Vasani'Brinme Skirata

20

Lethan Twi'lek

Female

Yes - Grey (Undecided)

Stowaway

Brin is a rather beautiful Lethan Twi’lek, standing at 5’8” tall with a rather distinct look about herself. The dark tattoos standing out in contrast to her deep red skin and orange eyes, marks from her previous life as a slave. While having athletic and toned build, the girl has a body sure to attract attention. Something which Brin often dresses to accentuate, knowing that people tend to get sloppy when they’re distracted, making them easier targets. She often will add capes/half-capes and other symbols of status to her outfits, wanting to show those who in the upper class that she is on their level now. A statement, more or less, to show she is no longer somebody to be stepped on any more.

Brin is typically seen as a rather friendly and open individual towards others. The girl being not overly afraid to wear her emotions on her sleeve. Keeping an air about herself that seemed to paint the picture of a young girl with little to care about, she typically tries to engage those she can in conversation to build a bond. At times, she even comes across as being rather flirtatious as needed, as she does find a bit of a thrill in acting as such to see others bend to her wills. Brin also has a habit of being more than willing to help those that seem to be downtrodden, or stepped on by the harsh galaxy that they live in. Something that traces its way back to her heritage and where the girl started from. Whether it be in form of finding them food, money, or simply stepping in to protect those in need she has no problem stepping in and doing what must be done.

What she does not show towards others, is that Brin is a rather manipulative individual. While her efforts to help those she deems need it are true, the carefree attitude is simply something she created to make others more at ease around her. When somebody is relaxed, they are easier to handle, afterall. She is not afraid of making the hard choices and getting her hands dirty in order to accomplish her goals, no matter the price. The twi’lek does have some limits, such as selling another into slavery, yet on the other hand would not blink twice to execute a child if it led to her either achieving her goals or put her one step closer on the path. She is particularly fond of finding the secrets others would keep hidden, believing knowledge to be power. Especially when that power can come in the form of blackmail, and the sweet results one can reap from that.

To those she trusts, Brin is typically much like her persona she created to make those around her at ease. Only this time its genuine, as the girl will commonly be seen laughing and hanging around those she trusts. Although she is also more physical, in that with those she trusts Brin will often give hugs, bump shoulders, or other small signs of affection. She also will show that she has one side of her that simply wants to be loved, and is often watching romantic holotapes in her spare time. As well as reading romance novels when otherwise unoccupied.

Contrary to all this, Brin does have a very strong darkside to herself. She finds herself taking pleasure in destroying everything that those she deems in need of punishment. A sick pleasure in the killing of those who would hurt those in a position she used to be. In finding the secrets one would prefer to keep to themselves, just to watch them squirm. Most prominent if her flash temper. A fuse that is rather short, and burns with the rage of an inferno once ignited. Often the girl finds it hard to calm down from this rage, with the dark side, both her own and that of the force whispering sweetly in her mind to fuel the flames of rage.

Brin also inexplicably has a taste for very large guns, explosives, and pretty much anything with destructive potential.

Mygeeto, Biothem’s Parlor: Brin was born into slavery, her mother being a dancer/entertainer in a Hutt Palace hidden deep under the ice on Mygeeto. In the last two years, Brin managed to obtain her freedom from the Palace, and left a pile of corpses behind.

The daughter of a slave dancer and some patron she would never meet again, Vasani’Brinme never had much of a shot at life. In a different life, the Lethan Twi’lek might’ve nothing more than an innocent girl at this age. Happy, and without a care in the world. However, this was not that kind of life. Instead she spent almost all of her life growing up without her mother, who had been sold off to a different hutt. Instead the girl had to learn how to help with maintenance around the palace on Mygeeto. Being small enough to crawl into these spaces, the workers pretty much forced the young girl to do so. Here she learned much about how to work with machines, both physical and in the code. It was hard work, but something the young girl found herself both adept at and rathering enjoying. In her small amount of free time, she thought back to the stories her mother had whispered to her before being sold. About her family, and how one of her ancestors, a part of some old empire, had been a powerful warrior. About how Brin, who had been named after a heroine in an old Twi’lek story, would surely rise up to be powerful and do great things like her ancestor. These stories would hold with the young girl, pushing her to get through each day despite her raging anger practically begging her to lash out and slaughter everybody who worked for Biothem.

As she aged, and her body matured with her, Brin was eventually taken off the maintenance duties. Instead she was forced to learn to be a dancer, entertainer, and another thing she hates to recall. Her red skin, adorned with the black tattoos her mother had given her at a young age just like every woman in her line had possessed, made a rather exotic sight for the patrons of Biothem’s Parlor. So this was how the now-teen spent much of those years. Every day dancing for the entertainment of the scum of the galaxy. Pretending to be infatuated with them to get more money for the vile hutt master she served. Sitting on his dais during important meetings as a status symbol. Flirting with patrons, and worse. Everyday she hated her existence more and more. Wanted to escape and become that powerful warrior that her mother had told her she would always be. Yet the chance never presented itself, as the few times she tried to slink away she was quickly captured and brought back to the palace to remain at her duties. A humiliating display every single time she was brought back in, and then punished with lashings for her foolishness.

Then one day, when the girl was just barely 18, her chance finally came. A man bought her for the night, as others had done before. However this one proved to be more foolish than the others had. When he first took off his jacket, the Twi’lek spied a heavy blaster hidden in the pocket on the inside. A hidden blaster wasn’t all that uncommon in this place, but few were dumb enough to leave it within reach of a slave. As she slipped out to fetch her patron another drink, she made a lunge for the blaster. Too late he seemed to notice what was happening, and wound up with a blaster bolt through his skull. Then hiding the pistol in her own waistband, the girl played the part of a terrified slave who had witnessed a man being murdered. Pinning the blame on another patron she had seen earlier, and was rather familiar with his background thanks to his drunken ramblings, she desperately clung to a hope that this was it. Sure enough, the hot-head started firing when blamed and a brawl erupted in the palace. Through the chaos, Brin started making her escape. Putting a few shots into some who tried to stop her, but the fighting seemed to intensify and only work to her benefit. Before she fled however, Brin stole away into Biothem’s audience chamber while his guards were busy fighting. She doesn’t remember much of what happened in that chamber, her rage blinding her at the time, but she clearly remembered the pistol having no more shots and the smoking corpse of a hutt where her tormentor had once been. A debt paid.

