Paraffin

For a Fistful of Credits: A Star Wars Story

Posted Xymone and already have the relationships pinned up beside her. Do give them a look over everyone and let me no if you're of the opinion you'd like yours tweaked.

For a Fistful of Credits: A Star Wars Story

---

_{Featured: the only pic of a female Khil I believe to exist}

_{Xymone
∇ 32 ∇ ♀ ∇ 2.07m (6'8") ∇ Force Sensitivity N}

_{Δ Appearance}

At a touch over two meters and hale all the way through Xymone is a picture of health from the flat of her heels to the tip of her hullepi. Built tall and meated to the bone--though a hand wouldn't sink far before meeting muscle she is plush in all the right places--her enviable athleticism doing little to detract from the fullness of her figure. Her voice is a melodic trill thanks to the jawless, tendril heavy mouth so emblematic of her ilk, an aspect oftentimes repellent to other sentients but held in the highest and most intractable esteem by this confident Khil. These sensile breathing tubes easily the most animated facet of her many expressions and seat of her self-assumed 'exotic charm' it is not uncommon to spy a preening hand pass through their ranks to subtly assess if they're presentable. Xymone's skin is a deep dark grey pebbled along the arms, legs and back with the heptagonal hallmarks of an ongoing addiction with 'slappers', an externally applied performance enhancing drug.

Possessed of a pragmatic propensity to place something thick between herself and bone rattling impacts Xymone favors a bulky set of Belnarian armor that was at one time bespoke. Fashioned from composite plates sandwiched between several sheets of insular synthetic material etiolated endorsements form a fragmentary filigree over much of the repurposed raiment she wears. The thing a sectional sportswear skeleton repaired and refitted so heavily as to hardly resemble itself, piecemeal straps and hard padding partially replacing an absentee sleeve. Though this wouldn't seem out of place on someone tailgating the hottest new ultrasport the carbon scoring and deep gouges are, each a point among the running tally of a deadly game she's taken into overtime.

_{Δ Weltanschauung}

Polite and friendly for a woman so quick to adopt an 'us and them' mentality Xymone is the Khailian contradiction made manifest. Competitive to the core and ambitious yet somehow carefree, a creature of arrogance and compassion that pursues profession and pleasure with an equal and impressive devotion. Always a bit too willing to put herself out there and experience new things she is no stranger to disastrous misadventures, an optimism and cultural belief that anything can be overcome with enough effort often seeing her through. As a direct result however she often breaks down under prolonged stress if progress isn't forthcoming, reaching for a chemical kick-me-up to carry her over the hump and even worse off should it fail her.

A companionable enough person before, after and during the time it takes to know her Xymone is quick to grow possessive of the friends she makes for fear of being abandoned, always reaffirming friendships through horseplay and physical gesture. Over time growing so bold as to eat off the same plate or drink from the same glass as someone she's taken a shine to and sure to have a quickfire quip or unsightly insinuation for those that may take offense or discomfort from such actions. For a sympathetic sort she takes an irritable glee in finishing her companions sentences in exaggerated imitation, often prefaced with 'look at me, I'm so-and-so...'

Nothing if not a compulsive showboater that aches for the shower of accolades she's grown accustomed to Xymone places undue stock in the sentiment and praise of others, this shallow self-assurance of her worth a bitter balm with which she soothes a damaged ego. Though closely guarded the anxiety she harbors has played silent partner to many a brash outburst, needless risk and sudden surge of violence.

Though not inherently cruel she harbors an impressive capacity for devious, vindictive behavior when her loyalty is called into question and has sometimes waited years to avenge relatively minor slights, as a certain blind Bith can attest to. Not being uncharacteristic of her people she sees such behavior as a retaliation rather than overreaction, though would be just as readily appeased by a heart felt apology. Which would be fine if she wasn't such a sore loser at games of chance, quick to feel cheated despite herself.

To this day she remains good friends with a pair of Aqualish she'd made an impromptu alliance with on Ando. Pybba and Tward have drifted into dirtier lines of work since the chance meeting and attempt to kill her from time to time mind you, but they're damned amicable about it all the same. As twins they've an infuriating habit of insisting she can't tell Aqualish apart and an infuriating habit of being exactly right.

