I do not believe I have anything to post at the moment for this round, so skip me for now. If I have something to get up, or if something suddenly comes to me, I'll get it up ASAP.
This is being said under the impression I am reading you correctly, which I believe I am, and that there are another ~2 rounds before the collab itself.
Eyes stretched her neck idly, her eyes shut, as she let the shuttle's movements carry her down to the landing. After a few moments of grinding and croaking, the shuttle finally touched down and Eyes heaved a bit of a sigh. These straps were annoying. She was used to the pain, but the constant abrasiveness of the straps themselves against her upper body made her scarring somewhat agitated from the ordeal. She wanted to rid herself of these straps and get a proper stretch on as soon as she could.
So she slipped from the straps and picked up a bag, which carried her gear, and strapped a blaster pistol onto her torso in a manner that kept the weapon close to her heart, under her left arm in an under-the-shoulder-holster. Once she did that, she pulled a jacket on over her body, hiding the weapon, then slung her more natural seeming heavy pack over her shoulders and strapped it to her body. Thankfully, her time with The Kings has taught her how to conceal a lot of druk in a natural way. That and she was trained for this, to boot. So this pack contained the segmented parts of her rifle, her drones, and her various other bits of gear. The only things not packed away at the moment were her bracers and grappling launchers, which were hidden within her sleeves quite handily.
When she finished adjusting her clothes once more- looking, in every respect, like some scummy off-world ganger- and moved to stand with the rest of the squad, she couldn't help but grin. This op felt just a bit nostalgic to her, made her think back to home. She didn't allow these thoughts to linger though, they'd distract from the briefing and she needed to mentally be there for at least this much.
When Fa finally emerged, Eyes put on her customary cheery smile and allowed a hand to rest on her own hip, silently absorbing what the commanding Jedi had to say. At the end of the Jedi's briefing, eyes made the mental note of 'sufficiently threatened' and made sure to temper her usually unyielding instinct for survival. She'd nearly died enough times to not want to experience it again, but direct orders to hold back on lethality were just that- orders.
"Aye aye." she said in a quiet voice, mostly to herself, as a means of registering she had heard the order and briefing.
When Vebra spoke, however, Eyes couldn't help but smile a bit more. She respected and, well, liked the man more than she did Fa, and hearing his...well, she'd call it brevity, charged her own idealistic spirits. His declaration of 'let's go grab us a drink' resonated with something inside her, and she let her smile twist into a grin.
"Always wanted an excuse to drink on the job." she jabbed lightheartedly at Vebra's declaration that this should be fun, before running a hand through her hair and recapping the orders in her mind.
"...Huh. I'm gonna shift the positions some, cap, have Eli come with me. I'll stick out like a sore thumb on my own, and if things go bad I want someone who can take a punch at my side. I'll stay opposite side of the bar with 'im and keep an eye out for trouble while you two locate the schutta we're looking for."
Already her demeanor had 'laxed into a comfortable posture and a laid back manner. This was her kind of turf, so to speak, and she could read these places quite well. She lagged back a bit, signaling Eli to stand with her discreetly, and let the cap and the Jedi move in first. Once they got in, Eyes slipped closer to Elias and laughed, walking along with him, past the trandoshan, intending to get into the bar with the tougher man and get some space from the rest of the squad.
Naturally, she took in the atmosphere in an instant and, as a result, had an energy level matching the locale, which she used to metaphorically carry Elias along with her to her favorite place that wasn't the dance floor; the bar.
Name: Ashmir Sparlev - Callsign 'Eyes' Species: Human - Coruscant Age: 28 Gender: Female Faction: Jedi Strike Team Rank: Republic Special Forces Sergeant Commander: Captain Vebra Former master(s): Non-Important/N.a
Concerning you
You are on a mission. How did you dress for it? What else can you say about your looks?
I've got my fair share of scars, not just what you see- and no, I don't give a blast if you stare or not. They mostly came from the same fight that went sour, before I got it in my head that running away was a viable strategy of survival.
As for what I wear, I tend to keep to a moderate amount of armor, mostly plating on the torso and legs, but keep my arms mobile and free to maneuver. The only thing I keep on 'em are the bracers the Captain helped acquire, said I'd need 'em on this mission to keep a sith's saber away. I'm not complaining, I just don't want to be within 100 meters of a sith if I can help it. Cap' said they were Cortosis, and they aren't restrictive or hindering in any way, so I don't mind it. The only other thing to note is that this armor's got weaving in it that even goes down the unarmored arm-bits, ya know. Helps keep me unseen and unfocused by scanners and whatnot. I'm not too big into tech, so the finite aspects of this stuff escape me, I'm more a mechanically minded gal- all I know is I've slipped through thermal signatures and have tested some other conventional scanners on this stuff and have gotten a fuzzy signal rather than anything concrete. Probably saved my hide more than once when hiding. I probably could patch it together if it got damaged, but I don't have confidence in that endeavor.
As for my gear, I've got a fairly standard kit; I keep my sniping blaster close at all times, and on each wrist I keep a set of grappling-launchers, one on each arm, to make quick escapes. Somewhat more of a personal touch, and a personal favorite, are the recon drones I keep up to maintenance and tinkered with. They're primarily reconnaissance tools, but I admit that I've done my fair share of sabotage with them- give 'em a blaster or set 'em to blow, and they'll do some damage if they get the drop on something. I tend to keep three on hand, though one of 'em has been pieced back together a half dozen times. Poor thing's gone 'boom' more times than I care to count.
I keep a vibro-knife close to hand for emergencies, but the biggest part of my repertoire lies in my utility tools like the drones. Speaking of utility tools, I keep an small assortment of repulsor, sonic, thermal detonators on hand for emergencies, and a few mines because when I set up shop I might need to hold position for a while and don't want to be snuck up on. I don't keep more than two of each grenade on hand, and for the mines I hold onto one of each. Saboteur is one of my job descriptions, but I'm not a demolitions crew.
In order to confront the Sith, you need to be strong. Name one weakness or flaw you have identified but not neutralized.
I've got a Grade 'A' glass jaw. Can't take a hit worth a blast, and I've taken quite a few as is. That's why I keep so far away if I can help it, and got so blasted fast on my feet. I don't belong in the middle of a fight if I can help it. But I digress, I can't take a hit worth a blast one bit.
Fighting Sith is not easy. How do you plan to use the Force for this?
I don't plan on using the force, 'cos I can't. I can't touch that mystical magic of the Jedi one bit, but don't count me out because of that.
So, you can't use the force… but what else can you do?
