (5, 10, 7) + 3 = 25
"Yah, sure," Desh grunts as the farmboy helps yank him from becoming a speed bump, "next time I'll take a few extra moments to strap in WHEN THERE'S A FRAKKIN FIGHTER HUGGIN OUR ASSES!"
Do I need to roll something to climb back in with Jerrn's help? If we have some breathing room now, Desh will climb back into the gunner spot and strap in if there's a securing cable or something.
Desh's scowl darkens as his repeater-fire continue to do no real damage. "DAMMIT! JERIKO! CAN'T YOU JUST ---"
-- cut to --
Jeriko wrote:
...recites in a mock, nasally tone, "Please keep all hands, feet, tentatcles, and other assorted appendages inside the speeder at all times. Pilots will not be held responsible for passengers not secured with a safety harness."
-- cut to tight shot of Desh turning from his repeater-fire to look over Jeriko's shoulder towards the on-rushing chasm --
The cigar falls from Desh's slack jaws, his eyes widening, "OOOHHHH SH---"
-- cut to a camera looking up out of the chasm, sound of onrushing speder is muted --
The speeder blasts across the wide opening in slow motion. Desh's long, continuous shouted "--IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!" is accompanied by a trailing tail of wildly-flailing white-hot plasma as he clings to the repeater as his only hand-hold.
Strength check (plus force point):1d20 + 4 + 1d6 ⇒ (2) + 4 + (6) = 12; if the heroic 1/2 level is applied here, add +3 to that roll.
Desh calls on what little luck he has, bracing the big repeater while the snub-fighter lined up for its run. Just when it got into range, he hammered the trigger with a grimace...
... but he can't keep it centered despite Jeriko's ace driving. "Apparently not," he grunts in frustration. "Maybe he'll get bored and come down for a close encounter."
Desh nearly loses his footing as the speeder slips to the side, "I'm on it, Jeriko! Just try to give me a steady shot when he swings by!"
Desh drops his carbine, letting it catch on its strap, as he takes up the big repeater again... swinging it around to prepare for the fighter's next pass.
Let me know when it's in range so I can try to unleash some badness on it. :D
Desh spins on the sith who attacked him. "Big mistake," he grunts as he grabs his carbine and slams the bayonet into the man's gut.
Release e-Web Repeater, draw carbine (with mounted bayonette), and Power attack the Sith who attacked Desh (-3 attack penalty/+6 damage).
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With Vibrobayonette, target's Damage Threshold is considered 5 lower. If the attack is successful, use Brutal racial ability, lowering his damage threshold another 5.
Based on the speed and distance of the snub-fighter, does Desh expect it to be back in-range for another pass this round? Or does he have a round to try to assist against hte with before he needs to be back on the gun?
Desh finally catches sight of the snub fighter, but keeps the barrel aimed behind them in an attempt to mask his intention.
Camris, two questions. First of all, will you tell me when the fighter's in the e-Web repeater's range? Secondly, the writeup for the e-web says it needs a second person to regulate it's power... does that apply here? Basically, do we need someone else to keep the weapon at optimal condition while Desh shoots it (or for someone else to shoot while Desh regulates the power?)
"No, i don't see it. But feel free to call me a bantha again, and I'll see if I can't find a closer target."
Desh keeps his eyes peeled for the incoming speeders. Perception 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17 <-- Does this mean I can see the second perception spoiler (the DC 15 one)?
Not having any idea what the gun is, Desh rips off a few shots into the canyon wall to determine it's potential. DC 15 means you can't try it untrained, right? So, I'm assuming it's a Heavy Weapon. Let me know what the damage dice are.
Assuming it works...
Desh prepares to swivel towards the first aggressor he sees. "Call'em out when ya see 'em."
Desh pivots the big gun around to face the three trailing dust-clouds. "Double-damn," he grunts, testing the big gun out on a rock that speeds by. "Lets' see if I can make these ass-hats' day as bad as our just got."
What kin dof weapon is Desh manning? Heavy gun? Does it have auto-fire?
