Flashpoint

Aeroth Ghul
Military Information
Division:	Osk
Affiliation:	Vast Empire
Physical Description
Gender:	Male
Biographical Information
Species:	Human

Current status

• Osk Privateer

Biography

Appearance

Aeroth is what most humans would call tall and moderately sized. Overall, average. But his actual appearance deviates from this quite a bit. Often found wearing an odd assortment of clothes (quite literally whatever he can find), he cares little for the nicities of society and so, typically puts little care into his appearance.

One constant, however, is his goggles. Custom-made, they fit the countors of his face perfectly and serve as protection for his eyes, . His eyes were mechanically augmented at some point in his past, giving him a massive increase in sight capabilities. For all its advantages, the augmentation also had its drawbacks. It left his eyes vulnerable to large amounts of light, which could permanently blind him if he went unprotected. Protection isn’t the only benefit the goggles grant. They were interwoven with certain technologies, which creates a heads-up-display for Aeroth to freely view whenever he chooses. This HUD is much like what is seen in the standard issue Stormtrooper helmets.

Deceptively strong and surprisingly quick, Aeroth is a deadly opponent in melee combat, yet shows almost no aptitude for blasters and other guns.

Personality

Wary and always watching, Aeroth is typically silent, preferring to observe rather than participate. He is not impulsive, nor is he rash, preferring to take time to analyze his decisions before making them. However, the time he usually takes to think over decisions is rather rapid by other’s standards and so it can seem as if he acts on the fly, when in reality his actions are carefully planned out. He isn’t trusting of strangers - or even acquaintances - but once a being earns his trust, he is one of the most loyal beings one could possibly know. He rarely shows his emotions, his face usually blank and unreadable.

He is what one could describe as “chaotic neutral.” His moral compass is convoluted and known only to him. His thoughts and actions are his own and he is practically unpredictable. While he will not wrong one he considers a friend, all others would do good to be cautious concerning him. Good deeds are not above him, as he has been known to go out of his way to do good for someone he doesn’t even know, with no chance of reward for himself.

History

Night began to fall as a figure stumbled through the streets of the city, sheltering his face from the dying sun. The fading sunlight pierced the smog and reached the figure, bathing him a golden glow that brought forth cries of pain. Turning into an alleyway, he slumped against the wall as he struggled to escape the light.

His eyes burned as if replaced by molten metal. Even if he had the strength to open his eyes, sight would elude him. But at least he was safe. Cowering in the darkest corner of the alleyway, he gulped down breaths of air, trying to force away the pain and nausea. He tried to think clearly, but it eluded him. The pain began to recede slightly, but the nausea remained. Rolling onto his side, he vomited onto the ground beside him.

As he lay gasping, hours passed and the pain faded, leaving nothing but a dull ache. He awoke with a yelp, the concrete cold beneath his face. Sitting up suddenly, he swayed as he was overcome with dizziness. Not caring, he shakily regained his footing and stumbled back out of the alleyway.

The street before him was bright, as if the sun was hovering right over it. He could pick out every little piece of trash lying in the gutters, the individual colors of the stained concrete that he stood on, the tiny fragments of glass that remained from the lights that had been broken years before . . .

Wait. The lights.

He looked down the streets at each of the light poles and was shocked to see no visible lights in them. In fact, the entire street was completely dark. Yet he could see it in perfect detail.

But . . . how?

He stepped back as he tried to remember what had happened. The memories came back quickly, in such quick succession that it almost overloaded him with the vicious assault. He fell backwards, scrabbling back until he was back in the alley.

+++++

Pain. And darkness. A darkness so complete that it was impossible to see. It enveloped him, robbing him of his sight. He could not understand it. But he could understand the pain. That too surrounded him, breaking and receding against his mind as a wave breaks against a cliff and slips back into the deep waters.

Whoosh. A door opening nearby and closing with an identical noise. Clack, clack, clack. Footsteps against a tiled floor, coming closer. An odd smell wafting through the air. Vaguely familiar. Recognition clicked as the smell became clear, painting a fairly accurate picture of his surroundings. Sterile, white, orderly, yet still in chaos. Felt like a medcenter. The footsteps drew close.

