Post by Squee on May 2, 2009 23:36:41 GMT -5
Faction:Republic Military
Department: Special Operations
Rank: Staff Sergeant
Name: Cersa Ratarre’ta (SER-sa RAH-tahr-reh-TAH)
Race: Cathar
Age: 29
Height: 5’10
Weight: 158
Birth place: Cathar
Appearance:
Cersa is a clear definition of a baseline Cathar, all traits displaying nothing less of feline-like. Her ears are pointed, her nose triangulates at the end, the pupils of her eyes are slits, and she is completely covered in fur. The only thing she would need to be your oversized housecat is a tail and whiskers sprouting from her forehead and upper lip. As any Cathar before her, she has nearly humanoid hands with retractable claws. Bodily shape, for those who do not know, is sported just like any human female’s; there is a softness to her facial features and a smoothness to the fine lines that make up her body structure. That structure is solid and flexible.
Her fur is an off shade of golden, slipping more into a yellow-ish color. Her hair, yes different from fur (the stuff that grows out of your head) takes a deeper, brownish color to match the darker stripes that can be seen along her body. Her hair has somewhat of a messy, almost considered “tom-boyish” look, that really hangs about one or two inches past her ears. In other words, it has several layers, and she can flip-flop it around and it looks great. Her eyes also pick up a rather darker touch, appearing as either brown or perhaps black.
On normal days where Cersa gets to kick back her feet and relax a while, she’ll wear just about anything she can squirm her body into. If that means stealing a teammate’s shirt, well, so be it. She’s done it once or twice before. It’s a range of tank tops to droopy long shirts with the cuffs rolled up. She’s never seen without a pair of pants. All the way down to her ankles. They could be loose, or clingy, all depending on what Cersa has with her or she is in the mood for. She’ll wear according to her surroundings, however.
If told she was to move and prepare for a fight, she’ll done a suit that fits snuggly to her frame and allows her maneuverability on the field. Lightly armored, just because the Cathar is rather confident about her skills to avoid getting seriously injured. She might add gel or some kind of hair stiffening substance to keep that “messy” appearance, but hold it in placed so it doesn’t get in the way of her eyes. Though a woman who enjoys her blades over a blaster, she may carry whatever the she is required to, or what might be necessary for the mission.
Equipment:
- Known to carry AT LEAST one blade on her person, usually being between three to five inches. She tends to play with it.
(Design of far LEFT is the closest comparison:
www.germes-online.com/direct/dbimage/50253112/Knives.jpg )
- Throwing knives for those pesky idgets who think it’s cute to charge, carries a minimum of five.
(Close, and perhaps also in silver: www.karatedepot.com/sites/karatedepot/images/items/large/wp-th-14.jpg )
- Claws, their a weapon, too
- Sword: Thin and made custom for Cersa’s dancing style – from her own wages. It’s hard and tough, designed to sing in the air (Much like a Samauri’s sword, to compare, simply not as long). The hilt has a firm grip and decorated in the remembrance of her clan and family.
(Links to something fitting: www.japaneseswords4samurai.com/images/samurai-swords-masahiro-dragon-nin-to-katana.jpg
And the hit, just without so much gold and tanner in color:
www.best-japanese-samurai-swords.com/images/dscn1684.jpg )
- Odd things, such as perhaps a datapad, or, on duty, a small med-kit that’ll make the pain shy away until better sections are reached. The datapad is the quickest and easiest way to reach her, by the way.
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 6
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 7
Leadership: 5
Unarmed: 7
Melee Weapons: 6
Ranged Weapons: 2
Skills:
Stealth, hand to hand, wielding blades, and a form of martial arts
Force Sensitive – no knowledge of this
Alignment: +3
Bio:
At this time period exactly, the barren world of Cathar was still in the rehabilitating years due to the devastation during the Mandalorian Wars. To the present, there are growing numbers of clans fighting off the kiltik beetles, the beetles that destroyed the planet, in both for the glory of hunting and the ritual of the “blood hunts”. A nearly primitive planet, the Cathars are currently trying to reestablish their planet to some decency as the near barren world had before.
Cersa was born into a family of six, including her parents. Ratgrado was her sensible and caring father, seeing that he did anything he possibly could to keep his family safe, well-fed, and lived with something other than the sky above their heads. Syliav, her mother, was always the one to remain with her offspring, the four of them. There was Carvros, the eldest brother who was nearly nine at the time of Cersa’s birth. He is followed two years behind by Gevyar, the second eldest son. The third child is Teto, making Cersa’s third elder brother. Cersa was the last cub to be born into the Ratarre’ta family. It also made her the only daughter, and therefore the baby sister.
Ratgrado was a warrior to be proud of, and rapidly growing older. And it was considered then he would be one of the next male Cathars to join the “Elders”, the governing people of the clans. As any noble warrior would, his family was safely sheltered among one of the city trees his species is known the live in. Ratgrado was a role model among not only his children, but the children of his clan members. He took it upon himself to train his children in the art of the warriors, and even oversaw a few others if their fathers were away.
There was a debate over what exactly Cersa should become between Ratgrado and his mate. As a female, she would be much slighter and her temper would be much less likely to flame as any male’s. While she should learn to be tamed as a female, she also had rights to become a warrior to be proud of. It was decided that Cersa show the family her true colors first.
Cersa grew to be as energetic as you would expect a young child to be. She got into trouble: touched things she shouldn’t, played with things she shouldn’t, did so many things she shouldn’t. She was known to create chaos for her older brothers: who by this time were twelve, ten, and seven. It included breaking their favorite toys, tackling them, nibbling on their ears, and having them chase her about because she truly aggravated them. Carvros had a dislike for his baby sister, it seemed, in her first couple of years when all she seemed to do was stubbornly yell at the top of her lungs. By the time she was four years old, his opinion changed. Whenever she attempted at tackling him, he was ready with a tickle torture. If one of his buddies ever said something disrespectful about his sister, he was right there to deliver a stinging blow with either his hands or tongue. The other brother Cersa developed a close relationship with was Teto, since he was the closest to her age. Gevyar withdrew from Cersa most of the time and never paid her much mind, and she only got his attention when she made his fur lie the wrong way.
