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[CHAR] Star Wars: Rebel Scum

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Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by HeySeuss
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HeySeuss DJ Hot Carl

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Instructions
  • Using the provided template, please post character sheets here
  • Only post character sheets here -- all other posts go to the OOC.
  • Limits: I reserve the right to turn down certain other races or concepts. I will work with you as best I can, however.
  • Right off the bat no: Gungans, Mandalorians, Ewoks and HRD's. Characters need to be able to perform the basic tasks of the infantry, which mean that they stand on two legs, have two (or more) arms and opposable thumbs and are trainable.
  • Force-sensitives need to have the force sensitivity be the driver of the character, not just a cool add-on.
  • Equipment should include standard issue items of the Rebel Alliance, which includes the Blastech A280 blaster rifle and/or Blastech DH-17 blaster pistols. No worries, there will be many opportunities to diversify.
  • By the same token, they're wearing typical rebel brown uniforms at the start, along with those absurdly large blast helmets.

Character Requests
  • All characters are to be part of the 1st Platoon, Charlie Company, 2nd (Only) Uslam Liberators Regiment.
  • Uslam Natives; these will most likely be veterans of the fall of Uslam, where they kicked off the Imperial occupation in an uprising, only to have the Empire come back and crush them. The guys that survived this were evacuated off planet and assigned to a variety of ships as a strike force owing to how well the Uslam natives fought. Uslam is a rocky, stark sort of place with lots of miners, such characters probably come from hardscrabble backgrounds. It's also worth noting that Uslam was once a Mandalorian world, and Mando'a loanwords are part of their slang. Incidentally, it may just explain why Uslamers are unruly, stubborn and pretty good with weapons, though they aren't really Mandos, just descended from them. The Uslamers had a tough, realistic training program, courtesy of Clone War veterans running the training, and survived their baptism of fire against the Empire; the Liberators have high standards, as a result.
  • Field Medic - the doc, an important member of any fighting unit, because they're the one that goes to get you, under fire, when you're hit. The troopers know this.
  • Weaponry roles: at least one trooper ought to be the Plex (rocket launcher) gunner/grenadier. Someone ought to be handling the light repeating blaster, and so forth.
  • Replacements: From planets besides Uslam; the Alliance recruits and trains from a variety of different worlds and the training varies by installation, resources and so forth. Some characters may well be veterans of planetary security forces or worked for the Hutt Cartels as enforcers, which gives them some experience. Others might even be Clone Wars veterans (either side) like Rahm Kota's militia. Some might be the apocryphal moisture farmer militiamen, enthusiastic but not very well trained. The Alliance tries its best on limited resources.
  • Other ideas as you have them, but things we screen out generally fall under the category of 'characters that do not fit within the RP's key notion of soldiers.' So that means your badass bounty hunter is probably not a fit -- that kind of person would go to Alliance Intelligence. A Jedi survivor of Order 66 wouldn't be slogging around with a platoon of infantry -- he'd be giving them orders. After all, in the last war the Jedi fought, they were called "General." Every character will have gone through basic training with the rebellion; the average Mandalorian would find that training to be a joke and an insult, so it's doubtful any of those would show up either. There will be NPC's that are not in the unit, but they're just that -- NPC's.


Character Sheet
(Template here)
(This isn't meant insultingly, but please, no wall of text. Put spaces between paragraphs, try to format your character sheet for some sort of readability. I consider knowing how to space paragraphs important for us to be able to RP together ;) Most of you won't have this issue.)

Name:
Species:
Age:
Planet of Origin/Birth:
Force Sensitive Y/N: (This will be strongly limited; please don't just throw it in there for kicks. It should be the central thesis of the character if 'yes.')

Appearance:
Picture or text; your call.


Skills/Abilities:
- Please list with most potent skills first.
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Equipment:
- List here, item by item.
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Psychological Profile:


History:


Yes, and:
This is a bit of a writing exercise; how your character relates to the character posted above yours. It should be something incidental, and can easily involve antipathies and disagreements. It's almost like a 'how they met' sort of exercise.
Hidden 10 yrs ago → 10 yrs ago Post by HeySeuss
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HeySeuss DJ Hot Carl

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Name: Corporal Jenk Beskad
Species: Human
Age: 22
Planet of Origin/Birth: Uslam
Force Sensitive Y/N: No

Appearance:
Brown haired, brown-eyed but slightly pale; he's been in asteroid mines since he was sixteen, and never seems to get enough sun. For all that, he's an average sized guy with pretty big forearms and shoulders, used to moving equipment and dealing with long shifts in the tunnels before he became a full time active duty soldier. His typical attire is a brown, Rebel-issue jumpsuit, when he's not kitted up for action. Most notably, he's bearded, because this isn't the Imperial Army or a training camp in a safe part of the Alliance.


Skills/Abilities:
- Basic training, Uslam - The Uslam Liberators are a rough and tough organization; they took on the Empire in an open fight on Uslam. For their trouble, they were hit with a rather large task force that dug the Liberators off their planet. Once evacuated, they were put into a ship security/strike force role on the fleet owing to their performance, which some admiral and general types somewhere thought well of.
- Accurate with a blaster - unlike Stormtroopers, Uslam put its troops through marksmanship training and Besk is a pretty good shot by that standard.
- Technician/Armorer - Beskad was a Zero-G miner and an urban guerrilla, both trades that encouraged a man to know how to do repairs to environment suits as well as learn how to rig up explosives and electronics. Given hex keys and a multitool and some other basic equipment, he can generally modify what he's given to work just a little bit better, sit at a more comfortable angle, than what he had before. As the Liberators do not have a lot of support personnel, Beskad is therefore the platoon's armorer. (Like in the Heinlein novel, where all the MI guys jump in a drop, so too the Liberators all drop and fight) Given the appropriate shop equipment, he can fabricate a surprising array of items. He's no slicer or programmer, but he knows how to cut through things and shape metal and plastoid as necessary.
- Zero-G, EVA experience - As a former asteroid miner, Beskad knows how to handle himself in Zero-G situations as they arise.
- Former guerrilla - his labor union fought Security forces and Imperial Army during a strike, employing explosives and blasters.
- Close Quarters - in the same labor dispute, he learned how to fight around corners and in tight corridors.


Equipment:
- Blastech A280 Blaster Rifle.
- Rebel Blast Helmet; the big one that the alliance loves so much -- he's looking to get rid of it in favor of something less cumbersome.
- Uniform; a brown jumpsuit and boots; he also favors synth leather mechanic's gloves. He also has knee and elbow pads made from scrounged cushioning and extra armor bits. You can tell someone's been in the platoon long enough when they acquire these.
- blast vest, cut down and re-stitched for ergonomics.
- Frag grenades
- personal commlink.
- Utility belt.
- When necessary an internal frame pack with appropriate infantry/survival gear.
- Other incidental infantry equipment as applies.


