Arguile McCloud

APA Ordnance Disposal and Forensics Technician


Dexterity: 2D (3D Blasters, Dodge)
Knowledge: 4D (5D Scholar)
Strength: 2D (3D Brawling, Climbing/Jumping, Stamina)
Perception: 4D (5D Command, Hide/Sneak, Search)
Mechanical: 2D
Technical: 4D (5D Demolitions, Security)

Force Skills: (2D +1 Control)

Force Powers: Concentration, Control Pain, Hibernation Trance, Emptiness, Reduce Injury.
Move: 10
Force Sensitive: Yes
Force Points: 2
Character points: 0

Dodge Defense: 9
Parry Defense: 6
Unarmed Defense: 9
Damage Resistance: 6 (+ 6 physical/+ 2 energy: reactive blast vest and helmet)


Having grown up in a mountainous region Arguile McCloud recognized hard work wasn’t a choice, it was simply a necessity in life whether hauling buckets of water from the valleys bellow uphill to be purified at home when their well ran dry, or tracking game for hours on end only to dress and haul the fresh kill back to his home uphill once again; unlike most others his age when compared to the necessities of life school seemed relatively easier to him. His mother was a lifelong local and homemaker while his father was a machinist in town who never liked to speak about his past; Arguile knew his father hadn’t been born on planet and the only indication to his past were a moth-bitten military uniform, a couple of old photographs and several unrecognizable medals all within a secure footlocker in his fathers shed. Arguile had picked the lock after his father taught him how to bypass simple pin and tumbler locks, as if his father had hinted “you’ve earned the right to know if you can pick that lock” after repeatedly refusing to divulge his past.

Ambition and motivation were two entirely different things to Arguile; ambition implied greed and a willingness to accept responsibility to work towards that greed whereas motivation meant one was simply willing to work hard enough to achieve ones individual goals. Arguile had never been ambitious, having never been interested in greed nor responsibility; but he was absolutely motivated to travel beyond his small mountain town and learn what the galaxy had to offer, though he knew that would never happen without an advanced degree of some kind, unless he didn’t mind being a transient or vagabond aboard a bulk freighter. Knowing full well his parents would oppose his plan he enlisted in the King’s Army before informing his parents of his decision; he wasn’t an ambitious soldier, he was simply motivated to receive the promised educational benefits in return for service which seemed the perfect solution as he and his family were barely scraping by… his parents would have one less mouth to feed and he would be able to pay for his own schooling, two birds with one stone. His parents reactions were just about what he’d expected, his mother cried and pleaded with him to change his mind while wringing her hands into her apron while his father said nothing, viewing his son with infinite sadness while nodding as if he had been expecting this conversation for years.

Arguile wanted to rip the Band-Aid off quickly so he had scheduled to leave for his training the very next day rather than linger around long enough to shirk his contractual obligations. As with his chores, hunting expeditions, and schooling, there didn’t seem to be anything he couldn’t accomplish after he had set his mind to it. Though never number one in anything he was always near the front of the pack in every facet of his training, he would rather place third in all categories rather than be first in only one; once again ambition didn’t drive him, only his father’s words that “anything worth doing was worth doing to the best of your abilities.”

While surely politicians, intelligence analysts, and the military hierarchy knew what was coming Arguile could have never predicted that conflict would break out only months after he completed his training; as an infantryman he was among the first wave deployed in response to the threat. The Cartographer insurgency wasn’t the conventional combat that Arguile and his peers had been trained for, the enemy didn’t wear a standard uniform, there were no battle lines and because of this there was little indication as the who the enemy actually were; the insurgents had initially engaged the local military and constabulary in ground combat only to fade into the civilian population once the forces of the King’s Army made planet fall, making for less than desirable combat conditions. Arguile and his unit, the 423rd “Heavy Yeomen” regularly conducted foot patrols in the hopes of encouraging civilians to go about their daily lives under the protection of the King’s Army while discouraging insurgent activity. On occasion they would get into firefights on these patrols but luckily civilian and Yeomen casualties were preciously low while a significant toll was taken out of the insurgent’s effective numbers; this is what likely triggered the campaign of terror and indiscriminate bombings.