A white-knuckled grip on the mounted gun is all that keeps Desh atop the speeder as Jeriko guns it. "I guess you did say hold on..."
He turns to point the weapon back the way they just came, "So we expectin' trouble from the front or back? ANd is there any reason I shouldn't leave whoever we run into as a smokin' wreck?"
Desh slings his carbine over his shoulder and hops up into the heavy gun emplacement on the back. He's busy double and triple checking the weapon's mount, tether, and energy feed to notice any dark-robed figures. "Then don't frakkin blink next time," he grunts before pulling the action lever back. The gun sounds off its readiness with a pleasant TCHK-BWOOOOOOOOOOO sound.
"So," he mutters as he looks around from his exposed position as gunner, "We rollin' out or what?"
Desh grunts, "Wouldn't be an issue had that damn pig not hacked the power feed on my pack." He smacks teh butt of his carbine into the busted power-cell converter on his jet pack for emphasis, "Brain-dead pig should know when it's beat."
The pace has made it difficult for me to note when we get progress, so I'll apologize for my seeming absence over the last few months. It wasnt my intention to disappear.
Desh throws himself into the fight, knowing the best thing he can do is thin the pigs' numbers until someone can create an opening for retreat.
Attack the same pig if it's still alive, the other one on Desh if the injured one dies to the AoO.
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Mounted bayonet, Power Attack -2) 1d20 + 9 - 2 ⇒ (3) + 9 - 2 = 10
---> Damage 2d6 + 11 + 4 ⇒ (5, 2) + 11 + 4 = 22
He's not been on the boards in months. He had a job change or three followed by getting engaged, and his wedding is coming up in June or July... so I think the messageboards in general just fell off his radar.
"We need to withdraw. Get these guys off me, I have a plan."
Desh responds instantly, spinning in the air as he re-directs the directional jets of his jet pack. His new trajectory brings him screaming towards the pigs attacking his fellow Mandalorian – a black-clad meteor.
"Melee weapons bypass their shields!" he yells as he tries to prove his point on the more injured of the two pigs.
:: Round 3 ::
MOVE: reload carbine (this is a move action, right? If it's more than that, Desh will wait)
STANDARD: charge bayonet attack on the more injured of the two pigs attacking Juce.
Oof… 40 damage… that's over half Desh's hp… just a heads up. Though neither attack exceeded Desh's damage threshold. So still nominal.
Desh roars as the two axes bite through his armor. Suddenly not being in the thick of things is looking a lot better, and his jet pack flares to life. He explodes up out of the fog, turning in midair and leveling his carbine back at the pig he gored only moments before. The fog flashes a brilliant white-red as a stream of plasma falls on the pigs from above.
SWIFT: activate jet-pack. MOVE: move diagonally up and back 6 squares (does this system do AoO's for movement?). STANDARD: Full auto attack with his Carbine, targeting the pig he hit before as well as as many of his pig friends as possible.
"Farmboy!" Desh grunts out through the mist, "Whaddaya say we try to catch us a Hutt before we head out?"
He grins a black grin as he rushes to stand between the bulk of the pigs and their slug leader, readying a strike for the first pig that comes within reach. "Hey! Droids! See if you can help us with all this bacon!"
MOVE: Rush to stand between the on-coming guards and the Hutt (leaving Jerrn to have some fun with Motta, if he wants to).
STANDARD: ready a (-3) power attack vibrobayonette strike against the first guard that steps into melee. If there's already a pig within reach, obviously there's no need to ready this attack. :)
Vibrobayonette (mounted):1d20 + 9 - 3 - 2 ⇒ (17) + 9 - 3 - 2 = 21 ---> Damage (1/2 on a miss):2d6 + 11 + 6 ⇒ (1, 5) + 11 + 6 = 23; Target's Threshold is considered 5 points lower for this attack. >:)
status:
HP 73/73
Damage Threshold: 24
Reflex: 23 Fortitude: 24 Will: 17
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Condition Track: Nominal (0 penalty)
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Current Power Cell: 30/30
Desh–knowing Juce was supposed to be in the room with them by now, but not knowing where–gives a directionless nod to Juce's encrypted message.