Psychological Profile:
Beskad is a tough, independent-minded miner from Uslam but he has a bit of a loud mouth, which is why he's a corporal and not a sergeant. He has a distrust for authority and sees even the Rebel Army as a large cog full of soft, deluded manager types that think they have a grip on how to get the job done. Beskad tends to feel that they're as clueless as any other bureaucrat, even if they often enough are idealistic Alderaanian types that are, nonetheless, not experienced fighters and shouldn't be in command. He's hard on guys higher up the chain of command, to say the least.

On the other hand, Beskad tends to work well with superiors that are working, especially if they share his background and is nice to the replacements, unlike some of the others, who have attitudes about letting aruetiise (outsiders) into the Uslam units, diluting their strength.


History:
Once, long ago, Uslam was a Mandalorian planet, though it had long since been assimilated into the Republic and lost track of its heritage. Nonetheless, Uslami culture always retained some loan-words from the language and a hard, independent streak among its people. Beskad was part of the labor union that wound up becoming the Liberators; in the early days, at the age of 16 or so, he went to work in the asteroid mines to bring home the money to his struggling family, as his father was disabled in a mining accident. The original union drew brutality from the Rim Mining Conglomerate's management and security forces, which in turn drew armed response from the Miners themselves. Even in those early days, the Uslam resistance used the skills of the miners to fabricate the equipment they needed and Beskad was one of the go-to guys for jury-rigged blasters and explosives.

When things came to a head, during a brutal strike where Imperial forces were called in to assist Rim Mining security in making the strikers work, the Uslam Resistance fought them with blaster pistols and explosives and wound up, over the course of a couple months, pushing them off planet. By this time, three regiments of troops had been raised from the planet's various industrial concerns and they prepared to raise more units to actually fight the Empire.

The Empire hit back hard -- the Uslam regiments, including the Liberators, put up a hell of a fight but were massively outgunned by AT-AT's and other armor, a large number of stormtroopers and orbital turbolaser fire. The best the Alliance could do was evacuate some of the fighters and their families, but there was no way to really win the fight with the resources on hand.

After that there was only one Uslam regiment left, the 2nd, the Liberators, who fought the hardest of all of them and had the best record in battle. Fragmented survivors of other units were merged into the Liberators, who were nonetheless split up into smaller units on a variety of Rebel Alliance fleet ships, to serve as a mobile infantry strike force.


Yes, and:
The Intruder used to be a pirate vessel working for a Hutt cartel. Despite the scumminess of the 'Navy' crew aboard it and the disdain the platoon holds for the crew, who seem to still be engaged in black market operations (not necessarily a problem as far as the Alliance is concerned so long as they do their day job of harrying the enemy and disrupting their operations) and reluctance about being roped into working as security for a bunch of pirates (because it's their ride) Beskad has started up a casual friends with benefits arrangement with one of the pirates, a woman named Sola Keranian who serves as the ship's gunnery officer. To say she has a shady background is an understatement; there aren't skeletons in her closet, it's a mass grave.
Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by RPforthatPR
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Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by mdk
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Name: Corporal Keller "Bits" Vannin
Species: Human
Age: 25
Planet of Origin/Birth: Uslam
Force Sensitive Y/N: No

Appearance: Vannin is a powerful man. A little on the short side, at 5'8", but his muscular 205-lb build is intimidating at any height. Dark high-and-tight haircut, and hazel eyes that seem a little distant until the blasters start firing. His features are very animated whenever he talks -- which is always. At any given moment, odds are pretty good that Vannin is muttering to himself, or shouting insults at the enemy, or, in some very rare and special circumstances, having a normal conversation with an actual person.


Skills:

Pointman -- Vannin is a little bit crazy, which is good, because you need to be. A pointman is the first one through the door, when you've got no idea how many guns are on the other side. Whether you're clearing urban streets or breaching a Carrack-class light frigate, someone has to go in first. Vannin thinks fast and moves faster, a shock trooper and a force of nature. When the point man hits you, you stay hit.

Scary -- Morale is a lot simpler than they make it sound. What it boils down to is, in infantry work anyway, "Shoot at the guy you're most afraid of." Sometimes that's the enemy and sometimes that's your boss. If Keller Vannin is in play, though, it's him. He's loud, mean, and effective, and typically, that means he's drawing fire for the rest of the team. He seems to enjoy that.

Clobber -- On page V-92BB of the Imperial stormtrooper regulations, it notes that the plastoid armor plating of the Mark-II standard suit does not protect against being lifted in the air and hurled through a bulkhead. Vannin likes to take credit for that one, but it was probably the wookies..... probably.

Door Guy -- it's not his area of expertise, because usually, it's faster for someone else to blow the door while the pointman runs through. But sometimes people get shot, so everyone needs to know the important stuff. Vannin knows doors -- how to plant charges effectively, how to overload the chips, and failing everything else, how to pry them open with a blaster stock and elbow grease.

Tactics -- Vannin's not a crack shot, but he's experienced enough to know that at the end of the day, you don't have to be. He is completely at home in the infantry. Sometimes you have to know what you're doing to know how to follow orders -- Vannin gets the job done.

Shifty -- Vannin has an uncanny resistance to being shot full of holes. Some of that is gear, some of that is getting in the enemy's head, and some of that, in his own words, is that "The safest place to be in a battle is wherever the Imps are trying to shoot." But the truth is some people just move better -- tuck tighter, cover harder, roll faster. Vannin is a difficult target to hit.

Equipment:

- Blastech A280 Blaster Rifle
- PPE -- personal protective equipment. Vannin works with some of the other regulars to keep his gear as light as possible, and still cover the important parts. In an ideal scenario, he wears pirated plastoid sleeves (repainted, of course, not white), and chest protection, but the rest is fairly minimal. Of course, when the situation calls for something else, he's happy to adapt.
- off-duty: jumpsuit and flight boots, usually worn with the zipper down.
- flash-bang grenades
- Any other standard-issue and/or 'privately requisitioned' gear, as the mission parameters dictate

Psych Profile:

Keller Vannin has seen some shit. And on the surface at least, it seems like he kinda enjoyed it, and wants to get back to it ASAFP. You could almost believe that he's addicted to the rush, but if you pay attention to the slanderous curses that serve as his war cry, you start to figure out that it's not the battle he loves -- it's killing Imps. Vannin doesn't give a womprat's third nipple about the Rebellion, or the politics, or the hoo-voo magic monk swordfighting BS. "There's people out there need a good killing, and most of 'em are wearing white." He's not suited for peacetime, and he'll probably give his shrink nightmares someday. He might even be haunted by nightmares now, for all anyone knows, but that seems like the sort of thing he'd enjoy. On the surface at least. In war, anyway, he's a mind at ease. He easily transitions from grim reaper to class clown, almost like there's no difference between leaving rotten eggs in the women's locker and planting a few rounds in a surrendering foe. But he's working on that -- rotten eggs are taboo, he gets it.