I'm a blasted good shot, but if that were it I wouldn't be on this team, now would I? I'm also trained in the use of camoflauge and reconnaissance tools- they don't call me 'Eyes' for nothin'. In the terms of camoflauge, I've got some fancy stuff in my armor that keeps tech from picking me up so easy, something about a weave in the fabric that scrambles scanners and contains my body heat, but for the most part I tend to paint the druk out of my armor to blend in to the area, and if I need to hold position for a while I'll prepare some netting and a blind to sit up in. I guess you could say I'm expert at this stuff. Kinda my life's work. No big deal.
I'm also handy with drones, mostly use them to get eyes where mine can't reach, but I've rigged some drones up to go out with a bang, or put a shot on target. You'd be surprised how useful they can be in skilled hands. I've gotten really good at keeping them repaired and running over the years, and I've even built them up from spare parts when necessary. Long story short I can keep them up and running without supplies for a while if needed, but I'm not some amazing Jedi-of-tech.
That being said, I guess I could use the knowledge and knowhow of their systems to piece together some other things with the basics, but I've mostly got a mind for drones and other things kinda... leave me in a struggle unless they're really similar. I can do it, don't get me wrong, but it takes some time to get the mechanical bits sorted in my mind when they're used differently than I'm familiar with.
These aside, I'm also trained to use the vibro-knife and some hand-to-hand, but if I'm ever that close to the bad guys I've karked up something fierce...
Other than that, the only other thing to note is that I've gotten pretty blasted handy with a grappling hook over the years- it's gotten me out of some pretty sticky situations.
But that's all boring combat stuff, I'm also a pretty blasted good cook, if by being 'good' you mean 'they didn't die when they ate it'. Throw on a deft hand, and keen mind, for cards, you've got yourself Ashmir Sarlev.
Something got you to join this mission. What was it? What events shaped your life?
I was sitting in some seedy cantina. Again. The data pad in my hand just couldn't hold my focus, what with the highly distracting beverage in my other hand and the raucous music of the band urging me to jump up to my feet and dance along. I was beginning to regret my choice of locale until my eyes scanned the next data entry and a chill crept its way up my neck. Chills like this rarely occurred these days- too many blaster shots in my direction, too many minutes of held breath...
Too many lightsabers to the face.
So when these sorts of chills happened...well, I guess you could say they made me soldier up. I was going through the squad transference forms. For us spec ops, this was some bureaucracy druk. Cap had requested I be shifted to his team though, so it needed to be done. I wasn't really complaining about filling the forms out, but sometimes questions like this just make you think back to things you'd rather not remember...
"Cap wants to know about my past, huh?" I mumbled to myself, my voice drowned out by the music so close at hand. I settled my nerves with a swig of my drink, then set to the task at hand...
Place of Birth: Coruscant Parents: Unknown The programming was a bit clever and re-asked the question, and I have to say it did make a difference.
Guardian(s): The Kings
Now I know what you're thinking- who the kark are 'The Kings'. Well, if I'm gonna be honest with ya, I didn't come from a very pretty home life. Didn't have two parents, and barely had the one. I got picked up by the Kings and they might as well have been my family. Needless to say, I got out of there as fast as I could. Not that I don't appreciate what the Kings did for me, just...A girl has to aspire to be more than a gangster, right?
Previous occupations: N/A, served the Republic my whole life
This was only a bit of a lie, but on an official form they didn't need to know about what I did for the Kings. If the captain wanted to know the specifics of that life, he could ask me in person. I didn't need a record of petty crimes bogging down my military track.
Current Occupation: Special Operations Sergeant, designated reconnaissance and marksman operative
I wasn't sure why they had to ask me that. Must be a bureaucracy thing. For sure they knew what my job was, but who am I to question Republic methods? I'd jump through hoops if they told me to, and I may even like that druk too.
Married: No
And happily left single, at that. I've a decided disinterest in commitments at the moment, thank you. If anything I'm married to my drones and blaster rifle, and have been having a horrendous marital affair with a few high explosives from time to time.
describe your childhood
Well. Gee. No foreplay, huh? Just gotta jump right in...Well, let's get to it then...
I was an orphan girl in the slums. Nothing cute to say about this, it's just who I was. By the time you hit around the age of five, you're either dead or in someone else's pocket and seeing as I'm still alive I guess you could say that I found a pocket to sit in. I was taken care of by a relatively small gang known as 'The Kings'. In lower Coruscant, their territory mostly consisted of control of a few small shops and a bar they kept running as a front for their hideout. What they had that nobody else in the underworld did was class, though. At least, that's what they advertised. Regardless, they're the reason I had food on my plate and a bed to sleep in for the better part of my youth, but I didn't want to be in the slums with only a dream of what the sky looked like to drive me on, so I found my way to a recruitment office and signed on with the Republic Military.
I lied on the form, said I was older than I was, and with no references to list and no real official records to cite, there wasn't much reason to doubt me at that time. I wanted to get out of the underworld before more than its slang became habit to me. Luckily enough they bought my story and I was taken in for a more thorough evaluation, which was what put me on the track to the special operations branch I ended up on. By the time I was through training and conditioning, the rest of this story is on official record that I'm sure you can get ahold of cap.
I kept it brief, didn't want to remember too much. It was a bad time for me and the only reason I mentioned lying on the original recruitment form was because the cap and I had already established a rapport, so to speak, and I'm sure he wouldn't give me much druk for that now. Certainly not after everything I've been through for the Republic.
I looked away from the data pad after filling out these fields. The music that had been so distracting moments ago was now so far from my mind I hadn't even realized the bands had changed. It wasn't so much the prior fields that had me thinking at this point, it was the next one.
Why do you deserve to be on my team
That was a question that kicked me in the teeth. Well druk. I could've given any number of excuses and reasons to join this squad, but one in particular burned in my mind as I uploaded information to the data pad. Specifically, I uploaded my medical records from six years ago and a rather thorough report I had made on the event that karked up my face.
I tend to just call it 'The Incident' these days. I'm a glutton for the drama.
It was remarkable, how easily old hunting tactics came back to him as he worked his way through the brush. His cybernetic eye was dimmed, and the rest of his cybernetic enhancements covered in natural camouflage. The others at the base had offered technological disguises for it, but he shunned it. Technology had a tendency to fail, whereas nature always provided, and only failed if you let it. That said, as a massive Trandoshan, there was only so much Sish could do to be stealthy. Most prey on Trandosha was just as big and had a tendency to fight back.
He somehow doubted Republic Scouts would do either.
So it came as little surprise when she was ready for him. Of course, that mattered little when she was facing a Sith Lord. But he respected her courage, for all it did her. His lightsaber came up, deflecting her blaster shot as his other hand shot out, calling the Force to pin her down. She was slammed onto the ground, immobilized.
Sish grinned as he approached, eyeing the woman. “My, my aren’t you a pretty one?” He remarked, crouching next to her. “I’ll be nice. Tell me where your camp is, and I won’t give you too the male troopers to vent out some frustrations.”