“Doctor?”

His voice quivered. The blindness was still new to him, so very unfamiliar. He was afraid. He was helpless, something he had sworn he never would be. He was completely vulnerable. The feelings warred within him, as he realized he would have to place total trust in the man holding his arm.

"I’m here, right here, my boy. No need to be afraid, I’ve got you.”

Anger rose up at the acknowledgment of his fear.

“I am not afraid.”

The doctor hesitated at the harsh tone of his patient’s voice.

“Of course not. My apologies.”

Something new welled up within the blind man. He barely recognized it for what it was. Shame.

“No, no. I’m sorry. I’m still . . . adjusting.”

“It’s quite alright. I already have received the payment, so I’m ready to begin whenever you are ready. Though you have already been briefed on the specifics of the operation and the risk involved, I do feel the need to warn you, though. This will hurt . . . quite a bit.”

“I’m well used to pain . . .”

Unconsciously, he reached up and brushed his face lightly. Wincing as a sharp pain lanced his skull, he realized what he was doing and jerked his hand down.

“Yes, yes. The facial scarring is prominent, if not rather odd. Tell me, how exactly did it happen?”

The question he had been dreading. If he was at all friendly before, any traces of it was gone. The walls were up and nothing was to get out.

“An accident.”

He knew his face was blank and unreadable. His voice mirrored his expression, giving nothing away.

“An accident? What kind of accident?”

He silently cursed the inquisitiveness of the doctor.

". . ."

The silence stretched on before it was clear nothing more would be said. And still, the doctor ignored the cues and forged ahead, vying for more information. Perhaps his day to day life was boring enough that he felt the compulsion to talk to his patients as much as he could. Or perhaps the doctor was going to turn on him and give him up to those who wanted him.

"Was it some sort of vehicle accident or an encounter with a wild animal?"

Forcing away the sudden paranoia, he unclenched his fists with an effort. He turned his scarred visage to where he guessed the doctor to be, gazing pointedly without actually seeing.

“Doctor."

His stare must have unnerved the doctor, because a loud gulp sounded and the man’s next words began with stammering.

“F-fine, fine. I-if you . . . If you don’t want to talk, we might as will begin. Hold out your arm and I’ll lead you to the operating table.”

+++++

He awoke, the anaesthesia finally wearing off, and attempted to move, only to be restrained by someone. For a brief moment, panic gripped him and he struggled.

“Calm down, my boy! It’s just me. Good, good. I’m going to need you to remain here for a few more hours. The operation was a tremendous success, but I don’t think your eyes are quite healed enough.”

The operation was a success. Through the grogginess, he realized something was different. There was light where there was only darkness before, and the warmth of the light where there was only a chill before. He realized his eyes were closed, and that he was seeing a bright light from behind his eyelids. In amazement, his lids retracted and he viewed the naked lightbulb above him. For a brief moment, it was glorious. A halo of light sprang away from the bulb, expanding outwards in a never-ending wave of energy that touched the brilliantly white walls of the room and rebounded off. Shining bright, the tiles reflected the light to touch all the shadowed places. The doctor stood over him, an older man with pale skin from too much time indoors. The effects of time showed plainly on his face, marking him in the later stages of human life. He was wearing a typical medcenter uniform, something that anyone would expect a regular doctor to wear. Except, it was covered with an impossible amount of blood.

All of it was taken in with just a glimpse, and then it was gone. The light scorched his eyes, burning the unprotected organs. Clenching them shut, he immediately recoiled, throwing an arm up across his face as he screamed in pain.

“Calm down, calm down. Here, take some painkillers. These should be enough to at least dull the pain. I should have warned you, but I didn’t expect you to . . . Well, if your eyes are exposed to any bright lights at this point, it could permanently damage them and you would be right back where you started from, minus a very large amount of credits. So be careful. Now, sit still. I’ll be right back with a bandage and some bacta.”

The pain was intense, leaving him unable to do nothing but weep. The doctor’s footsteps faded in the distance.

+++++

He had no idea how long it had been since the doctor had left. But there was a dull thumping close by. The noise would not stop. Carefully, he rolled over and slowly exposed his face to the light. It was dimmer than before, but it still burned his eyes when he attempted to open them. Instead, he squinted and covered his face as best as he could to block out the light. He rolled off the table and staggered away.