By the time Cersa was five, her fate was decided by her parents: as lively as she was, she would make a fine candidate for something between Ratgrado’s beliefs and Syliav beliefs. She began acrobatics under her mother’s tutorial. Her parents were going to disguise fighting gestures into the form of a flexible dance.
(( Note: Dance-fighting basically, like Capoeria, a Brazilian dance-fighting method. Link: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Capoeira
And: www.gather.com/viewArticle.jsp?articleId=281474976749372
However, Cersa’s movement is much more sharp and defines that of a fighting style much like karate. Between strikes or other attacks or defenses, she appears much more fluid and tends to move around a lot.))
Carvros hit his nineteenth year of living and decided he would move away from his home planet. With him, seventeen year old Gevyar would accompany him. Both had been declared honorable warriors in their clans after completing blood hunts together, and their decision to leave the planet was respected. Cersa was very unhappy to see her oldest brother leave. For a few days, Cersa’s mood was disheartening itself, but Teto managed to bring his sister’s carefree attitude about again.
At ten, she was still learning her unique dance fighting style under Syliav, and Ratgrado would come to study and perfect her style a little. Under their guidance, Cersa became a well-balanced girl who was could be either light or heavy on her feet. She became amazingly flexible and nimble, many of the jumps she was learning were now starting to have twists in them.
Two and a half years passed by, full of training and learning and experimenting with her style of combat would pay off early enough. Gevyar, the second eldest, had never really cared for his family or his clan. He had always been an anti-social among others. That one year that passed and Gevyar believed himself mature enough to tackle the galaxy on his own, he left Carvros, gallivanting his own path into the universe. His intentions became worse than benevolent. Gevyar Ratarre’ta started dealing with the dirty crimes, such as the black market and some sneaky work against diplomats or other high class beings of the galaxy. It was to fit into the life of a pirate, which still young Gevyar took up.
Male Cathars are considered to wild and far too primitive to serve as slaves, which is why, during the Mandalorians Wars, they were simply killed off. The females of the species are an entirely different story. These pirates were slavers themselves, and their interest became settled on the females Gevyar would describe. And because he was a Cathar with a known tribe, a fertile tribe, Gevyar could simply lead the pirates to the pet’s nest. And that Gevyar did.
Nearing Cersa’s thirteenth year, her second eldest brother brought chaos to her clan’s city trees. The warriors, relying on instincts and usually forged weapons of the clans, were overwhelmed with the technology the pirates carried with them. It was a mini version of the Mandalorian Wars: Every other female Cathar was far too timid or soft to fight back, their children being subject to property as well unless the little guys bit back, and the males were simply driven away or killed. Cersa was one of the captured, being a thirteen-year-old frozen-on-the-spot cub. She was in her developing stages and would prove either useful to the kidnapping pirates or earn them a dowry of cash.
Teto was slaughtered before Cersa’s eyes; standing ground to protect his sister as his father attempted at fending the pirates off. Syliav had been off with another friend of hers, and it is unknown to Cersa where her mother is. Syliav was captured at first, but her fighting spirit led to her death. Ratgrado was badly wounded in the fight, but still alive to breathe for four more days before he succumbed to his wounds.
Cersa was trapped with the other female Cathar and their children, mostly just female children. She was alone, and for long hours she replayed the scene of her brother’s death. The way he had thrown her in a small corner where he could better protect her. Though a warrior in training, to Cersa, Teto had fought as courageously with at least the strength and power of a full warrior. Unfortunately, for all he knew to use his teeth and claws, he didn’t know what to do with blaster fire…
One of the mothers from another family looked after Cersa in the mean time. When the cells were being shuffled around, making each one considerably roomier for the grouped captives. With more space, Cersa found some comfort in practicing her dance-fighting. It put on a show for the children younger than she, and the mothers were often intrigued in watching this near thirteen year old pull off twisting flips, and move with an improving sharp grace – each move clearly (by Cathar point of view) able to play on a defense of an opponent until it was ultimately crushed.
One day, one of the lesser pirates say, and informed his leader. The leader had to threaten Cersa, who had every intention of not giving them the satisfaction of getting to her, to allow them to see this “bizarre dancing” as they put it. As Cersa ran through one of her “routines”, the pirates whispered to one another. After she was done, they left. The leader returned again, ordered her to perform once more. She, appearing hesitant at first, once again ran through several drills. This time, the leader took her from the cell and led her through the ship, and then placed her in a small, personal cabin. Behind him, he sealed the door and left the Cathar girl in silence and darkness, where a small grin began to form. She had been undoubtedly been correct that the pirates would take an interest in a young girl in “dancing”. Her plan of escape was launched, and she was on her way out of here.
Things only got better from there. Cersa was kept among the pirates as, what they now called her, “The Best of the Raid”. Cersa was able to practice her fighting, masquerading it as a dance as her mother had shown her. Cersa had to expand outside her given drills, composing her own, and inventing new tricks to keep her “hosts” happy. Gevyar, who knew better than to believe her practices just a dance, attempted at telling the pirate leader that he was making a mistake. When the leader said Gevyar was speaking nonsense, her traitor brother then tried to rid of Cersa himself. Gevyar was caught, however, and was dropped off on some planet and never to be part of Cersa’s life again.
As Cersa grew older and her body began to develop now into the shapely, considerably humanoid frame. Her growth spurt took her from four foot eight and stretched her upward, making her nearly five foot six by the time she hit fifteen. After two years, the pirates had been treating her decently. With feminine pirates on board by this time, there wasn’t a violation of Cersa’s young body. What joy was there in taking something unwilling when there were several, other ready-willed bodies on board? But, now, she was older, she knew the workings of a pirate crew after two years, she “danced” well, what happened if they taught her the workings of weapons?
