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| Callsign: | Ron-Goron  | | ComNet Rank: | ComNet Novice
| | Avatar: |  | | Division(s): | VE - Stormtrooper Corps | | Gender: | Male | | Species: | Human | | Birthday: | November 14 | | Date Joined: | April 30, 2008 | | Last Active: | July 21, 2008 at 2:44:55 PM | | Number of Posts: | 75 | | Web Page: | http://www.vastempire.com/wiki/index.php?title=Ron-Goron | | ID Line: | TRP/PFC Ron-Goron/3SQD/1PLT/1COMP/1BAT/Tadath/VEA | | Biography: | Physical Appearance
Native Language: Galactic Basic
Hair Color: Light Brown
Eye Color: Green
Skin Color: White
Height: 6'
Weight:159 lbs
Age:19
Full Name: Ron-Goron (yes it's my callname too)
Nickname: Ron (IC and OCC preferably)
Physical Build: lean, athletic
Homeworld: Corellia
Personality
Ron's personality is difficult to discern, due to his constant tendency to switch from a mellow, non-responsive persona to one that is jovial and exuberant. This is not a product of his lack to control his emotions, rather, it is a tactful practice to hide his emotions.
Talents/Skills
-excels in mathematics
-mechanic
-good gambler
-talented lier
-fair shot with blaster weapons
-good lock picker
History (and writing sample)
Envious eyes of young pilots, coupled with flat noses pressed upon the display cases, were visible outside of the Ship-bay shop. The shop was one of the most prestigious in the Galaxy, and at the time, the best in Corellia. Understandably so, it was every young pilot's dream to own one of the sleek and shiny personal ships that attracted their pilot's eyes; it was a dream for them to actually build one of the ships.
Ron-Goron, a mechanic himself, didn't share these feelings as did the other young men outside the window. He took his share of the fame and the pride of having the job, but he didn't care for ships. Not these ships anyway. No, if anything Ron wanted a larger ship, perhaps a smuggler's ship even. He preferred not to think of it too often, as he knew the possibility was unlikely. He shooed away the pesky onlookers and dimmed the lights so as to discourage them from looking in through the windows. After doing so, he sat on one of the packing crates and waited till closing hour... wouldn't be long now.
"Boy." called Don Maer-Goron, his uncle. Ron opened his eyes for a minute, before closing them. Don Maer often called more than one of the younger mechanics "boy" when he wanted them, so eventually they all learned that it saved time to wait until he called them by their real names.
"Boy... Ron, where are ye?" Don Maer called again. This time Ron rose from his recumbent posture and replied. "Ship bay, Uncle."
Don Maer entered the doorway, but stopped halfway through. His face held a pleasant look about it, and the tone of his voice was eager and impatient. "Come Ron, store is closing early today."
Ron looked up quizzically at his uncle. This was abnormal procedure, his uncle never closed shop until closing hour as a rule. Ron asked, "Is there something wrong, Don?"
"No no, nothing wrong... just things to do, go on now, get yourself home before the traffic starts." Don Maer answered. Ron was still unconvinced, but got his things none the less, and walked down to the loading dock. As he came to the parking area, he waited for his uncle to turn before he dived behind an unpacked crate. Something was up.
Sure enough, as soon as closing hour hit, a small Corellian shuttle entered the loading dock, and landed. From within came two tall figures, one of them a twi'lek and the other another human. Both were male, and heavily built, and both of them approached Don Maer.
"Ah!" said Don Maer upon their approach. "My partner's have come, welcome, welcome, I am more than ready to accommodate the agreements."
"Don Maer." said the twi'lek. "I hope you haven't forgotten the second part of the deal."
"Deal?" Maer asked.
"Where is the money?" asked the human dealer.
"Oh! Haha..." Maer nervously laughed. "Oh yes... the money will come as soon as you two kind sirs have signed the contract."
"No contract." sneered the twi'lek. "We want the money first."
"You fellas agreed to the contract." cried Maer. "You... you promised me you'd cut me a fair deal."
"And we will." interrupted the human dealer. "You get your life, and a good name in the dealer's market... once we get the money."
"But this is a giant investment, I'll go broke in a couple of days! What happened to the partnership, the deal?"
"We'll talk about that another time." said the twi'lek.
"No, I won't do it. You boys will be the death of me."
"So be it." said the human. And without another word, he pulled out a blaster pistol, and shot Don Maer in the head.
As Maer was shot in the head, Ron gasped in shock. He had never seen a man killed before, so when Maer was shot, Ron did everything he could to keep from yelling outright. He managed to stifle the yell, but he couldn't help from gasping, out loud.
The two dealers looked at each other quickly before the twi'lek whispered, "We told the scum-bag to show up alone, now we got to search the place for the money... and for witnesses?"
"Just shut-up and start searching." grumbled the human dealer. "It's probably a pit boy anyways, nothing we can't handle."
As it turned out, when the two underground dealers approached the unpacked crate, they were beset upon by two fuming cans of toxic gas, a sandblaster, and an energy torch. They obviously never saw it coming.
***
As it turned out, the authorities didn't "believe" that Ron killed the underground dealers.
"Son, these weren't two hooligans out for a pleasure raid. These fellows were experienced killers. Don Maer might of been able to kill them, but you sure couldn't have. Now I'm going to ask you again, where did these materials come from which were used to kill him, and who did it?"
"Are you kidding me?" said Ron. "You guys are top-notch detectives, who are so good a forensics that you can tell what kind of bacteria touched a freaking grain of rice... and yet you can't clearly see that I'm the one who killed them!?"
One of the detectives, one of the more honest men of the group, pulled aside the lead detective and said, "Give us a minute, kid... Look Derek, the kid's DNA is plastered all over that stuff, and even in the cabinets where he got it. Now you know that he killed them as well as I do... can't you cut him a break and give him the credit for catching them?"
Derek replied, "I've been on this case for seven years, Maark... if I report that they were killed by a minor, I'll be laughed at and let go from the agency. I can't let that happen Maark, I've worked too hard to get to where I am!"
"Then what will you say?" asked Maark, the honest detective.
"I'll tell them they were on a raid when they had a shoot-off with Maer. We'll say that they died simultaneously." Derek replied.
"And the kid?" asked Maark.
"Imperial army for him. Or fifteen years in solitary confinement. His choice."
"On what charges?" asked Maark.
"Oh thats easy enough. Illegal use of corporate machinery, participation in a underground dealer's brawl, use of corporate machinery with malign intent..."
"You're cruel." said Maark.
"Watch your words." said Derek. "Remember, you're getting half of the prize money.
"Yeah." sighed Maark. "If only it wasn't for... the money."
View Ron's Wiki at: http://www.vastempire.com/wiki/index.php?title=Ron-Goron | | Signature: | Ron-Goron:.Private First Class   TRP/PFC Ron-Goron/3SQD/1PLT/1COMP/1BAT/Tadath/VEAView Ron's Wiki at: http://www.vastempire.com/wiki/index.php?title=Ron-Goron"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not shoot, the courage to shoot the things I can, and the wisdom to hide the bodies."- Anonymous | |