Gone were the friendly, helmetless patrols that sought to reassure the civilian population as they were replaced by checkpoints surrounded by armored vehicles set up to scrutinize anyone not a member of the King’s Army. Though foot patrols still occurred none of the soldiers made the mistake of relaxing their posture while in full battle-rattle, civilians knew at all times to keep their distance and follow all instruction or be considered a threat; it pained Arguile that a minuscule portion of the population forced him and his peers to be rude and suspicious of people that were otherwise just trying to exist, it wasn’t the way he wished to travel the galaxy. It was on one of these foot patrols that Arguile’s perception was entirely altered; no more than three hours into an eight hour patrol a massive explosion jarred the city less than three blocks from his squad’s position. Everyone, including nearby civilians hit the ground, with the civilians hugging themselves into every nook and cranny while the Yeomen immediately fanned outward seeking any threat while anticipating secondary and potentially even tertiary detonations. Once satisfied by the lack of daisy chained explosions Arguile and his squad returned to their feet, ordering fleeing civilians out of their way as they advanced tactically on the site of the explosion.

As the point man of the squad and having allowed enough time for the smoke to clear Arguile was in the perfect position to fully appreciate the devastation wrought by the explosion, not a single storefront window remained on the block with the structural integrity of the buildings within the closest proximity almost completely undermined. What struck him most weren’t the twisted, burning hulls of speeders and ground cars, nor the crunching of glass under boot, but the recognizable and unrecognizable chunks of what had been sentients only minutes prior. Within the debris and detritus he spotted a familiar shape and knelt down to retrieve it, he hadn’t even identified the object when his breath caught in his throat and the pace of the world shifted around him. Further down the street a group of prone individuals leapt unnaturally to their feet in slow motion and somehow he could feel their fear as a wall of dust and debris coalesced around them enough for him to visualize a shockwave that moved in the wrong direction, pulling the dust cloud with it. Starting further away from his position glass began floating into the air, piecing themselves together into panes that slotted themselves back into window frames. Shrapnel pried itself from the burning husks of vehicles while un-crumpling doors and fenders as they returned to their original colors after the fires were extinguished by igniting in reverse.

Arguile was downright horrified when splashes of blood and gristle began condensing, picking up pieces of the sentients farthest away and moving closer to the origin of the explosive as if they were magnets attracting scraps of metal. As they got bigger the organics began patching themselves together into something recognizable; a family of Zabrak locking their vehicle, a young human male and his female Twi-lek companion holding hands as they left one of the many stores, an elderly Ithorian collecting alms for the needy… he scrunched his eyes shut rather than have to look at the dozens of other individuals who were now whole again as the shrapnel, dust, and fire closed in on itself, taking its own shape in the cargo bed of a utility speeder. With a greedy gasp of air his eyes suddenly shot open to stare at the chunk of metal in his hand, roughly conical and denser than one would have expected which he recognized immediately as the tip of an archaic artillery shell as he was standing in the crater of the explosion. He tasted copper and bile and wiped the back of a gloved hand over his mouth coming away with blood. Tears flowed down his cheeks, blood trickled from his nostrils and the front of his blast vest and fatigues were covered in his own vomit.

His squad mates immediately began asking if he was okay but Arguile could only stand there in shock with his eyes wide, completely speechless at what he had witnessed and the excruciating pain he felt from every single one of the victims as they were pieced back together. Worst of all was the sheer malice emanating from the hunk of metal in his hand, as if it’s crafters intent was a weapon within its own right; he couldn’t comprehend how any sentient could be so cruel. For the first time in his life Arguile McCloud felt ambition, he felt a greed to both bring the perpetrators to justice as well as a greed to ensure the same was never done to another civilian… he willingly accepted it as his own responsibility and it was somehow so much more of a powerful desire than anything he had ever been motivated towards before that incident. None of his squad mates mocked him for his response at the blast site as they all cordoned off the area in preparation for the forensic analysts, if anything they were relieved that someone had reacted the way they all wanted to, as if Arguile had signaled it was okay to be so shocked and disgusted that you were physically ill. They let Arguile just sit and recover with his head in his hands as the forensics team showed up and began trying to recreate the explosion, interviewing each of the Yeomen individually.

It was Arguile’s responses to the question that interested them so much, he informed them of details they were yet to ascertain and while they didn’t immediately believe him they certainly appreciated his conviction; as their investigation continued and the young Yeoman’s predictions seemed to line up with their own data their interest in Arguile increased. He couldn’t ever say why he knew what he knew, he couldn’t seem to put it into words how he reached his conclusions; it simply sounded too insane to say he had a vision of the bomb imploding and the civilians returning to life. Rather than dismiss the young Yeoman the commander of the forensic team, a former sapper and bomb disposal commander, detailed Arguile to his forensics team assuming the soldier had a preternatural concept of advanced physics and spatial awareness; that was the only way the commander could rationalize how Arguile possessed the knowledge he did, the only other explanation was that he was involved in the bombing and the young Yeoman was clearly so enraged and distraught over the incident for that to be the case.

