Character Name: Jarodnyk
Affiliation: Neutral Fringe / Dark Star Mercenaries /
Krethelli Clan of Carthogia
Species: Taloid (Robeing)
Homeworld: Titan (Robia)
Age: 29
Other Krethelli Clan Members: Assassin Droids Aru, Brettan,
Comar, and Dirtheg
Description: A 6'6" titanium-skinned, sturdy-looking humanoid autonomous robot. His eyes glow red, and his face is expressionless to species unable to see in the infrared. Possesses excellent night vision, hearing, and modest radio receive and transmit abilities. Prefers colder temperatures. Wears a tunic made of ceramic platelets trimmed with copper, a gemstone talisman inscribed with the Lifemaker's seal of protection, a polymer, hard hat-like cap, and a belt and sandals made of vulcanized rubber. Carries a lance adorned with the symbols of his nation (Carthogia) and his family, a battlestaff with sheathed ends tipped with a highly corrosive substance, an insulated woven-wire rope, and a small tool pack.
Background: Jarodnyk is a member of a robot race that evolved a million years after a Borijan self- replicating factory ship crash-landed on Titan and mutated out of control. His culture was just emerging from the feudal stage when first contact was made with Humans and then a reconstituted, friendly Borijan AI. The latter helped the Taloids substitute materials in their manufacturing process so they could withstand higher temperatures.
Jarodnyk is the son of Groork, a mystic-turned-scientist, and Iona, a scribe/linguist chosen to be Groork's mate by the AI because both possessed the uncommon "radiosensitivity" trait. Like his father before him, Jarodnyk goes off into the "wilderness" alone, his task being to study Titan's complex machine biosphere.
While out there he encounters a shuttlecraft with a mixed crew of traders, including Humans. They ask for his help in translating and preparing treaties and trade documents to be presented to his government. Since he is familiar with Humans, he goes. In reality, the traders, dismayed at the primitive Taloid culture, have already decided the Taloids have nothing worth trading for or fighting over, save for their naturally-evolved, resilient, adaptive machine life. Unknown to Jarodnyk, the traders have already gathered speciments of many of Titan's robot animals and, with Jarodnyk included, plan to sell the lot of them to a droid manufacturer for reverse-engineering.
Fortunately, Jarodnyk quickly becomes suspicious and, when a curious droid leaks the plot to him he escapes at the first opportunity. Now scared, lost, and alone, Jarodnyk has four main objectives: 1)to remain intact (and far from those who abducted him) 2)to find a way home to his beloved Titan (Robia) 3)to learn all that he can to prepare his people for what's "out there" 4)to make a good impression on sympathetic aliens for the Taloid race
Jarodnyk is normally peaceful, gentle, and inquisitive, but possesses keen survival skills from his years in the wilderness and from being raised in a culture that has only recently tried to renounce bestial savagery. While he questioned the traders' designation of him as an ambassador for his kind, he now feels the role has been thrust on him, like it or not, and not only his own survival, but the survival of his unique people depends on his actions.
Since his escape, Jarodnyk has gotten a ship, the Carthogia's Pride, a YT-1500, from a dying philanthropist with a guilty conscience, and a small blaster from a fight with some losers. He joined the Dark Star Mercenaries at Inn Station in the interest of survival and has since been graced with a family of a sort, four Assassin Droids which he named Aru, Brettan, Comar, and Dirtheg. This new clan, Krethelli, formed under Taloid tradition, struggles to bridge the cultural gaps within while surviving, serving, and perhaps thriving.
"Hey, whose idiot droid is this?" the drunk's shout rang out clearly through the canteena, attracting some bystander attention.
"I...I'm not a droid."
"Bo...I've never seen one like this...must be the work of some basement hobbyist." The second man, a scraggly, wiry, sunburned blond, was drinking as well, but was far quieter and more thoughtful.
"What in the blazes are you, then?!?!?"
"I'm sorry. I was just looking for some directions. If you don't care to help, I'll go elsewhere."
"Don't you go walking away from me!" the beefy guy with curly brown hair and protruding brow ridges reached out and gave Jarodnyk a shove. This knocked the young Taloid into the second guy, causing him to spill his drink on himself.
"Hey!" the second guy cried.
Jarodnyk jumped ahead and turned around. Both men were spoiling for a fight. Jarodnyk took a fighting stance as well.
"You may not know what I am, but I'll show you what I'm made of!" Jarodnyk answered the challenge.