Escaping into the frigid underground ice tunnels of Mygeeto, she sought to find refuge from that place. Where she could hide out until she figured her next step. However, she was very quickly lost in the icy tunnels that soon turned into an even greater hell than where she had once been living. Completely lost in the depths of these tunnels, and confident that her former owners would soon be on top of her any moment to avenge their employer, hope started to drain from the Twi’lek. She collapsed in the icy tunnels, confident that either the cold or massive ice worms would get her. Her consciousness faded, as the girl felt relieved that at least she was free of that hell before her final moments. However, it seemed that Galaxy had different plans for the Twi’lek. She woke many hours later in a warm bed, the sounds of a heater working over time that were common of the civilizations near or under the glaciers of Mygeeto. A simple man wearing robes that reminded her of the stories of religious monks sat nearby. Wary at first, she soon grew to trust the man as he identified himself as a jedi knight by the name of Juro. He started explaining to her about the jedi, the force, and all these things that apparently linked back to her. Brin wasn’t sure if she understood it all, but he had clearly saved her and given her a warm meal. So she could at least listen.

However, her own past would soon ruin this moment of peace, as some of the guards who must have survived the fighting and tracked Brin down for revenge of their ruined paychecks attacked not long after the two started to move to leave the planet. In the chaotic fighting, Brin managed to claim a slain guard’s blaster pistol and Juro’s lightsaber after he had fallen trying to protect her. Fleeing through one of the cities of Mygeeto, the girl eventually ran into a man wearing full Mandalorian armor. This interaction proving to be quite fateful for the girl, and one she remembers rather clearly.



That fateful encounter leading Brin to leave Mygeeto with the Mandalorian, and traveled around the galaxy with him for the next year and a half. It was during this time she learned how to handle blasters more, and sharpened her piloting skills as well as her skills in blackmail and information gathering. This time very much shaped who she would be in the future, as the merc became a sort of father figure towards Brin. He taught her the skills she needed to survive this harsh galaxy, while also teaching her what it meant to be Mandalorian. At the end of their year and a half stint, the man was passing away from a disease he had contracted during one of their bounties. Yet on his deathbed, he willed Brin to remain strong, and went the extra mile of adopting her as his own. Leaving her newfound father’s grave, Brin wears a simple necklace that has his holo-tag on the end as a reminder of her father while she set out to make her own way in the galaxy.

Giving herself the name ‘The Shadow’, Brin set out to gather information and blackmail on those in power that she could, or even striking against those she couldn’t. Using this, she sought to establish herself as a bounty hunter and use the credits from her contracts to fund her own endeavours. Afterall, everybody has their shadows and their shadows know all of their little secrets.
Her paths led her to Anchorage, in search of a way to use her skills to earn some credits, so she could afford to find her own place in the galaxy..

Sai’rys Vytar

22 (b. 25BBY)

Chiss

Male

No

Slicer / Thief / Holoforger

Like all Chiss, Sai’rys was born with blue skin tone, jet black hair, and eyes that emanate a dim crimson glow. As for his general attire, he leans towards darks mostly, complete with a multi-pocketed jacket/hoodie combo, small utility belt, and backpack. To further blend in with his surroundings -to the point of almost feeling invisible- he’ll toss the hood over his head.

Equipped Gear
▷ Wrist Computer - pulls up holos for system diagnostics and/or slicing.
▷ Data Spikes (Slicer Gear)
▷ Data Breaker (Slicer Gear)
▷ Small Techie Toolkit (rear tool pouch)
▷ A180 Blaster Pistol which he has since customized.

Stored Gear
▷ An assortment of clothes that he had packed away in a rucksack before boarding the Noreaster
▷ Miscellaneous tools and computer parts he’d collected.

▷ Above average dexterity.
▷ Photographic memory
▷ Systems programming, slicing, and repair knowledge.
▷ Hologram forging
▷ Basic small firearms handling and cleaning
▷ Self-Defense

▷ Obsessive Compulsive Disorder: He likes things the way he likes things, and -save for perhaps threatening his life- there is very little you can do to dissuade him otherwise.
▷ Insomnia: His mind just won’t quit sometimes, which makes it tough to get a decent night’s rest, which in-turn causes fatigue unless taken care of.

Sai’rys is highly intelligent, yet introverted for the most part, and the social awkward side of him isn’t too far behind. But over time, and under the right conditions, he can be less rigid and a little more talkative to those he trusts. He tends to feel more at home surrounded by tech, and would more likely engage in conversations with a computer than any actual flesh and blood being. Droids do tend to share a special place in his heart, but only so far, considering their thought processes are not so much like his on many levels.

Born twenty-five years before the Battle of Yavin on the Republic controlled planet of Coruscant in the seedy undercity, Sai’rys was already exposed to the galaxies worst bunch of losers right in his own backyard. Both parents worked within the entertainment district in a particular capacity: his mother facilitated Sabacc sessions mostly, while his father was essentially hired muscle. The two seemed to make a great team, that was until his mother died of a drug overdose. His father, now the sole caretaker of their only child, did what any self-respected parent would do in a situation they couldn't handle. He left.

Life after abandonment was a series of rollercoasters which could only be satisfied by hanging with kids worse off than him, and Sai’rys found plenty of those while being holed up in one children's shelter after another. So the Chiss who had no one, suddenly found himself surrounded by people just like him. The outcasts. The has-beens. The forgotten. They were his family, and they were everywhere.

In later adolescence, Sai’rys eventually aged out of any obligations the shelters had to hold him, and so he left, taking what survival skills he’d learned and putting them to use on his own. Stealing, Conning, Gambling, and his personal favourite, Slicing. This particular skill seemed to overshadow the others as he continued to teach himself the finer points of breaching security protocols, falsifying identifications, and making a few extra credits on the side from very grateful clients. The kid needed a challenge it seemed at every turn, and while hanging out in the entertainment district, he decided to delve into a bit of holographic forging, switching several of the “dancing girl” holos scattered about into various Republic government officials. Of course, the laughs didn’t last long, as CorSec officers eventually caught up with the young male, arresting him for various misdemeanors and network attacks.

Eventually, realizing how much of an asset the boy could actually be, a deal was made to release him and expunge his record if he would agree to assist Republic Intelligence in deciphering several intercepted coded messages. So, Sai’rys took the deal, and after some time, was able to decode the transmission which ended up being blueprints for additional Imperial starships secretly built at the Kuat Drive Yard. Unfortunately, however, “freedom” came with a heavy price, as Sai’rys was tagged with a tracking beacon to be monitored by CorSec as well as put on retainer should they need his services again.

This did not sit well with the Chiss and he reached out to as many of his underground networks as possible to find a way to remove the tracking beacon and get the hell off Coruscant...