And, like that, Cersa was more on the crew than owned by it. It had taken a little manipulation on Cersa’s part, but she was accepted more as apart of the working group, and not the group being worked. She learned how to fire rifles and other sorts of discharging weapons. What Cersa really had a liking for was the knives, and it wasn’t for another two years, when she was nearing seventeen, until Cersa was considered reliable to handle blades. It wasn’t until then that Cersa proposed, “Well… maybe I can turn my dancing into a fighting style of some sort?” All the pirates could do was look and say yes. Another victory for Cersa, who began creating her dance-fighting even sharper for the purpose of stunning or causing further critical damage. Blades were incorporated with some difficulty, but, a year into it, Cersa had taught herself well enough. Or so she believed.
Eighteen. She was considered adult now. She could make her own decisions among the pirates now. Being taken care of for the past five years, Cersa wanted to leave these pirates, who she still hated deep in her gut. When she approached the leader on this, he seemed a little reluctant. But, Cersa played a few words: making him understand there was no contract, that she had served under him anyway, and she was adult enough to take care of herself. With a little bit of persuasion, Cersa was dropped off on the planet Coruscant.
That time when the crew bedded down, the only four original raiders died in their sleep, including the pirate leader, of poison. Squabbling broke up the rest of the party, because they couldn’t prove who did it, and Cersa was “obviously could not have done it”. And meanwhile, a certain Cathar smiled to herself as she stared at the ceiling of an apartment complex.
One of the first things Cersa did was sign up with a recreation program, which taught forms of fighting. She realized, after it started, just how much different fighting styles were from those that had been on Cathar. She felt a little foolish at first, realizing she should had done a little studying. The culture on Coruscant was far different than she had ever encountered, even with new arrivals on the pirate ship.
She supposed it was something about her that startled the other species as she walked around Coruscant in search of a job. Cersa found it was much harder than she expected. Cathars were, at this time, not known to be wanderers. Sometimes they were mentioned as a bedtime story, but a little child didn’t expect their fantasies to come true as a five foot ten Cathar swooped the pathway directly beside them. She was taller than several men she approached to for a full-time job, furry from head to toe (not overly so), pointed ears, and short fangs that matched the shape of her tiger’s eye. And, of course, she could have claws in those… hands of hers.
The job found Cersa. Sitting in her apartment, enjoying a little snack and reflecting on the day’s failure, she received a message. It had to be a combination of her growing reputation at the recreation center (as she had started combating with her dance-fighting) and her species, or even looks, perhaps. It was from another Cathar, who had been able to become part of the workforce on Coruscant, and he was currently one of the leaders of the business.
Cersa most definitely wasn’t going to turn down checking the job out. Therefore, she did. Upon arrived at the building and requesting the fellow Cathar, by the name Urth Graytr. She was given a brief tour of the shop and told what kinds of goods they sold. Urth seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, and still harbored a few traditions of his species. When Cersa declared she’d give the job a chance, Urth’s lips peeled back in a happy grin. He warned her she’d have to start with a low position. At the time, before she understood directly what Urth was meaning, she had agreed almost readily.
The young Cathar hadn’t expected to be a janitor on her first day. At least Urth had allowed her to keep what dignity and pride Cersa had left when he presented her with rags, a mop, and a wash bucket by having them the only two in the shop building and the storage rooms. She had hated him that day, but Cersa had bit her lip, lifted her chin, and performed what was asked of her. The first day, she was none too happy. The second day followed, and the day after and the following after that. The day she went to Urth to discuss a few things, he smiled upon her entrance and told her she had proven herself to him to be a dedicated worker. He doused the flame by clearing this as a test, but he wouldn’t dismiss the fact she had made the place cleaner, and therefore would pay her for it.
For a year she worked under Urth, earning promotions and even growing a relationship with the male. Urth, outside of his demanding career as a trader, had all the makings of a warrior the Cathar’s believed so strongly in. He hadn’t grown up on his home planet, but here on Coruscant, where he knew more about the workings of diplomats and politicians. Cersa had come to recognize that as a field of battle as well. He kept himself fit, as any Cathar on their home planet would be, and all he was missing to make the warrior Cersa had grown up around would be learning to fight with his claws. Urth didn’t, and was quite happy with his diplomatic skills and tongue to be his shield and claws.
Times spent in the bars after work turned into quick dinners and being invited to the house to spend some time with buddies. From little dinners it extended to those where one actually ordered off the menu. From the simple diners, excelling in expenses as the relationship became to grow more romantically. When Cersa really couldn’t take three steps from him without her datapad beeping with a message from Urth. To which she’d read, and toss an exasperated glance across her shoulder, only to see him snicker. She thought she had found something special with the male.
Another night came where the shifts started to end for the night. As Urth closed up, he told Cersa that he had invited their friends to his residence after work for some drinks and friendly fun. Just recently, Urth had said he’d moved places, and Cersa hadn’t had a chance to see his new place yet. Heading off with Urth, their walk started off decent, but began to wander. Cersa grew a little nervous passing through an alley, but Urth had been persistent, and she had followed. The nineteen year old Cathar woman hadn’t a clue that Urth had been setting her up. He hadn’t loved her, just her body. He had violated several bodies, but it was always a good run with another Cathar, female of course. Cersa had walked directly into a trap. A few of Urth’s personal friends, ones Cersa had perhaps only seen and not met directly, lay in wait to help their ringleader. They had pounced on a startled Cersa. Claws were unsheathed on Urth’s part, the fact that he had them making him feel as if he had the dominance in this situation. Smoldering after her initial shock, Cersa’s claws also escaped their sheaths. They did little to the strength of the men, who laughed at her lack of strength because of her gender. Though tough, Cersa managed to rattle the confidence a bit, proving to be a nuisance in her slippery ways. She couldn’t break free, but she could be a pest. Throughout, Cersa had wished she had been spending more time honing her skills in her fighting style than being draped across Urth’s arm. She probably could have remembered how to escape. Her aggravating wriggling proved useful, as she slithered beneath the fleshy palms of the other men, nearly all of them lacking the fur Cersa had. She managed some slashes and twisting nimbleness that hadn’t left her yet.