"Boys, boys, boys!" a third Human came through the smoky air, ahead of the gathering crowd, "Life is too short to fight over nothing."
He stepped in between the two of them and Jarodnyk. The third man was old and stooped, with long white hair tied into a ponytail. He had blue eyes, the left one clouded, and an angry red swollen jagged scar that ran from the corner of his left eye clean down through his lower lip. His skin was covered with irregular purplish blotches.
"Bartender, get these men a drink and put it on my tab. Gentlemen, I'll take care of this stranger."
He took Jarodnyk by the elbow and pulled him away to a table near the corner. "Sit down. Let me share your company a while," he offered Jarodnyk a seat. The tall robot settled down. The man returned to his customary seat against the wall.
"Looks like you're in a bit of a mess."
Jarodnyk nodded glumly.
"Just what are you anyway?"
"Humans call us 'Taloids'. We call ourselves 'Robeings'. I am very lost and trying to get home."
"Where do you come from?"
"A star system, I was told, that had a yellow sun, nine worlds. The third world had one moon and a colony of Humans. My world, Robia, was a moon of the sixth planet, a ringed giant. The fifth world was even larger. Between the small fourth and large fifth worlds was an asteroid zone."
The man pressed his lips together.
"I've been trading through this galaxy for nearly a century and I've never even heard of a system like that. You really are lost."
Jarodnyk's elbows were on the table, and he just let his titanium head sink into his hands. He was beginning to see it now. His abductors were the only ones he knew of so far who knew the way home. He might have to hunt them down and face them someday. Someday, not soon. He didn't have a prayer now.
"What's your name, son?"
"Jarodnyk. What's yours?"
"That's not important." The man leaned back and closed his eyes while he slowly drew a deep breath. It seemed to require his concentration.
"My name stood for evil, greed, dirty deals, and dirty deeds. I built an empire on broken lives and stone cold lawlessness. Nothing was beyond my pale, and what good did it do me? I cashed out, wanting to retire in luxury, and found out I am dying of an incurable disease. Now all the treasure I have amassed is worthless to me. I have no heirs, nobody to share it with, and within a decade, I will be forgotten. I want to leave this life with a better balance sheet than what I have now, so I wait here, listen for the hard-luck cases, and help where I can. Let me buy you a ship and arrange for some flying lessons. It'll give you a fighting chance out here."
Jarodnyk was struck speechless.
"Now, you come from so far away, this ship won't have that kind of range even if you knew the way home. You'll have to survive by your wits like the rest of us. Someday, though, I can see you making a triumphant homecoming. So, what do you say?"
Jarodnyk just nodded at first and finally squeezed out a, "Thank you, thank you very much, sir."
The man brought his fist to his mouth and coughed.
"My pleasure," he said.
Jarodnyk held out his hand.
The man gave it a brief shake, "Good luck, Jarodnyk, and may the Force be with you," he then placed his hand on the robot's shoulder.
The Taloid felt as if a power surge went through him. His whole body tensed up briefly before relaxing. He didn't know why, but was surely relieved that his situation had finally taken a turn for the better.
"May the Lifemaker cleanse your soul and redeem you," Jarodnyk replied, making a gesture with upturned palms.
Jarodnyk had named his YT-1500 freighter Carthogia's Pride and had just finished decorating the interior crew quarters with sacred Taloid symbols including his family and factory designations, and the Carthogian crest when he decided it was time to get serious about building his new life.
He went back to the canteena and sat down in the rear of what he thought was the "pilots for hire" section. Most of the others were Human, but there were other species too. They were basically a rough-looking lot. The old guy wasn't around. Bo and his skinny friend were.
Jarodnyk was still far from proficient in reading Human expressions, but he interpreted theirs as "disgust" as they finished their drinks and left. Good. He was of no mind for a confrontation, especially without his friend here.
Moments later, a tall, curvaceous woman strode in and headed for the pilot's section. She was wearing clothes two sizes too small, but this was passable with her well-developed body. Her face was her biggest flaw, with a too-large nose, a jutting chin, and visible bags under her eyes. Her ample, fluffy, tightly curled brown hair reminded Jarodnyk of a priest's high headdress. She narrowed her eyes and smiled broadly as she neared the pilots and thus completed the "cheap" look.
The others responded with whistles and catcalls. They leered and one ran his tongue along his lips.
She strutted slowly past them all, eyeing them up and down, finally stopping in front of Jarodnyk.