Pretty much sticking with the majority of Desh's actions, with a slight modification. This post will stand in for that last one, if that's okay.
Motta the Hutt wrote:
"Guards! Take those droids apart! You mercenaries! Throw the Jedi in now, or join the droids!"
"Well, that's the thing," Desh says as he unslings his rifle and pulls the "scope" free, holding it up for Jerrn. "The jedi aint goin' in the damn tube." There is a soft but unmistakable CLICK as his carbine switches to auto-fire and is leveled at Motta. "Hey, droids. Looks like you and us got a shared interest. Help us deal with the slug and his pigs, and we can sort out this jedi business after the smoke clears."
Move action to draw blaster carbine. Move action to draw the lightsaber-scope, holding it up for Jerrn to take. Swift to switch the carbine to full-auto and level the barrel of the carbine at Motta.
Pretty much ready to roll initiative whenever. >:D
All of those DCs are too high for Desh to try them untrained. :(
But I feel much better making a decision now. :)
Desh gives the stasis chamber a considering look, then shares a look with Six. The two mercenaries have worked together long enough to know when it's time to flip the safety off.
Darth Camris wrote:
The protocol droid turns to Desh.
"Mighty Motta is as good as his word, brave Mercenary. Merely place the Last Jedi within the suspension tube and we will retire to the business office to conclude this transaction."
"Well, that's the thing," Desh says as he unslings his rifle and pulls the "scope" free, holding it up for Jerrn. "The jedi aint goin' in the damn tube." There is a soft CLICK as his carbine switches to auto-fire. "Drop weapons or no one walks outta here but us, Hutt!"
Move action to draw blaster carbine. Move action to draw the lightsaber-scope, holding it up for Jerrn to take. Swift to switch the carbine to full-auto.
Yah, just tryign to make sure I undesrtand the map before I make a decision here... the hutt is hte big orange square. That's Desh, Jerrn, and Six going from top to bottom of the three greens in the midst of the reds with Juce back in the room on his own. I'm assuming the red squares are the pigs. What are the two yellow shapes?
And I'm assuming all the blue shapes are assorted displays that act as cover and obstacles. Let me know on all this, Camris.
Can I get a refresher on the plan here? Were we just trying to make our way to the Hutt to get some answers from him? Are we after the armor? Are we after something else?
I'm a little lost, but I feel we're at the moment of opportunity in the Hutt's little trophy room.
Desh's unease, which had been mounting since they passed Motta's office, reaches a climax when they enter the room full of Gamorreans. He shares a quick look with Six, trying to keep the edge of violence out of his voice, "Not sure the boss is gonna be happy gettin' paid in green skins. Maybe we could go pick up the payment?"
Do the boars have weapons at hand? Or are they as surprised as Desh is at the intrusion?
"Come" the droid translates, "It is time to get you your reward."
Desh nods, his frowning visage hidden behind the mercenary helmet's dark visor. He follows the slug, half-dragging Jerrn. As they pass out of the crowded room, he quietly and discreetly taps the signal into the team's comm. Desh. Objective 2 Met.
Thing was, as much as Desh hated social settings, that had been the simple part of the plan. He gives one look back, watching to see if any of the room's security follows them.
Yah, i was trying to figure out how to warn you, but I think it's improbable to believe the team worked out a configuration of taps that translates to "Jeriko, the two mandos are headed your way.. stop trying to steal their ride."
Desh watches both of the mandos walk away -- and ensures that neither will turn back around -- before offering Jerrn's lightsaber back up to the Hutt. He nods back to the door through which the two mandos just exited, humor shading his voice. "Interesting friends. Always a gamble dealing with a Mandalorian." He tries to make a show of looking at where the female mando just left, seemingly unable to resist one last joke at their expense. "I think the girl liked me. Maybe I met her before… forgot to call her back after a few drinks, no?" As he says 'met her before', he taps out a quick set of staccato beats into his team's encoded commlink. The combination gives them a clear, if careful warning… there may be a problem, the female may recognize me.
