Joined: 15 Jun 2007
|Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2008 5:34 pm Post subject: Vandin Bebedo played by Jedi Schrute
|Name: Vandon Bebedo
Type: Washed-up Swoop Jockey / Freighter pilot
Age: 27 Standard Years
Weight: 90 kg
Physical Description: Vandon, (?Van? to his friends), is a taller than
average human from the desert planet of Socorro. As such, his skin is
dark from lifelong exposure to the desert climate and the system’s
ever-present sun. He has shaggy dirty-blond hair which is swept back
out of his face by a pair of old orange-tinted racing goggles from his
days on the track. His brown eyes appear sunken, while the dark
circles under his eyes and a perpetual 5 o’clock shadow give him a
laconic and scruffy countenance. He’ll often be found in a black
jerkin, dirty brown spacer’s pants, boots, and a light brown scarf
looped around his neck, used to keep the shifting sands of Socorro
from scouring his face.
Force Sensitive? No
Force Points: 1
Dark Side Points: 0
Character Points: 5
Equipment: Caelli-Merced Series III Blaster Pistol (4D+2), Clothing,
300 credits, Flask filled w/ Socorran Raava, comlink, ,A spacer's gear bag, basically just a duffel bag to carry his stuff, and a BoSS-approved Permit Data pad, containing his accredited Pilot's license, etc.
Background: Vandon grew up in the scorched sands of the backwater
smuggler haven, Socorro. Most of his time growing up was spent among
friends and under the watchful eye of his mother, Elise. His father,
Barrett Bebedo, was a renowned 5th generation Socorran smuggler,
working within the ranks of the Black Bha?lir on Socorro. Van didn’t
see his father all too often, a result of his occupation. Barrett
would spend weeks, sometimes months away from home, earning the
credits to keep his family secure. His mother, however, was less than
thrilled about having a “twice-a-year” husband, she called him,
referring to how often she claimed he came home. Barrett, when home,
however would spend as much time with Vandon as possible, always
managing to bring home some trinket or ornament from a far off world
and promising Van, as they would gaze up into the stars that
everything out there is yours for the taking, Van., Despite the
innumerable nights Van spent awake in his room, listening to his
mother and father argue through the walls, Van held his father high
upon a pedestal, and dreamed of one day taking up the mantle of
smuggler, scalawag, and never-do-well.
Van’s teenage years were spent among the streets of Vakeyya, running
amok with his friends and trying to get into trouble. Van, at an early
age, found himself quite adept at piloting his father’s old
Caelli-Merced “Sandpopper” air speeder, and would rip through the
streets of Vakeyya, leaving a wake of angry, fist-shaking people in
his path. He and his friends would run out to the Doaba Badlands to
race, dodging sand wells and flying over ridges among the black sands.
Air speeder racing gave way to speeder bikes, and Van eventually found
himself atop the rumbling powerful ion engine of a swoop bike.
Van made quite a name for himself, first at placing high in his
initial races, then consistently finishing in the top 3 at nearly
every race he entered. This caught the eye of local crime lord,
Abdi-Badawzi, who frequented such illegal races. Badawzi showered Van
with praise after a string of wins, promising him wealth beyond his
wildest dreams, women finer than any he could imagine, and endless
adventure among the stars. Van, not even 18 years old was wide-eyed in
wonder and couldn’t wait to jump at the chance to race for Badawzi.
Van’s father, however, was less than thrilled. Badawzi was affiliated and protected among the Black Bha?lir, but this in no way him made him the most trusting individual. Barrett had dealt with Badawzi on several occasions and knew the Twi’lek gangster was
not to be trusted. In fact, Barrett knew what happened to Badawzi’s underlings and associates who failed to meet the crime lord’s high expectations. Upon seeking his father’s approval, Van was told he’d have to wait until he was 18, and, a man before Barrett would approve of such a venture. Van reluctantly agreed, and Badawzi
respectfully acquiesced to the agreement. Before long, however, Van’s 18th birthday rolled around, a festive occasion for the family, one his father, Barrett refused to miss.
After celebrating, Van’s father took him aside and begged him not to go work for Badawzi, claiming it would only lead him to trouble. Barrett promised to take him anywhere in the galaxy he wanted, to be his co-pilot, and race at any wayward dirt track they could find. But Van was blinded by the wealth and fame Badawzi promised, and
stubbornly claimed he could take care of himself. After all, he was a
man now. Barrett reluctantly relented, knowing his son took after his mother’s
stubborn ways, and presented his son with his gift. A Caelli-Merced
Series III blaster pistol, and told Van watch yourself out there.