The woman’s body struggled, in futility, but her hand remained gripped, one part in defiance one part in fear, around the handle of her blaster pistol. The larger sniping blaster lay discarded a short distance away, having been considered useless in the current situation. She panted hard, looking up at the huge Trandoshan who approached her- and his words made her shiver.
Ashmir swallowed her fear and bared a downright forced grin at the sith.
“I am not telling you druk.”
Perhaps not the words she should have chosen, but in her passion and pride to the Republic, she refused to give up information.
Sish chuckled. Defiance was always adorable “I don’t think you realize the situation you’re in. I could rip the information from your mind, leaving you nothing but a gibbering idiot. But that’d be boring. So I’m going to do it the old fashioned way.” His lightsaber sparked on, glowing red above the woman’s face. It sliced down, destroying the blaster pistol. “There we go. Now I don’t have to worry about you getting any silly ideas in your head.”
He grinned down at her, eye flashing a bright red.
Sish lowered the lightsaber till it was a hairsbreadth away from her face. “Last chance. Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll kill you quickly. You won’t even hear me mock you about how weak your Republic is.”
An undeniable flash of fear seared through her body at the nearness of this weapon, this blade of plasma, red and menacing, so close… and such fear even flickered through her defiant expression before she regained control of her features.
A new thought filled her mind at his words; Duty. She could buy time with resistance. That simple fact was more than enough for her.
So all the woman did in response was spit at the Trandoshan.
Sish grinned at her fear, ignoring the spit that flew through the air.. “Cute.” The lightsaber descended, burning flesh and halting. Sish gently moved the lightsaber down, stopping at her chin and lifting it back. His teeth bared in savagery. “Talk and it stops.”
Pain. Searing pain. The sensation shocked the woman, and at first she held still- but once he pulled the blade away a scream of pain erupted from the woman’s throat, and she tried desperately to thrash against the unseen force holding her down. Her scream subsided as swiftly as it arose however, and all that was left for the girl to do was gasp in pain and clench her eyes shut. She wasn’t talking.
Sish tsked. “So brave for nothing. What do you think it’s going to do? Your Republic is losing on all fronts. We’re burning your worlds, turning your people, slaughtering your armies. Even if we don’t get the drop on whatever force you’ve brought here, we’ll still butcher them. I’ve done it before. Hundreds of your soldiers, fleeing like the insects they are, fear roiling off of them as the last of their jedi protectors fall.” As he talked, Sish was bringing his lightsaber down the right side of her body, searing away the armor there and the skin beneath.
“Talk, girl, and this stops.”
A far more visceral scream erupted from the girl, and in this instance she was thankful for the force pinning her down- she would have thrashed and made this far worse on herself otherwise. But in a way, having that avenue of resistance would have been nice… Having it restricted, thusly, was a decidedly horrendous feeling- one that resonated strongly in the screams of pain and helplessness that Sish was breeding. Her armor burned away- light as it was there was no issue for the lightsaber do go through it, not that anything heavier would have truly mattered in this instance either- and her flesh was charred in an instant.
Her voice broke after a few moments of this scream, and she just exhaled extraordinarily heavy breaths of labored pain as she tried to breathe through the pain. This brief moment of quieter pain was quickly driven into another high pitched squeal of terror as the saber’s blade charred more of her skin.
“Pathetic. I haven’t even gotten to the muscle yet. I thought they trained you Republic types to be tougher than this.” Sish mocked, bringing the lightsaber up again. He brought it down on the right side of her face, starting at the top of her head. Hair burned and flesh sizzled again as Sish pressed harder, going through the first layer to the flesh and into the muscle beneath. He began slowly moving it down her face and body.
He was interrupted by distant explosions. Sish paused, looking over to where the Sith base camp was. “Oh...clever girl.” He chuckled, glancing down at her. “I’ll give you a fighting chance before I go kill your friends. You’re smart, but not strong. Maybe you’ll survive this. Maybe you’ll be actually strong if we ever meet again.” Sish’s flamethrower hand sparked to life, bathing the right side of the Republic sniper in flames. He went over her a few times to ensure she was burning nicely, then let her go, leaping off into the jungle towards the Sith base, a bloodthirsty grin on his face.
Thanks to Rtron for the assistance and volunteering of Sish for this
With that information uploaded to the data pad, I scanned it briefly. Anything else I needed to fill out was rather routine and mundane. Nothing else triggered phantom pains and bad memories. That meant I could get drunk now, and fill it out later.
"Atta-girl..." I muttered to myself. "Drown the pain, get back in the game."
The rest of this information was pretty simple to handle and mostly required requesting some records from the higher ups to have an official means of citing my commendations and career path to this point. It was primarily to get the cap details to things I've already talked with him about in person, but that didn't stop me from being thorough.
The recommendations of my instructors back in training were pretty high, it's how I got into spec ops training so early on.
Moving on from there, I detailed out my extensive training with drones and stealth equipment. This specialized training was the bulk of my actual training time, and by the time I got out of it all I was a blasted good shot- had some of the best scores on the rifle range of my group- and I had a head for the technology that goes into the drones.
The incident happened fairly early in my career, only a handful of ops under my belt before that schutta of a Trandoshan got his hands on me.
Then came the gritty stuff, the dirty stuff. The bulk of my actual military history, most of which was spent in reconnaissance operations and a handful of high priority target elimination cases. It was at this point in my life that people started calling me 'Eyes'. When people asked 'Do we have eyes on target', I'd be the one responding... Soon I was saying 'Eyes is on target' and the name just sorta...stuck.
What are you like, and what keeps you motivated?
Well druk, I'm pretty self motivated. I like to keep myself pumped and moving whenever I can, you know? But that aside, in these pretty dark times we've had basically my entire life, I've made it my duty and goal to assist the Republic in any way I can. Having witnessed some of the kronged up druk the sith can do personally and first-hand...It's kinda a big deal for me.
What's your standard combative style?
I primarily keep to long range and use a sniping rifle or drones to do the dirty work, I hate getting up close to the fight. However, I'm fast on my feet and escaping from a tangle is something I'm pretty blasted good at- between the grappling hooks and some clever uses of drones or mines, I won't be caught in a close range encounter for long. At least, that's the plan.
How do you relate to the other characters?
Captain Vebra "The Cap and I have a bit of a strange relationship. I call him 'dad', he tells me not to talk so trashy, we laugh, and get the job done. All in all I'm pretty fond of the fella, I just clean the language up a bit when he's around to keep things somewhat professional."
Sish "Kark that guy. Seriously. Kark him and everything he stands for." ----
Out of Character
How powerful is (s)he in the Force?
Absolute 0
Has your character encountered members of the other factions before?
Sish - How do you think she got those scars?
Your character can’t know his/her every weakness or flaw. Which ones were missing above?