He switches back to the task at hand, once again hefting the jedi for emphasis. "We gonna do this? I know it ain't your problem, but my boss aint' gonna be happy if we don't get this taken care of quickly. He's an impatient business man… I'm sure you know the type."
Desh reveals an unusual level of restraint in the face of the Mandalorian interruption, biting back a demand that the newcomer wait his turn. It's a delicate enough situation without bringing more unwanted attention, he thinks.
He is, however, unable to suppress a grunt as he lets Jerrn's lightsaber, still in his hand, fall to his side.
i'm a little sketchy on the play here. Should i be trying to get the credits and get out with the three of us intact? Or am I trying to grease this slug?
Greasing the slug is obviously my preference, but I don't want to be hasty.
Desh uses the Farmboy's little speech as a distraction, giving the lavish room a quick scan and filtering the information through his tactical training.
Perception - how many armed guards present? Any exits other than the room through which we came? 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19.
Knowledge: Tactics - what level of a threat are the present guards? Are there any kown tactics these scum use? Are there any tactically-superior locations in the room Desh could use to his advantage (or that he should expect the guards to use)?
1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20.
Desh uses the time to draw out Jerrns' lightsaber, too. He begins to give it to the slug, but pulls it back, "The cred's here? Bad business to give over the goods without the payment."
So sorry (once again) for my absence. Work + family in town + sickness = out of commission.
I think its best (at least as long as Jerrn has been able to test it to make sure there aren't any downsides) to actually give Jerrns' actual lightsaber up as proof. He's on a vid or two fighting with it, so presenting a 'saber with a different colored blade would be a pretty obvious no-no. If the sith's saber works fine for Jerrn (at least until we can recover his), then that's the one that will be doctored up as a scope on Desh's gun.
Did Jerrn ever get that antique 'saber up and running? The one we found on the ship? Might be a good backup.
As Desh walks by the guards, he grabs the barrel of the one with whom he'd been speaking, giving it a forceful shove towards the floor. "You should be careful where you point that… someone'll get hurt."
Desh waits until he has some distance between himself and any of the guards before he responds to Juce's hissed warning. He covers his response by acting like Jerrn was slipping, hefting the big man up a bit to cover his activating his comm. "I think the mando we saw on that holovid may have just arrived. If he's after this bounty, too, he could complicate things. Don't suppose anyone can slice into their maintenance systems and shut down his lift?" He gives Jerrn a rough smack to the side of his head, raising his voice to carry, "Stay asleep, jedi!" Then his voice drops once again. "Hell, if we can hack into the local security feed, we could somehow insert some of our information into his security clearance and ID information… that could really make things interesting for him."
Not wanting to raise any suspicions, Desh gives the seemingly-unconscious Jerrn one more heft before continuing on their way to the appointment destination. He gives the quiet signal through the comm that they're past the initial checkpoint.
And regarding gear:
Desh would have had his armor painted black and a multi-function combat helm added. Nothing he can do about his height and build, but at least he can hide his yellow skin and other features. Desh is in his (now-black-painted) fiber weave armor. His blaster carbine is on a sling across his back, vibroybayonet and the Sith lightsaber-scope attached. Two more vibrobayonets are sheathed at his chest and the small of his back. Combat gloves on his fist. And his heavy blaster pistol is at his hip. A few spare power cells are on his belt, and he's got a black-painted jetpack on his back.
@Six - you should get a jet pack as well. :)
Both so we can look alike and so we have options if stuff goes badly for us.
Desh -- standing nearly a foot over the guard in height -- lets out an annoyed, rumbling grunt as he looks down at the man. "And you mind double-timin' it? It's gettin' damn hot and this ass-hat's heavier than he looks." Which was saying something considering the farmboy's size.
The big feeorin resists the urge to wipe away his sweat. It was damn hot. At least I'm not having to scoot around on my back in the vent system like some lab rat, he thinks as he continues staring the guard down.
"Seriously, bub. Today would be good. Motta's not gonna be happy with you or me if we don't make the appointment time."