_{Δ History}

Eldest offspring to come from the well-planned pairing of Qitat and Ysget (A duo of decorated athletes) excellence was always expected of Xymone. She delivered, and when the public eye expected her to overshadow her parents she did not disappoint. Where other children were pampered she had been prepared and thus groomed for greatness exploded onto the amateur circuit during her debut. Latest in the legacy her parents wished to cement Xymone had been shaped into a superb specimen and all her energies directed at the sport of Lu'Kratan, a 3v3 ball game which incorporates an obstacle course and wrestling. Krat as it's known in the common vernacular was said to have arisen from the rituals and war dances pre-modern Khil used to settle disputes and traditionally the pursuit of women. Though off-leagues for men and a myriad of imigrant species met with only lite resistance the later reformations saw staunch opposition.

One such mouthpiece during the high point of her career playing for Belnar City she went on record saying "Krat's always been more than just a game to me, it's about who we are and where we came from. I never thought I'd have to sit here and appeal on behalf of my heritage." During the above debate proceedings devolved into a shouting match, with Xymone insinuating integration was a slippery slope that would lead to droids replacing players. History remembers her as being on the wrong side of the argument, because not more than a year later she was squaring off against a mixed race team that included Sscusk Tolmz. A self-described full time Trandoshan that had long lobbied for his chance in the lime light Sscusk was a media darling already billing the bout--win or lose--as a triumph. He would come to be vindicated.

The match in question was a spectacular hard fought back and forth that would see Khil dominance in the sport challenged for the first time. By the final quarter it seemed a certainty that despite her best efforts Xymone would be stripped of the championship she'd sacrificed so much for, something she felt she could not allow so desperately at the time. Though a vocal campaigner against doping the waning icon saw no other out; not wanting to disappoint her parents, partners or the true fans she made the biggest mistake of her life.

Had she been more adventurous as a child she'd of known about the intensity of 'slapping' for the first time, had she been a more responsible adult she'd have weighed the risks more carefully. There were a million different ways that next hour could have gone and in the years since Xymone has agonized over them all. It had felt so unreal, she couldn't believe what she'd done even as she was doing it. In the aftermath of the highly illegal takedown that saw speculation as to whether Sscusk would ever walk again, let alone play on a professional level a disgraced Xymone faced criminal charges and a doping scandal. The evidence of performance enhancing drugs in her system called not only her own past achievements into question but those of her parents and teammates.

Stripped of a life's work due to a split second decision the relatively light sentence she received was of little consolation, what wealth she'd had after the settlement frittered away in self-imposed exile from her homeland. Unable to adjust to civilian life, a crushingly depressing job as a taxi driver and resentment that seemed to linger when she was recognized she ended up admiring the skyline from atop a railing one lonely night on Andor. Xymone never did determine one way or the other if the pair of Aqualish that approached her had any idea what they were interrupting, but they certainly made it belligerently clear they knew whom. Somehow they'd enticed her into replacing the suddenly absent third of their trio in an underground Krat match, if nothing more it was a chance for her to say a final farewell to the sport that had divorced itself from her.

She was unprepared for how good it felt to be in the thick of the raw, no-holds-barred bastard child that was waiting for her; the time honored trials and wetlands of the sport boiled down to the basics of six bodies, a ball and some mud. The wash outs arrayed against her couldn't compete on her terms and didn't try to, using every cheap trick in the book to keep her on her toes; it was the most she'd enjoyed herself in years. Pybba and Tward cheated her out of much of the purse naturally, but it was a slight she could swallow to be back in the arena. From that day she dove headlong into the seedier side of the sport, beating her body back into fighting shape and then some--unable to will herself free of the potent rush 'slapping' offered and no longer needing to hide her addiction. She played wherever there was money to bet, slowly growing accustomed to the higher risks, infrequent firefights and looser interpretation of the rules.

Trekking from planet to planet, flophouse to flophouse, alley to ally slowly shaped her into the sort of person best bestowed a generous berth when passing by, her ability to plant boot firmly to ass written over every inch of her. That was about the time she was approached by a man that promised to make her either very wealthy or very dead and in no uncertain terms told her she'd be throwing an upcoming event. She'd decided that particular Twi'lek didn't need both front teeth to tell his Hutt no, and proceeded to make the biggest mistake of her life for the second time.