Luckily, the commotion had carried itself up the alley, where the beginnings of sound could be heard. Snarls, spits, and curses hung in the air with growls and hisses overwhelming the voices of the two Cathars in the group. The scuffle continued, until a voice of authority rang clear, coupled with a couple of blaster rounds and hazy hum of a lightsaber. The actions between Cersa and the rapists halted nearly immediately. The lightsaber was close and waved gently around Cersa, making the rapist back up, avoiding such a blade that could easily slice through their bones. A cloak was draped around her and an arm guided her away as the being with the lightsaber made the rapists stay away until Cersa was long gone around the corner.
Her rescuer was another Cathar, to her surprise, the one who had fired the blaster. The other was a tall, lanky human, robes on his tall frame marking him either as a Jedi or a former. But, she learned that the human was a Jedi and his mission had linked up with the Cathar.
And the Cathar was Carvros Ratarre’ta. For Cersa, it had been a warm, heart fluttering, sniffling reunion with her eldest brother, the only one left of her family. Carvros, after being separated by Gevyar, had worked his share as a mercenary before decided he had wanted to return home. And, of course, there had been no home to return to. He had come back here, to Coruscant, and took up his luck in the military. And he liked it, no, loved it, from what Cersa figured out.
Cersa spent the next year making up for what she had lost while dating Urth. She had since quit the job and found herself another one. It didn’t pay as well, but Cersa managed to get by after moving from her old apartment Urth had known about. She even bought a new datapad. Anything to keep Urth from finding her again. The thought he would ever try to rape her made Cersa more wary of others, especially the larger males, if they could be larger than 5’10'', Cersa’s height.
She picked up honing her skills in her dance-fighting, practicing with blades, punctuating her movements more, claws sheathed or claws unsheathed, and she even took up contracting her claws quickly in a movement.
It took her a year but Cersa decided to join the military. Carvros, more of a warrior than Cersa, was thrilled to discover his “baby sister” wanted to continue her life as a true warrior, but with more of a purpose now than fighting beetles. This was the army after all, infantry. And the military always liked those willing to stick their necks out on the front lines, even if they were badmouthed because they were the grunts of the workforce.
Everything went rather smooth for Cersa: the signing, the training, being grouped up, tolerating her environment because she was female… more training. Cersa cooped, and she cooped well. She never got the hang for ranged weapons, however. They were too awkward, too unknown for her. At first, she’d been laughed at because of even her awkwardness to hold a blaster pistol. It was soon recognized that she was handy, clever and deadly with blades. Several of the men in her team had a difficult time winning against Cersa in a practiced hand-to-hand drill. They worried about her claws, but Cersa always promised them she would not use them in a practice. And, with a grin, she added that instead they’d be feeling the heel of her boot.
Most of all, Cersa survived. There were several places she was taken that were ridiculous, and places that seriousness was as tense as the deadly poisoned air. From guarding to scraping off scalps, Cersa had pulled it off and survived.
Someone decided she could be good enough to join the Special Operations force. Of course, her interest had been expressed, but until now, those in charge had never truly considered her. Now they had, and they liked what they saw. So, packing her bags and slapping her I’m-ready-for-crap-to-happen cap on, she said goodbyes to the team she’d been set with (and that had changed with deaths and other events), and left to take on a new team that would be more difficult than what she faced then. At age twenty-four, Cersa Ratarre’ta found herself sucked in with more training and pitted against experiences she hadn’t taken into consideration.
The ship she had been assigned to before was the Werreieor . The team she had worked with was more often than not a successful team. They had to be. They were the “special” folks. In her four years in the Special Operations, she’d seen but a couple of deaths on her team. Well, what she had called a couple would probably be moreover a few. And it was usually because of something the team had really not been expecting, despite their careful planning on some of these operations.
And now, at twenty-eight, Cersa has received orders of a transfer. The only problem with this is breaking in with the new team. She had been through it several times, which leaves her experienced with tolerating biased opinions on sight, but it didn’t make her dislike it any less. So, Cersa’s packed her bags, said her goodbyes, and slapped her “ready-for-anything” cap on. It’s moving on to a somewhat new environment (the ship will be different) and unfamiliar personalities. No one she knew was transferring with her. Ascension is next. Can they crack the cat?
----
Databank (Click)
RP Sample:
It was such a satisfying feeling. Five years of grudges were finally released in one night. She knew they were dead. That poison concoction took three nights to prepare within the body, and on the forth night, all those fertile, deadly enzymes would release and seize a victim in a violent, seizure-like death. Cersa may not have seen it take effect personally, but there was simply no way those four could have survived. Nothing had gone right for the pirates since she was bumped up a class, separated from the hordes of Cathars who remained like cargo underneath the deck. Cersa had tricked them, drained them of precious time and resources, credits, food, and came out with the benefits.
And that was lying in a medium priced apartment bed that was nearly as plush as a first class apartment. Lying on her back, she examined the shadowed ceiling with dark eyes, her slit pupils widened to darkness. Behind her shades, the ever bustling city-planet continued with night life. Speeders raced by, and every now and then she could hear one, or hear a faint shout…
Her ear twitched, and she unclasped her hands that pillowed her head, scratching at her furred ear almost absently. Five years… she was finally so free. Well, free from the vengeful attitude she had harbored and nurtured from the night since she had been captured off of Cathar. She had fed it with hates and a vow to avenge her brother who had died because he was a good warrior. She was released. She could begin anew. The credits that pirate leader had given her would last her perhaps a month. In that time, she could seek a job and think a little more about her future. She was, after all, only eighteen. And before she died, Cersa had already promised herself she would discover what happened to her mother and her father.