Idealism - She's unrealistically ideal about most situations, even if her history and experiences should have lead her to have more realistic expectations.
Hubris - She's overwhelmingly confident in her capabilities, to the point she's mildly blind to a few of her short-comings
The Dark Side. How well does your character resist it?
About as much as your average person can, considering her incapability at utilizing the force
What is your character’s personality like? What motivates him/her?
Ashmir is a calm, reliable, sort. She's easy-going, laid back, and takes things in stride- though, at times, her language can devolve into rather blunt and crude phrasings and wordings. An idealist at heart, she tries to find the good in everything, even if the situation is bleak, though she's also one who has a fiery temper once finally pushed over the edge. She's fond of humor, song, and dance.
She's motivated by a drive and duty to the Republic Army, which got her out of the slums and into a position that mattered in the galaxy, even if it meant danger.
Do you have any limits as to what is “ok” to happen to your character?
Do whatever needs to happen, whatever logically should happen, or whatever ICly justifiably needs to happen. I don't care if a death occurs so long as it's not pure arbitration, and I don't care if anything else happens either- the character is story being told, and portraying that story as well as I can is my goal.
Do the ends justify the means?
Yes.
Captivity. Do you want him/her to potentially be captured?
I don't mind, do whatever needs to happen or whatever logically should happen IC
What do you think your character is doing in a few IC months?
Nothing at the moment, though ideas are always welcome!
Does your character have any secrets useful for the GMs’ plots?
(Send in PM)
This will be where Eyes' perspective of IC events will be kept, in a journal-esque notation, for the sake of keeping a log
There we are. A post about Naomi. I was going to do more than just elaborate on her, but I got mildly inspired as I was writing it up and spent this morning refining it down from the somewhat messy thing I had last night into this 'about Naomi' thing.
"Brother. Please explain yourself once more." Naomi's tone was that of severity and harshness, and she gazed upon Eli with a look she had, until now, spared him of; the look that Lana had received; the look that said 'You betrayed me' in some way, the look that said 'You lied to me' in some way.
Now only Beatrice and her father had been spared from that look. Not even the Dragonguard who accompanied her at times were spared from her judgement. People who had claimed to 'always be there to protect her' had failed. People who claimed 'the gods are merciful to the innocent' had failed. Those who spoke of life being better than death had even failed her, as the girl, now tasting life after a situation she considered her death, found that oblivion was a far better option than the sustained suffering of this world.
But suicide was not an option for her, no. The man standing before her, explaining his heinous crime to her, had taught her far better than that. He had taught her that failure was inexcusable, that giving up was unforgivable, and that hardship only made you stronger.
So Naomi had immediately ruled out killing herself, but had become increasingly harsh and brutal as the days wore on. She shifted Hoppers in her arms, gently making sure the bunny's comfort was as great as possible, as she settled herself in to hear her brother's words a second time.
Eli, being fortunate enough to be graced with a high level of intellect and social graces, knew his sister did not wish to hear the details of the economic agreement, and made haste in his explanation;
"You are to be married. That is all." He said the words clearly, with no anger or sympathy. It was her duty. He hated it as much as she did, but he understood its necessity. She did not grasp that concept- necessity- and he was keenly aware of it, and thusly had taken her aside like this to tell her himself.
"It will secure the alliance. Allow us to avenge you with the comfort of allies. Allow us to consolidate and grow our own power, so that no one dare to harm us like this again." His voice, much to his satisfaction, maintained its neutrality.
"I see. You married me off without my consent, or so much as asking me how I felt. Even Drevala would have done that much for me." She said critically, a scowl forming on her face. "Well, I'll have none of it!" She hissed at him. "I refuse! I'd rather we all burn than marry-"
Her tirade, only in its fledgling stages, was cut short by a simple gesture. Something that had never been done to her before. Eli had slapped her.
"Listen here, flower." Eli began, his own gaze hardening. "We all do things we don't like. We all have to suffer. Your pain, your anger, your hate? It is unrefined and crude." The man knelt down to be at eye level with Naomi. "Look into my eyes. Do it." He grabbed her face and forced the girl, startled by the pain and suddenness, to stare into his eyes as he let the calm demeanor he maintained so painstakingly to drop.
Naomi's own critical, hard, eyes, softened and widened in the weight of Eli's own powerful gaze, and she numbly reached a hand up, balancing Hoppers carefully, to rub her cheek.
"Naomi. You're not the only one who's angry. I will flay that man alive for what he's done to you, but we can't just let our emotions take control of us." He said evenly, keeping her eyes focused on his. Eli was a man full of anger and hate in his own right, and seeing these things he had crushed and condensed and refined within himself from his childhood reflected in his younger sister pained him. So he had to make this clear. As clear as he could.
"Take that anger. Take it deep inside you. Let it hide. Let it broil. Let it cool, become an edge as hard as steel rather than a fire. Then use that edge against your enemies. If you let this rage inside you, let it take control, you'll become nothing but ashes before long. Do you understand me? You have to be the one in control. I don't care if you're angry, I'm not going to do Drevala's bit and try and calm you down, I just don't want you being a stupid little girl. You're not a stupid little girl, now are you Naomi?"
She shook her head, mesmerized by his words as she often was. No, she wasn't stupid. Yes, she did understand. But he clearly didn't- and that worm of anger manifested in her mind. He couldn't be trusted. Not after this. But his lessons could be trusted. She could learn from him still. She could harbor this anger, turn it against those who betrayed her, who caused her harm. But he still couldn't be trusted. Not anymore. That worm of paranoia and anger whispered such things to her, but in the moment Eli's presence was overbearing, and she felt nothing but the respect, if diluted by her raging anger, she had always felt for her brother and his lessons.
"I understand brother. I understand." She said quietly. "I wish to go now."
"Alright." Eli said after a sigh, pulling away and putting his neutrality back up. "If you wish to discuss anything, I will always be ready to assist you."
"Of course, brother." she said, curtsying, and carrying Hoppers out of his room.
After leaving her brother, Naomi made a direct path to her father. Her father, she thought, would surely understand that she couldn't be married off like this. She couldn't. It was insanity. She didn't know, let alone love the man! But her own mine rebelled at that thought as quickly as she had it- love was a lie, or at least a far rarer occurrence than she had initially thought. that bitter'ed her mind, made her rationalize it as Eli would; she didn't know the man, and it could be a danger to herself.
And so, with little speaking or interruption, Naomi found her way to her father's garden. The bleak, stone, dead garden. He was meditating within it as he often did, though the stones in the garden were now splashed with blood, and a few more weeds had sprung up in the dry dirt. Perhaps this place, she imagined, did grow with death.
She approached her father from behind, then crouched down and gently set Hoppers upon the stony ground. The bunny then proceeded to hop all about, as his name implied, and explore the garden. Naomi, for her part, did what she used to do as a small girl in the castle; she moved to sit across from her father and mimic his posture and pose. She faced him, his face stoic and hard. She gazed at him for some time, studying him.