Gamorreans and the occasional Gank-Killer were par for the course from there, outmatched, outpaced or otherwise eluded at every turn, but always around the next one. If you think you've beaten a Hutt however, you didn't notice that they'd changed the game you've been playing. In the end all it had taken was a winsome smile, a few good jokes and a night of whirlwind-drinking on some backwater rest stop for her to wake up with one hell of a headache surrounded by similarly bewildered strangers.

_{Δ Equipment}

This Khil combatant's arms and armor make a decisive statement: bigger is better. Armed with a Gamorrean vibro-axe acquired off one of her many porcine assailants and preferring to lob explosives over aim a blaster she is anything but subtle in a firefight. Her well worn and carbon scored armor weathered from forgotten frays yet not in disrepair; a Belnarian holdover from her time as a performance athlete. Between points A and B she usually relies on a beat up old repulsorlift that has seen better days. Bought used and then some the Arrow-23 seats five (if it wasn't missing a seat), boasts military grade plating (that should have been replaced years ago) and a spacious cargo hold (that doesn't quite lock anymore). Aside from these and a few sundries Xymone is usually nosing about with her personal secretary.

_{Δ Skills}

Having made a career out of tying other very strong people into knots while waist deep in what equates to a mudhole melee you'd best not put anything you want back in arms reach if her blood is up, extremities included. Though no gymnast Xymone's an efficient climber and can traverse irregular terrain and obstacles even while under great duress--especially wetlands and marshes like those found on her home planet. Sculpted by a lifetime of practice and repetition her throwing arm is a precision cannon and pulling even the most poorly flung projectile out of the air has become involuntary--she had to get in the habit of throwing grenades back because she was already in the habit of catching them. She coordinates well as part of a small group and picks up on non-verbal cues quickly. Xymone is a pretty bad driver all things considered, but doesn't think twice about turning a chase or game of chicken into a destruction derby. A khil so solidly built that it bears mentioning twice. She can carry a tune for a mile and makes very good smoothies.

_{Δ General Notes}

She prefers chipper tunes like Figrin D'an and the Modal Nodes break out single "Mad About Me", can't eat solids and finds herself supporting most of the empire's policies while still being nonplussed with how human-centric things have become.

_{Δ Relationships}

Mus Rosh - Over the narrow window within which they've interacted it has become immediately obvious that--were it not for the cranium cracking consequences to follow--Xymone would have tried to break the crimson criminal over a knee by now. Much of this malice towards Mus manifesting merely from the fact she's standing in for the Hutts as someone to hate, a face to put to her problems. Xymone suspects the Zabrak enjoys lording her dominion over them.

Grida Cairnu - A teeny tiny little thing with a pretty name and impressive hat, it actually took Xymone a bit longer than the rest of the crew to suss out for certain whether the Rodian was male or female. She thinks Grida much frailer than he actually is, often grabbing anything that looks heavy out of his hands and has grown into an annoying habit of rubbing a licked thumb over smudges she notices on his face. She mistakes his caution for compassion, believing the spry thief to be putting on a gruff air to compensate for his small stature. She thinks him adorable, like a messy youngster.

Mokra Tem - Xymone's habit of constantly complimenting others and blunting criticisms with humor made her mesh well with the self-conscious Kel Doran, and seeing as he's the only adequate sparring partner she spends quite a bit of her spare time around him. Though the two are like fire and ice enough similarities exist between them to foster a genuine respect, even if Xymone very vocally asserts 'he thinks too much' and should overcome his weaker constitution by 'getting stronger'. She has a running bet on whether he's handsome under the goggles and respirator and thinks his ceremonial sword silly and archaic. She doesn't believe in the force at all, thinking Jedi and Sith part of a convoluted cyborg conspiracy.

Relloc Provnor - As far as she's concerned a decent layer of dirt is telltale assurance someone's either exceptionally broke or equally hard working; though given the circumstances it's safe to mark Relloc down for both. Sharing his notion that the right tool and enough effort can fix any problem Xymone thinks well enough of the mechanic, which is problematic. Given that she doesn't dislike him Xymone sees no need to afford the man his personal space, her impractical size and genuine if misguided attempts to 'help' having made more than one job take longer than it should. She downplays any annoyance he's shown as being 'gruff' and suggested since he's always talking to the ship it seems to be ignoring him.

