#garmas

Name: Garmas Talesa

Age: 50

Gender: Male

Orientation: Bisexual

Marital Status: Widowed

Birthplace: Concord Dawn, Mandalore Sector

Species: ½ Human, ½  Zeltron

Physical Appearance and Traits

One of the first things those who meet Garmas for the first time note is, perhaps, his height. The Mandalorian stands at a looming seven feet and his broad, muscled frame typically encased in armour tends to give him quite the imposing figure. With dark skin, grey hair luminous green eyes Garmas is a man that time has not been kind to. His face is covered with large, gashing scars that give him a more haggard appearance especially with the wrinkles that show on the corners of his mouth and face.

His body still possesses the steely muscles of his youth given his active lifestyle and his body’s burden of wielding his heavy armour. Made from Mandalorian Iron his plates are painted blank and fixed over a skintight bodyweave. Pelt and clan sigils adorn his armour as both decoration and his status within his warband.

Garmas’ skin also secrets Zeltron pheromones though he is not able to use these to influence thoughts or emotions they do enhance his attractiveness to those who kiss or lick his skin. However to spare any awkward moments he frequently injects a suppressant to prevent such occurrences.

Personality

Garmas is the type of man to lament his advanced age in a culture where most die young. While a sign of his skill at arms and refusal to die it has also worn him down like a stone subjected to wind and water. He carries the loss of a wife and comrades from four decades of warfare across five major galactic conflicts. The warlord tries his best to take this in his stride and move forward with his life.

He is a man with nothing to prove and as such he is typically genial to those he doesn’t know; typically sparing his wrath for genuine threats. Garmas is equally happy to give advice to the young as well as reminisce with the old. As a Mandalorian, loyalty is extremely important to him and a friend will always find a willing hand or gun in the tall warlord.

Having grown tired with leadership he hopes to hand the reins over to a successor; his son preferably though he knows that would be up for whoever triumphs at the Trials of Succession. Garmas wishes to seek adventure and battle having missed the chance to do so; stuck with the obligation through Mand’alor to fight the Empire’s battles.

As a lover Garmas is unbridled passion, a caring and undiluted adoration. While he knows nothing can replace the loss of his wife he simply seeks to enjoy his last decades in happiness.

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My oldest boy. No longer my main per se but he’s my favourite character. I’ve always liked the grizzled warrior types with a lot of history and more to them than scars. 

The heat of the Dxun air was staved away by the cool waterfall that ran down the mountain next to Garmas as he sat on the cliff’s edge. His skin was kept cool by the waterfall’s vapour. He gently kicked his legs against the stone and enjoyed the sensation of rock against metal. The Mandalorian’s tent was set up across the stream. It was his place away from the main encampment. Away from the range shooting and the general hubbub of the Mandalorian encampment. His little slice of paradise on the galaxy’s most dangerous moon. Or at least one of them.

Garmas fished out a small round device and tapped the red button at the base. It brought up the blued hologram of a smiling woman with a tattooed chin and fair skin and light hair. The skin around his eyes relaxed as he smiled at the image.

“Riduur.” he said softly as he sighed out. The word was soft and light as he continued to kick his legs. “They’ve grown up. All three o’ them. I guess….I managed. But I’d rather I had ye to help. I miss ye, Linca-Snow Talesa. But I can’t keep half o’ me in the past.”

Garmas set the device on the rock beside him and turned his head so he could look at the image. “Ye are dead. But I am alive. I will remember ye. So ye are eternal. An’ we will meet again in Kad Ha'rangir’s army. Fight together as we used to. But not yet.”

With a heavy reluctance he stood up and let the image display itself to the jungle canopy below. He secured his hands in his armour’s webbing as he slowly walked towards the mouth of the tunnel which led towards the Crusader shrine. As he walked through the cool aired cavern he smiled to himself as he tried to fight back the tears.

Grief had come and gone. As had the sense of loss. Yet there was that eerie sense of weightlessness in his shoulders. Garmas had felt as if the galaxy had been lifted off of him. Should he have felt even more guilty about moving on? Was it even moving on? Or was it a wound healing?

As he reached the exit of the cavern towards the temple-turned-camp an armoured figure crumpled in a heap in front of him, causing him to stop. Another one leapt from the ledge beside him brandishing a spear, a boot placed against her chest as the spearpoint was an inch from her eye.

