He appears of medium build, his muscle mass evenly and well distributed, giving him the appearance of one almost bred for combat. He wears a skin tight black flight suit generally, but will be covering it with armor once he acquires the funds. His eyes are a steel grey, emotionless.
His hair is non-existent, wearing instead a crown of horns much like Darth Maul had, though Voltar appears fairly different in this respect. He bears a proud demeanor, not the one to tolerate blatant disrespect to himself, though he is not a braggart, he prides himself on his combat prowess. This demeanor is apparent in his posture and his way of carrying himself.
His right arm is rather unique, in that it is made of Mandalorian Steel due to a past injury, the arm was removed, and Voltar had it replaced with a prosthetic one. It appears normal, though there is room inside for various improvements that may be added at a later time, at the current time, it functions as a normal arm, with the exception of slightly increased durability.
His original skin color is unknown, as he has acquired a full body tattoo. This tattoo is of similar pattern to Darth Maul’s, with the major difference of Voltar’s being blue, and above each eye is a blue lightning bolt.
In the E.R. of a medical center, a woman took her dying breaths. In those breaths, a life was born. Voltar. A child neither planned for, nor completely wanted. His father hated him, from the moment he was born. Who can truly blame him? His birth killed the love of his life. He was a nearly perfect baby, having no visible flaws upon him. Still his father wanted nothing to do with the child. After a few days of prodding from his grandmother, Voltar was accepted reluctantly by his father.
Voltar would later regret his father’s acceptance, and loathe his mother for dying. He also grew to hate his father for his unending persecution. His father made him do grueling work all day long, feeding him as little as he could get away with, giving him beatings for the smallest thing he could within some form of reason. Nothing Voltar ever did pleased his father. Not one thing Voltar did ever made his father smile. Besides showing his pain.
And so Voltar learned to be cold. He learned to hide his pain. As a small child in school, he’d get into fights. No matter how badly he lost, no one would ever see him complain. Wince and shudder he would, but never make a verbal or truly obvious sign.
Also, he learned to hide. He also avoided his father, the monster of a being who raised him. He learned quickly the hidey-holes in his neighborhood, evading searches no matter what he did.
By middle school, Voltar’s peers learned how he was treated; many bullies decided he was a prime target. And due to this, Voltar’s frequency of fights arose. He soon began winning them, after having been beaten so many times. Unfortunately, his brutal treatment of those he had beaten was unacceptable. Of course, he felt justified. How many times had they beaten him? Regardless, parents complained to the school, and the school told his father. From then on, every fight Voltar was in, his father gave him a beating. By this time Voltar was 14. He knew he would not be able to stand this much longer, such degradation, such cruelty. It was enough to break anyone.
He took what he could, surviving, until he was 16. He took his father’s new blaster, and shot him as he came home from work. He kept the blaster. Then he ran. He made his way to another city, possession less with no money and nowhere to go. Taken in by a friendly human woman, he was shown some small measure of kindness. He did not truly know how to reciprocate this, except by working for his keep. This he did of his own choice.
He was happy there for a time, he began practicing his combat with sparring partners rather than real fights. He also began participating in weightlifting and other training exercises as well. As a young child he’d seen a Mandalorian mercenary, and this picture had been burned into his memory. The pride those warriors held was quite admirable. And so he wished to learn from them. He strove to imitate their prowess.
Over time, he decided to odd jobs for people. He was often used to collect debts. He became very skilled with providing such an intimidating appearance with his sudden appearances and ability to melt into crowds that he’d made quite a nice sum as a Merc.
When he got enough money, he decided to seek the Mandalorians, perhaps see if he could earn his place among them. He purchased a flight to the planet that Dxun orbits. It happened to have a few prestigious patrons, one a trade run. Apparently a rogue force wielder wanted to collect a debt, and drew his lightsaber in the place, attacking the trader.
Being present at this event would be bad all around, so he decided to do something. He attacked the Exile. He fought well for a youth, inexperienced in true life or death battles; unfortunately it was not enough to spare him injury. By the third strike the Exile had removed Voltar’s arm. He winced, but refused to let this hinder him. His vibroblade on the ground, he ducked into a kick which the Exile jumped over, preparing a downward stroke to slay him. Voltar rolled aside; opening fire on the exile, a shot struck his right wrist, causing the exile to drop his blade.
About this time, the guards arrived, and the trader informed the security team of what transpired. Voltar had saved his first life.
Voltar’s lost arm was a brutal loss for him, he who prided his fighting ability, reduced to a cripple. Hatred for those wielders of light sabers burned through him. They took his arm, and stole his pride. He was given a prosthetic arm, an average one, and he bought shuttle passage to a Mandalorian community. He offered his sword and talents to them, and was given a trial by battle with the Mandalorians. He had proven himself a worthy warrior, despite not being permitted to “join” them. Knowing how Voltar’s injury was such a point of “weakness” in him, a Mandalorian forged him a new prosthetic arm, made of Mandalorian steel. He was moved by this kindness, though it was only received with a polite “Thank you greatly,” and a promise to aid the individual if he was ever called upon.
Finally, when he returned home, he got his body fully tattooed in a warrior fashion, showing his renewed pride in himself. Also it would provide more stealth or a more fearsome appearance, depending upon the setting. At this point, Voltar was now 18 and lived another several years running general Merc tasks in his home region. When he turned 34 he took a flight to Nar Shadaa, seeking his fortunes there. And this is where you will find him now, performing his hired tasks. Unless he's running other bounties, or moved on to other tasks...
Despite his hatred for users of the force, he himself bears a signature which draws Jedi and Sith attention to his presence. This was made far more apparent to him when the Dark Lord of the Sith, Naga Sadow, contacted him through the force. After a very good conversation, Voltar decided to learn more of the Ancient Sith ways, and so began his path down the "Dark Side", Unfortunately, Sadow left the Galaxy shortly after Voltar's arrival on Ziost, and so he is now guideless in the Galaxy, with a thirst for knowledge that rivals that of an impatient Padawan.