Rytthik Darhask - At first assessment a bit boring, like someone constructed him factory standard from pre-packaged parts. As utterly unremarkable a human as she's likely to come across so much as appearances are concerned and seemingly dead set against standing up straight. He can talk circles around her though and tends to rope her into finishing a chore or help him in some questionable enterprise via paper thin excuses. She finds herself wanting to dislike him but so far incapable of doing so for long. She forgets Rytthik's name often and so has resorted to a more memorable nom de guerre derived from it: Thick.

---

For a Fistful of Credits: A Star Wars Story

@Hexaflexagon So is it alright to add the revised Xymone to the characters tab? I didn't want to simply assume since the first CS was accepted that the second, substantially altered one was as well.

For a Fistful of Credits: A Star Wars Story

@Hexaflexagon Sorry I've been a ghost in the OOC as of late, had a sixteen hour shift right before an early morning. I actually think you were too generous with my CS and that it needs work. I've a few minor alterations to make on the history/motivation side of it that I'm buzzing through ATM. Should be done in a couple of hours or so. If you don't mind going over it once I'm finished of course.

EDIT********************EDIT

Below is the refurbished CS in its entirety with which I am much happier, if you approve I'd prefer to play as this version of Xymone. I know it's not as strongly written as some of the other Characters (I especially like @Redd's style) but I hope it hits home in the group dynamic department.

XYMONE VERSION 2.0

---

_{Featured: the only pic of a female Khil I believe to exist}

_{Xymone
∇ 32 ∇ ♀ ∇ 2.07m (6'8") ∇ Force Sensitivity N}

_{Δ Appearance}

At a touch over two meters and hale all the way through Xymone is a picture of health from the flat of her heels to the tip of her hullepi. Built tall and meated to the bone--though a hand wouldn't sink far before meeting muscle she is plush in all the right places--her enviable athleticism doing little to detract from the fullness of her figure. Her voice is a melodic trill thanks to the jawless, tendril heavy mouth so emblematic of her ilk, an aspect oftentimes repellent to other sentients but held in the highest and most intractable esteem by this confident Khil. These sensile breathing tubes easily the most animated facet of her many expressions and seat of her self-assumed 'exotic charm' it is not uncommon to spy a preening hand pass through their ranks to subtly assess if they're presentable. Xymone's skin is a deep dark grey pebbled along the arms, legs and back with the heptagonal hallmarks of an ongoing addiction with 'slappers', an externally applied performance enhancing drug.

Possessed of a pragmatic propensity to place something thick between herself and bone rattling impacts Xymone favors a bulky set of Belnarian armor that was at one time bespoke. Fashioned from composite plates sandwiched between several sheets of insular synthetic material etiolated endorsements form a fragmentary filigree over much of the repurposed raiment she wears. The thing a sectional sportswear skeleton repaired and refitted so heavily as to hardly resemble itself, piecemeal straps and hard padding partially replacing an absentee sleeve. Though this wouldn't seem out of place on someone tailgating the hottest new ultrasport the carbon scoring and deep gouges are, each a point among the running tally of a deadly game she's taken into overtime.

_{Δ Weltanschauung}

Polite and friendly for a woman so quick to adopt an 'us and them' mentality Xymone is the Khailian contradiction made manifest. Competitive to the core and ambitious yet somehow carefree, a creature of arrogance and compassion that pursues profession and pleasure with an equal and impressive devotion. Always a bit too willing to put herself out there and experience new things she is no stranger to disastrous misadventures, an optimism and cultural belief that anything can be overcome with enough effort often seeing her through. As a direct result however she often breaks down under prolonged stress if progress isn't forthcoming, reaching for a chemical kick-me-up to carry her over the hump and even worse off should it fail her.

A companionable enough person before, after and during the time it takes to know her Xymone is quick to grow possessive of the friends she makes for fear of being abandoned, always reaffirming friendships through horseplay and physical gesture. Over time growing so bold as to eat off the same plate or drink from the same glass as someone she's taken a shine to and sure to have a quickfire quip or unsightly insinuation for those that may take offense or discomfort from such actions. For a sympathetic sort she takes an irritable glee in finishing her companions sentences in exaggerated imitation, often prefaced with 'look at me, I'm so-and-so...'

Nothing if not a compulsive showboater that aches for the shower of accolades she's grown accustomed to Xymone places undue stock in the sentiment and praise of others, this shallow self-assurance of her worth a bitter balm with which she soothes a damaged ego. Though closely guarded the anxiety she harbors has played silent partner to many a brash outburst, needless risk and sudden surge of violence.