Van and his father embraced, unbeknownst to them both, for the last
time. The next week, Van was packing his meager belongings to head to
Neftali, where Badawzi was interested in getting him involved with the
“Swoop chasing” tracks on the planet. Barrett had already left a few
days earlier on a smuggling run. As Van was gathering his things, he
heard a loud crash near the front of his parent’s home. He grabbed his
newly acquired blaster and raced to the front, only to find himself by
several thugs, armed with clubs. A scuffle ensued, as the thugs
attempted to wrestle the blaster from Van’s grip. He managed to gun
one down, but another grabbed him by the wrist and wrestled him to the
ground. At that moment, Elise came rushing into the room, to aid her
son. What happened next would forever change Van’s life. Van struggled against one of the thugs, attempting to hold onto his blaster, and managed to discharge a round from the barrel. The shot screamed across the room and hit Van’s mother directly in the torso,
her body crumpling to the floor. Van froze in horror, and the thug quickly ripped the blaster from his grip, clubbed him with the handle, and Van immediately blacked out.
He awoke later, to find Abdi-Badawzi peering over him, dressing the wound on his head.
“I’m so sorry,” Badawzi said. “Apparently, someone has it out for your
father.” Badawzi pointed to the message scrawled in paint on one of
the walls, reading. “You’re next, Barrett.” Van was overcome with emotion, his mother, lay dead only feet away from him, and his father was nowhere to be found. Over the next few days, as he prepared to lay his mother rest, his grief soon gave to
anger, and rage at his father. How could he let this happen. How could
he abandon his family in this time of need? Through all this, his only
companion and comfort came through Badawzi, who took Van under his
wing, and paid for all the funeral arrangements. By the time Van’s
father returned, only a few days after the funeral, Van was long gone.
Van fueled his anger at his father into his racing, and he soon spread
a name for himself throughout the Soccoran sector. He ventured to
Neftali, where he tried his hand at “swoop chasing“ similar to formal
swoop racing, but much more technically difficult. Badawzi introduced
Van to Saadoon Kauldi, Badawzi’s partner and overseer of operations on
Neftali. After adjusting to life on the frigid planet, Van began
tearing up the tracks, advancing up the rankings to challenge even the
greatest swoop chasers on Neftali. Along the way, he began noticing
another racer, clad in all black, wearing a dark-visored helmet who
was just as talented as Van, if not more so. In nearly every race,
this mysterious swoop pilot would either be tailing Van or just ahead,
ready to hold on to, or take the lead from Van’s clutches when the
timing was right. Van pushed himself harder and harder against this
foe, but rarely managed to best the other rider. When he finally made the highest echelons of swoop chasing, he tracked his rival down before the race to wish him good luck. The rider, already fully dressed to race, glanced at Van, whose hand was already
outstretched. “Good luck out there guy, maybe this time I’ll catch ya. ” Van said.
The rider removed the dark helmet, revealing a beautiful mane of red hair, and smiled at Van. Van was quite taken aback, as the rider turned out to be a woman, and a beautiful one at that. “You too, kid,” she replied. She added, “I think you dropped something.”
“Huh?” was all Van could manage to reply as he eyed the woman up and down.
“Your jaw,” A spacer's gear bag, basically just a duffel bag to carry his stuff, and a BoSS-approved Permit Data pad, containing his accredited Pilot's license, etc.
she said, smirking. “See you on the track.” And with that, she replaced her helmet, leaving Van speechless behind her. Van was completely smitten, and couldn’t take his mind off the beautiful woman who’d managed to best him in all his racing endeavors.