Some friends call him 'Bits' from time to time, because he's not all there, probably -- the animated conversations with nobody sorta give that much away. Most people call him Keller, or Corporal Vannin if they come from off-world. His morbid, deadpan sarcasm takes some getting used to, but it's clever in its own way.

History:

Unremarkable, all things considered. Like everyone else from the original unit, he's a guerrilla who survived the crackdown. He tells a story about breaching an AT-AT walker and killing his way to the bridge, but that's a lie -- he was moving civilians when the fist came down, and he was one of the first fighters to make it off-world. What came before that doesn't matter anymore -- his family life started in the room where the Liberators first regrouped, and it ends when an imp finally gets lucky and they jettison his body from an airlock. In the meantime, he's built a healthy reputation as the unit's native sociopath. A few people remember him before the attack -- he was much the same, but a little bit less 'touched.' There were two other soldiers with him during the evacuation, but they both left the service immediately after, citing abstract horrors of war and personal problems. He doesn't talk about them, and he doesn't talk about what they saw, and the records are understandably sparse, but there were no children on his transport.

Yes, and:

Corporal Beskad, another Uslam native, is a trusted friend and frequent pranking target. Beskad knows his way around gear, and has "The right attitude" about the war. Toland Vas, on the other hand, is an off-world political nut. But, he hates the right people, and he's got the right skills. They're starting to warm up to one another -- though, Vas might not know that Vannin is the one who's been loosening bolts on a few of the choice droids while they're powered down. They share some practical working knowledge about breaching tactics, and work well together in combat -- usually if Vannin goes right, Vas goes left, and they're able to lay down a wide base of fire for the rest of the squad to work with. Their final tallies are usually pretty close -- not the highest of the squad, on a normal day, but there's a running tradition between the two that the loser buys drinks.
Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by SuperTacticalDerp
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Hidden 10 yrs ago → 10 yrs ago Post by Vandy
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Vandy Post Apocalyptic Superman

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Name: Rurran Irys'skra
Species: Bothan
Age: 25
Planet of Origin/Birth: Bothawui
Force Sensitive Y/N: No

Appearance:



Skills/Abilities:
- Intelligence and Reconnaissance: Some in the galactic community believe that spying and dishonesty comes naturally to the average Bothan. True or not, Rurran definitely lives up to this stereotype and is a capable scout and operative.
- Basic Training: Alliance- The Rebel Alliance trains its soldiers to the best of it's abilities. While this training can be short and sub par compared to many other military training in the galaxy, Alliance soldiers are prepared to do their best to win galactic freedom.
- Sweet Talker: Rurran has, or thinks he has, the ability to talk his way out of various tough situations. This has saved not only his life, but also his credit account on multiple occasions.
- Sharp: Rurran has an intelligent mind which many find to be extremely annoying. He also has a keen strategic mind and can solve most problems quickly.


Equipment:
- Blastech A280 Blaster Rifle.
- DL-44 heavy blaster pistol
- Basic Alliance uniform
- Frag Grenades
- Standard Issue Commlink
- Other various military survival gear and provisions carried in a military backpack


Psychological Profile:


History:
WIP


Yes, and:
WIP
Hidden 10 yrs ago → 10 yrs ago Post by Trinais
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Trinais

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Name: Norana Kay'Leth
Species: Togruta
Age: 22
Planet of Origin/Birth: Coruscant
Force Sensitive Y/N: Whole lot of NOOOOOOOOOPE

Appearance:
[Picture Forthcoming]

Skills/Abilities:
- Getaway Driver - Norana earned her bread in the lower levels of Coruscant as a getaway driver. Morali, her contact in Level 278's Crime Syndicate, would contract Norana to drive a speeder for sanctioned robberies of upper level banks and vaults. Norana soon found her skills in high demand and learned the ins-and-outs of every vehicle she owned, how to maneuver it in multi-tiered urban environments and how to evade small arms fire with ease.

- I Know a Guy who Knows a Guy. - Norana's previous connections in organized crime syndicates means she has friends (and a few enemies) everywhere. While Imperial regulations are focused on restricting trade and putting non-humans at an economic disadvantage, there's always a market for forbidden goods. While not impressive enough to grab serious hardware, a kind word and some credits can grab small arms or supplies when in an urban environment.

- Pistolero - Rifles are heavy. Heavy things weigh you down. Weight decreases speed. As a result of these basic facts, the heaviest weapon Norana has ever and will ever use is a blaster carbine. She is much more comfortable with hold out blasters and standard pistols.

- First Aid - Things go bad in heists. It's inevitable. Someone breaks a bone, gets shot, goes through a windshield- stuff like that. After the dust settles and the Authorities lose track of the Crew, that's the time people get patched up. Norana has learned a thing or two about rapid first-aid and is able to treat rudimentary burns, laser hits, cuts and small broken bones. Anything requiring more than a bandage or splint is beyond her expertise.

- Worst. Luck. EVER. - Norana has bad luck. Woefully bad luck. The kind of bad luck that doesn't strike at every moment, but at the worst possible moment. After five years as a getaway driver, Norana was finally picked up by the Authorities for never having gotten her license. After months tied up in the Imperial Judicial system, her legal advocate was the victim of an assassination meant for his twin brother, a suspected rebel sympathizer. Her joining up with the rebel alliance had more to do with the fact that the last job she worked forgot to pay the crew of the Alliance vessel for transportation to Hutt Space- she needed a paycheck fast to avoid getting Spaced.

Equipment:
- DH-17 Blaster Pistol
- First-Aid Kit (Stormtrooper Issue)
- Combat Knife
- Blast Vest
- Pilot's Goggles



- Modified Speeder "Bail's Balls" (Seats 4 + Rear mounted Sponson for heavy weapon)


Psychological Profile: Norana has the jaded, cynical outlook of someone who would never join the Empire, the Rebellion, or the Hutt Cartels for that matter. The Empire is a xenophobic and bloated military state. The Rebellion is a hopeless band of naive kids. The Cartels have all the self-control and focus of a youngling in a toy store. Norana only gives two kriffs about herself and whoever is paying her at the time. Beyond her outlook toward politics, she has the unbearable arrogance of a young person who knows what she's good at, how good she is at it, and how indispensable it can make her in certain situations (namely when a rapid exit is required). She hasn't ever denied this arrogance either, but does nothing to cut back on it.

Outside of combat and around the ship, she tends to keep to herself and only hangs with her droid "Zee," occasionally referring to it as "Lili" and speaking in a conversational tone with it. Anyone fluent in binary will note that the droid doesn't respond back to anything but the most basic commands given to it. Psychological profilers in the Alliance might call Norana a "Section 8" but thankfully, that profession isn't in the Platoon's budget.