Though not inherently cruel she harbors an impressive capacity for devious, vindictive behavior when her loyalty is called into question and has sometimes waited years to avenge relatively minor slights, as a certain blind Bith can attest to. Not being uncharacteristic of her people she sees such behavior as a retaliation rather than overreaction, though would be just as readily appeased by a heart felt apology. Which would be fine if she wasn't such a sore loser at games of chance, quick to feel cheated despite herself.

To this day she remains good friends with a pair of Aqualish she'd made an impromptu alliance with on Ando. Pybba and Tward have drifted into dirtier lines of work since the chance meeting and attempt to kill her from time to time mind you, but they're damned amicable about it all the same. As twins they've an infuriating habit of insisting she can't tell Aqualish apart and an infuriating habit of being exactly right.

_{Δ History}

Eldest offspring to come from the well-planned pairing of Qitat and Ysget (A duo of decorated athletes) excellence was always expected of Xymone. She delivered, and when the public eye expected her to overshadow her parents she did not disappoint. Where other children were pampered she had been prepared and thus groomed for greatness exploded onto the amateur circuit during her debut. Latest in the legacy her parents wished to cement Xymone had been shaped into a superb specimen and all her energies directed at the sport of Lu'Kratan, a 3v3 ball game which incorporates an obstacle course and wrestling. Krat as it's known in the common vernacular was said to have arisen from the rituals and war dances pre-modern Khil used to settle disputes and traditionally the pursuit of women. Though off-leagues for men and a myriad of imigrant species met with only lite resistance the later reformations saw staunch opposition.

One such mouthpiece during the high point of her career playing for Belnar City she went on record saying "Krat's always been more than just a game to me, it's about who we are and where we came from. I never thought I'd have to sit here and appeal on behalf of my heritage." During the above debate proceedings devolved into a shouting match, with Xymone insinuating integration was a slippery slope that would lead to droids replacing players. History remembers her as being on the wrong side of the argument, because not more than a year later she was squaring off against a mixed race team that included Sscusk Tolmz. A self-described full time Trandoshan that had long lobbied for his chance in the lime light Sscusk was a media darling already billing the bout--win or lose--as a triumph. He would come to be vindicated.

The match in question was a spectacular hard fought back and forth that would see Khil dominance in the sport challenged for the first time. By the final quarter it seemed a certainty that despite her best efforts Xymone would be stripped of the championship she'd sacrificed so much for, something she felt she could not allow so desperately at the time. Though a vocal campaigner against doping the waning icon saw no other out; not wanting to disappoint her parents, partners or the true fans she made the biggest mistake of her life.

Had she been more adventurous as a child she'd of known about the intensity of 'slapping' for the first time, had she been a more responsible adult she'd have weighed the risks more carefully. There were a million different ways that next hour could have gone and in the years since Xymone has agonized over them all. It had felt so unreal, she couldn't believe what she'd done even as she was doing it. In the aftermath of the highly illegal takedown that saw speculation as to whether Sscusk would ever walk again, let alone play on a professional level a disgraced Xymone faced criminal charges and a doping scandal. The evidence of performance enhancing drugs in her system called not only her own past achievements into question but those of her parents and teammates.

Stripped of a life's work due to a split second decision the relatively light sentence she received was of little consolation, what wealth she'd had after the settlement frittered away in self-imposed exile from her homeland. Unable to adjust to civilian life, a crushingly depressing job as a taxi driver and resentment that seemed to linger when she was recognized she ended up admiring the skyline from atop a railing one lonely night on Andor. Xymone never did determine one way or the other if the pair of Aqualish that approached her had any idea what they were interrupting, but they certainly made it belligerently clear they knew whom. Somehow they'd enticed her into replacing the suddenly absent third of their trio in an underground Krat match, if nothing more it was a chance for her to say a final farewell to the sport that had divorced itself from her.

