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Koll's Profile Information
Callsign: Koll  Send a message to Koll
ComNet Rank: ComNet Novice
Avatar: Koll
Division(s): VE - Stormtrooper Corps
Gender: Male
Species: Zabrak
Birthday: December 18
Date Joined: May 1, 2008
Last Active: August 30, 2008 at 12:02:36 AM
Number of Posts: 40
Web Page: http://www.vastempire.com/wiki/index.php?title=Koll
ID Line: TRP/PFC Koll/4SQD/1PLT/1COMP/1BAT/Tadath/VEA
Biography:
Full Name: Koll Anbar

Physical Appearance:

Koll’s appearance could best be described as unassuming. Standing at a mere five-foot ten, and 165 pounds, he does not attract much attention to himself, which suits him just fine. He bears on his face the typical tattoos of his native homeworld, comprised of five lines starting at the eyes and running down to the cheekbones, where they then turn sharply and head back toward the ear, and then curve back down the jaw line, meeting at the chin. His horns take prominence, standing near the front of his hairline, acting as something of a barrier to his hair coming forward. They stand in a V formation; one stands in the very middle of his hairline, with two other horns on either side, but set farther back. His brown hair is long, reaching down to the center of his back, and rests on his head like a mop, covering both his ears but coming no farther forward.

Native Language: Zabraki

Hair Color: Brown

Eye Color: Yellow

Skin Color: Tan

Height: 5’ 10”

Weight: 165 lbs.

Age: 20

Physical Build: Athletic

Personality:

Koll is more of a self-effacing person, contrary to the rest of his kinsmen. Koll spent his entire life hearing about the accomplishments of others that it drove him nearly insane, and thereby vowed never to inflict such annoyances on anyone else. As a result, he always downplays every one of his biggest accomplishments, even if he was the first in his class to master a difficult martial arts movement or made the best sculpture in Art. He typically likes to remain unseen, just another face in a crowd and follow the mainstream. This allows him to easily analyze people, their movements, and other various things, without having to be analyzed himself. When the time calls for it, however, he rises to the occasion, using his agile mind to circumvent puzzles or his quick movements to outpace an aggressor. Rarely will he allow himself to be beaten, but will not lord such a victory over the person he defeats. He does, however, have a ferocious temper that can be excited easily. For example, if he loses a competition of some sort, and the victor will not leave him alone about how he lost, Koll will get very angry, near to the point where he will draw a weapon on someone. This temper also arises when someone belittles his accomplishments. To him, that is the largest insult, even if he himself belittles the victory.

Homeworld: Iridonia

Talents/Skills

As a Zabrak native of Iridonia, Koll has learned to be quite proficient in close-quarters combat techniques. His father also instructed him in the use of a vibroblade and vibroknife simultaneously, as well as how to shoot a pistol at someone. His mind has always been sharp and able to grasp concepts quickly and efficiently. This agility of the mind also allows him to recall information quickly and easily.

Flaws:

Koll, as most people do, has many flaws. First is his single-mindedness. Whenever he is at a job, he remains completely focused on the task and allows few things to interfere with his work. Typically, this would be considered a good thing, but this allows people to sneak up on him easily. Koll also has a spitfire temper which arises whenever someone belittles him in any way. This temper tends to become excessive, to the point where he would gladly challenge the belittler to a duel to the death. Fortunately, his friends have most always intervened before it got that far.

Biography:

Koll Anbar was born to Xel and Atrin Anbar on a day no more special than any other day. He was enrolled in the public school on Iridonia and lived out his school life as best as any Zabrak could. At the age of fifteen, he began his rite of passage. This ended ultimately in a martial arts match with some of his peers. Winning or losing the match would not determine whether or not the rite was completed, but rather was a display of how far Koll had come during the time, both in maturity and in combat, as he desired to be a part of the Imperial Army even then. The rite ended in a slightly unexpected manner, however.

“You psyched?” his father asked for the twentieth time. Koll had just about had enough. He had been training for months, even years for this point in his life. The rite of passage meant acceptance in the adult Zabraki world. He didn’t particularly want to stand out, and therefore really disliked the idea of fighting one of his classmates in front of a roomful of people, but his father had insisted upon it. His dad had a tendency to take Zabraki pride to ridiculous levels.

Koll snapped out of his tangent of thought quickly. He was behind a curtain, dressed in typical Zabrak martial arts garb, waiting for the “main attraction” to begin. His opponent was on the other side of the room, talking to his father. His name was Terr Derell and a fellow Zabrak completing his rite of passage. The two were speaking heatedly about something, resulting in the father walking over to the Anbars. “Your son better lose today, Anbar,” Terr’s father said angrily.