"You, I have a job for you."
Grumbles, epithets, and curses rose from the others. Jarodnyk shrugged his shoulders to them. She summoned him with her index finger.
"I only talk business outside. Too many ears here."
She winked back at the others as Jarodnyk walked off with her.
They went out into the too-bright suns. It took an extra few seconds for his imagers to adjust. He followed her into an alley, behind the building, then into another, wider alley. Suspicion rose in him.
"Hold it right there," the skinny guy stepped out from the front of another building, blocking the path and holding one of those destructive light-hurling blaster weapons.
Jarodnyk raised his hands to shoulder level and felt a thick, hairy arm slide around his neck from behind him.
"You know there's a price on your head? It ain't that much, but it's a tidy sum on this rock. Too bad they wanted you intact."
It was Bo's voice. Jarodnyk could feel him trying to unholster his staff and lance.
"I should've known there was something weird about you. A droid, wearing clothes, carrying weapons, that strange accent, that funny voice. Here, Sheila, hold these." After a pause, the robot could feel Bo trying to undo his belt, "Wonder what you did. The amount offered was quite a bit more than your average 'lost droid' reward."
Jarodnyk felt his belt loosen. It was tossed over by the woman.
"Now, where would the 'off' switch be on a model like you?"
Bo patted down Jarodnyk's back and then started rudely feeling up his tunic. The skinny guy giggled, still pointing the blaster at him.
But they wanted him intact. They had no intention of using the blaster. If only the skinny guy were a little closer...Jarodnyk placed his hands on the arm Bo had around his neck and pretended to put up a little resistance.
"Hey, cut that out or I'll fry you!" the skinny guy tried to look threatening and raised the blaster to Jarodnyk's chest level. He took a step in. One step too many.
Jarodnyk swung out his left leg and struck the hand holding the blaster. The blaster came loose and skidded along the ground. A second kick struck the skinny guy in the head. He was deactivated.
Jarodnyk grabbed hard on Bo's arm now, bending his knees and snapping sharply forward, flipping Bo over his shoulder. The Taloid quickly swung around and pushed the woman off balance, then threw a right hook at Bo, who had climbed back to his feet. Jarodnyk made contact, and found Bo's jaw to be nearly as hard as his hand. He followed with a left. The blows were only glancing hits, ineffective. He changed tactics, going for the power source. It was the only way he could take this experienced bar fighter. His foot landed in Bo's midsection.
"OOOOoooof!" came the sound from Bo, along with a gust of wind.
Jarodnyk tried to get a second kick in, but Bo had crouched over and he missed, landing low in the groin. This proved even more effective. Bo let out a deafening bellow, brought his hands over the area, fell onto his back, and writhed about.
The Taloid turned back toward Sheila and ducked just in time as she swung Jarodnyk's battlestaff and lance at him. He lunged forward and grabbed them alongside her hands and tried to wrench them free. She wouldn't let go.
Jarodnyk, however, was becoming surer of his strength in this heavier gravity. He needed to teach her a lesson. He pushed up and slammed her against the wall. Once, twice, on the third slam she released his weapons. Then he gave her the crack upside the head she'd tried to give him. She was deactivated.
Jarodnyk detected a snorting sound behind him. He swung around and there was brow-ridged Bo, his eyes wide and glazed, his face flushed red and his teeth clenched in pure fury. The Human was nearly as tall as Jarodnyk, and propelled his vast bulk toward the robot at great speed.
"Screw them! I'm gonna tear you limb from limb!" Bo growled.
Jarodnyk had no doubts he could do it too. There was no way he could withstand or block the charge, but Bo's rage was so complete, maybe his other faculties were sacrificed. Jarodnyk waited until Bo was nearly upon him, then scampered clear. Bo slammed into the wall with the sound of thunder and bounced off.
As Bo stood there dumbly, Jarodnyk wound up, focused on his leverage, and belted Bo with all his might. Direct hit, his head snapped to the side, and Bo collapsed like a dynamited building, at last deactivated.
Jarodnyk inspected his hand for dents before retrieving his gear. After putting everything back on, he stepped over and took the blaster for good measure. Then he rifled through the pockets of his inert attackers. They had 38 credits between them, a meager haul, but a price for their stupidity nonetheless.
He jingled the coins in his hand as he walked past the canteena. It was high time he got out of here, before he made any more enemies. He needed only an idea of where to go.