Where was Carvros? Cersa winced visibly, though no one was there to see. Carvros hadn’t been with Gevyar. Where was her dearest elder? Of course, she had grown up and he had more likely than not have changed considerably. Was he wealthy? Was he poor? Was he happy? Was he miserable? Was he alive? Or was he laying with death? Surely not. He had to be well. It just didn’t make sense the other way around.
Was he thinking of her? The “baby sister”? Oh, had she hated that nickname. But, Cersa swore, if the name was directed at some other boy from Carvros’s mouth, she had giggled each time. Because that warrior boy had always been about to get his fangs knocked forcefully from his head.
“Come, Cersa,” the Cathar chided herself. “You need sleep.” But, sleep evaded her that night for some reason. It simply would not come. Perhaps she was excited to learn the possibilities given to her the next day? She believed they would be wondrous. She hoped they would be.
She could start anew. Maybe not as refreshed as she had hoped. Cersa mentally scratched the last five years, excluding what she had learned about blades and new additions to her “dance-fighting”. She believed that was important. Her life now…
And finally, her mind submitted to sleep in the middle of that thought.
Department: Special Operations
Rank: Staff Sergeant
Name: Cersa Ratarre’ta (SER-sa RAH-tahr-reh-TAH)
Race: Cathar
Age: 29
Height: 5’10
Weight: 158
Birth place: Cathar
Appearance:
Cersa is a clear definition of a baseline Cathar, all traits displaying nothing less of feline-like. Her ears are pointed, her nose triangulates at the end, the pupils of her eyes are slits, and she is completely covered in fur. The only thing she would need to be your oversized housecat is a tail and whiskers sprouting from her forehead and upper lip. As any Cathar before her, she has nearly humanoid hands with retractable claws. Bodily shape, for those who do not know, is sported just like any human female’s; there is a softness to her facial features and a smoothness to the fine lines that make up her body structure. That structure is solid and flexible.
Her fur is an off shade of golden, slipping more into a yellow-ish color. Her hair, yes different from fur (the stuff that grows out of your head) takes a deeper, brownish color to match the darker stripes that can be seen along her body. Her hair has somewhat of a messy, almost considered “tom-boyish” look, that really hangs about one or two inches past her ears. In other words, it has several layers, and she can flip-flop it around and it looks great. Her eyes also pick up a rather darker touch, appearing as either brown or perhaps black.
On normal days where Cersa gets to kick back her feet and relax a while, she’ll wear just about anything she can squirm her body into. If that means stealing a teammate’s shirt, well, so be it. She’s done it once or twice before. It’s a range of tank tops to droopy long shirts with the cuffs rolled up. She’s never seen without a pair of pants. All the way down to her ankles. They could be loose, or clingy, all depending on what Cersa has with her or she is in the mood for. She’ll wear according to her surroundings, however.
If told she was to move and prepare for a fight, she’ll done a suit that fits snuggly to her frame and allows her maneuverability on the field. Lightly armored, just because the Cathar is rather confident about her skills to avoid getting seriously injured. She might add gel or some kind of hair stiffening substance to keep that “messy” appearance, but hold it in placed so it doesn’t get in the way of her eyes. Though a woman who enjoys her blades over a blaster, she may carry whatever the she is required to, or what might be necessary for the mission.
Equipment:
- Known to carry AT LEAST one blade on her person, usually being between three to five inches. She tends to play with it.
(Design of far LEFT is the closest comparison:
www.germes-online.com/direct/dbimage/50253112/Knives.jpg )
- Throwing knives for those pesky idgets who think it’s cute to charge, carries a minimum of five.
(Close, and perhaps also in silver: www.karatedepot.com/sites/karatedepot/images/items/large/wp-th-14.jpg )
- Claws, their a weapon, too
- Sword: Thin and made custom for Cersa’s dancing style – from her own wages. It’s hard and tough, designed to sing in the air (Much like a Samauri’s sword, to compare, simply not as long). The hilt has a firm grip and decorated in the remembrance of her clan and family.
(Links to something fitting: www.japaneseswords4samurai.com/images/samurai-swords-masahiro-dragon-nin-to-katana.jpg
And the hit, just without so much gold and tanner in color:
www.best-japanese-samurai-swords.com/images/dscn1684.jpg )
- Odd things, such as perhaps a datapad, or, on duty, a small med-kit that’ll make the pain shy away until better sections are reached. The datapad is the quickest and easiest way to reach her, by the way.
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 6
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 7
Leadership: 5
Unarmed: 7
Melee Weapons: 6
Ranged Weapons: 2
Skills:
Stealth, hand to hand, wielding blades, and a form of martial arts
Force Sensitive – no knowledge of this
Alignment: +3
Bio:
The Rebuilding
Pre-Cersa
Pre-Cersa
At this time period exactly, the barren world of Cathar was still in the rehabilitating years due to the devastation during the Mandalorian Wars. To the present, there are growing numbers of clans fighting off the kiltik beetles, the beetles that destroyed the planet, in both for the glory of hunting and the ritual of the “blood hunts”. A nearly primitive planet, the Cathars are currently trying to reestablish their planet to some decency as the near barren world had before.
The Beginnings of a New Life
Birth - Five
Birth - Five
Cersa was born into a family of six, including her parents. Ratgrado was her sensible and caring father, seeing that he did anything he possibly could to keep his family safe, well-fed, and lived with something other than the sky above their heads. Syliav, her mother, was always the one to remain with her offspring, the four of them. There was Carvros, the eldest brother who was nearly nine at the time of Cersa’s birth. He is followed two years behind by Gevyar, the second eldest son. The third child is Teto, making Cersa’s third elder brother. Cersa was the last cub to be born into the Ratarre’ta family. It also made her the only daughter, and therefore the baby sister.