Clu Zanith was his name, a Muun who happened to answer the kid’s call for help through several dark channels within the Undercity. Sai’rys didn’t necessarily trust a Muun, but he also knew they were good for their word as long as some kind of ironclad contractual agreement was made beforehand. And for a species of business moguls and information brokers, it was no surprise that that Clu knew enough about the Chiss to see him as quite the asset indeed, insinuating within his correspondence the need for someone of his “particular skill set”. Was this a job offer? He didn’t know. But what was pretty much guaranteed, was that Clu Zanith was his only chance to get the tracker removed from his neck, and hopefully without any serious damage to the kid’s nervous system. In the end, it turned out to be a relatively painless procedure, albeit, taken care of essentially in the back room of a grimy strip club. But, the beacon was removed, and Sai’rys himself took the liberty of planting it on an unsuspecting club patron as they exited the premises.

And the next step? Well, turned out he was being offered a job by the Muun, aboard an old CR90 Corvette referred to as the “Noreaster”, whatever the hell that was. Honestly, it didn’t take much for the Chiss to be convinced that hiding out from Coruscant authorities aboard a relatively unknown ship would be a benefit. So, after Sai’rys officially joined the crew of the Noreaster he naturally began poking around only to realize that the ships security systems needed a massive overhaul because, according to him, it was an “embarrassment” and “a toddler could penetrate their system”.

But he also knew that this would be his new home, at least for awhile.

Loril Kaalun (Formerly Lomi Prolu)

Twenty-Four (born in 27BBY)

Kaminoan

Female

Decidedly Not. (True Neutral leaning Lawful)

A… Secretary. Yes. Loril is an exceptional secretary. She prides herself on her meticulous note-keeping and record organization, attending to the matters of her… business partner Clu’s work. She knows more than she ought to about the intricacies of cloning and genetic sequencing, and will not hesitate to blow everyone else out of the water with her knowledge if given the slightest opportunity. It’s a poorly kept secret that she’s a geneticist by trade, still on the run from the Empire nine years after the Kamino Uprising. It’s a slightly-better-kept one that she’s only alive for having been taken under Clu’s protection for her service in the future.

Loril is a proud and elegant creature, standing at the above-average height of 2.35 meters and bearing a graceful, slender form. Her pale skin is mostly unblemished – her pride allows nothing less – and her pale gray irises bright in her black sclera. She dresses impeccably and simply, her clothing close-fit and tailored, in shades of gray and cyan and white. She has a bit of her clothing left from Kamino – the one bit of sentiment she still carries – and a wide range of styles of other worlds that she’s journeyed to in the last few years. Her vanity seems to be anything that could be considered a head or neck adornment – she has many (simple, but elegant) necklaces and headpieces that she can be seen sporting.

Six: An AZI biomedical unit fresh from Kamino’s labs. It has a numerical-soup designator, the last digit of which is ostensibly six (or it’s just Loril’s sixth droid. Hard to tell.) A little bit scrambled, roughed up around the edges, with a cracked visor screen and several dents on its hull. Often speaks in a technobabble, and often says things that don’t make sense. Its movements are jerky, suggesting sensors might be out of alignment. Loril has neither the money nor expertise to have it repaired, though it’s a high priority – she cannot bear to have a piece of technology not functioning to its fullest. She has no attachment to the droid, or so she insists, putting its utility first - she will need a competent lab assistant wherever she sets up, and this particular unit has had a processor built in for her personal encryption codes. There is often argument between them; the droid’s very presence, and eternal lack of order, absolutely vexes her. But, its future utility outweighs the current inconveniences.
A large suitcase, battered and especially heavy. Always locked. If opened, revealed to be packed full of journals and notebooks that are written in a mix of Kaminoan and what appears to be a Kaminoan-derived cipher of some form or another. Chemical diagrams and data tables are scattered throughout them.
A second briefcase that’s smaller, and though the cover of it is apparently battered and worn canvas, beneath lies solid metal that’s intricately locked. The inside of the case is thoroughly insulated, with a small cryo box set into the center of it, which contains many small vials in a holding box – all labeled in the Kaminoan cipher. Outside of the cryo box are some of the various tools and harder to come by reagents a geneticist would need, carefully fit into high-density foam cutouts especially designed to carry them, and one singular data sphere.
A duffel bag of clothing.
Holopad, wrist computer, and beaten up data sphere, usually on her person.

Other than the cases, Loril maintains an insanely sterile living quarters. Her bed is made with precision the moment she wakes up, laundry stored out of sight. There are no sentimental objects to be found whatsoever.

Eugeneticist – For all of her (rather short, to this point) life, Loril has been trained and educated for the highly specialized cloning laboratories that dot Kamino’s surface. She was among the top innovators of Tipoca City’s laboratories, and her scientific knowledge is second to none.

Meticulous – Loril’s dedication and attention to detail becomes apparent in more than just academic work. Everything about her is done with a purpose, her mind highly analytical and pragmatic, and it carries over into all aspects of daily life. There is nothing frivolous or unnecessary about her- this includes in her speech patterns, which are direct and to the point.

Vengeful – Traditionally, Kaminoan services were open to the highest bidder. …Then the empire invaded, massacred countless scientists, and destroyed millennia of research. Loril would like nothing more than to see them brought to their knees and made to answer for the wanton destruction of so much knowledge, and will do anything in her power to make it happen.

There's a Droid for That - Loril's expertise is highly specialized and not directly applicable, but her droid Six has a somewhat wider field of programming. If only it were in full repair, it would be Loril's surgical orderly and all-around laboratory assistant, with some knowledge of chemistry and basic lab techniques. It has protocols of anatomy with enough detail for surgeries to be performed on a fair range of humanoid species. ...of course, it's out of calibration now, so you might well get a scalpel stuck into your liver if you let it operate on you.
Beyond her own droid, Loril is passingly familiar with a number of other systems, from a variety of other planets - she can't program them herself, but working with a team of mostly-droids for three years has left her more than able to efficiently delegate tasks to droids of all sorts.

Traumatized – The uprising on Kamino was the day that her entire world inverted itself. She watched her loved ones die, watched her life’s work – save for what she managed to rescue – go up in smoke. It was a freak accident that she made it offworld, even. A lesser individual would be grief-stricken, rendered nonfunctional by such a horrific experience. Loril is not traumatized. Of course she couldn’t be; that is a silly emotional response for lesser individuals. She just avoids any such stimulus that might remind her of that day, isolating herself whenever the training decks are in use- when the decks of the ship are rife with the echoes of blaster fire. When she’s confronted by such, or if – heaven forbid – a combat situation forms in her vicinity - her gaze turns vacant and empty, her muscles locking and brain ceasing to function.