This was her father. The man she respected and, often, obeyed without question. But as she sat here, her mind, wormed with paranoia, related this same feeling to her brother- whom she had recently concluded had betrayed her in some way. She was loathe to think it, but perhaps... Perhaps even The Old Man couldn't be trusted. She would have to test this.
"Father."
"Flower."
The immediate exchange was mechanical and rehearsed. They had done this similar thing many times before. Naomi meditating before him, questioning him, and him answering without hesitation.
"I'm to be married."
"Yes."
That made Naomi sigh and wring her hands together, then anger took over her nervousness and her hands clenched into fists.
"I do not wish it."
"I know."
His immediate response and lack of sympathizing with her made her hit her legs and hiss with frustration.
"I do not know him."
"I know."
"I may not like him."
"You will not."
"Then why?"
"Because you are a woman. A woman of this household has many responsibilities. You, my flower, have managed to miss out on many of them. Too young for the war. Too young to manage the estate. Too young to fight the dragons. You are my little girl. Will always be my little girl. However you've learned the world is harsh. The world is cruel. The only thing we can trust is death. The only thing we can trust is pain. The only thing we can trust is ourselves. Even now your are likely labelling me as a traitor, or saying I've lied to you in some way, and that is true. I have lied to you your whole life, my flower. I've told you that I will always be there to protect you. I've told you that I will keep you safe. I've been made a dishonest man by my own foolishness, and because of it you're hurting far more than you would be if I had only been honest."
All this was immediate, without so much as a hesitation between her question and his answer. Naomi scowled severely, and her hand even went to the hilt of the dirk she carried. The Old Man only smiled softly at feeling her hand shift.
"I have lied to you your whole life, kept you inside walls and protected you. You must learn to do that yourself."
"Then...F-Father... W-What is it y-you desire me to do?" Her voice was shaking with audible anger.
"Marry the man."
this response only resulted in another angry growl.
"I did not, however, say you had to stay married to him. A De Reimer losing his life is no love lost between you and I. Don't be stupid, girl."
That made Naomi pause. 'Girl'. Father never called her anything but 'Flower'. She moved her hand away from the dirk and occupied them by clenching them together into a big fist, then flexing her fingers and popping them one by one, pulling them at the joint. She did this to distract herself for a moment as she deliberated on her father's words.
"I see. Thank you father. It is nice to know you are still my ally."
"You will always be my little girl."
"May I make a request?"
"Whatever it is, it is granted."
"Thank you father."
Naomi rose up from the ground, went to find Hoppers, then made her exit.
Naomi was wearing armor. This was something she had been steadily adapting to over the weeks, ever since she got out of bed from her near-death-experience. Unlike Beatrice however, Naomi only wore a breastplate. She took after her father in this way. She had found that her hand favored not the sword, nor did it favor the greater weapons such as Beatrice's. Rather, her hand found its greatest comfort in smaller weapons like the dirk she carried. So Beatrice had acquired an assortment of knives and daggers for the girl to carry if she intended to fight; her signature dirk she carried on the back of her hips, a heavier knife with a thicker blade meant for defending was kept close to her off-hand on the hip, and an assortment of lighter knives were placed at other places on her torso and upper legs. Naomi, after growing accustomed to carrying them, found she liked having them close, and liked having so many, and found that even just holding and gazing upon one of the weapons was a titillating experience for her.
But she was not standing in the training field with Beatrice now. No, she was not in that bright and familiar place at all. She was in a dark place, a damp place, a place deep below the castle she had come to know so well. This place was a dungeon. A secluded, horrible, place where criminals were kept. Some were forgotten on purpose, others by time, and others still deserved execution for their crimes.
Others, however, were more interesting to Naomi. Ones that had secrets. Ones that were to receive...secret-loosening techniques.
"It ain't erry-day we get t' princess down 'ere." The hooded man said to Naomi. "And ne'er wit such a request as yers, m'lady."
"Shut up. Stop speaking. Your idiotic speech upsets me." She said critically. The hooded man did naught but nod and move on, guiding her as she had requested. They travelled along the dark tunnels, passing cells of decrepit individuals and degraded people. Soon the hooded man stepped up to a door and, using his heavy ring of keys, opened it for her.
"'Ere you are m'lady."
"I said shut up."
And so the man did. Naomi stepped into the room. It stank of blood, piss, and defecation. It made her senses revolt, but her anger hardened. She came here for a purpose, to do as Eli said and sharpen her anger, harden it, make it into an edge. And she was also taking a lesson from her father- the only thing we can trust is death, pain, and ourselves. So she was going to learn to tell when people were lying to her. Learn to read people like Eli.
But she was going to do it her way.
There was a man, hooded- but unlike the one who had guided her here, his hood had no eyeholes. It was merely a burlap sack tied over his head. She stepped into the room.
The door behind her closed.
And she let out a sigh. The man jerked, for some reason she could not yet tell, at her simple exhalation of air- though he did not go far, due to his hands and feet being bound to the far wall with chains.
"I will be your new partner." She said softly, delicately. "I hear you were a thief. Who buried their treasures. And that the people you stole from want their things back...quite a bit."
"A girl?" He laughed, full of derision, from within his hood. "They think a girl can make me talk?"
Naomi didn't speak further, merely gazed around the room. What she saw mesmerized her. Tools. So many tools. So many things far more specific and useful than the knives she had intended to use. But one thing in particular made her stop and lick her lips. Titillation was the only word that could truly apply, the same titillation she got from gazing at her knives. She walked over and picked the tool up from the bloodied table it rested, grabbing its handle and letting it uncoil down to the floor.
A whip.
As she held it in her hand, she felt herself smile.
"Pain." She said after a while, letting the feel of the whip rest in her hand. "Is only the beginning. Death is my good friend, and he'll let me know your secrets after I'm done."
-------------
Naomi walked out of the room roughly an hour later. She had coiled the whip, now somewhat bloody, back up and hooked it onto her belt. She looked at the hooded man who had waited outside the door and had a blank visage.
"He's dead. I pushed him too hard." she said to him. He nodded, refusing to speak after her adamant declaration for him to shut up, but didn't seem upset with her. Rather, understanding. Someone new to torture often pushes people too far.
"And I'm keeping the whip."
With her newfound hobby, she had done as he father and brother have instructed. She had stopped being stupid, found a way to refine her anger and hatred, and a way to stop lashing out at others. She has unmistakably changed, but is no longer the volatile, angry, woman she has been in recent time. She harbors, and will continue to harbor, intense hatred for all that the church stands for, seeing it as the greatest lie in Formaroth, and in her practices with torture and pain she has begun to learn to tell when people are lying to her, though this is twisted in her mind by the pervasive and overbearing paranoia that has become a part of her psyche.