History: When you grow up in the heart of the Galaxy, the jewel of the Empire, in the shadow of the Imperial Palace and the Senate, the holovids leave you with certain expectations. Everything should be orderly and clean. Corruption is stamped out. Law prevails. Order is supreme. And there's plenty for everybody.

Load of bantha poodoo, all of it.

Norana grew up in the under levels, daughter to one of millions of refugees from the Clone Wars that made the pilgrimage to safety. For most of her childhood, she didn't believe she was on Coruscant to begin with. Everything was too dark, too crowded, too violent and too corrupt to actually be where the signs said she was. Coruscant South Hemisphere. Sub-level 217. Refugee Sector. It was a cruel joke the galaxy played on her mother- to escape what seemed like a paradise world only to arrive in a hellhole that probably hadn't been considered safe in thousands of years.

Mom got knifed one night by a pimp that wanted to hire her, and wouldn't take no for an answer. Noraya didn't mourn at the time. She didn't get mad, either. She got even- stole the creep's speeder instead and took it for a joy ride up to level 122. The neighborhood wasn't much better, but there were more opportunities there. She worked her way into a local syndicate moving spice. She got good at driving that speeder. Real good. After making a run to a party on level 26 and evading pursuit by the authorities, she got upgraded to the level of "indispensable" in the eyes of her boss. So when the Quarren pimp that knifed Noraya's mother came looking for his speeder, surprise surprise, her syndicate friends sent him back to level 217. In pieces.

From there, the jobs opened up. The gang invested in a true speeder for Noraya, an open topped, supercharged vehicle that she promptly put to use in running getaways for bank robberies and vault heists in upper level posh housing units. She called it "Bail's Balls" after watching Bail Organa give a speech in the Imperial Senate on public broadcasting, all but calling the Emperor a liar and a tyrant to the old fogie's face. The name stuck.

Even with the Empire putting the squeeze on everyone that wasn't human, Norana was sitting on a pretty pile of cash when she got busted in a sting- for not having a license to fly the speeder.

From there, things spiraled down fast. Norana's place was raided by a rival gang and all her cash was stolen, so she couldn't make bail. The Advocate hired to represent her was knocked off accidentally instead of his twin brother. So she had to get sprung from prison by a rebel raid on the facility to bail out some of their own people. Thankfully, one of the Uslam grunts let her on the Intruder and, by the grace of every higher power, her old flame Sola vouched for her to get on board. Norana leveraged her speeder, taken by the prison warden as "evidence" but more as a free ride, until her syndicate could pay her ticket.

The money never came, so she was left with two options: get spaced by the Intruder's crew, or sign on with the Uslam grunts to make the money the hard way.

She signed up.

Yes, and: Norana was given a ticket aboard the Intruder by an old flame, Sola. It wasn't for free though, and when the credits failed to turn up to pay for Norana and her custom built speeder, Sola threw her a bone and introduced the Togruta to Corporal Beskad who had an opening for another grunt. Norana was able to prove her skills more valuable than that of the standard foot soldier when, during a raid on an Imperial depot, an AT-ST showed up and began to tear up the platoon. Norana commandeered an officer's speeder, hot-wired it, and drove it into the legs of the walker, bailing before being wrecked by the impact and the falling walker.

Beskad didn't mind having the foul-mouthed, arrogant witch around after that.
Hidden 10 yrs ago → 10 yrs ago Post by Tenish the Mighty
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Tenish the Mighty Social Hallucination

Member Seen 3 yrs ago
Name: Private Jubali "Wizard" Tusk
Species: Near-Human
Age: 20
Planet of Origin/Birth: Spacer (Uslam adoptee)
Force Sensitive Y/N: Yes

Appearance:


Skills/Abilities:
- Overly High Body Mass Midi-Chlorian Index: Jubali has the hoodoo, the voodoo, things she ain't even tried. A force-sensitive since puberty, Jubali has started to come to the creeping, existentially dreadful conclusion that any thing of worth that she has ever done might be because of a surplus of cosmic parasites in her bloodstream.
- Quick twitch - Jubali has always been a physical creature of great innervation. Swift and spry, her education at Tanis Central Continental Academy was predicated upon her athletic prowess at Holoball. Since joining the rebellion this trait has been earmarked for making Jubali suitable for the frenetic, quick strike tactics of the reconstituted 2nd and Only. When something needs to be done quick more than it needs to be done right, Jubali is who the corporals call.
- Greater Invisibility - Jubali has always had an almost preternatural knack for going unnoticed. In spite of having no real grace to speak of and little training in stealth techniques, Jubali has proven herself to be able to go undetected in battlefield contingencies and otherwise, seemingly through force of will, or maybe just the will of the Force.
- Alternative Medicine - Jubali never really wanted to be a healer. She never much cared for alien ichor and diseases. She did like the security and prestige that supposedly came with being a doctor. Unfortunately, whatever her personal givings, Jubali is a terrible healer. She never would have made it through the two standard years of medical school she did pass without the benefit of her minor force sensitivity. Able to intuit a basic form of a kind of 'force healing' Jubali can treat moderate tissue damage in herself and others, albeit at a rate that is nominally inferior to proper, modern medical attention in all aspects except for the resources necessary.


Equipment:
- E5 Blaster Carbine - The stock locking pin broke.
- Ill-fitting Blast Armor - Helmet not included.
- Cliff Flax Kiffar Kanga - It's a dress.
- Vibro-Knife - Kitchen Grade, much better than military.
- Medpacks - Which she mostly pretends to use.


Psychological Profile:
Jubali isn't in this for your damned rebellion. She doesn't really expect to be paid, either. She just wants to burn holes into Imperials before they burn holes into her. Some of that is vengeance, mostly it's self-preservation. Combat scares her shitless. Sometimes she wishes she was dead. Mostly she wishes everyone else was dead. She's certain we'll all get there eventually.


History:
Jummali Tusk was killed in front of Jubali when she was 7 standard years old. Jubali did not realize the fact until a couple hours later. She doesn't remember the colorful shot that killed her mother. There were so many, reflecting in beautiful shades off of the crystalline dunes of Quen, breathable moon of the gas giant, Joob. Mostly Jubali only remembers how cold it was. How difficult it was for her to breath. To this day she cannot fathom how her sister managed to run across the freezing desert, carrying Jubali in her arms for nearly 2 hours, all with the flesh of her back burnt to the bone, exposed to the thin atmosphere of that moon. Jubali just remembers reaching the refugee shuttle moments before it took off. She remembers the alien who gave up it's crash seat so that Jubali's sister could strap her in. The look of numb horror on the faces of the other passengers as they stared at the ruins of Jummali's back. Jubali's memories turn to the auditory here, her eyes filled with tears and squeezed tight. Just the deathly rattle of the shuttle, her sister singing to her from her place on the shuttles grated floor. The feeling of her sister's hands folded over her own. A thumb rubbing soothingly over her knuckles. At some point Jubali fell asleep, exhausted. Jummali must have as well. The next time Jubali saw her sister, she was ashen and still under an opaque, plastic sheet.