Not Designed to Fight – Kaminoans are especially not known for their mobility, flexibility, or strength. Loril in particular is exemplary in her stiffness and slowness. Every movement she makes is graceful and assured, but that is only because it has to be – her long limbs seem as though they would give out if she had to run, and her shoulders and hips are so stiff that fighting or evasion would be out of the question.

Unarmed, Untrained – She’s never had to fight. Of course she’s never had to fight, the galaxy forgot that Kamino existed until they needed the services offered there. She doesn’t know how to hold a blaster, nor does she much care to know. Such work is outside of her expertise and thus a waste of time, effort, and energetic resources.

Stubborn as A Mule – Loril is exceptionally blunt. Many other Kaminoans are known in the galaxy as being placid, levelheaded and analytical – Loril bearn one, and only one, of those three traits. Painfully proud, and brutishly stubborn even when she’s proven wrong, it’s a wonder she hasn’t had anyone try to knock some sense into her. She has no common sense whatsoever.

“A personality, you say? A dreadfully primitive waste of energy and thought.”

Loril is the master of her own emotions and thoughts. A control freak to the highest; everything must be in its place and functioning to its absolute best. Not one thing can be out of place, in her environment or in her mind. While many Kaminoans profess an understanding of the human psyche and nature, Loril scorns such work, insisting that one’s merit is determined solely by their genetic makeup, and any shortcomings in their character are the fault of their biology. (She will not admit to herself that anything is wrong. She will not admit that she is a flawed and hurt individual.)

She is a cruel and analytical young woman, nearly expressionless – at least, outwardly appearing as such – and holds a xenophobic and downright condescending view of many. It is hard to earn her respect, short of being an outstanding member of ones species- and even then her respect is mostly a scientific one. Her haughtiness is especially realized with species that still reproduce biologically and leave to random chance what science could guarantee. Thirsting for results above everything else, she has grown dismissive of even other Kanimoans in their haughtiness and refusal to enhance themselves with science.

Loril’s proud and arrogant demeanor hides an inferiority complex, a constant, burning thirst for power and the realization that nothing she does is ever enough. Her greatest failings weigh heavily on her mind. She is obsessive, worrying over projects for hours and hours and ultimately reducing their efficacy for her incessant meddling. Her mind is often distracted in thoughts of impractical and even infeasible future projects, especially now that circumstance has rendered her unable to carry on her work for nearly a decade. She’s fidgety and irritable, especially when work is mentioned.

Outwardly, she is exceptionally secretive and endeavors to be clinical in demeanor, preferring to hide everything she thinks and feels behind her “professional” expressionless mask.

Kamino, in one of the satellites of Tipoca City.

Loril- or as she was named upon her spawning, Lomi Prolu – was born of the egg and sperm of a pair of Kaminoan geneticists (and birthed from an incubation chamber in Tipoca.) In her early years, it became clear that she had a special knack for the biological sciences, and was fast-tracked through Tipoca’s medical and scientific schools, and earned her place among the rank and file of Kamino’s genetic sequencing units a whole year earlier than most of her peers, by the age of 10.

Lomi was fiercely driven to innovate, to question the traditional work of the Kaminoans – It was a belief of many of the elder scientists that their process had become so efficient, perfect and wasteless, that it was unable to be improved upon. Lomi challenged that notion and sought to do better. Though many of her early attempts at such innovation turned out to be drastic failure, she earned the grudging respect (and ill-veiled enmity) of many other scientists. As she grew in expertise and confidence, her projects turned into successes, and after that the promotions soon followed.

Within three years of her employment, she became the head scientist of a regional laboratory under the republic clone project, overseeing the work of others more than twice her experience. By this point, the process was flowing as a well-oiled machine would, every lab a piece fitting into the greater production machine.

She was under strict instructions not to tamper with the genome being used.

Lomi was never good at following orders. Her laboratory started turning out batches of clones that were rather more specialized – some skills better than the average, some far worse. When she settled on the force as her next target of modifications – if one could simply instill midichlorians into a body and force the microbes to form a titer within the being, there would be no logical reason why one couldn’t have an army of force-wielding clones – she was promptly removed from the project, told she would only be reinstated when she learned the discipline of scientific process.

Really, the demotion was serendipitous. Her lab was one of the few no longer monopolized by the republic project – one of the few permitted to take outside commissions. Though she would have liked to work on her personal projects, visions of force-using warriors and the perfect, genetically altered Kaminoan, she had neither the resources nor bearing to direct her laboratory onto such tasks.

She had a few deals here and there over the next couple of years, simple, easy projects that were fast cash enough for her to amass a modest fortune. But the imperial presence was growing on Kamino – deals that she had formally been able to conduct in the open and with the assistance of many soon became hushed affairs conducted with only the knowledge of her few most trusted laboratory assistants. She grew to rely very heavily on droids – they could be trusted not to be whispering to the soldiers that now openly patrolled the research district.

She was approached at the end of the year 13 BBY with a particularly unique business proposition.

The man who brought it was a Duros, a humble “traveler”, he insisted, bearing a contract to be signed. A wealthy Muun businessman by the name of Clu Zanith was in the market for a new heart to be grown for him, and was willing to pay exceptionally handsomely for it to be done. The caveat? He wanted it to be an individual project, kept highly secret. Only the single scientist involved could be trusted with the information of his identity, and of what he needed. Secrecy and delicacy was key.

With the help of Halan Sil – as she had learned the Duros’s name to be – she set about organizing her laboratory for such a project, urging her handful of underlings to take on their own projects and do their own innovating, to be a bit secretive and inspire competition among themselves. They set themselves up with another imperial-sanctioned project, to draw suspicion away, and finally she decided they had as many measures in place as they could to begin the businessman’s work.

She never got to see how that panned out. It was a night shift, not the first time she had been working round-the-clock – she would work on her imperial project by day, and at night would “stay to finish some work” and begin the sequencing and splicing of the Muun businessman’s genome – that was disrupted by screaming and blaster fire.

Her lab assistants fled into the corridor, and she watched them gunned down. Medic droids, programming overridden at the detection of silver-blue blood splattered on the walls, rushed out into the corridor- to be gunned down as well, and with them countless amounts of data and work.