She was unprepared for how good it felt to be in the thick of the raw, no-holds-barred bastard child that was waiting for her; the time honored trials and wetlands of the sport boiled down to the basics of six bodies, a ball and some mud. The wash outs arrayed against her couldn't compete on her terms and didn't try to, using every cheap trick in the book to keep her on her toes; it was the most she'd enjoyed herself in years. Pybba and Tward cheated her out of much of the purse naturally, but it was a slight she could swallow to be back in the arena. From that day she dove headlong into the seedier side of the sport, beating her body back into fighting shape and then some--unable to will herself free of the potent rush 'slapping' offered and no longer needing to hide her addiction. She played wherever there was money to bet, slowly growing accustomed to the higher risks, infrequent firefights and looser interpretation of the rules.

Trekking from planet to planet, flophouse to flophouse, alley to ally slowly shaped her into the sort of person best bestowed a generous berth when passing by, her ability to plant boot firmly to ass written over every inch of her. That was about the time she was approached by a man that promised to make her either very wealthy or very dead and in no uncertain terms told her she'd be throwing an upcoming event. She'd decided that particular Twi'lek didn't need both front teeth to tell his Hutt no, and proceeded to make the biggest mistake of her life for the second time.

Gamorreans and the occasional Gank-Killer were par for the course from there, outmatched, outpaced or otherwise eluded at every turn, but always around the next one. If you think you've beaten a Hutt however, you didn't notice that they'd changed the game you've been playing. In the end all it had taken was a winsome smile, a few good jokes and a night of whirlwind-drinking on some backwater rest stop for her to wake up with one hell of a headache surrounded by similarly bewildered strangers.

_{Δ Equipment}

This Khil combatant's arms and armor make a decisive statement: bigger is better. Armed with a Gamorrean vibro-axe acquired off one of her many porcine assailants and preferring to lob explosives over aim a blaster she is anything but subtle in a firefight. Her well worn and carbon scored armor weathered from forgotten frays yet not in disrepair; a Belnarian holdover from her time as a performance athlete. Between points A and B she usually relies on a beat up old repulsorlift that has seen better days. Bought used and then some the Arrow-23 seats five (if it wasn't missing a seat), boasts military grade plating (that should have been replaced years ago) and a spacious cargo hold (that doesn't quite lock anymore). Aside from these and a few sundries Xymone is usually nosing about with her personal secretary.

_{Δ Skills}

Having made a career out of tying other very strong people into knots while waist deep in what equates to a mudhole melee you'd best not put anything you want back in arms reach if her blood is up, extremities included. Though no gymnast Xymone's an efficient climber and can traverse irregular terrain and obstacles even while under great duress--especially wetlands and marshes like those found on her home planet. Sculpted by a lifetime of practice and repetition her throwing arm is a precision cannon and pulling even the most poorly flung projectile out of the air has become involuntary--she had to get in the habit of throwing grenades back because she was already in the habit of catching them. She coordinates well as part of a small group and picks up on non-verbal cues quickly. Xymone is a pretty bad driver all things considered, but doesn't think twice about turning a chase or game of chicken into a destruction derby. A khil so solidly built that it bears mentioning twice. She can carry a tune for a mile and makes very good smoothies.

_{Δ General Notes}

She prefers chipper tunes like Figrin D'an and the Modal Nodes break out single "Mad About Me", can't eat solids and finds herself supporting most of the empire's policies while still being nonplussed with how human-centric things have become.

---

For a Fistful of Credits: A Star Wars Story

---

_{Featured: the only pic of a female Khil I believe to exist}

_{Xymone of Gamorr
∇ 32 ∇ ♀ ∇ 6'8 ∇ Force Sensitivity N}

_{Δ Appearance}

At a touch over two meters and hale all the way through Xymone radiates an infectious cheer from the flat of her heels to tip of her hullepi. Plush in all the right places her enviable athleticism detracts little from the fullness of her figure, with the caveat she remains plainly a picture of health rather than beauty; a hand wouldn't sink far before meeting muscle. Though the jawless tendril heavy mouth so emblematic of her ilk might be considered repellent to most sentients this confident Khil is of the intractable opinion it merely adds to her 'exotic charm', given their usually the most animated aspect of her expressions. Her skin is a deep dark grey that offsets the blue of her eyes and voice is as melodious as any of her kind.

With a heritage of soldiering and healthy respect for hard hitting ordinance Xymone favors heavier Belnarian armor. Fashioned from composite plates sewn between sheets of thermal dissipating material it has a deceptively unprotective, padded appearance despite being relatively stab proof, looking most like a winter coat to the untrained eye. Stiff and quite cumbersome its construction necessitates some exposed sections along the arms and spine for sake of mobility. A fondness of trophy hunting is evidenced elsewhere in her attire and amid more trivial keepsakes a belt of Gamorrean clan rings holds a place of prominence, likewise she is keen to adopt a ridiculous Advozse horn hat when merrymaking.