Jubali never met her parents. She was born of the void on a little tramp freighter the name of which she never knew. From the moment she was born she could see the stars. She used to think they watched over her. Now they always seem like cold, distant gods, judging from on high. Her sister, 10 years older than herself, raised her in spaceports and stations, busking, grifting, mulling, fleeing port authorities and the occasional Hutt enforcer. Jubali remembers the smells and sounds of a thousand different aliens, crushing all around her in little boxes of metal, spinning in the gravity of one planetary mass or another. She remembers landing on Quen, how beautiful the starlight looked on it's surface, how Jummali had seemed to relax for the first time, exulting on the breeze that drifted across the sands. How she had told Jubali that they might have finally found a place to stay, for good. How comfortable the five by eight room they shared at the mining complex had been. How warm it was nestled between drilling drivers. How the blood had drained from Jummali's face when she entered the clinics office, shouting for Jubali pushed towards the door by the stern lunar authority officers that had surrounded Jubali when she woke up.

Jubali did not remember the fall. She had been playing near one of the old pit mines. In hindsight it was a foolish thing to do. The pit must have been a hundred meters deep, at least. Jubali should not have survived. She did not know what tests they performed on her while she was unconscious, but the nurse that was in the room with the officers had looked at Jubali like she wasn't human, or alien either, she clutched a native charm in a white knuckled grip on her chest, like it would protect her from whatever Jubali was. Jubali was taken from that place. She did not see her sister for a time. She was taken to a place that was cold, and clean, and full of light. She lost track of days. The only ones she saw were other people dressed in the same gray cloths as she was given to wear. The only one who spoke to her was the garrison commander who was in her cell on the first day. He looked scared of something on the other side of the cell door. He spoke to her of things she did not understand. He seemed mad at her, or worried about her, she still wasn't sure. He spoke of what needed to be done, of the Empire, of superstition, of sedition. He didn't seem to be speaking to Jubali at all. She worried he would hurt her. She wanted to ask about her sister. She didn't. Many days later there was an explosion.

Then came the lasers flashing in the night. Her sister had come for her. Other people had come too. They had made huge holes in the walls of the clean, cold place. Many people ran out of them dressed just like her. A man with a beard made out of skin and wearing a brown bathrobe told them to run and pointed across the desert. He looked at Jubali and smiled sadly. He turned on a little stick that made a sword of light.

Jubali was taken with the rest of the refugees to a place she did not know. She does not remember much of it. She was taken in by an elderly pair of humans who living in the asteroids around Uslam. She does not remember much of the rest of her childhood. Some men occasionally came to check up on her. They spoke in hushed tones on the other sides of doors. They gave Jubali a holochit. They said it would get her into the best imperial-sponsored academy on Ulsam. Turned out to be the only one. Jubali did well enough in her studies, well enough to be recruited into the primary medical program. It seemed like a good idea. Jubali just wanted to never live the life that had gotten to this point again. She just wanted to avoid trouble. To never see uniformed men paying her any mind. To have the money to never live in a five by eight again. To stay warm, to breath clean air. It did not seem like a lot to ask. The stars are not kind. The PMP was much harder than her primary courses. She didn't know there were so many sapient species, or how different their biology was. The imperial-sponsored course only focused on humans and their near relations, even then, Jubali was barely passing. The only saving grace Jubali ever had was her practicals. In spite of her ostensible incompetence, her hours at the mining clinic always finished with clean reports. She treated her patients quickly and efficiently. She never wasted clinical supplies. Jubali knew it had nothing to do with what she knew about medicine. She searched the holonet for spontaneous healing. Species with healing powers. Some oblique references to spiritual mysticism were all she found. A number of sites turned up empty space, with nothing but the Imperial emblem and boilerplate condemnation notices citing illegal misinformation and other offenses. Jubali started to get scared. She was sure her professors stared at her in class. Her foster parents called after her, asking why they had a notice saying she had authorized the academy access to her adoption records. Jubali tried to quietly pack her room. Then revolution came to Ulsam.

The Imperial administration building at the academy was set on fire in the night. The rebel-sympathizing students responsible were caught and publicly executed. A thousand simultaneous incidents occurred across the system. In an instant, the planet and it's holdings were carved into battling lines. Tanis Academy was put into lockdown. Stormtroopers poured into the campus. Jubali ran. She has no idea how she managed to get away without being spotted and shoot by the white deathmask wearing soldiers. She has her suspicions. She did no know how she managed to find a bulk speeder pilot willing to take her to her home hab, but she does now. The captain saluted the strange men at the front gate, the ones wearing defaced garrison uniforms. She was brought to a new crush of people, miners, engineers, all listening to another uniformed man decrying the brutal Imperial regime. At some point, a blaster was forced into Jubali's hands.

The war is a blur. Jubali isn't sure how she managed to survive. Mostly it was probably how well she hid whenever fighting started. Or maybe how quick she was to shoot when a blaster was pointed at her. Or maybe it was her fellow soldiers who were responsible. How grateful her squad was when she managed to patch them up. How amazed they were that they had a medic. They never questioned how she managed to get them back into fighting shape without adequate medical supplies. Someone must have told the rebel command because she was given her own medipacs at some point. War continued. She didn't save everyone. Most of her squad died in their final engagement. She was extracted from a place filled with mud and blood. The war ended while she was in triage.

Now a new war is being fought on far flung worlds. They need veteran soldiers. Ulsam has those. Jubali just wanted to live a quiet life of comfort. She is sick of the sound of blaster fire. Tired of watching a rainbow of flickering light reflect off the glassy eyes of the dead. But the stars are not kind. They never were.


Yes, and:
Jubali isn't sure whether she loves or hates Norana. In many ways, the Togruta represents everything that Jubali wishes was better about herself. She thinks Norana is fast, confidant, and possessive of a certainty that Jubali believes she lacks. She thinks they could be fast friends, or bitter foes. She thinks Norana is an arrogant, reckless, self-serving nerf herder. She thinks Norana might be a worse version of herself. She thinks Norana probably doesn't think much about her at all.
Hidden 10 yrs ago → 10 yrs ago Post by Whoami
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Whoami All things atmospheric...

