Dex Qorbin

[Jabroni]

"Well la di da and call me a jedi!"


Name:


Dex Qorbin, [SECRET]



Age: 25

Gender: Male

Species/Droid Type: Human

Description:


He's a brown-haired youth with a boyish face, featuring relatively small and rounded cheekbones. His hazel eyes are flecked with copper. His left eye received burns from an electrical fire and required surgery, which resulted in a crude implant. Upon close inspection, the retina is partially metallic. His general grooming can be described as "scruffy”, seeing as he trims his hair and shaves once in a blue moon. Blending in with the riffraff thereby takes little effort on his part. Somewhat less threatening is his physique. Standing at a measly 1.76 meters, larger men easily tower over him. The man's shoulders appear just as unchiseled as his profile. He weighs around 160 pounds soaking wet and bears little muscle mass to speak of. It's clear more work's being put at the computer than the gym.

Personality:


Never a victim of golden age thinking, he believes the Empire is a good thing and presents a demand for more "entrepreneurial" enterprises. You name it: droids, drugs, precious minerals, data cubes, the works. Despite the prospect of thievery, he loves the bounty half as much as the sport. Outrunning those "damn bucketheads" offers plenty of satisfaction based on its own merit. He'd very much like to make a dastardly name for himself providing it doesn't end in his funeral. Chicks dig bad boys, right?


Dex talks a lot of shit despite possessing little to back it up. Rarely will he actually lift his hand to someone. Instead, he hides behind droids or people and conjures an excuse. For example, "If it weren't for XYZ you'd be dead meat, pal!" It should go without saying that his pride is easily wounded. Like a troubled child, he plays the sore loser when things don't go his way. It's quite easy for a decisive individual to bring him to heel or strongarm him into doing something outside his comfort zone. And underneath every shit talker lies a wannabe ladies' man. He fancies himself as might the son of a rich count. However, the ladies never reciprocate; they either take him for a liar or are turned off by his pathetic appearance. He still tries despite each rejection, which sometimes borders on harassment. 


Skills:


Computers [Expert]


Perception


Stealth



Background:


Dex was born on Calipsa, a filthy brown world with mining its only true significance other than a giant forest. Yet even the forest itself could not remove the eyesore that was Ramsees Hed. The capital city stank to Dantooine from a myriad of unhealthy gases released from excavation equipment and factories. Dex might otherwise have had a decent life if his parents didn't sacrifice everything to provide. His father would ride a shaft elevator a hundred floors into the crust, returning less of a man every day. It became abundantly clear the safety protocols in place lacked substance. After twenty years on the job, his father was hospitalized for blood poisoning and lung disease. For a planet situated in the Colonies, goods and services were not up to par. He ended up succumbing due to limitations in available medicine.


Dex's lot in life appeared bleak at this point. He was seventeen when his dad passed away and had no prospects outside of mining. School provided a way out only to those students who excelled at the top of their class. Unfortunately, Dex squandered his opportunities there, so that door had closed. He turned to the one millennia-old business which served countless customers: the black market. The problem was a matter of capital and logistics. He had no ship to ferry goods and no supplier to purchase said goods. As fate would have it, Dex didn't need to go that route.


He met Val Miran, a human criminal with dealings around the Colonies that were less than "above board". In actuality, Miran was more of a bagman than anything else, but as far as Dex was concerned he might as well be Jabba the Hutt. The schemer said he had a job. "One job. Real simple. You're in and out in two minutes." He was to pickpocket a Gyrda keypad off a Neimoidian Megonite trader. "You do this right? No hiccups? I'll get you off this miserable rock." From that point on, Dex was set on a path of crime taking him across the wide breadth of the galaxy. He'd learn the tools of the trade, expanding his skill set with slicing computer systems. Little did he know he was about to be thrust into something far bigger and profound than himself.


[SECRET]



Weapon(s) of Choice:


DL-18 Blaster Pistol



Important Items:


A pair of freeze boots worn by his father in the Megonite caves.



Motivations:


[SECRET]


Character Quest:


[SECRET]