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Full Name: Aurelius Tiberius Falco
Known Alias’/Nicknames: Achilles
Previous Occupation: Jedi Knight
Current Occupation: Inquisitorial Acolyte
Known Languages: Echani, Galactic Basic, Twi'Leki
Obsessive Duelistry - Aurelius on many accounts has been seen to engage in duel within the arena regardless of whether a combatant is present, practicing on wall or obstacle if necessary. It seems that his arrogant desire for engagement far outweighs any logical notions of patience, quiet, or slowness.
Sith Alchemy - On occasion Aurelius has been seen delving in to the darker arts of force usage, primarily, Sith Alchemy. The practice itself an ancient one carried down from old Sith holocrons and books from eras where its lessons ran rampant through the minds of dark side users. The practice itself is forbidden by the Jedi, and rather scarcely seen amongst the Dark Side.
Reading - As should any aspiring Sith Alchemist, Duelist or Inquisitor of the Dark Side, Aurelius enjoys a good long book. Typically reading for informative reasons rather than pleasure however.
Alignment: The Empire, The Emperor, The Dark Side.
Mental State: Obsessive, Arrogant, Existential. Healthy for an Inquisitor.
Dueling - As stated above, Aurelius is an obsessive duelist whom like many'a Inquisitor is more than keen to throw down in the dueling arena for hours on end so as to prove his skill and improve his capabilities.
Action - You'd seldom find a user of the Dark Side who wasn't obsessed with action, he loves the tense nature of battle, the explosions ringing in one's ear, the soldiers screaming as they grasp gutshots bleeding thick in field triages, and the enemies, dumb and in their thousands awaiting death like cattle to the slaughter.
Solemnity - Seriousness, the lack of action, quietness, boredness. Generally the lack of interest tends to drive this one rather mad. At least more than Inquisitors are already.
Hypocritically, Arrogance - Rather hypocritically considering how arrogant he is when facing down Jedi or dueling, he wears a distinct hatred for those expressing arrogance that overshadow his own.
Restrained - When in communion with other Inquisitors or soldiers of the Empire, Aurelius tends to be rather restrained. He may perhaps respond with little more than a grunt or groan, or if one is lucky, a short sentence or word to fulfil his reply.
Arrogant - When in combat Aurelius is stupendously arrogant, be it against Jedi Masters way above his level of expertise, or even his own Inquisitorial brothers who reign above him. His arrogance seems to know no bounds other than the lack of words he typically produces.
Obsessive - Regarding all things of interest, Aurelius is painfully obsessive. Be it Sith Alchemy which he took a liking to from his Initiate phases of training in the Inquisitorius, or dueling which he does ad nauseum as of current.
Physical State: Healthy
Weight: 72.3 Kg
Obsessivisms and Arrogance - One could bundle the two together as a mental defect, his obsession for all things training, reading and action play in with his arrogance creating an abnormal cocktail.
Robotic Arm - From a younger age as a Jedi he was fatally struck and lost function of his rightmost wrist, this caused him to require a replacement in the form of a robotic arm, much less versatile than a fleshy one.
Impaired Breathing - His breathing, slow and meticulous has been impaired due to having his esophagus cleaved in twine in the past.
Appearance: An Arkanian male of middling age, two white eyes sit upon his face glowing from his hairless head. His throat has been clearly cleaved open in the past and supporting his breathing seems to be some form of ventilation device. His rightmost arm lacks function, and has been replaced with a robotic arm.
Main Combat Forms:
(Ordered by prominence)
Aggressive 1, Aggressive 2,
Aurelius was born to a family of few in the deep Echani space, an offspring child to a pure Arkanian mother and father who had orphaned him due to genetic impurities, those being a lack of the typical white nails of an Arkanian pureblood. His life growing up was seldom easy, most always he'd encounter rivalry with not only his brother, but father also. His brother would fight him whenever they got in to arguments, such was the Echani way of expression, fighting, if there was any competition, debate, disagreement, one could safely bet it was settled with a fight, a fight that Aurelius most often lost. His father on the other hand would fight him when he felt like it, a miserable drunk so feebly in control over the hatred which consumed him that he'd take it out on a five year old boy. The scars, at least the ones on the outside, would heal over the years from such tortures and beatings, though those within never would.
It was on a damp afternoon however when the last straw was drawn. Aurelius' father was verbally abusing himself and his mother, as he had done unrelentingly throughout the years without end, though this time was different. This time rather than to escalate up to beating Aurelius when his pressure valve began to whistle he instead turned and took out his anger on Aurelius' mother, sending a fist for her nose after slapping her in the cheek. Needless to say, such an carelessness of perhaps the only person he knew that actually cared for him and hadn't washed him aside or fought him his whole life being punished for doing no wrong stirred him. In fact, it stirred him so much so that even though he was only a boy of five he still tried to fight back against the tyrant. After sending a boot to the back of his fathers ankle he went on to follow it up with a punch directed at his older mans back, though rather than to simply hit him with the lackluster strength a five year old could muster, his fist, not even contacting his targets body wholly managed to throw him. An enigmatic force fueled seemingly by the pure passion flowing varicose through his beating veins escaped from his wrathful hand and threw his father back against the wall. Unsurprisingly, though he had accomplished a feat or brilliance, he had also terrified his father, horrifying him so much so that as soon as he'd recovered from the blow he stumbled back over to Aurelius and sent fist backed by fist towards his throat and face, pummeling him back in to the ground where his father thought he belonged.
It took his mother and brother combined some three minutes of struggle with their own hands and eventually a knife to pull his father off of him, luckily having done so soon enough to save the boys life, though not soon enough to save him from almost permanent damage to his throat. His admittance to the hospital was scheduled for a month-long treatment plan. During this time, doctors would implant various valves and artificial tubes in his throat which pumped blood through his carotids and let air and food move through his throat, additionally, an artificial larynx, which had been grown in a lab, had been implanted in to his throat and attached to this device. The whole procedure took a week, going in and out of surgeries and letting his body slowly heal and adapt in-between. The next three weeks however would be the most boring, having spent them doing quite literally nothing whilst a tube fed his body nutrition, not even allowed to eat solid foods in his weakened state.
He wasn't going to be allowed home after what had happened to him there, though it wouldn't matter whether or not the authorities would allow him to return to that environment, since there was another institute with their eyes now keenly affixed to him. This institute, was known widely across the galaxy as the Jedi Order. One could say he was being stolen from his family by this order that now wanted to adopt him and teach him, though one could equally argue that he no longer had a family to be stolen from, that perhaps he never did. Over the years this order, infamous across the galaxy, began to train him in what soon became known to him as 'The Force', a mysterious power which he and a few others like him alone commanded. There were others there of his age, others even of his same predicament, though for every one that was alike to him and his circumstance there was twenty who were tenfolds older and tenfolds wiser, a black sheep amongst the white.
He trained there in the academy on Coruscant for some eight years as a youngling before his attempt at a rite of passage was granted. The passage itself was a trial as old as the Jedi order where the younglings, freshly trained up to Jedi standard, compete for scores in order to stand out amongst the crowd so that they may be chosen by a Master or Knight to become a Padawan, failure to be chosen, however, resulted in the youngling being outcast to one of the service corps, a place where dreams really do simply go to die.
-To Be Continued-