Ratgrado was a warrior to be proud of, and rapidly growing older. And it was considered then he would be one of the next male Cathars to join the “Elders”, the governing people of the clans. As any noble warrior would, his family was safely sheltered among one of the city trees his species is known the live in. Ratgrado was a role model among not only his children, but the children of his clan members. He took it upon himself to train his children in the art of the warriors, and even oversaw a few others if their fathers were away.
There was a debate over what exactly Cersa should become between Ratgrado and his mate. As a female, she would be much slighter and her temper would be much less likely to flame as any male’s. While she should learn to be tamed as a female, she also had rights to become a warrior to be proud of. It was decided that Cersa show the family her true colors first.
Cersa grew to be as energetic as you would expect a young child to be. She got into trouble: touched things she shouldn’t, played with things she shouldn’t, did so many things she shouldn’t. She was known to create chaos for her older brothers: who by this time were twelve, ten, and seven. It included breaking their favorite toys, tackling them, nibbling on their ears, and having them chase her about because she truly aggravated them. Carvros had a dislike for his baby sister, it seemed, in her first couple of years when all she seemed to do was stubbornly yell at the top of her lungs. By the time she was four years old, his opinion changed. Whenever she attempted at tackling him, he was ready with a tickle torture. If one of his buddies ever said something disrespectful about his sister, he was right there to deliver a stinging blow with either his hands or tongue. The other brother Cersa developed a close relationship with was Teto, since he was the closest to her age. Gevyar withdrew from Cersa most of the time and never paid her much mind, and she only got his attention when she made his fur lie the wrong way.
By the time Cersa was five, her fate was decided by her parents: as lively as she was, she would make a fine candidate for something between Ratgrado’s beliefs and Syliav beliefs. She began acrobatics under her mother’s tutorial. Her parents were going to disguise fighting gestures into the form of a flexible dance.
(( Note: Dance-fighting basically, like Capoeria, a Brazilian dance-fighting method. Link: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Capoeira
And: www.gather.com/viewArticle.jsp?articleId=281474976749372
However, Cersa’s movement is much more sharp and defines that of a fighting style much like karate. Between strikes or other attacks or defenses, she appears much more fluid and tends to move around a lot.))
Betrayal and Raids
Five - Thirteen
Five - Thirteen
Carvros hit his nineteenth year of living and decided he would move away from his home planet. With him, seventeen year old Gevyar would accompany him. Both had been declared honorable warriors in their clans after completing blood hunts together, and their decision to leave the planet was respected. Cersa was very unhappy to see her oldest brother leave. For a few days, Cersa’s mood was disheartening itself, but Teto managed to bring his sister’s carefree attitude about again.
At ten, she was still learning her unique dance fighting style under Syliav, and Ratgrado would come to study and perfect her style a little. Under their guidance, Cersa became a well-balanced girl who was could be either light or heavy on her feet. She became amazingly flexible and nimble, many of the jumps she was learning were now starting to have twists in them.
Two and a half years passed by, full of training and learning and experimenting with her style of combat would pay off early enough. Gevyar, the second eldest, had never really cared for his family or his clan. He had always been an anti-social among others. That one year that passed and Gevyar believed himself mature enough to tackle the galaxy on his own, he left Carvros, gallivanting his own path into the universe. His intentions became worse than benevolent. Gevyar Ratarre’ta started dealing with the dirty crimes, such as the black market and some sneaky work against diplomats or other high class beings of the galaxy. It was to fit into the life of a pirate, which still young Gevyar took up.
Male Cathars are considered to wild and far too primitive to serve as slaves, which is why, during the Mandalorians Wars, they were simply killed off. The females of the species are an entirely different story. These pirates were slavers themselves, and their interest became settled on the females Gevyar would describe. And because he was a Cathar with a known tribe, a fertile tribe, Gevyar could simply lead the pirates to the pet’s nest. And that Gevyar did.
Nearing Cersa’s thirteenth year, her second eldest brother brought chaos to her clan’s city trees. The warriors, relying on instincts and usually forged weapons of the clans, were overwhelmed with the technology the pirates carried with them. It was a mini version of the Mandalorian Wars: Every other female Cathar was far too timid or soft to fight back, their children being subject to property as well unless the little guys bit back, and the males were simply driven away or killed. Cersa was one of the captured, being a thirteen-year-old frozen-on-the-spot cub. She was in her developing stages and would prove either useful to the kidnapping pirates or earn them a dowry of cash.
Teto was slaughtered before Cersa’s eyes; standing ground to protect his sister as his father attempted at fending the pirates off. Syliav had been off with another friend of hers, and it is unknown to Cersa where her mother is. Syliav was captured at first, but her fighting spirit led to her death. Ratgrado was badly wounded in the fight, but still alive to breathe for four more days before he succumbed to his wounds.
Slavery?
Thirteen Through Eighteen
Thirteen Through Eighteen
Cersa was trapped with the other female Cathar and their children, mostly just female children. She was alone, and for long hours she replayed the scene of her brother’s death. The way he had thrown her in a small corner where he could better protect her. Though a warrior in training, to Cersa, Teto had fought as courageously with at least the strength and power of a full warrior. Unfortunately, for all he knew to use his teeth and claws, he didn’t know what to do with blaster fire…
One of the mothers from another family looked after Cersa in the mean time. When the cells were being shuffled around, making each one considerably roomier for the grouped captives. With more space, Cersa found some comfort in practicing her dance-fighting. It put on a show for the children younger than she, and the mothers were often intrigued in watching this near thirteen year old pull off twisting flips, and move with an improving sharp grace – each move clearly (by Cathar point of view) able to play on a defense of an opponent until it was ultimately crushed.
One day, one of the lesser pirates say, and informed his leader. The leader had to threaten Cersa, who had every intention of not giving them the satisfaction of getting to her, to allow them to see this “bizarre dancing” as they put it. As Cersa ran through one of her “routines”, the pirates whispered to one another. After she was done, they left. The leader returned again, ordered her to perform once more. She, appearing hesitant at first, once again ran through several drills. This time, the leader took her from the cell and led her through the ship, and then placed her in a small, personal cabin. Behind him, he sealed the door and left the Cathar girl in silence and darkness, where a small grin began to form. She had been undoubtedly been correct that the pirates would take an interest in a young girl in “dancing”. Her plan of escape was launched, and she was on her way out of here.