Member Seen 1 day ago
Name: Tech Sergeant Kana Belgaran
Species: Human
Age: 29
Planet of Origin/Birth: Uslam
Force Sensitive: No

Appearance:


Skills/Abilities:
Imperial Academy - Kana attended an Imperial Academy before the uprising on Uslam. During that time, Kana was a promising cadet that was on the fast track to becoming an Imperial Officer. She has advanced training and a keen tactical sense. The academy has done well to inform Kana of their protocols and how to exploit them. She is no stranger to imperial technologies and will often be the one called to handle it.
Tech Expert - Kana is savvy with technology and knows her way around almost any piece of tech that crosses her path. If something is unfamiliar, it wont take long for Kana to figure it out.
Communications Officer - Kana is the platoon's comms officer and it is her job to relay orders both inbound or outgoing. She is also charged with deciphering Imperial comms traffic and providing both intelligence and counter intelligence on the field.
Multilingual - Kana is versed in several different languages thanks to her training within the Imperial Academy. This works hand in hand with her comms operation in that she can effectively speak to people of varying species and listen in on non-human imperials.
"I'm calling in a favor!" - During her time in the Academy, Kana had made many ties with her peers. While many of them are scattered to every corner of the galaxy, Kana hopes that one day she might be able to link up with one of her contacts on the field and ask a favor of them. Whether she will ever bump into one or if they can even be trusted is unknown, Kana hopes that luck is on her side if it ever happens.

Equipment:
A280 Blaster Rifle
DH-17 Blaster Pistol
8" VibroKnife
Standard rebel protective equipment
Emergency personal first aid & survival kit
Long Range Comms Backpack
MacroBinoculars
2x Thermal Detonators
Kana foregoes for the bulky blast helmet and wears a boonie hat instead.


Psychological Profile:
Kana is level headed and quick thinking, often the first one to seize an advantage and exploit it. She has a deep hate toward the empire and will shoot first and then ask the questions after. She usually keeps one ear on her radio equipment at all times so that she can feed her team with the necessary information needed to triumph. While she is a gritty foot soldier, Kana is regarded to be one of the smartest members of the platoon which might be attributed to her academy background before the uprising on Uslam. Her tactical sense and 'take-charge' attitude may have put her on the path to command, but for now she's completely content with being the eyes and ears of her platoon. While the originals of the regiment know and trust Kana, newcomers are always shocked to hear she had an imperial background; because of this, Kana prefers to keep that information away from newcomers but she wont hide it if the topic comes up.

History:
"I was thirteen years old when I was drafted into the Imperial Academy for training. There was no choice for me as I was taken from my parents' arms and sent off to the other side of the planet, never to see them again. There was a sort of resentment in my heart for the empire after that, I never asked to be a soldier. I never wanted to fight in this damn war. But it's funny... The empire sure does know how to push propaganda and it gets to you, makes you think that the training is just and that my soldiery would benefit the galaxy. I was like the rest of the other thirteen year old drones that they abducted from their parents. I was a cadet learning what it was to be a soldier to fight for our emperor on far flung worlds.

Thing was, I was pretty good at this training. At seventeen I was among the top five in the squad. My marksmanship wasn't one-hundred percent but my knowledge around a piece of tech and my ability to listen to different things at once impressed my officers. One night, storm troopers woke the five of us up while the rest slept, and we were quietly marched to another section of the academy. We were being 'graduated' into the next level where the rest of our squad couldn't make it to. The five of us were being put through special training that had us coughing up blood every night. I kept my resolve though, knowing that they wouldn't let us die during this training, they had put their resources into us.

Turned out I was wrong... Chase, the best of the five of us, collapsed from exhaustion during one of our training exercises. We weren't allowed to help him, the storm trooper medic didn't flinch as he died on the ground. After the four of us watched him die, our officer came to us and said that we were only an eighth the way through the training, and it wasn't guaranteed that we'd make it out alive; but that's what we were 'signed up for'. We all changed on that day, and the bond between the four of us grew stronger because of it.

We had graduated the program when we were twenty years old. The four of us were each assigned to different special units across Uslam to maintain order and covertly snuff resistance where it sparked without even a word spoken. I was a member of the 7th Ops Team, 101st Trooper Legion (*cough @Howler *cough*). I didn't even last one mission. How could I? The first underground cell we were sent to destroy was being run by my parents, but before I could even say anything, my team gunned them all down. That small amount of resentment that lingered in my heart since I was thirteen ignited into a passionate hate and I turned my blaster on my team, killing them before they had a chance to realize what was happening.

After that, I was lost. I didn't what to do, I had nowhere to go, no parents no academy, I had no idea where my friends from the academy had gone, they might as well have been on Tatooine or some other planet I'd never see. I knew one thing though, that I hated the empire for taking me and pointing me at my own parents, and for that, I had a common interest. Dismantle the empire, and I knew the people who'd help me do it. My face was on wanted posters all across the damn planet, wanted for killing her comrades in arms and treason. While I was chasing ghosts, the ghosts were busy chasing me. I was found by the Uslam rebel cell as I was sleeping in a mountain not far from a small community. After explaining, they took me with them.

It took a long time before the rebels trusted me. To them, I was an imperial who was brainwashed to enforce their ideals. Maybe they were right but there's no easier way to break from those thoughts than watching those ideals mow down your parents. Thankfully, my willingness to disclose sensitive information closed the gap and I was soon one of the rebels. The Uslam rebels trusted me and I was a valuable member on their team. Once we had gathered enough manpower and intel to take the fight to them in the open, we did and we succeeded. We had liberated Uslam!

None of us were prepared for when they came back in a force that nearly tripled ours. I'm amazed we even made it out alive... But now we're homeless and there's fewer and fewer of us every time we get our boots in the mud. I haven't achieved my goal to dismantle the empire, so I'm not going to rest until that's done. I'm glad that my goal isn't unique to me, and that others are willing to fight by my side to see the same end."

Yes, and:
"I don't know why Jubali is even here. We're an outfit of warfighters with nothing left but to fight wars and here she is scared shitless of combat. I guess she has her reasons, but she kills imperials apparently for a good time, which gives me the creeps in a sense. I always get this weird feeling from her, like she's more than meets the eye. I've heard about the jedi when I was in the academy, that they attempted a coup against the emperor and that they had seemingly supernatural talent. I wonder if those feelings I'm getting from Jubali are the ones that the jedi gave off. *shrug* Whatever, I'm paid to fight the empire not ask questions about an extinct ideology."
Hidden 10 yrs ago → 10 yrs ago Post by Paladin Zebra
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Paladin Zebra As stunning as a diamond, and twice as hard.

Member Seen 10 yrs ago
Name: Essan Tacc
Species: Duros
Age: 42
Planet of Origin/Birth: Duro (station)
Force Sensitive Y/N: No

Appearance:


Skills/Abilities:
- Doctor: More acquainted with stitching people back up rather than blasting them apart, Essan's spent the better half of his life working in a variety of hospital's and clinics. Capable of performing both simple and advanced medical procedures should he be given the right tools to do so.
- Basic Training: Joining the rebellion intending to get his gloves dirty rather than his boots, Essan spent his early Alliance days in field hospitals on the outskirts of the fighting. Due to dark times and terrible circumstances, he has been more then once thrown into the hectic fray of combat. Though not to the standards of the Imperial's or even some of the Rebel veteran's he's served beside, he was quick to learn the in's and out's of life in a warzone.
- Emergency First Aid: Having more skill on an operating table then knee deep in muck and blaster fire, Essan is perfectly capable of tending to most wounds and afflictions anywhere on a moments notice.
- Duro Born Jockey: Though holding no interest or will to go anywhere that doesn't require his feet on the ground, growing up on the stations of Duro have left him with a hint of his peoples renowned star fairing abilities. While skilled in piloting most one man or two man crafts, he feel's it is not truly his area of expertise and will in most cases leave such tasks to the professionals.