_{Δ Weltanschauung}

Polite and friendly for a woman capable of pulling your arms off Xymone is the Khilian contradiction made manifest. Dedicated and Ambitious yet somehow carefree, a creature of arrogance and compassion that pursues profession and pleasure with an equal and impressive devotion. Always a bit too willing to put herself out there and experience new things she is no stranger to disastrous misadventures, an optimism and cultural belief that anything can be overcome with enough effort often seeing her through. As a direct result however she often breaks down under prolonged stress if progress isn't forthcoming.

Born an incorrigible xenophile it was only a matter of time before she shirked the trappings of her ancestral homeland and set her sights beyond the stars, that same single-mindedness to see a thing done often urging her to attempt ill-advised or outright impossible feats with consenting (later bruised) adults. Infamously it was during an extended stay as a debt collector she started to be known in certain circles as the hammer of Rodia, though she couldn't say for sure if she'd earned the alias on-duty or off the clock. Prone as she is to prattle and gossip Xymone is unduly paranoid others are attempting to assassinate her character, as few things came before reputation in her line of work.

Though not inherently violent she harbors an impressive capacity for devious, vindictive behavior when her loyalty is called into question and has sometimes waited years to avenge relatively minor slights, as a certain blind Bith can attest to. Not being uncharacteristic of her people she sees such behavior as a retaliation rather than overreaction, though would be just as readily appeased by a heart felt apology. Which would be fine if she wasn't such a sore loser at games of chance, quick to feel cheated despite herself.

To this day she remains good friends with a pair of Aqualish that had attempted to mug her during a delivery to Ando, suggesting during the scuffle that she was in the wrong line of work. Pybba and Tward still attempt to kill her from time to time mind you, but their damned amicable about it all the same. As twins they've an infuriating habit of insisting she can't tell Aqualish apart and an infuriating habit of being exactly right.

_{Δ History}

Born to a soldier and star trader the career minded nature of her species meant she'd be seeing very little of one or the other, in this case Qitat, her mother. With nothing more than her father's embellished retellings and the rare long distance communique to go on a young Xymone found herself idealizing an absentee mother, her thoughts on how a woman ought to act skewed as a result. Eventually her parents became less and less enamored with each other and having never married drifted out of contact, something that has always been an irrational source of guilt for Xymone. Stubbornly fantasizing about a chance meeting that would never come she set out to become someone worthy of her mother's respect, which was naturally quite impossible with only an exaggerated caricature to compare herself to. As hard as she tried you'd of thought she was waiting for Xamar himself to show up looking for a padawan.

Sensing the growing distance between them Ysget did his best to indulge his daughter through what he thought to be the rebellious throes of youth, seeing as if nothing else she had demonstrated a solid work ethic. Giving a little incentive here and there for the least unsavory folk with whom he dealt to show his daughter a few 'moves' here and there; he'd never expected her to run off with one of them. As a shiftless sixteen year old greener behind the ears than a sea-sick Nautolan she was more the ship mascot than anything, the crew having planned to ransom her back to her father at a very reasonable rate. They hadn't however counted on her being so head-over-heels enamored with the prospect of freebooting. The common area was cleaned for the first time in years, chores got done for a change and even the least accomplished of scallywags suddenly found someone hanging on every word of exploits past. She'd made them feel like real pirates and--unknowingly at first--they'd began to live up to expectations.

By the time Xymone had grown enough to see the thick of any fighting that may come (and my how she had grown) the already old assemblage of scofflaws were positively aged. Coming to the conclusion that a life of violence and thievery was no life for the now not so wee Khil they'd become attached to a plan was hatched to have Xymone be the first through the door as they raided a lone vessel. No sooner was she on the modest cargo ship than they'd sealed the doors behind her and flown off, leaving her at the mercy of a relieved but understandably irate Ysget. Chewing her out like an enraged rancor for making such a brash and hurtful decision her father managed to wring a tearful apology from her as the two hugged and made amends.