But she internalizes most of it. She's still angry. Still vengeful. Still full of hate, but as she found an outlet for it all, all that's left inside her has been cooling down, and she has been hardening it into steel as her brother recommended. Naomi Blackwell has a knack for torture, and a soul of fire that has been lit by powers beyond her comprehension.
Her cooling has been welcomed by Eli, who has resumed her education at her behest. She desires to learn as much of the De Reimer family as she can in as short of a time as she can, so as to learn of her future husband and his family.
Her cooling has been welcomed by Beatrice, who has noted a marked increase in her combative capabilities once she stopped being driven solely by anger.
Drevala, however, finds that this sort of sudden calming is a confusing thing. She wants the little girl she helped raise back, but all she has now is a hard and cold woman. A woman, Drevala finds, reminds her too much of her father. She only hopes that she can, with her steady and gentle hand, continue guiding Naomi back towards kindness and, in Drevala's mind, innocence. However, the rest of the world would call this 'Naiveté'.
It took but a time nearing a few months for the girl to go from being bedridden and dying, to being angry and vengeful, to steadily becoming cold and hard. A woman of iron, if unrefined and untested, in the making.
I will be delayed until later this week, Saturday is the day it appears I'll have something up. I apologize for the prediction last week, but this Saturday I can guarantee something will be up. And it won't even be rushed, either, as a plus.
Name: Ashmir Sparlev - Callsign 'Eyes' Species: Human - Coruscant Age: 28 Gender: Female Faction: Jedi Strike Team Rank: Republic Special Forces Sergeant Commander: Captain Vebra Former master(s): Non-Important/N.a
Concerning you
You are on a mission. How did you dress for it? What else can you say about your looks?
I've got my fair share of scars, not just what you see- and no, I don't give a blast if you stare or not. They mostly came from the same fight that went sour, before I got it in my head that running away was a viable strategy of survival.
As for what I wear, I tend to keep to a moderate amount of armor, mostly plating on the torso and legs, but keep my arms mobile and free to maneuver. The only thing I keep on 'em are the bracers the Captain helped acquire, said I'd need 'em on this mission to keep a sith's saber away. I'm not complaining, I just don't want to be within 100 meters of a sith if I can help it. Cap' said they were Cortosis, and they aren't restrictive or hindering in any way, so I don't mind it. The only other thing to note is that this armor's got weaving in it that even goes down the unarmored arm-bits, ya know. Helps keep me unseen and unfocused by scanners and whatnot. I'm not too big into tech, so the finite aspects of this stuff escape me, I'm more a mechanically minded gal- all I know is I've slipped through thermal signatures and have tested some other conventional scanners on this stuff and have gotten a fuzzy signal rather than anything concrete. Probably saved my hide more than once when hiding. I probably could patch it together if it got damaged, but I don't have confidence in that endeavor.
As for my gear, I've got a fairly standard kit; I keep my sniping blaster close at all times, and on each wrist I keep a set of grappling-launchers, one on each arm, to make quick escapes. Somewhat more of a personal touch, and a personal favorite, are the recon drones I keep up to maintenance and tinkered with. They're primarily reconnaissance tools, but I admit that I've done my fair share of sabotage with them- give 'em a blaster or set 'em to blow, and they'll do some damage if they get the drop on something. I tend to keep three on hand, though one of 'em has been pieced back together a half dozen times. Poor thing's gone 'boom' more times than I care to count.
I keep a vibro-knife close to hand for emergencies, but the biggest part of my repertoire lies in my utility tools like the drones. Speaking of utility tools, I keep an small assortment of repulsor, sonic, thermal detonators on hand for emergencies, and a few mines because when I set up shop I might need to hold position for a while and don't want to be snuck up on. I don't keep more than two of each grenade on hand, and for the mines I hold onto one of each. Saboteur is one of my job descriptions, but I'm not a demolitions crew.
In order to confront the Sith, you need to be strong. Name one weakness or flaw you have identified but not neutralized.
I've got a Grade 'A' glass jaw. Can't take a hit worth a blast, and I've taken quite a few as is. That's why I keep so far away if I can help it, and got so blasted fast on my feet. I don't belong in the middle of a fight if I can help it. But I digress, I can't take a hit worth a blast one bit.
Fighting Sith is not easy. How do you plan to use the Force for this?
I don't plan on using the force, 'cos I can't. I can't touch that mystical magic of the Jedi one bit, but don't count me out because of that.
So, you can't use the force… but what else can you do?
I'm a blasted good shot, but if that were it I wouldn't be on this team, now would I? I'm also trained in the use of camoflauge and reconnaissance tools- they don't call me 'Eyes' for nothin'. In the terms of camoflauge, I've got some fancy stuff in my armor that keeps tech from picking me up so easy, something about a weave in the fabric that scrambles scanners and contains my body heat, but for the most part I tend to paint the druk out of my armor to blend in to the area, and if I need to hold position for a while I'll prepare some netting and a blind to sit up in. I guess you could say I'm expert at this stuff. Kinda my life's work. No big deal.
I'm also handy with drones, mostly use them to get eyes where mine can't reach, but I've rigged some drones up to go out with a bang, or put a shot on target. You'd be surprised how useful they can be in skilled hands. I've gotten really good at keeping them repaired and running over the years, and I've even built them up from spare parts when necessary. Long story short I can keep them up and running without supplies for a while if needed, but I'm not some amazing Jedi-of-tech.
That being said, I guess I could use the knowledge and knowhow of their systems to piece together some other things with the basics, but I've mostly got a mind for drones and other things kinda... leave me in a struggle unless they're really similar. I can do it, don't get me wrong, but it takes some time to get the mechanical bits sorted in my mind when they're used differently than I'm familiar with.
These aside, I'm also trained to use the vibro-knife and some hand-to-hand, but if I'm ever that close to the bad guys I've karked up something fierce...
Other than that, the only other thing to note is that I've gotten pretty blasted handy with a grappling hook over the years- it's gotten me out of some pretty sticky situations.
But that's all boring combat stuff, I'm also a pretty blasted good cook, if by being 'good' you mean 'they didn't die when they ate it'. Throw on a deft hand, and keen mind, for cards, you've got yourself Ashmir Sarlev.
Something got you to join this mission. What was it? What events shaped your life?
I was sitting in some seedy cantina. Again. The data pad in my hand just couldn't hold my focus, what with the highly distracting beverage in my other hand and the raucous music of the band urging me to jump up to my feet and dance along. I was beginning to regret my choice of locale until my eyes scanned the next data entry and a chill crept its way up my neck. Chills like this rarely occurred these days- too many blaster shots in my direction, too many minutes of held breath...
Too many lightsabers to the face.