The blast doors slammed shut, and despite herself Lomi panicked, fearing herself trapped. But her terror was short-lived as Halan Sil himself stepped out of the utility door set into the side of the wall, throwing a large suitcase down onto the floor. “Hurry, pack what you can. I don’t know how long the doors will hold them.”

“What are you doing?” She couldn’t help but gawp at him.

“Getting you out, clone master. You’re no use to our benefactor if you’re dead, and he’d rather his genetic information not be in a third party’s hands.” The Duros reached for her bookshelf, an obsolete feature with Kamino’s technology level, but one that Lomi had insisted on – the better to keep hard copy records of the work she’d done. A skilled hacker could tamper with databases, but it was considerably harder to tamper with paper books in an age where they were obsolete.

The Duros started chucking the notebooks into the suitcase, with little regard for how gently he threw them – Lomi resisted the urge to chastise him, leaping for her sample briefcase. She gathered as many samples as she could fit into it. Most important were the working genomes of the Muun, as she was determined not to lose the month’s progress she’d made, a few that she’d had left over from the republic project (she hoped they were still viable, but wasn’t certain), and several from the various imperial projects she’d been commissioned on. Her meager handful of data spheres, and several vials of reagents that she wasn’t certain could be acquired elsewhere.

She got the case closed just as the blast doors were shoved open, tumbling into the maintenance door seconds before the room was bathed in laser light. Halan Sil was panting, body hunched over underneath the enormous suitcase. “Clone master,” he panted, “Why can’t you have a box of data spheres like literally every other cloner on this planet?”

“Would you have hired me if I was?”

He didn’t respond, grumbling and pushing onwards through the tunnel. It was a dreadfully uncomfortable journey, Lomi needing to hunch nearly in half to fit through the tunnel.

It would spit them out on the underside of one of the stilt towers. A speeder would take them back to the residential city.

Halfway to their destination, give or take, a beeping began to emanate from the tunnels behind them. Fearing the worst, Halan Sil dropped the case, drawing his blaster. As the sound grew closer and louder, it began to sound remarkably unlike anything that might have been hostile. The beeping almost sounded like a repeating of Lomi’s name, over and over.

A mighty shadow grew on the wall.

A small, jerky robot rounded the corner, beeping excitedly upon the sight of Lomi.

Six.

Damn that little droid.

It seemed a lot worse for wear, pearly colors on its hull as though it had a few near misses with the laser weapons, eye screen shattered, body scratched and dented, and missing an arm. But here it was, mostly functional. With a sigh, she gestured for it to come along.

….
They made it back to the residential block, to find that the ship was all but swarmed with imperial officers. Lomi still doesn’t know how Halan Sil managed to get them out of his way- the only explanation he offered was that he “has connections” and that was left to be that.

However it happened, it worked. They got offworld.

The vast majority of scientists and clones did not.
….
She was taken to a nondescript business center on some mid rim world, without any real explanation of what was going on. Halan Sil told her only who she was to become.

“Records will show that Lomi Prolu was shot down on Kamino. You are Loril Kaalun, a young administrative assistant utterly unconnected to anything to do with the cloning operation. You are a refugee hired off the streets as a secretary and office assistant. Your records will check out, I assure you. Unfortunately, you don’t have as many credits at your disposal as you once did, though my people will be seeing if they can’t recover your assets.”

Several years passed in a blur, the newly-renamed Loril being shuffled around from planet to planet every few months, doing menial organizational and paperwork tasks (intergalactic businessmen have an obscene amount of paperwork to be processed) wherever she could. It seemed nowhere was safe enough for her to continue her research – occasional meetings with Zanith, when he happened to be in the area, confirmed that point, though he repeatedly referenced their contract for her services, implying that he was doing all he could to find a laboratory for her to continue her practice.

Three-odd years ago, Zanith paid a visit once more- he seemed different then, muscles tense and eyes too bright, though it was not her place to comment on it - and told her that she was to bring all of her supplies (which had been kept safe in a temperature-controlled vault for the duration of her time working for him) and accompany him on one of the most lucrative business offers he’s been afforded.

The Kaminoan does not much care for the ragtag crew of the ‘Noreaster, taking much of her time alone save for when she absolutely must interact with the crew, and despite instructions lording her intellectual superiority over them. Clu’s had to unstick them from several situations over these last three years, when Loril’s arrogant complex has had her reveal more than she should. He’s promised her that Anchorage will be what it takes to get her equipment, staff, and a place to continue her work.

She doesn’t know if any of her samples are viable - she hopes they are, but they were not packaged to be stored for a decade. She might have to start over. Her work might be lost forever.

That thought is more terrifying than any other.

Lucien Phoenix

30

Human

Male

No

Janitor

Standing at 6'1, with an athletic build and a shit eating grin, Lucien looks every bit the kind of person you wouldn't want watching your back with a blaster. With a black mop of unkempt hair, a trouble making grin, and a twinkle in his dark brown eyes like any minute he might decide to toss a grenade just to see how everyone reacts. His armor is painted sloppily, dark green paint covering the white armor in long streaks, and a bunch of modifications to make it stand out from a typical set of imperial stormtrooper armor have been made (such as holsters for additional tibana cartridges, and a sheathe for a vibroblade). On his thigh rests a black holster where a CDEF blaster pistol resides. On a sling across his chest is an Imperial issue E-11B, the weapon looking like one of the few well maintained parts of the former trooper's kit. His utility belt holds a variety of items, from a pair of grenades to an energy ration pack. He is rarely seen outside of his armor, but if he is, he is commonly seen wearing a long sleeved shirt and vest, with a pair of black trousers and black boots to accompany, utility belt and holster strapped on over it. He's rarely seen without a death stick either tucked behind his ear or in between his lips.

Imperial Issue E-11 Blaster Rifle
CDEF Blaster Pistol
Vibroknife
2x Thermal detonators, 1x Flashbang
Modified Imperial Issue Stormtrooper Armor
Imperial Issue Comlink
Imperial Issue Utility Belt
Imperial Issue Binders

Good Marksman: "Be quick, or be dead!" During his time at the Imperial Academy, marksmanship wasn't exactly stressed, however they still taught it. In his time spent supressing local planetary rebellions though, Lucien learned that he had to aim well or risk death or injury. As a result, he spent his spare time working on his shooting and has become a good enough shot.

Extreme Physical Conditioning: "First Division, up that hill, and make it back in ten minutes!" Stormtroopers are expected to be in tip top shape, as they are the spearhead of imperial assaults. As a result of extreme physical training and conditioning, Lucien's stamina is beyond your average human's limits, able to run for miles and stay awake for hours despite various conditions he might be in. This also included resiliance to physical punishment as well, as troopers are expected to remain an effective part of the unit, no matter the circumstances.