He was so distracted, he managed to finish dead last in that day’s race, not something Badawzi or Kauldi were too thrilled about. However, soon enough he was back on his game, and constantly at the heels of the mysterious woman, whose name he soon learned was Gabrielle Auburne. He flirted insatiably and constantly tried to gain her favor over the following months. And his racing improved as well. Gabrielle pushed him to be the best, and before long the two were training partners, but Gabrielle insisted they keep it strictly platonic. She finally relented when she bet Van that if he beat her in
an upcoming race, he could take her to dinner. Van never practiced harder in his life. The day of the race he was sweating bullets, despite the subzero temperatures of Neftali. After a grueling, heart-pounding race, he found himself a scant 10 meters behind Gabrielle as they approached the final length of the track. He gunned his swoop, pushing the governor to the brink of breaking down, and strained his muscles against the obstacles ahead of him. He closed the gap, closer and closer, until finally they were neck and neck. The
finish line approached at lightning-fast speed, and if Van had glanced to his left, he’d have noticed Gabrielle’s grip slip off the accelerator ever so slightly, as the nose of Van’s swoop edged out the victory. Van was elated, and before long the two fell madly in love. They pushed each other harder and harder in their training, focusing on becoming the two greatest swoop jockeys the planet had ever seen. Badawzi saw the two quickly advancing in skill and was formulating his own plans for them. With two quality swoop pilots, he could split them up and enter them in races across the galaxy, doubling his profits. Of
these plans, Van and Gabrielle had no idea. Badawzi?s plans, however, would soon come to naught. One ugly, frigid morning, a blizzard swept into the fjords, shortly before Van and Gabrielle made their first training run of the day. Van looked worried and wanted to turn back, but Gabrielle smiled, goaded him on. “What’re you afraid little boy“ Little snow never hurt nobody. With that, she gunned her swoop into the fjords. Van smirked
and quickly followed after her, tracing her route through the frigid air. In and out of the icy ridges they swept, up and over snow banks and around outcroppings of rocks. As they raced, they failed to realize the gravity of the situation, as tons of snow piled upon
itself on the sides of the mountains all around them. Before long, they found themselves within a deep ice ravine, tearing through at breakneck speed. The concussion of their ion engines ripped through the mountainside, shifting the snow all around them, forming waves of energy that swept through entire ravine. Gabrielle was a few meters ahead of Van, and never noticed. However, Van could see the shifting snow before long, and saw a rush of rocks, snow and ice barreling down the side of the ravine just ahead of them. “Look out!” he screamed, but it was too late. The snow filled the ravine as he and Gabrielle were swallowed up by it, Van only managed to yank his controls upward
and climb over some of the falling snow before being completely engulfed by it.
He woke up a few minutes later, completely submerged beneath the snow, still within reach of his swoop. He was trapped, he couldn’t tell which way was up, and Gabrielle was somewhere nearby. He thought fast, thinking he glimpsed some light near the back of his swoop, he attempted to start the engine. It cranked, and the heat from the
engine fired out of the rear of the vehicle, melting the snow around and allowing him an escape. He scrambled to the top of the avalanche and frantically looked around for Gabrielle. He saw no sign of her or her swoop. He got on his comlink and fervently called for help, but the interference from the blizzard kept him from reaching anyone. He panicked, he didn’t know what to do. He scrambled around, digging here and there, hoping, praying to find a sign of the woman he loved. He found nothing. After hours of searching, he dug his swoop up, and gunned it back home, hoping to round up a search party as soon as he could. By the time he reached home, the inevitably of the situation
finally dawned upon him, but he refused to give up. Saadoon-Kauldi sent dozens of his own men in the search party, and they combed the fjords for 3 days before the search was called off. Van never slept, up all day and night, either out with the search teams or waiting by his comlink to hear word. But it never came. With his love gone, Van sunk into a deep depression, refusing to race, only silently slinking around his home, or within the confines of the spaceport. Badawzi heard of the news, sending his condolences to the
young man, but was more concerned with losing one of his top moneymakers. The days of mourning turned into weeks, and then into months, all without a single race. Before long, Badawzi’s patience grew thin with Van, and he demanded he returned to the track. Van, by then, had been out of practice, and had taken up drinking on a daily basis. Van refused, telling Badawzi he’d rather be dead than suit up again. Badawzi made it clear to young Van that such a situation could arise. Van, relented, promising Badawzi he’d start practicing and race in the upcoming yearly championship. This bought Van enough time to take some contacts with friends of his fathers, and after a thorough pleading with Saadoon-Kauldi, who had a much kinder disposition than Badawzi, Van secured work as a freighter pilot to a far off system. He made his escape the day of the annual Neftali Swoop chasing Championship, leaving his old life behind, and trying to find a new
life in the stars. Personality: In a word, sullen. Vandon once had a bright glowing fire
in his eyes, and while there a few times one might catch a glimpse of that again, for the most part, his demeanor is dark, cold and cynical. Objectives: To drink himself into a coma. To keep running, further and further until the pain goes away.
A Quote: “I don’t race anymore kid, that wasn’t me? That was someone
else, a long time ago.?