“There’s no way Koll’s going to lose to Terr!” His father was equally vehement. The two glared daggers at each other until the curtain began to open. Koll never got to tell his father what he felt about the day, but perhaps it was just as well. It was true that the large, bulky Terr stood no chance of beating the lean, agile Koll. It also didn’t help that Koll was the top in his martial arts class; worlds ahead of anything Terr would ever hope to accomplish. That didn’t keep Mr. Derell from wanting his son to win, however. Koll had wanted to throw the match anyway, just so he could remain in the back of the crowd. The Zabrak boy gave a start as the curtain snapped into its fully open position. He needed to focus, not keep himself in a reverie. He would lose, but lose gracefully, not by distraction.

The lights shone eagerly down upon the stage as the two combatants took the center. They bowed, shook hands, and separated themselves to either side of the stage. It was a small thing, the stage, as they lived in a small city on Iridonia. Practically the entire town came to see the conclusion of the rite of passage, which made the boy nervous. “Are you ready?” the judge said in annoyance. Koll jumped slightly, and then took an opening stance.

“Yes sir, sorry sir,” Koll said, focusing on the match.

“Begin!” The judge leapt out of the way of two combatants. Koll slowly came forward, analyzing his opponent’s movements. Terr was sloppy, his footwork was all wrong. Each step sent shudders through the metal stage, telegraphing where he stepped. On top of that, he was slow and lumbering, kind of like a bantha with a limp leg or two. Koll rolled his eyes; he couldn’t believe such a simile wandered through his head. Terr prepared a punch in the time it took Koll to blink twice. He dropped, spun to his opponent’s back, and placed a firm palm on his back, slamming him forward. Terr fell in a heap before Koll.

What is up with this guy? Koll thought, jumping over a leg sweep as Terr tried to get up. Koll then slammed his foot down on Terr’s chest, destroying all the latter’s hard work to rise up. Terr gave an angry glare and shoved himself up off the floor. He sent an uppercut directly into Koll’s stomach. He hits like a girl! Koll thought, almost physically laughing. He regained his stance and was soon on the offensive.

Koll finally tired of running circles around Terr. Sure, the other boy had stamina, but definitely not speed or power. Koll could clean a few floors with him and still have Terr wanting more punishment. The boy had no form, however. Every stance he took begged to be exploited, down to even how he held his hands. He telegraphed every move he made with either thunderous steps or a huge backswing. It was almost insulting to have to fight Terr. Koll finally made a decision, disliking how he had already shown off to the entire congregation of people there. Koll grabbed Terr’s fist and stepped into the other’s stance. “Terr, I have a proposition for you,” Koll began.

“Shut up, whelp,” Terr said, struggling to break Koll’s effortless grip.

“I’m going to let you win, if you want,” Koll continued, purposely oblivious to the insult. “I don’t want to win, so when I let go of your fist, throw me to the ground or something; I’ll stay down.” Terr gave a confused look. Koll let go of the other boy’s fist, which subsequently came crashing into Koll’s face. With a little flair, Koll launched himself backwards and stayed on the ground. The judge counted down, and Koll lost. As he got to his feet, he had a large smile on his face.

“I won!” Terr shouted after the match. “I can’t believe I beat the top student in the martial arts class! And it was so easy! How is he the top of the class? He can’t take a hit at all!” Terr reveled in the glory of his win. Unfortunately for him, Koll was within earshot.

“What did you say, whelp?” Koll said with a sharp edge on his tongue.

“I said you don’t deserve to be the top of the class anymore, shrimp. Now step aside before I hit you again.” Terr attempted to walk past Koll, but the boy didn’t allow it. Koll swept at Terr’s legs, sending him crashing to the ground. “Oh you’re going to pay for that,” Terr said, getting to his feet. Koll seethed. Apparently the lout forgot that Koll threw the match. His eyes narrowed. Terr wound up a punch much like he did before. Koll caught it, wrenched the fist to a side, landed a kick between Terr’s legs, punched him in the gut, let go of the fist, and upper-cut Terr’s chin. Terr went flying back and lay crumpled in a heap a foot back from where he was standing.

“I threw that match, idiot,” Koll said, spitting toward the unconscious body of his would-be aggressor. “Just remember that I’m not to be messed with, Terr, or you might not wake up from our next encounter.” Koll then set out with his nervous father to get his ceremonial facial tattoos.

Koll’s life since then has had similar occurrences dotted through it, but the mishap at the end of his rite of passage was the first and most prominent. At his son’s graduation, Koll’s father recounted the incident proudly, much to the distaste of the Derells and his own son. Koll would rather have had that incident be dead and buried, especially three years from its happening.
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Who needs to be affirmed by others when your actions already do that for you?

TRP/PFC Koll/4SQD/1PLT/1COMP/1BAT/Tadath/VEA

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