Indifference under fire: "Stormtroopers don't duck!" Continously drilled into the hearts and minds of a stormtrooper is the tactics they used. A stormtrooper is the blaster of the Emperor, used to smash all that might oppose him. Thus, very little thought is given to death even in the face of the enemy. Blaster bolts may be flying past his head, things may be exploding, and people may be dying, but Lucien will not freak out.

Practitioner of the Knife: "Next time, try using knives, works a little better for close encounters." As a trooper, the need for close quarters tactics is sometimes overlooked, after all, many believe that a blaster will win in a fight over a bladed weapon everytime. Lucien sees it a little differently though. Knives are effective in all close quarters situations, and take less time to bring to bear then a blaster or slugthrower. Thus, he has learned how to use a knife effectively in combat, but smartly only uses it in close range, or when he is out of other options.

A Bit Unstable: No one really knows why Lucien decided to frag his sergeant. They guy was upstanding. The general concensus though is that he just sort of wanted to do it, making him impulsive and unhinged in the worst way.

Poorly Cooled Weapons: The Imperial weapons have never been the best at staying cooled while being fired, a side effect of mass production. Despite modifications, Lucien's blaster is still prone to overheating, effectively limiting his rate of fire, and sometimes leading to terrible mishaps.

The Violence of Action: Lucien believes more in the violence of action then negotiating. If placed in a situation where there is a hostage, even one from their own crew, Lucien is more likely to shoot through the hostage to end the threat then he is to attempt to negotiate.

Uninspired: Unfortunately, Lucien is not exactly what one would call the "imaginative" type. Some say the book of doctrine are only those who are utterly unimaginative, and Lucien likes to stick to the book.

Lucien is a loner type, not one for making friends with... well anyone. He enjoys his deathsticks and gets a bit angry when he can't get ahold of any, and he's not afraid to speak his mind. He prefers a direct approach and has a bit of mean streak, but when it comes down to it and he's in the wrong, he likes to make amends anyway he can. Not to suggest he won't cut your throat if you double cross him though.

Lucien came from a backwater mining asteroid of no note on the outerrim. He was raised by a miner, and a space faring love his father managed to snatch away from the stars. He was raised on the mining station to become a miner like his father, and got lucky when he was old enough to join the Empire as a cadet. A Little recruitment drive came by to nab new young men for the army, and off Lucien went, completely forgetting even the name of his home.

Little is known about Lucien, aside from where he came from and his years of service with the Empire. He's a nobody, who got recruited into the Imperial ground forces, and through hard work managed to make his way into the Empire's stormtrooper corps. He served with the Empire for about two years during that time, following orders, going to various planets, and helping put down several rebellions. No one really knows why Lucien did it, but the wanted posters say he fragged his officer, grabbed his gear, and deserted the Imperial Stormtrooper Corp. There's a big blank period of about two years there, where Lucien went off the grid. He did some time as a bounty hunter but found the work difficult and unrewarding. In the end, he settled on simpler work, being hired muscle. The Empire wasn't particularly worried about one rogue stormtrooper of pretty low rank, so they put a small bounty up.

For a stormtrooper, being hired muscle was quite easy. Most of the time he got hired to look pretty and dangerous, and the armor he wore helped with the image. He never really earned a name, but he made a few consistent clients who were all interested in coming back. He wasn't super interested in that line of work, so when the opportunity came around to get out of the outerrim by signing up with the Mariner's, he took it (though he got the not so glamorous job of janitor, as muscle wasn't exactly in short supply).

"Dakry Coltjer. Just call me 'Dak'."

19-years-old

Human

Male

No - Chaotic Good

Stowaway || Mechanic || Builder/Inventor || Wanna-Be Bounty Hunter
_{'Anything else?' ".........well, I'd love to learn how to pilot a ship.."}

Dak stands at a tall 6'3" and weighs 195lbs, his hair is dark and kept short, while his eyes a soft green, like sea-foam green. His eyes may be soft in color but looking into them, they have a story to tell. A hard one, at that. His facial features are even more-so. It's rare to get him to smile, although he can easily play the part when a pretty girl is involved. His attire consists of two different sets of clothing. He has his usual attire which has him in his leather jacket, tactical pants with knee pads (used for sliding), boots and occasionally he has a face mask with him. When on business, he wears his tactical suit much like the Mandalorian armor (colored black and grey to match Kol's coat) but with his own helmet.

Dak wants to be a hero, someone that everyone knows and reveres. But barring that, he’s willing to be a sort of dark knight. As the youngest of six and constantly disregarded, Dak is independent and desperate to prove himself, wanting to show his personal talent and leave a legacy behind in the minds of everyone. But he’s not brash. He is content to observe and work quietly, and he’s very intelligent, which is no small aid. He thinks before he acts and is adept at seeing all sides and analyzing situations so he can act to his best advantage. He wants to be something and make something of himself; proving himself better than anyone could have expected is one of his highest priorities. However, as intellectually mature as he may be, Dak is still young and still learning. There is much he doesn’t understand and his social skills need work. He has somewhat of a low tolerance for certain people and is dismissive of those who are loud, unsubtle, and quick to offer opinions for everything. Nevertheless, other people are often "entitled" to his opinion in the form of his biting sarcastic remarks/expressions. Other than that he is a quiet and even somewhat withdrawn guy. While he enjoys the company of some people, solitude is a balm for him. He has to be able to think peacefully while he tinkers.

Dak is a knowledge seeker. He is one of those people who believe that knowledge and intelligence are central to success and power, so many things fascinate him. In his mind no fact or understanding of a process or a tendency is unimportant or useless and may help a person when they least expect it to. As such, he can usually provide extra information on most any subject, even if he gives it in a condescending manner. He is proud of what he knows, both the facts and the underlying understanding of how things work. Interestingly, though, Dak’s quiet, studious exterior hides somewhat of a rebellious and unconventional streak. He likes to go his own way.. He has a hard time respecting authority, but follows rules when it suits him—in other words, most of the time, but not if he has something else in mind that he deems worth the risk of losing points or perhaps damaging his image a little. However, as important as that is to him, these moments come very rarely. More frequently his unconventionality is manifested in an experimentative tendency.