Then she robbed him because damn it if she wasn't a grown woman and he'd have to accept her decisions sooner or later

Not really knowing where to go from there she bought passage from one world to the next committing the petty criminal equivalent of odd jobs; delivering suspicious passages, standing around and looking tough, etc. It wasn't until a brush with danger on Ando that a pair of muggers succinctly stated she could 'beat the stink off a jawa' and between the three of them agreed she was in the wrong line of work. Technically she'd only agreed to deliver the package safely, so in exchange for just telling them where it was going the Aqualish would put in a good word with their mercenary company. They lied of course, but apparently fighting Pybba and Tward to a standstill was just as good of an ice breaker. Unfortunately a certain Hutt on Nar Shaddaa would have preferred that parcel been handled with more care, so slowly but surely they tracked down the courier responsible.

Completely unawares to the deathly shadow now falling over her from half a galaxy away Xymone just thought Gamorreans liked picking fights with her for the better part of a decade and foolishly felt as if wearing enough of their fallen clan rings would be enough to disuade further attacks. It wasn't until a particularly suave sapient sweet talked her into a night of whirlwind drinking and she awoke next to similarly confused strangers that the situation began to dawn on her.

_{Δ Equipment}

This Khil combatant's arms and armor make a decisive statement: bigger is better. Armed with a Gamorrean vibro-axe acquired off one of her many porcine assailants and preferring to lob explosives over aim a blaster she is anything but subtle in a firefight. Her well worn and carbon scored armor weathered from forgotten frays yet not in disrepair; a Belnarian holdover from the republic era. Between points A and B she usually relies on a beat up old repulsorlift that has seen better days. Bought used and then some the Arrow-23 seats five (if it wasn't missing a seat), boasts military grade plating (that should have been replaced years ago) and a spacious cargo hold (that doesn't quite lock anymore). Aside from these and a few sundries Xymone is usually nosing about with her personal secretary.

_{Δ Skills}

One doesn't exactly earn the namesake 'of Gamorr' lightly when they've never set foot on the planet itself. Able to routinely outfight and overpower Gamorreans at spitting distance Xynome is capable of some uncanny feats of strength. Paired with the preconceived notion that effort is paramount she is an unpolished combatant that places little stock in the fancy moves and mystic 'mumbojumbo' of many martial arts, having never been impressed by tactful fighters that lacked the staying power to throw hands with her. Moreover she has a knack for throwing grenades that is a sight to behold, born from a prolonged and continued habit of playing catch with herself as she thinks. Xymone is a pretty bad driver all things considered, but doesn't think twice about turning a chase or game of chicken into a destruction derby. She can navigate wetlands with ease, carry a tune for a mile and makes very good smoothies.

_{Δ General Notes}

She prefers chipper tunes like Figrin D'an and the Modal Nodes break out single "Mad About Me", can't eat solids and finds herself supporting most of the empire's policies while still being nonplussed with how human-centric things have become.

---

For a Fistful of Credits: A Star Wars Story

BOOST THE MOOSTA!

For a Fistful of Credits: A Star Wars Story

I actually like Ta Tula Moosta if the ship's a piece of garbage. I'd name something in huttese if it was slow, ugly and needed people to do everything for it.

Also, as a side note the ship CAN both belong to Sep's pilot and the Hutts, if it was repossessed as part of the debt and gutted of everything non-essential. To add insult to injury they could have registered it under a new name, being spiteful space slugs.

After the End

Hopefully @DrunkasaurusRex, @Buddha and @Blubaron45 get around to writing their characters, I'd hate for this to die right out the gate.

The Birth of Emothiaen

By all means, I wouldn't of offered up the ideas if I was opposed to you using them. :P

I don't think you necessarily need to dial back the march of technology to account for magic, just as humans are experiencing magic for the first time this could be the Dralok's first real exposure to advanced 'mundane' technology. Just as humans are harnessing verse you could see Dralok slowly adopt modern firearms, etc etc.

The easiest equalizer would to simply have much of who and what they are and what the're capable of obfuscated by rumor, as I imagine folk would be a touch superstitious after uncovering them. Just list a whole bunch of outlandish claims in the OP and be secretly aware of which ones are true and what's been omitted. 'I hear they can flow through the Verse' like blood through a vein! Billy swears he seen one snatch the life right out of old Auntie Snow.'. That sort of stuff.

After the End

Looks like its shaping up to be a crew of cast offs and malcontents :D