Commander Renard Preacher saw Arguile as a long term investment after his help in piecing together the specifics of the bombing and saw to it that he received all of the training he would need to be an effective member of his team. The education he received may not have been what Arguile had in mind when he initially joined the King’s Army but he tackled it with the same hard work and effort he put into anything he was actually interested in. To disarm bombs you had to learn how to place them so he attended Sapper school, to recreate a crime scene you needed to think like a criminal so he attended forensic investigation school, and finally to possess the authority that Commander Preacher had in mind you had to be an officer so Arguile attended the Royal Martial Academy which would otherwise have been impossible without the nomination of Commander Preacher, who was a noble by birth. Despite having lived in a combat zone for nearly a year, as well as a childhood of daily hardships and self-sufficiency Arguile’s time spent at the Royal Martial Academy were the toughest years of his life; the only thing that kept him going were the last bits of encouragement from Commander Preacher, the letters his mother and father wrote him almost daily informing him of their lives, and of course his burning ambition to bring the bombers of the Cartographer insurgency to justice.

While in theory the Academy produced the most proficient officers in the King’s Army that was far from the actuality that Arguile encountered, as with his own acceptance everyone in the academy had to be nominated by one of the many noble families and Arguile discovered this meant that the majority of students were locked into ancient family feuds as well as most of them never having worked a hard day in their lives; the only reason they attended the academy was for the prestige and the promise of a safe military position far away from danger. The aristocratic students looked down on Arguile, considering him an uneducated rube from one of the backwoods periphery communities despite the fact he was consistently near the top of his classes. He couldn’t understand how people who claimed to be the elite of his society could all be so lazy and entitled as to fail their courses, heavens knew they had enough free time to study. Two of his only allies were the niece and nephew of his Commander, who at first treated Arguile with the same disdain as the rest of the school as he failed to adhere to their strata of social conventions; it wasn’t until they both realized he was significantly better equipped for life that they had to supplicate themselves and ask for his help or risk failing out of the academy and sullying the Preacher family name, which would most assuredly mean a complete halt to the access of their families vast wealth.

Moira Preacher was a tall sturdy athlete with a penchant for the many unarmed and melee combat events that took place through out the school, her brother Maximilian Preacher on the other hand was smaller and skinny, the only thing he seemed to be good at was manipulating conflict between members of the noble houses who were in perpetual feuds. Arguile never trusted them from the beginning, knowing full well that they only tolerated him because of his ability to tutor them and in return he put up with them because of his loyalty to their uncle. Over the years of schooling the uneasy acquaintances surprisingly forged real friendships and by the time they graduated from being cadets it truly was a heartfelt goodbye, Moira received a command in the military police corps while Maximilian was relegated to a basement analyst position within the Intelligence corps; Arguile returned to active duty under the auspices of Commander Preacher who now commanded a newly formed ordnance disposal and explosives investigation unit, which were aptly nicknamed “Odd-Eye’s” due to their tendency to scrutinize everything.

Within several months Commander Preachers investment paid off as Arguile returned and immediately set to work learning the new protocol that had been developed in the five years he had been in training; he demanded that he immediately become proactive and set out into the field with a slew of knowledge he didn’t possess the last time he trekked into combat. In the first year alone Arguile personally disarmed eleven improvised explosive devices, detonated seventy two IED’s in place, and disarmed an additional five more advanced devices that were placed at sporting events, political conventions, and transportation hubs. Lieutenant Arguile McCloud became a rising star within the bomb disposal and forensics community, to the point that his friends Moira and Maximilian often petitioned their uncle to request his services within the course of their own assignments within the Military Police and Intelligence corps. Though loath to release his best pupil Commander Preacher is often forced to relent and detail Arguile out to other Commanders, but he knows it’s only a matter of time until Arguile is placed in charge of a unit of his own.

Arguile McCloud is of both medium height and build, though not particularly muscular it is immediately apparent that he puts effort into maintaining his physique. His hair is a light brown that at one point was regulation length for the King’s Army but is now closer to the shaggy end of the spectrum. His pale blue eyes squint out from a face half obscured by clean, square bandages taped in place due to a recent injury; his arms are also wrapped in bandages up to mid-elbow where the bandages terminate and the rolled up sleeves of his uniform begin. His most striking feature is that despite his obvious injury his is composed of a completely calm, almost serene demeanor that seems infectious through his soothing voice. Each time he catches someone staring at his injuries he simply offers a reassuring smile, as if to say “it’s not as bad as it looks”.

Arguile McCloud

Star Wars: Agents of the Crown Orwell