Things only got better from there. Cersa was kept among the pirates as, what they now called her, “The Best of the Raid”. Cersa was able to practice her fighting, masquerading it as a dance as her mother had shown her. Cersa had to expand outside her given drills, composing her own, and inventing new tricks to keep her “hosts” happy. Gevyar, who knew better than to believe her practices just a dance, attempted at telling the pirate leader that he was making a mistake. When the leader said Gevyar was speaking nonsense, her traitor brother then tried to rid of Cersa himself. Gevyar was caught, however, and was dropped off on some planet and never to be part of Cersa’s life again.
As Cersa grew older and her body began to develop now into the shapely, considerably humanoid frame. Her growth spurt took her from four foot eight and stretched her upward, making her nearly five foot six by the time she hit fifteen. After two years, the pirates had been treating her decently. With feminine pirates on board by this time, there wasn’t a violation of Cersa’s young body. What joy was there in taking something unwilling when there were several, other ready-willed bodies on board? But, now, she was older, she knew the workings of a pirate crew after two years, she “danced” well, what happened if they taught her the workings of weapons?
And, like that, Cersa was more on the crew than owned by it. It had taken a little manipulation on Cersa’s part, but she was accepted more as apart of the working group, and not the group being worked. She learned how to fire rifles and other sorts of discharging weapons. What Cersa really had a liking for was the knives, and it wasn’t for another two years, when she was nearing seventeen, until Cersa was considered reliable to handle blades. It wasn’t until then that Cersa proposed, “Well… maybe I can turn my dancing into a fighting style of some sort?” All the pirates could do was look and say yes. Another victory for Cersa, who began creating her dance-fighting even sharper for the purpose of stunning or causing further critical damage. Blades were incorporated with some difficulty, but, a year into it, Cersa had taught herself well enough. Or so she believed.
Eighteen. She was considered adult now. She could make her own decisions among the pirates now. Being taken care of for the past five years, Cersa wanted to leave these pirates, who she still hated deep in her gut. When she approached the leader on this, he seemed a little reluctant. But, Cersa played a few words: making him understand there was no contract, that she had served under him anyway, and she was adult enough to take care of herself. With a little bit of persuasion, Cersa was dropped off on the planet Coruscant.
That time when the crew bedded down, the only four original raiders died in their sleep, including the pirate leader, of poison. Squabbling broke up the rest of the party, because they couldn’t prove who did it, and Cersa was “obviously could not have done it”. And meanwhile, a certain Cathar smiled to herself as she stared at the ceiling of an apartment complex.
Life on Coruscant
Eighteen And Nineteen
Eighteen And Nineteen
One of the first things Cersa did was sign up with a recreation program, which taught forms of fighting. She realized, after it started, just how much different fighting styles were from those that had been on Cathar. She felt a little foolish at first, realizing she should had done a little studying. The culture on Coruscant was far different than she had ever encountered, even with new arrivals on the pirate ship.
She supposed it was something about her that startled the other species as she walked around Coruscant in search of a job. Cersa found it was much harder than she expected. Cathars were, at this time, not known to be wanderers. Sometimes they were mentioned as a bedtime story, but a little child didn’t expect their fantasies to come true as a five foot ten Cathar swooped the pathway directly beside them. She was taller than several men she approached to for a full-time job, furry from head to toe (not overly so), pointed ears, and short fangs that matched the shape of her tiger’s eye. And, of course, she could have claws in those… hands of hers.
The job found Cersa. Sitting in her apartment, enjoying a little snack and reflecting on the day’s failure, she received a message. It had to be a combination of her growing reputation at the recreation center (as she had started combating with her dance-fighting) and her species, or even looks, perhaps. It was from another Cathar, who had been able to become part of the workforce on Coruscant, and he was currently one of the leaders of the business.
Cersa most definitely wasn’t going to turn down checking the job out. Therefore, she did. Upon arrived at the building and requesting the fellow Cathar, by the name Urth Graytr. She was given a brief tour of the shop and told what kinds of goods they sold. Urth seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, and still harbored a few traditions of his species. When Cersa declared she’d give the job a chance, Urth’s lips peeled back in a happy grin. He warned her she’d have to start with a low position. At the time, before she understood directly what Urth was meaning, she had agreed almost readily.
The young Cathar hadn’t expected to be a janitor on her first day. At least Urth had allowed her to keep what dignity and pride Cersa had left when he presented her with rags, a mop, and a wash bucket by having them the only two in the shop building and the storage rooms. She had hated him that day, but Cersa had bit her lip, lifted her chin, and performed what was asked of her. The first day, she was none too happy. The second day followed, and the day after and the following after that. The day she went to Urth to discuss a few things, he smiled upon her entrance and told her she had proven herself to him to be a dedicated worker. He doused the flame by clearing this as a test, but he wouldn’t dismiss the fact she had made the place cleaner, and therefore would pay her for it.
For a year she worked under Urth, earning promotions and even growing a relationship with the male. Urth, outside of his demanding career as a trader, had all the makings of a warrior the Cathar’s believed so strongly in. He hadn’t grown up on his home planet, but here on Coruscant, where he knew more about the workings of diplomats and politicians. Cersa had come to recognize that as a field of battle as well. He kept himself fit, as any Cathar on their home planet would be, and all he was missing to make the warrior Cersa had grown up around would be learning to fight with his claws. Urth didn’t, and was quite happy with his diplomatic skills and tongue to be his shield and claws.
Times spent in the bars after work turned into quick dinners and being invited to the house to spend some time with buddies. From little dinners it extended to those where one actually ordered off the menu. From the simple diners, excelling in expenses as the relationship became to grow more romantically. When Cersa really couldn’t take three steps from him without her datapad beeping with a message from Urth. To which she’d read, and toss an exasperated glance across her shoulder, only to see him snicker. She thought she had found something special with the male.