Equipment:
- First-Aid kit
- 6 Stim-pacs
- Bacta Liter
- 2 SynthSkin dose
- Surgical Equipment (On base)
- Alliance/Uslam Medical Uniform
- Merr-Sonn Model 44 Blaster Pistol
- Misc Standard Issue Provison's


Psychological Profile:
Essan is a lean, worn, and sour faced Duros, not too easily phased by the sight of the graphic specticals of war. Years of gluing back together the horrific remains of bodies broken by daily turmoils has made him no stranger to messy aftermath's of war. Most doctors hold a high moral standing and strong ideals on the preservation of all life, if Doctor Tacc hold any such qualms they are long lost or he is reluctant to show them, he tends to the injured and dying not so much as he belives in his righteous cause, but more to the fact that he's just good at it or simply that he's suppose too. Regardless of his ideological beliefs, anyone holds the right to lay on his table, they all end up there sooner or later, Imperial or rebel, humans have a tendancy to all look alike on the inside regardless what side they're on.

While refusing to take another living beings life, Essan shows little hesitation to maim one, a laser hole in an Imperials leg or shoulder should the situation require it won't kill them... Outright... But he usually intends to fix it up at some point when he gets around to it. His mind tends to be more focused on his work then the quarrels around him, if action's don't speak for us then what more is to be said? He talks little but firmly when he needs too, rarely sharing information about himself. Few know him better then simply the doc, not that he hides any dark past, secrets, or the like, but because there is nothing notably to speak of. A simple man in a not so simple galaxy.

Due to the heavy stress of both the war and his occupation, Essan has picked up the unhealthy addiction of smoking, and as a result has been know to do so (despite unsanitary conduct) during some operations.

History:
Born and raised on the stations of Duro, he strived to follow in the footsteps of his father, and renowned surgeon, from a young age, carrying out his family legacy. Graduating with applause-able grades from the Duro Medical Academy, he spent several years working with his dad at his local hospital. Tending to cuts, bruises, and minor ailments of the privileged inhabitants of the Duro stations, Essan began to fell his work was much needed elsewhere in the galaxy. Packing his things and saying his final farewells to friends and families, he took off for the outer rim. Spending several more years hopping planet to planet, hospital to hospital, he eventually ended up on the world of Uslam, where he ran his own clinic near one of the planets abundant mines. While the mines working conditions were fair, it was still prone to accidents, Essan spent the remainder of his time patching up injured and weary miners, still feeling that he could be doing more with his knowledge, he began to look elsewhere for his next destination. But the galaxy is a big place, filled with bigger problems.

When the spark of rebellion first ignited and war came to Uslam, Essan was one of the first into the thick of it, tending to the wounded on both sides, and rationing out bacta and medication to the Uslam soldier, finally finding a worthwhile application for his talent, witnessing and working through both battles of Uslam. As the dust settled and Imperial banners hanged over Uslam, Essan found himself a victim of circumstance, evacuated off world and thrown in with a lot of rebels, he decided to make the most out of the lemons that life had given him and remained with the surviving Uslam fighters, finding this to be perfect use of his profession. The combat had worn heavy on Doctor Tacc however, more then a few times has he had to take up arms to defend his patients, to accompany soldiers in the field, or treat wounded in the field. Since then he has been received as a welcomed asset among the 2nd Liberators, and the remaining alliance fleet.

Yes, and:
"Kana?... Kana, Kana, Kana... Ah yes, the Belgaran, my apologies, all you humans look alike, its difficult to keep track. Good soldier, good at her job, we need people like her. Aside from that I haven't really been acquainted, perhaps I could tell you more in the months to come. It may not be my place, and nor is it my business but the rebels need to be careful with whom they place their trust, I've seen the reports, an ex-Imperial, she's proven an asset thus far but the Empire isn't stupid, it can be cunning and deceptive when it needs too be... I'm not one to judge, all I'm saying is that I hope the Alliance knows what they're doing, or else I may need to order spare body bags..."
Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by my Lalia
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my Lalia The Master of Hugs

Member Seen 2 yrs ago
Name:
Vilvoy Aamarr (Voy)
Species:
Miraluka
Age:
20
Planet of Origin/Birth:
Alpheridies
Force Sensitive Y/N: yes

Appearance:


Skills/Abilities:
-Force sight - enhanced the bearer's visual and spatial perception even in the dark or behind walls.
-Quick reflexes - Thanks to having Force sight, her reflexes are faster then most.
-Basic Combat Training - Upon joining the Alliance she was trained in all area's of combat, she never took to one area.
-Patients - Vilvoy has been noted with having great patients and willing to wait out just about any situation
-Limited Force Ability - Being a Miraluka means she has a greater understanding of the force, but her ability to use it is limited as she has little training and her midichlorian count is lower than the average Miraluka.


Equipment:
- Her Visor - Knowing that most species find it disturbing to look at her kind without something covering where their eyes would been, she has it on constantly.
- Standard Alliance uniform
- Multi-weapon
- Blastech A280 blaster rifle
- Blastech DH-17 blaster pistol
- Very Basic survival/med kit


Psychological Profile:
Vilvoy is a patient person that is willing to take a long route if it means keeping people alive, this can cost time. She is clever and never makes a decision rashly, she is finding it slightly hard to adapt to the constant changes of war. As some things need to be decided in a moments notice which is hard for her. She likes to examine every detail of a situation before giving an order, which is why she is a simple "grunt". She follows orders well even if it goes against what she believes is the right course of action.
With that being said she is also quiet, and doesn't talk much unless spoken to or if her squad leader needs her to "see" through something. Needless to say she has saved her last squad a few times with her ability to use the force, and this has been noted in her profile. But her ability to the force wasn't enough to save her last squad, she didn't "see" incoming enemy forces fast enough and more than 3/4th's of her squad died.
"Hearing your friends die is worse than watching them die." She carries the shame and scars of that fight, this is one of the reasons why she likes to go over plans. During these hard time she prays to her peoples gods and tries to meditate on the force.


