Eamonn Keel
From SW:TOR-RP-Wiki
| Eamonn Keel | |
|---|---|
| |
| Character Bio | |
| Species: | Human |
| Gender: | Male |
| Age: | 26 |
| Homeworld: | Taris |
| Profession: | Bounty Hunter |
| Skills / Proficiencies | |
| Skills: | Non-lethal fugitive recovery Hightened mid-range weapons accuracy |
| Weapons: | Mandalorian Ripper Vibrodagger |
| et cetera | |
| Force User: | No |
| Alignment: | Neutral/Evil |
| Companions: | TBA |
| Cybernetics: | Gordulan Reaction System |
| RP Guild: | CODEX |
Background
Eamonn Keel was the first-born son of a Tarisian family descended from lower-city survivors of the bombardment during the Battle of Taris. Only five years old when his father died from a simple infection from a cut leg, his father’s senseless death left a lasting impression on the young boy. Too young to understand the talk about such things as septicaemia and bacta, it was clear to him from his mother’s venomous and impotent railings that it was the wretched planet and their lack of wealth that saw his father twisting and writhing in stinking agony until the blood-poisoning finally saw him on his pyre.
It was years later when he would come to realise what kept he and his younger sisters in food and clothing when his few friends suddenly ostracised him for learning he was the son of the “rat-town whore”. Not long afterwards Keel was forced to make further adjustments in his unhappy life to a new master in his family home.
Over the course of the next year Eamonn learned to ignore the stream of strange men traipsing through the apartment to and from his mother’s bedroom, just as learned to accept the glassy-eyed despondent ghost she had become. It seemed the only man in the district who didn’t visit her bedroom was Vediel. Unless it was to collect the money off her dresser or throw small packets of something at her which she would quickly seize like they were jewels or prayers. One time Keel remembered his mother refusing the gifts, whatever they were, and the resulting beating it earned her. It was much worse than what Eamonn had ever been dealt and he was grateful that it was she and not him who this time bore the brunt of Vediel’s wrath. At least his sisters were safe from the vile man’s fists; the boy was often secretly jealous of the gifts and attention Vediel lavished on the two little girls.
Three long and hopeless years would pass before a still prepubescent Keel would find escape from his miserable life under Vediel’s tyranny. One of the many petty criminal gangs the boy skulked after had a place for the boy in some grand scheme. His job was twofold. The first part saw him using a discreet dictaphone to record the man’s voice patterns and stealing Vediel’s personal datapad (the loss of which he would be blamed for and receive a lashing anyway). The next part was to follow some weeks later when the boy agreed to be the secret carrier of an important package for his new sponsors. This was the part of the deal which would assure his place on the ship which would bear him away from Taris and the slums to a new life. It only occurred to the usually dauntless boy that his unthinking assent might cost him more than he had bargained for. Lying frightened and trembling on the plastic sheeting covering a table in the gang’s dirty warehouse and slipping into unconsciousness, the boy’s last waking thoughts were ones of outright panic. Though he spent the next six weeks still on Taris, Eamonn never returned home. He spent the first two convalescing in a bed somewhere in the blasted city receiving sporadic visits from two strangers. One was a sullen and unfriendly woman he knew to be part of the gang he now considered himself a member, who brought him food and refused to help him out of bed when he needed the toilet. The other was, he assumed, a doctor of some kind who would check his angry scar and after asking how he felt, sympathise that his insides hurt and he found it hard to breathe. The remainder of his days on Taris were spent in and around the gang’s den running and fetching and performing various other menial tasks, as much as his recovering wound would allow, for the band of dissidents who frequented the warehouse.
Though Keel quickly began to think of him as something between a father and a best friend it was obvious to others that Bhaskar treat the boy more like a pet than a person. Nevertheless it was this devotion the boy gave to the bearish Bhaskar that saved his life in the end. Eamonn had been counting down the days until the small band of criminals were ready to leave Taris. When the day finally came he was savagely thrilled to discover their chosen vehicle was Vediel’s stolen old junker. Knowing he had probably helped in theft of the old bastard’s precious ship gave Keel a vindictive glow of satisfaction and he was particularly buoyant on their convoluted trip through the hyperlanes to Nal Hutta.
Their destination turned out to be a connected mass of mismatched buildings in the middle of a sulphurous swamp. The term ‘mansion’ could never be applied to the low sprawling pile but the boy had no other word to describe it. The band were expected and shown inside where the lighting was dim but the air seemed clearer. Bhaskar and an alien of a type Eamonn had never seen before led the boy to what he had been quietly dreading; another room kitted out with medical equipment and surgical instuments. Without a word Keel went over and sat on the operating trolley and with an encouraging nod from Bhaskar, lay down and closed his eyes waiting for the sting of the needle of the hypodermic syringe set out on a tray beside him.
And this was how a young Eamonn Keel came to spend the next decade in the employ of the bounty hunter Bhaskar. He would often be told the tale of how his older master sacrificed a large part of his payment for the job to have the boy sewn up again when the Hutts had what they wanted. Bhaskar had on that day parted company with his fellows and set himself up as a free hand on Hutta. Often his work took him off-world and for the periods Bhaskar was away Keel had to fend for himself, learning a toughness and independence necessary to his survival. When he was older Bhaskar taught him every skill and trick the scurrilous mobster knew before finally allowing his eager pupil to partner him on his jobs. The money and the danger became like an addiction to Keel, much to approval of his old coach, and their relationship soon settled into one of friendship and trust. All in all it was a good life that eventually fitted the grown Keel like a second skin. The current turmoil in the galaxy made contracts plentiful and he Bhaskar were making something of a name for themselves. Keel had grown in skill and confidence and many knew it was a fatal mistake to cross the dangerous young man. Credits; women; respect; the fruits of the universe were his for the taking and what didn’t fall ripe in his lap he would seize by force. Strength was power and Keel knew his.
WHITE SPACE
The Present
Keel's present wherabouts are unknown. In recent years Keel has taken on jobs independent of his ageing partner, Bhaskar, and his recent exploits have seen him reported in many far-flung locations across the galaxy.
WHITE SPACE
Further Character Details
Author's Note: To be completed. Info dependant on BioWare updates.