“Aha! Warriors are on top!” Breholf snarled to the figure before he pumped a hand up in triumph. At least until the teenage boy’s other sister pounced onto his back to drive him into the dirt, delivering a few kidney punches for good measure.

“Techs ahoy!” roared Jaxyana as she raised both fists before turning her head towards Garmas who was watching the display with folded arms. “Oh. Dad. Hey!”

All three of the Talesa children stood up and brushed themselves off under their father’s stern gaze. They smiled nervously as he turned his gaze from Karinn to Jaxyana then finally Breholf. “Aren’t ye three supposed to be gettin’ trained in her sections than clownin’ around?” They all had his dark skin and their mother’s white hair.

“Well. Yeah.” said Jaxyana as she mirrored her father’s stance.

“But well.” began Breholf who leaned on his spear. “We’re on lunch break. That’s right.”

“Oooh. I see.” he said as he forced a smile onto his face. He looked at Karinn who was kicking dirt. Garmas recalled she was the less boisterous of his children. She prefered to use her brain than her brawn. He nudged her gently with his foot. “C’mon. Since yer on lunch break I’ll see about makin’ ye all some food. Tell ye some stories.”

The trios’ faces lit up as he said the word ‘stories’. They had grown up on the tales of long dead warriors and their heroic deeds. Even at their age they enjoyed hearing of the war stories of the current and ancient Rikat warriors.

“Which one?” asked Karinn quitely.

“Well.” mused Garmas as he led them up the slope towards the main encampment. “It’s about the greatest warrior I ever knew.”

Snow lost her arm today in a failed mission to take a Dantooine spaceport from Revanites.

scottishmando made the mistake once of saying that he trusted me to pen his character, Garmas. Bwahaha!  Ψ(｀▽´)Ψ Snow's back story was never one fulled fleshed out, and I always intended to do so. I knew that she came from a lost clan of Mandalorians, that her Mother was Echani and that she had been adopted by two Twi'leks on Ord Mantel. (The reasons for which were unknown until now.)

I've always enjoyed stories where two people have met, even though neither of them may have been aware of the other. After much consideration I thought it would be interesting if Snow's original clan was Rikat, but she was lost and only found her way back years later.

There are many details I do not know, i.e. when Garmas met his first wife and they got married etc. etc. but I've tried to stay as true as I can to what I know.

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Garmas Talesa's dark and wizened blue eyes scanned his surroundings as finally made it back to base camp with his unit on Concord Dawn. Having returned from a recent deployment the battle-harded Mandalorian had led another successful campaign and returned to find the Clan Rikat compound on their beloved home world abuzz with stomping feet, fiercely shouted orders and riotous laughter. This could only signal one thing; the entire clan had been gathered together.

The sudden amassing of his Mandalorian kin had not been wholly unexpected, Garmas thought to himself as he gazed over the crowd through his trademark t-visor. There had been whispers among the clans spanning the galaxy that the newly consolidated Sith Empire were in talks with Mand'alor himself to barter some form of agreement that would have them working side-by-side to fight the Republic. This didn't worry Garmas any, he longed for battle and an understanding with the Empire opened up the possibility of many more Republic targets. His mouth practically watered and his fingers pulsed with the thought of proving himself against a few of the Republic's toughest soldiers. “Go an' rest up as ye see fit.” Garmas hefted his pack over his shoulder as he tilted his head toward his unit “Rally back here at zero six hundred for a briefin'. Gurla'na.” with a nod of his head of dismissal, the men and women under his command didn't need a second offer to storm off and begin what was sure to be a memorable night among the clan. For some this was the first time ever to experience so many of their own gathered in one place. “Bet yours is one of the only squads that shows up tomorrow not looking like bantha shit.” a familiar voice sounded behind Garmas and he turned to see another one of his aliit walking up to him. The lack of pack over his shoulder showed that he must have been here for some hours, enough time to get his gear squared away. He greeted Garmas with a playful grin, a large cigar gripped between his teeth as his helmet sat clipped securely to his belt. “Aye well, only need to turn up to one o' my rallies once in a sad state to regret it. Doesn't happen again after that.” the smirk on Garmas' face evident in his voice as his companion laughed, reaching into one of the many pouches on his belt to draw another cigar and offer it. Garmas nodded in thanks, ripping off his helmet, shaking his head clear the sweat from his eyes as he slid the earthy tasting stick into his mouth. He hummed his approval as a spark ignited the tip.