So when these sorts of chills happened...well, I guess you could say they made me soldier up. I was going through the squad transference forms. For us spec ops, this was some bureaucracy druk. Cap had requested I be shifted to his team though, so it needed to be done. I wasn't really complaining about filling the forms out, but sometimes questions like this just make you think back to things you'd rather not remember...
"Cap wants to know about my past, huh?" I mumbled to myself, my voice drowned out by the music so close at hand. I settled my nerves with a swig of my drink, then set to the task at hand...
Place of Birth: Coruscant Parents: Unknown The programming was a bit clever and re-asked the question, and I have to say it did make a difference.
Guardian(s): The Kings
Now I know what you're thinking- who the kark are 'The Kings'. Well, if I'm gonna be honest with ya, I didn't come from a very pretty home life. Didn't have two parents, and barely had the one. I got picked up by the Kings and they might as well have been my family. Needless to say, I got out of there as fast as I could. Not that I don't appreciate what the Kings did for me, just...A girl has to aspire to be more than a gangster, right?
Previous occupations: N/A, served the Republic my whole life
This was only a bit of a lie, but on an official form they didn't need to know about what I did for the Kings. If the captain wanted to know the specifics of that life, he could ask me in person. I didn't need a record of petty crimes bogging down my military track.
Current Occupation: Special Operations Sergeant, designated reconnaissance and marksman operative
I wasn't sure why they had to ask me that. Must be a bureaucracy thing. For sure they knew what my job was, but who am I to question Republic methods? I'd jump through hoops if they told me to, and I may even like that druk too.
Married: No
And happily left single, at that. I've a decided disinterest in commitments at the moment, thank you. If anything I'm married to my drones and blaster rifle, and have been having a horrendous marital affair with a few high explosives from time to time.
describe your childhood
Well. Gee. No foreplay, huh? Just gotta jump right in...Well, let's get to it then...
I was an orphan girl in the slums. Nothing cute to say about this, it's just who I was. By the time you hit around the age of five, you're either dead or in someone else's pocket and seeing as I'm still alive I guess you could say that I found a pocket to sit in. I was taken care of by a relatively small gang known as 'The Kings'. In lower Coruscant, their territory mostly consisted of control of a few small shops and a bar they kept running as a front for their hideout. What they had that nobody else in the underworld did was class, though. At least, that's what they advertised. Regardless, they're the reason I had food on my plate and a bed to sleep in for the better part of my youth, but I didn't want to be in the slums with only a dream of what the sky looked like to drive me on, so I found my way to a recruitment office and signed on with the Republic Military.
I lied on the form, said I was older than I was, and with no references to list and no real official records to cite, there wasn't much reason to doubt me at that time. I wanted to get out of the underworld before more than its slang became habit to me. Luckily enough they bought my story and I was taken in for a more thorough evaluation, which was what put me on the track to the special operations branch I ended up on. By the time I was through training and conditioning, the rest of this story is on official record that I'm sure you can get ahold of cap.
I kept it brief, didn't want to remember too much. It was a bad time for me and the only reason I mentioned lying on the original recruitment form was because the cap and I had already established a rapport, so to speak, and I'm sure he wouldn't give me much druk for that now. Certainly not after everything I've been through for the Republic.
I looked away from the data pad after filling out these fields. The music that had been so distracting moments ago was now so far from my mind I hadn't even realized the bands had changed. It wasn't so much the prior fields that had me thinking at this point, it was the next one.
Why do you deserve to be on my team
That was a question that kicked me in the teeth. Well druk. I could've given any number of excuses and reasons to join this squad, but one in particular burned in my mind as I uploaded information to the data pad. Specifically, I uploaded my medical records from six years ago and a rather thorough report I had made on the event that karked up my face.
I tend to just call it 'The Incident' these days. I'm a glutton for the drama.
It was remarkable, how easily old hunting tactics came back to him as he worked his way through the brush. His cybernetic eye was dimmed, and the rest of his cybernetic enhancements covered in natural camouflage. The others at the base had offered technological disguises for it, but he shunned it. Technology had a tendency to fail, whereas nature always provided, and only failed if you let it. That said, as a massive Trandoshan, there was only so much Sish could do to be stealthy. Most prey on Trandosha was just as big and had a tendency to fight back.
He somehow doubted Republic Scouts would do either.
So it came as little surprise when she was ready for him. Of course, that mattered little when she was facing a Sith Lord. But he respected her courage, for all it did her. His lightsaber came up, deflecting her blaster shot as his other hand shot out, calling the Force to pin her down. She was slammed onto the ground, immobilized.
Sish grinned as he approached, eyeing the woman. “My, my aren’t you a pretty one?” He remarked, crouching next to her. “I’ll be nice. Tell me where your camp is, and I won’t give you too the male troopers to vent out some frustrations.”
The woman’s body struggled, in futility, but her hand remained gripped, one part in defiance one part in fear, around the handle of her blaster pistol. The larger sniping blaster lay discarded a short distance away, having been considered useless in the current situation. She panted hard, looking up at the huge Trandoshan who approached her- and his words made her shiver.
Ashmir swallowed her fear and bared a downright forced grin at the sith.
“I am not telling you druk.”
Perhaps not the words she should have chosen, but in her passion and pride to the Republic, she refused to give up information.
Sish chuckled. Defiance was always adorable “I don’t think you realize the situation you’re in. I could rip the information from your mind, leaving you nothing but a gibbering idiot. But that’d be boring. So I’m going to do it the old fashioned way.” His lightsaber sparked on, glowing red above the woman’s face. It sliced down, destroying the blaster pistol. “There we go. Now I don’t have to worry about you getting any silly ideas in your head.”
He grinned down at her, eye flashing a bright red.
Sish lowered the lightsaber till it was a hairsbreadth away from her face. “Last chance. Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll kill you quickly. You won’t even hear me mock you about how weak your Republic is.”
An undeniable flash of fear seared through her body at the nearness of this weapon, this blade of plasma, red and menacing, so close… and such fear even flickered through her defiant expression before she regained control of her features.
A new thought filled her mind at his words; Duty. She could buy time with resistance. That simple fact was more than enough for her.
So all the woman did in response was spit at the Trandoshan.
Sish grinned at her fear, ignoring the spit that flew through the air.. “Cute.” The lightsaber descended, burning flesh and halting. Sish gently moved the lightsaber down, stopping at her chin and lifting it back. His teeth bared in savagery. “Talk and it stops.”
Pain. Searing pain. The sensation shocked the woman, and at first she held still- but once he pulled the blade away a scream of pain erupted from the woman’s throat, and she tried desperately to thrash against the unseen force holding her down. Her scream subsided as swiftly as it arose however, and all that was left for the girl to do was gasp in pain and clench her eyes shut. She wasn’t talking.