Dak loves a challenge and he loves besting people, but it is usually a private victory for him. He needs not brag and draw attention to his success as long as he knows personally that he has won. However, this is not to say what he doesn’t need others’ acclaim. Being noticed is important to him, and he hates being ignored, but he would rather people notice by themselves how outstanding he truly is. That being said, criticism tends to bounce off of him as well--he is rather selective about what he hears and chooses to take to heart. Despite a sometimes ungracious manner, and a self-preserving and self-benefiting attitude, the boy is not bad at heart. He would always stick up for those he considers his friends and is not averse to helping even strangers after he is finished, or providing it doesn’t inconvenience him. But when he is hurt, it is common to find him completely withdrawn and intractable, working only for himself in a kind of cool temper that can take a while to thaw out, even with the efforts of his closest friends. Unfortunately, Dak is also prone to hold grudges after problems with others, and he is stubborn about them, though adaptable in other situations.

Dak is a careful and patient guy. He’ll watch and wait for a long time with an observant and analyzing eye without feeling a need to do anything himself, gaining something from everything he sees. Not only that, he’s good at making what he sees help him in some way. He’s also good at using all the resources he can to help him achieve whatever goal he has in mind. Dak is driven and works diligently to achieve any goal he’s set for himself, and places these goals above most other things. As such, he’s very organized; he hates clutter and his personal space, personal appearance, and his management of time and such are all very neat and organized, often following a schedule or other method of keeping everything in its proper place and time. It bothers him when things aren’t set out clearly and prioritized so they can be followed right. He’s a very good multi-tasker and his organization helps him make sure everything gets accomplished exactly when and how he planned it to. If it doesn't, he'll fix it until it does.

Tatooine.

Dak began his life on Tatooine where he grew up a slave, his mother was an entertainer for one of the local Hutts until he was about 7 years old, around which time she was killed. There was absolutely no reason for it, and to keep the boy quiet, the Hutt ordered the boy to have his tongue cut out. Ever since then Dak has had a strong hatred for the Hutts. Up until he was 14, he stayed on Tatooine in servitude under a local junker where he spent most of his time in the yard tinkering with things, trying to make them work and create new masterpieces. He nearly completed himself his own droid from scratch, but a local bully had shot the thing to pieces before it even got to see the light of day.

Sometime close to his 15th birthday, he got the crazy idea to stow away on a ship to get away from the dreaded planet he had once thought of as home. Now, only to be considered another scar on his heart. He hoped to never return to the place unless it was to settle unfinished business with the Hutt who had his mother killed and cut out his tongue. The ship lead him to Coruscant, where he eventually ran into a trapper who had caught a fairly nasty Anooba that had been giving a local business some problems. They intended to kill it. Dak took it upon himself to win the beast's trust _{(don't ask how he did it... he couldn't tell you even if he wanted to. x) yeah, I know..low blow lol)} and set it loose, but it, in turn, decided to stick around Dak as he made his way through the corrupted city, trying to find his place in the new world.

It took some years to finally get on his feet in the new world he'd been dumped into, but his bond with the Anooba whom he simply named Kol, after his last name "Coltjer", which he had decided to drop some years ago. He only ever goes by his first name, anymore. The boy found himself in the 'servitude' of a Bounty Hunter, who grew to have somewhat of a soft spot for him, and began to teach him the ways of hunting. Dak spent just less than a year 'apprenticing' under the Hunter before he was killed during one of his missions. The hunter had left behind his belongings to Dak, but Dak neither knew how to pilot a ship on his own nor had the time enough to learn. He quickly sold off the Hunter's belongings and bought his own gear, bartering with numerous aliens for rides off of different planets he traveled to, some were given freely (unbeknownst to the pilot/crew, of course.)

It's been this way that Dak has made himself a sort of life on the run, all the while he's kept up trying to perfect the device he made to help him talk. Though not with his own voice, he has a few select words to get across to a certain someone one day. He only hopes to get the chance to do so, and put a bullet between his eyes. This life of being on the run has led him here, where he will fatefully run into the crew and attempt to stow away for yet another ride across the galaxy to his next destination.

Natasha Dubrovnik

27

Zeltron

Female

No- couldn't give less of a shit about which way the force moves, she cares about one thing, and that is getting paid.

Role on the ship is a mercenary who has been hired, and she says that this is key for her job. That is about all she will tell anyone. But being apart of this group is what she HAS to do for the job that she has been hired to do. If you ask about it, you will most likely get the same answer she gives everyone: "Who knows, maybe to kill you. Maybe to protect you, either way i'll be watching your back."

Preferring long range and medium range combat; she usually does pretty well if she has to be a guard though her lackadasical attitude, may seem like a severe let down if she was a guard. She also is decent with repairs, not able to make anything permanent fix, but definitely able to help make sure it stays together for a few moments before completely falling apart. (IE: I wouldn't trust a ship she's repaired to go into hyperspace, but it'll fly)

Cook: She is a great cook, because of her love of eating and her fancy tastes for the finer things in life she is proficient with making an excellent meal.

5 foot 8, 189 pounds, Pink skin; She also tends to wear incredibly revealing tops and what look like tight pants.

She has a heavy laser pistol at all times. As well as a multitude of knives; this includes a couple laser knives, a few regular knives and some throwing ones of course.
She also holds a sniper blaster rifle which she keeps locked up in her things. In that same chest holding that she has a E-11 Blaster Rifle.
She has a few flash bombs on her belt at all times. And in her chest she as a few Pyro Denton explosives, locked away.
Has cybernetics along her back and attach to some on the back of her arms and legs.
And some vials of poison and darts either on her body or in her chest

She is proficient in multiple types of martial arts, usually types that help with using your opponent's momentum against them. She is decently strong as well (Even more helpful since the cybernetics). As for her training she has been trained for years under multiple teachers, taking jobs everywhere as a mercenary for hire, and an assassin. Her senses for what she thinks is stupid tend to be what keeps her alive, as she looks out for just herself.
Her race gives her: They possessed two biological traits of note. The first was that they all produce potent pheromones, similar to the Falleen species, which enhanced their attractiveness and likeability. The second was a limited telepathic ability, used to project emotions onto others, as well as allowing them to read and even feel the emotions of others.
The presence of a second liver, which allowed Zeltrons to enjoy a larger number of alcoholic beverages than other humanoids.
Their incredible metabolisms allow her to eat even the richest of foods.
Because of this she can often times be found in the pantry, or because of her desire to be reclusive at times if she wants to escape she will often hide away in the engine room.

None

Being who she is she does not make many friends, and if she does they often don't last too long, ending up wanting her dead or her killed them. Most don't tend to appreciate her way of if she doesn't like how your feeling she will try to impress upon you what she thinks you should feel.