History:
Vilvoy was born on her peoples adopted homeworld of Alpheridies before her parents left to join the Rebels shortly after the destruction of the Jedi order. Her parents were strong in the force and to help those that were being oppressed, they helped form what would be called the Rebel Alliance or The Alliance. She did most of her growing up on ships and rebel bases, which caused most people to question her parents ability to take care of a child. But they wouldn't have it any other way, they wanted her to "see" the struggle of others and understand that the Empire is wrong. It was during this time she learned to be patient and not run into situations that could prove deadly, as she could feel some of the pain around her.

When she was in her teen years her parents promised her to be a fighter for the Alliance, and it was expected of her to accept this without complaint. During those years she learned basic combat and force skills, as her parents were away fighting and recruiting. This left little time to be with their only child, but they trusted that she would be taken care of by those they trusted. Vilvoy learned fast, but never took to being great in one area of combat nor did her ability to use the force rival her parents. This disappointed those in command but they weren't about to turn her away, as they could always use a "seer". Once she had completed her basic training she got a message saying that both her parents had been tricked into a trap by someone that they had trusted and were killed in the fire fight that took place.

The Alliance had given her time to recover from the news, but she knew that her parents would want her not to dwell on their death. So after only a week she asked to be put into a squad and be part of the fight. They placed her in 14th platoon, bravo company, which were sent on a few missions where Vilvoy's force abilities proved useful and saved their lives. But even a force user can become distracted, this happened in the last mission her squad had. Some how the enemy found out that the company had a Miraluka and so set up a distraction and as she focused on the ploy, her company got flanked. The firefight that took place was a desperate one and many fell within the first assault, during this time Vilvoy could feel her friends dying and could hear them as they suffered. Her ability to focus was hindered and was truly blind for about an hour, before she was able to get her focus back and fought like a mad Reek. But with all her abilities, she was unable to stop other from dying.
What was left of her company was rescued by the Alliance forces, but she will always relive that day and how she failed her company.

She is promised herself that would never happen again, but she is scared of failing her new company like she did the last one.


Yes, and:
"Essan Tacc? A good man, wishes to make a difference and to heal. But I sense that he his tired, seen too much death. He is stressed and needs some down time. But I know no one gets those very often these day, especially him. I will pray to the gods to send him some relief."
Hidden 10 yrs ago → 10 yrs ago Post by Austronaut
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Austronaut

Member Seen 3 yrs ago
Name: Adriana ‘Doll’ Racine
Species: Human
Age: 27
Planet of Origin/Birth: Courscant
Force Sensitive Y/N: No
Appearance:

Skills/Abilities:

- Combat Savant: Lt. Racine displays a natural ability to compute and control variables in combat. She has the ability to synthesize information nearly instantaneously, formulate a plan and execute it with a maximum of speed and ruthlessness.

- I’d Like to Thank the Academy: Racine trained in the Imperial Academy in an environment which was extremely unfavorable. Her gender meant that she had to work twice as hard as her male cohorts to avoid being dismissed by her instructors. As a result she has an excellent grasp of all aspects of military theory.

- Ice Queen: Racine can politely be described as cool. Icy bitch is the more common epithet. She tolerates no shortcomings in her subordinates and is tackless and blunt in informing them of such. It also serves her well in combat where she is able to keep her fears and worries locked away behind a cool calculating mask.

- Leader: People tend to follow Racine in combat, partially in response to her confidence and partially as a function of survival.

Equipment:
- Blastech A280 Blaster Rifle.
- Tactical Helmet – Racine favors a modified helmet with a face shield that allows the projection of maps and other tactical data. It also has integrated comms. Many soldiers avoid these due to the information glut that can result.
- Body Armor- Expensive and tailored Racine is rarely seen out of her armor. It is festooned with webbing, pouches and attachment points to which all manner of gear can be fastened.
- DL-44 Blaster Pistol.
- Military vibro-knife.
-Grenades.
-Standard Alliance infantry field kit.

Psychological Profile:

Adriana Racine is an intense woman, she possess an icy calm which sometimes makes people uncomfortable. She has seen action in her career with the Imperial Army and with the Alliance forces.

Hailing as she does from the Courscant Adriana has an extra measure of reserve with her troops and does not make friends easily. Her tendency to view her troops more as game pieces than people doesn't aid her in this regard. She does possess a cynical gallows humor which seems appropriate to the unit to which she is now assigned.

Adriana does not seem to hate the Imperials and treats all opponents with a sort of detached ruthless pragmatism. To her Imperials aren’t people to hate, merely problems to be solved. She shows concern for her own troops although this appears to be more out of a desire for maximum efficiency than genuine fellow feeling for her fellow beings.

She is nicknamed ‘Doll’ due to her relatively small stature and the neat perfection of her features. Newer recruits can be forgiven for thinking this a comment on her remoteness.

History:
Adriana Racine was born into a well to do family on Courscant. The only child of a retired Fleet officer and an Alderanian diplomatic aide she received the finest possible education and wanted for very little. Although her academic record was very respectable it was her ability on the sporting field that would ultimately shape Adriana’s career. She was a state champion in repulsor hockey (an agility game played in zero G using repulsor pads) and locally ranked in dozens of other team sports, establishing a reputation as a leader and a planner. This talent bought her to the attention of Imperial recruiters who offered her a position in the Imperial Academy in a program for prospective covert agents and commandos.

Cadet Racine flourished at the Academy, devouring its curriculum and life style. The Imperial bias against women drove her to be the best she could, responding to her instructors sneers by redoubling her efforts again and again. Despite graduating at the top of her class, and a record which should have ensured posting to an elite unit, the newly minted Lt. Racine received a series of demeaning postings to backwater worlds and exposed garrisons. Ironically this gave her more of an opportunity to see action then many of her classmates, as police actions against pirates and smugglers were much more common than engagements with the nascent Rebellion.

During this frustrating time she also drew closer to her mother and her social circle and began to develop the Rebel sympathies common to the Alderanian elite at that time. Frustrated with her career progress and no longer certain her service to the Empire was the honorable duty she had imagined it to be she defected to the Rebels.

After her debriefing by Alliance Intelligence she was assigned to the infantry. Trained officers were a rarity and she saw hard service in several minor skirmishes. She won a reputation as a competent and driven leader, willing to do what it took to get the job done.

At the conclusion of her last tour attrition had worn down Racine’s unit to the point that it was no longer viable in the field. Having had experience with boarding action with the Imperials she was transferred to the 2nd Ulsam ahead of the current operation. The transfer also served a political purpose in that it demonstrated to the new recruits that they had just as much chance of rising through the ranks as those native to Ulsam.

Adriana is seen of something of an outsider and, perversely, as somewhat untried. In a unit as tough as the 2nd even a glowing combat record is viewed with some skepticism, at least before it is demonstrated first hand….

Yes, and:
Adriana is somewhat ambivalent towards Voy. She respects the younger woman’s patient persistence as an extremely effective tool but she is concerned about her abilities to sense things through the force. Adriana is uncomfortable with the idea that people may be able to see into her mind and the idea of such invasion of privacy disturbs her.
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