Sish tsked. “So brave for nothing. What do you think it’s going to do? Your Republic is losing on all fronts. We’re burning your worlds, turning your people, slaughtering your armies. Even if we don’t get the drop on whatever force you’ve brought here, we’ll still butcher them. I’ve done it before. Hundreds of your soldiers, fleeing like the insects they are, fear roiling off of them as the last of their jedi protectors fall.” As he talked, Sish was bringing his lightsaber down the right side of her body, searing away the armor there and the skin beneath.
“Talk, girl, and this stops.”
A far more visceral scream erupted from the girl, and in this instance she was thankful for the force pinning her down- she would have thrashed and made this far worse on herself otherwise. But in a way, having that avenue of resistance would have been nice… Having it restricted, thusly, was a decidedly horrendous feeling- one that resonated strongly in the screams of pain and helplessness that Sish was breeding. Her armor burned away- light as it was there was no issue for the lightsaber do go through it, not that anything heavier would have truly mattered in this instance either- and her flesh was charred in an instant.
Her voice broke after a few moments of this scream, and she just exhaled extraordinarily heavy breaths of labored pain as she tried to breathe through the pain. This brief moment of quieter pain was quickly driven into another high pitched squeal of terror as the saber’s blade charred more of her skin.
“Pathetic. I haven’t even gotten to the muscle yet. I thought they trained you Republic types to be tougher than this.” Sish mocked, bringing the lightsaber up again. He brought it down on the right side of her face, starting at the top of her head. Hair burned and flesh sizzled again as Sish pressed harder, going through the first layer to the flesh and into the muscle beneath. He began slowly moving it down her face and body.
He was interrupted by distant explosions. Sish paused, looking over to where the Sith base camp was. “Oh...clever girl.” He chuckled, glancing down at her. “I’ll give you a fighting chance before I go kill your friends. You’re smart, but not strong. Maybe you’ll survive this. Maybe you’ll be actually strong if we ever meet again.” Sish’s flamethrower hand sparked to life, bathing the right side of the Republic sniper in flames. He went over her a few times to ensure she was burning nicely, then let her go, leaping off into the jungle towards the Sith base, a bloodthirsty grin on his face.
Thanks to Rtron for the assistance and volunteering of Sish for this
With that information uploaded to the data pad, I scanned it briefly. Anything else I needed to fill out was rather routine and mundane. Nothing else triggered phantom pains and bad memories. That meant I could get drunk now, and fill it out later.
"Atta-girl..." I muttered to myself. "Drown the pain, get back in the game."
The rest of this information was pretty simple to handle and mostly required requesting some records from the higher ups to have an official means of citing my commendations and career path to this point. It was primarily to get the cap details to things I've already talked with him about in person, but that didn't stop me from being thorough.
The recommendations of my instructors back in training were pretty high, it's how I got into spec ops training so early on.
Moving on from there, I detailed out my extensive training with drones and stealth equipment. This specialized training was the bulk of my actual training time, and by the time I got out of it all I was a blasted good shot- had some of the best scores on the rifle range of my group- and I had a head for the technology that goes into the drones.
The incident happened fairly early in my career, only a handful of ops under my belt before that schutta of a Trandoshan got his hands on me.
Then came the gritty stuff, the dirty stuff. The bulk of my actual military history, most of which was spent in reconnaissance operations and a handful of high priority target elimination cases. It was at this point in my life that people started calling me 'Eyes'. When people asked 'Do we have eyes on target', I'd be the one responding... Soon I was saying 'Eyes is on target' and the name just sorta...stuck.
What are you like, and what keeps you motivated?
Well druk, I'm pretty self motivated. I like to keep myself pumped and moving whenever I can, you know? But that aside, in these pretty dark times we've had basically my entire life, I've made it my duty and goal to assist the Republic in any way I can. Having witnessed some of the kronged up druk the sith can do personally and first-hand...It's kinda a big deal for me.
What's your standard combative style?
I primarily keep to long range and use a sniping rifle or drones to do the dirty work, I hate getting up close to the fight. However, I'm fast on my feet and escaping from a tangle is something I'm pretty blasted good at- between the grappling hooks and some clever uses of drones or mines, I won't be caught in a close range encounter for long. At least, that's the plan.
How do you relate to the other characters?
Captain Vebra "The Cap and I have a bit of a strange relationship. I call him 'dad', he tells me not to talk so trashy, we laugh, and get the job done. All in all I'm pretty fond of the fella, I just clean the language up a bit when he's around to keep things somewhat professional."
Sish "Kark that guy. Seriously. Kark him and everything he stands for." ----
Out of Character
How powerful is (s)he in the Force?
Absolute 0
Has your character encountered members of the other factions before?
Sish - How do you think she got those scars?
Your character can’t know his/her every weakness or flaw. Which ones were missing above?
Idealism - She's unrealistically ideal about most situations, even if her history and experiences should have lead her to have more realistic expectations.
Hubris - She's overwhelmingly confident in her capabilities, to the point she's mildly blind to a few of her short-comings
The Dark Side. How well does your character resist it?
About as much as your average person can, considering her incapability at utilizing the force
What is your character’s personality like? What motivates him/her?
Ashmir is a calm, reliable, sort. She's easy-going, laid back, and takes things in stride- though, at times, her language can devolve into rather blunt and crude phrasings and wordings. An idealist at heart, she tries to find the good in everything, even if the situation is bleak, though she's also one who has a fiery temper once finally pushed over the edge. She's fond of humor, song, and dance.
She's motivated by a drive and duty to the Republic Army, which got her out of the slums and into a position that mattered in the galaxy, even if it meant danger.
Do you have any limits as to what is “ok” to happen to your character?
Do whatever needs to happen, whatever logically should happen, or whatever ICly justifiably needs to happen. I don't care if a death occurs so long as it's not pure arbitration, and I don't care if anything else happens either- the character is story being told, and portraying that story as well as I can is my goal.
Do the ends justify the means?
Yes.
Captivity. Do you want him/her to potentially be captured?
I don't mind, do whatever needs to happen or whatever logically should happen IC
What do you think your character is doing in a few IC months?
Nothing at the moment, though ideas are always welcome!
Does your character have any secrets useful for the GMs’ plots?
(Send in PM)
This will be where Eyes' perspective of IC events will be kept, in a journal-esque notation, for the sake of keeping a log
I believe I handled the edits y'all asked me to make, and upon re-reading and re-referencing the requests I am sure of this.
Alternatively, I'm blind and missed some glaring mistake in the edit.
I apologize, I should be back in full faculties by next week, in earnest. I return to my university this weekend, and the return to a scheduled existence away from my the folks here at home will give me a much more regular schedule than the chaos it has been. Basically, once I'm back at university this scarcity of my presence will be done away with and my regularity will improve back to standard.