She also has no type of force power so there could be a weakness for some.
She tends to prefer medium to long range combat, her close range combat skills are still good, but they are mainly hand to hand or with a knife, never really with sword fighting.

Another Limitation she has is that she struggles to fight in the air or space, and is DECENT at landing. Often times if she is being chased she will just try to run but never pilot and fire: she becomes too focused on one or the other. Also often to save the hassle; if she has stolen a ship she tends to just take an escape pod and let the ship free-fall

Driven by lust: Lust of the battlefield, or lust of excitement, or regular old lust, all these things are types of things that can drive her, especially if she is bored, she often goes after a challenge, or a duel to see just how much of excitement she can get it. Or she will see just who she can make fall for her, who she might be able to string along, or even get together with, to add another trophy to her wall.

She is a cold dead bitch: She sees herself as superior than everyone else; even more superior than those who hold more power than her. She is Narcissistic to a fault; even when she is bested she will just see it as she was on a bad day.

Anything to get the job done: If she has a mission or a job, she will do anything to get it done, she sees it as her sole responsibility, and nothing else matters. Even if that means making the person fall in love with her to do so.

She is dubious and secretive: Not really someone to be trusted as she doesn't truly trust anyone else.
Now this doesn't mean she doesn't like love, she definitely has the desire for... it, but for her it's a sport, just like killing.

She sees most things as a means to an end: If she is doing something there is almost always a long con behind it for her benefit. Even the most selfless acts she has a plan for it and theres almost always a reason, even if she tells you she did it because she could.

Respect: Respect is never given, in fact it is only earned by showing either her up, or doing something that impresses her. No amount of flirting or bragging will change that.

Smartass: she's not afraid to speak her mind, many see her as an asshole due to this, due to the fact that if she thinks she can she will speak her mind whenever possible

Intuitive: She sees everyone as a danger, if she doesn't know you, you are a threat and will most likely be dealt with in such a way that is not very friendly.

Seductress: She isn't afraid to show skin, let alone make you feel like you have a chance with her to get what she wants. Known to even sleep with a man if she thinks it will benefit her.
Out for herself: If you haven't gotten it by now, then she'll spell it out for you, she is out for herself, that's who she sees as the most important person and the one being she can always count on.

Longing: Despite all of this, deep within her she has a longing for someone who can constantly bring her excitement and worth, but she has accepted long ago that isn't what will happen.

Stubborn: She is stubborn when it comes to her way of thinking, thinking that there is not much anyone else can do to change her mind, no matter the situation, and no matter what the argument is on. She will stand her ground, even if she knows she's wrong or been caught.

Somewhere on Zeltros: She was taken from there as she seemed to get taken while a child from her parents late in the night. There she grew up around Trandoshian only going down to the planet when necessary. She grew up with the same group of pirates who had taken her. After she was done there and with the business that she had there she moved on. She would move back home for a little while before once again taking off, this time living mostly out of stolen ships as she often would leave hers somewhere hidden just in case she needed a spot to go back to.

Natasha was taken as a child from her home. As she grew up she obviously realized she was not one of her captors as they were of many races who thought she would be useful to.. sell. She would trick the man, and while she was in the bathroom would spike his drink with a poison she had picked up. She used that to escape, only to run into a small group of beings from the Assassin guild. They were able to take her away as she convinced them that she could be useful. Though they were skeptical, especially when they found out that what she 'poisoned' this man with was merely something that would knock him out. She had not gotten the right amount. But regardless they would kill him and take her. training her to become stronger, and more cunning than she ever though possible. She went from believing that she was nothing to finally thinking that she had something she was good at rather than just sex.

While with the guild she would find her parents had moved on, through their contacts they would tell her that her parents had left the planet she was born on and went somewhere else, somewhere where they didn't tell anyone where it was. Doubt rushed through Natasha as she believed her parents had potentially abandoned her.

After about 3 more years she would finally feel ready to leave that small group who trained her, promising that if they needed that she would be available: after all, she owed them her life. Before she left though she found the pirates who had taken her, and killed each one, a methodical plan she had created was coming to fruition: each of the members of this pirate group was finding themselves either isolated or absolutely helpless in some type of situation that would either look like an accident or look like an attack. She'd only come out of the shadows in the final moments to show them that it was actually her. Once that was over Natasha decided it was time to go home. A place she hadn't been to in a long time. Finally getting home she would spend a couple years, having fun and learning about herself and her race. Soon that life was too boring, everyone seemed to really just come there to party almost, even her own race seemed like they were boring as she knew what to expect from them. So she left after about a year to begin to go to different planets, continuing her tradition of killing people when she was hired to and doing miscellaneous jobs, including fighting in wars when she had to; all the while learning any martial arts she could at the time. Finally she needed to put her skills to the test. At about 20 she began to truly put herself out there for hire, taking job after job, each one increasing in more danger. No longer was she going after cheating wives and husbands, rather she was going after those who had more protection, stronger and even some who were force wielders. She got the most excitement out of the ones she could play, the ones it took awhile to do just because of the excitement of each time she was able to pull off another lie and a other lie until finally it was accomplished. Her most crowing moment was when a 3 year plan on a contract came to fruition.

The job was simple: move to Naboo, and get a noble to fall in love with her; which he did, thanks to her own biology that was easy, but what wasn't easy was the fact that no matter when and no matter what they were doing his guards would be watching. She was only able to eventually talk hi out of it when one day she was bringing him home to see her parents. She had finally began the final stage of her plan. She had brought him to meet her parents, and helped the guards find some 'friends' to hang out with. All thanks to the amount of pheromones in the air because of the planet. Finally getting him away from the guards she had him come to what she claimed was her home, but it was really an abandoned house. It was there that she would first cripple him by grabbing a loose pipe and smashing in his kneecaps. She would then use her knife to slowly cut his throat, smiling at a job well done. Afterwards she set timed charges, that would blow his body and the entire place to nothingness. Of course that was by the time she was off planet and before the guards even knew what had happened. Of course, when the guards would not be able to find her or him until the explosion they figured they had both died in it. However, she had stashed another one of her species there to be blown up with the bomb. Ever since, she has been known as the Siren y those who hire her: Doing any job, usually known for the long con. Now that she has been away from her homeworld, everything has become a sport to her, just how many people can she get to fall in love, how many jobs and how hard the jobs she can find. She is always loyal to the first merchant, unlike most who sway depending on pay, to her, her word is everything. She still doesn't know who that original group was, but she has moved on from it.