“Doctor? Doctor! Oww, blasted table. What is that noise? Doctor? Are you there? What’s going on? Hey!"

It had been silent until he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. He started to move, but relaxed as a now familiar voice whispered into his ear.

"Quiet, quiet! Calm down, my boy. It is only I."

"I'm sorry. You scared me. What’s happening?”

“I’m truly sorry. But you cannot stay here. I must leave as well. They’re coming. Get up, get up. Hurry. Go, go, go.”

Confusion erupted as he quickly processed the turn of events. He started to speak, stammering through the first few words.

“Wha- but- no! You said I can’t be exposed to bright lights.”

“You shouldn’t. But we can’t help it now. We both must leave before they get us. Go! While you still can.”

Sudden suspicion arose, but was quickly quelled as the doctor sounded truly sincere and apologetic.

“But I can’t see. How am I supposed to-”

“I can’t help you now . . .”

“But . . .”

He lapsed into silence, unsure of how to proceed. The doctor didn’t speak, but seemed to stare at the practically helpless man before him. The pounding continued, filling the silence. Finally, a sigh.

“Here, take this.”

Something was pressed into his hands, and his questions were cut off.

“No, don’t worry about it now. Just keep it safe until you can see. It’s an identicard. It holds information leading to people who can help you. I know that you have nowhere to go, that you have almost no money left. I’m sorry, but this is all I can offer you. Now go! Hurry!”

“Wait-”

“Flee, you fool!”

+++++

A door opened, its rusty hinges squealing loudly as they were forced to move. A hand, planted squarely on his back, thrust him out the door. Helpless, he pitched forward and the door was shut behind him. He opened his eyes, squinting through the pain and recoiled. It was still light outside, though just barely. The sun sank below the horizon slowly, and somehow that seemed to make the dying light all that brighter. It stung his eyes, rapidly evolving into a molten burn. He threw up his arm to ward off the sunlight and he jumped unsteadily to his feet. Lurching, he clutched the indenticard to his chest with his free hand and started off. He moved through the streets in search of safety and solitude. And darkness.

Joining the Vast Empire

He frowned, fingering the worn identicard, as he looked at the man seated across from him. He had already visited some of the beings whose names were listed on the card, but had had no luck so far. One had been dead many years, and the other two refused to even see him. Through each dead end, he kept on. After all, where else could he go?

The man was speaking, his words registering in Aeroth’s mind, “I knew the old man, yes. Was a family friend when I was a child, long ago. Haven’t seen him in person in a decade, though I have talked to him on the comm a few times since then. Anyways, I understand your situation. The fact that you actually took the time to investigate each of those names on that little card of yours tells me many things.”

Aeroth’s frown deepened and his brow lowered, leading to a hasty apology from his acquaintance, “I meant no insult. It’s just that you seem to be a man without a place. A wanderer, drifter, or something of the sort. Are you lost in this vast galaxy? Do you not have anywhere else you could go?”

A smirk went with his reply, “Not all those who wander are lost, Lieutenant. And no. I don’t.”

The officer hesitated slightly, unsure as how to continue, “No, no. Of course not. Where I’m getting at, is that the Vast Empire is always in need of fresh recruits. We could definitely use you. What do you say?”

Aeroth didn’t answer as he silently weighed his options. He wasn’t even expecting any aid to be given, much less an actual occupation. Still, some things were too good to be true. Paranoia took the chance to slip through the chink in the wall and it took an effort to force it away. No, no. The Lieutentant seemed to be honest and trustworthy. But anyone could hide behind a mask of friendliness.

Though, on the other hand, the man had been right. He didn’t have anywhere else to go, and as galling as it was to admit that, it was true. He had the distinct feeling that a return to the world he originated from would not be well received. The streets were cold and unforgiving, and beings rarely escaped unscathed, physically and mentally. Unconsciously, he reached up and gently touched his goggles, tracing his finger along the outer edge.

Not all those who wander are lost . . . Maybe it is time to end my wandering, at least for the time being . . .

“I accept.”