Another night came where the shifts started to end for the night. As Urth closed up, he told Cersa that he had invited their friends to his residence after work for some drinks and friendly fun. Just recently, Urth had said he’d moved places, and Cersa hadn’t had a chance to see his new place yet. Heading off with Urth, their walk started off decent, but began to wander. Cersa grew a little nervous passing through an alley, but Urth had been persistent, and she had followed. The nineteen year old Cathar woman hadn’t a clue that Urth had been setting her up. He hadn’t loved her, just her body. He had violated several bodies, but it was always a good run with another Cathar, female of course. Cersa had walked directly into a trap. A few of Urth’s personal friends, ones Cersa had perhaps only seen and not met directly, lay in wait to help their ringleader. They had pounced on a startled Cersa. Claws were unsheathed on Urth’s part, the fact that he had them making him feel as if he had the dominance in this situation. Smoldering after her initial shock, Cersa’s claws also escaped their sheaths. They did little to the strength of the men, who laughed at her lack of strength because of her gender. Though tough, Cersa managed to rattle the confidence a bit, proving to be a nuisance in her slippery ways. She couldn’t break free, but she could be a pest. Throughout, Cersa had wished she had been spending more time honing her skills in her fighting style than being draped across Urth’s arm. She probably could have remembered how to escape. Her aggravating wriggling proved useful, as she slithered beneath the fleshy palms of the other men, nearly all of them lacking the fur Cersa had. She managed some slashes and twisting nimbleness that hadn’t left her yet.
Luckily, the commotion had carried itself up the alley, where the beginnings of sound could be heard. Snarls, spits, and curses hung in the air with growls and hisses overwhelming the voices of the two Cathars in the group. The scuffle continued, until a voice of authority rang clear, coupled with a couple of blaster rounds and hazy hum of a lightsaber. The actions between Cersa and the rapists halted nearly immediately. The lightsaber was close and waved gently around Cersa, making the rapist back up, avoiding such a blade that could easily slice through their bones. A cloak was draped around her and an arm guided her away as the being with the lightsaber made the rapists stay away until Cersa was long gone around the corner.
Her rescuer was another Cathar, to her surprise, the one who had fired the blaster. The other was a tall, lanky human, robes on his tall frame marking him either as a Jedi or a former. But, she learned that the human was a Jedi and his mission had linked up with the Cathar.
And the Cathar was Carvros Ratarre’ta. For Cersa, it had been a warm, heart fluttering, sniffling reunion with her eldest brother, the only one left of her family. Carvros, after being separated by Gevyar, had worked his share as a mercenary before decided he had wanted to return home. And, of course, there had been no home to return to. He had come back here, to Coruscant, and took up his luck in the military. And he liked it, no, loved it, from what Cersa figured out.
Joining the Military
Nineteen Through Present
Nineteen Through Present
Cersa spent the next year making up for what she had lost while dating Urth. She had since quit the job and found herself another one. It didn’t pay as well, but Cersa managed to get by after moving from her old apartment Urth had known about. She even bought a new datapad. Anything to keep Urth from finding her again. The thought he would ever try to rape her made Cersa more wary of others, especially the larger males, if they could be larger than 5’10'', Cersa’s height.
She picked up honing her skills in her dance-fighting, practicing with blades, punctuating her movements more, claws sheathed or claws unsheathed, and she even took up contracting her claws quickly in a movement.
It took her a year but Cersa decided to join the military. Carvros, more of a warrior than Cersa, was thrilled to discover his “baby sister” wanted to continue her life as a true warrior, but with more of a purpose now than fighting beetles. This was the army after all, infantry. And the military always liked those willing to stick their necks out on the front lines, even if they were badmouthed because they were the grunts of the workforce.
Everything went rather smooth for Cersa: the signing, the training, being grouped up, tolerating her environment because she was female… more training. Cersa cooped, and she cooped well. She never got the hang for ranged weapons, however. They were too awkward, too unknown for her. At first, she’d been laughed at because of even her awkwardness to hold a blaster pistol. It was soon recognized that she was handy, clever and deadly with blades. Several of the men in her team had a difficult time winning against Cersa in a practiced hand-to-hand drill. They worried about her claws, but Cersa always promised them she would not use them in a practice. And, with a grin, she added that instead they’d be feeling the heel of her boot.
Most of all, Cersa survived. There were several places she was taken that were ridiculous, and places that seriousness was as tense as the deadly poisoned air. From guarding to scraping off scalps, Cersa had pulled it off and survived.
Someone decided she could be good enough to join the Special Operations force. Of course, her interest had been expressed, but until now, those in charge had never truly considered her. Now they had, and they liked what they saw. So, packing her bags and slapping her I’m-ready-for-crap-to-happen cap on, she said goodbyes to the team she’d been set with (and that had changed with deaths and other events), and left to take on a new team that would be more difficult than what she faced then. At age twenty-four, Cersa Ratarre’ta found herself sucked in with more training and pitted against experiences she hadn’t taken into consideration.
The ship she had been assigned to before was the Werreieor . The team she had worked with was more often than not a successful team. They had to be. They were the “special” folks. In her four years in the Special Operations, she’d seen but a couple of deaths on her team. Well, what she had called a couple would probably be moreover a few. And it was usually because of something the team had really not been expecting, despite their careful planning on some of these operations.
And now, at twenty-eight, Cersa has received orders of a transfer. The only problem with this is breaking in with the new team. She had been through it several times, which leaves her experienced with tolerating biased opinions on sight, but it didn’t make her dislike it any less. So, Cersa’s packed her bags, said her goodbyes, and slapped her “ready-for-anything” cap on. It’s moving on to a somewhat new environment (the ship will be different) and unfamiliar personalities. No one she knew was transferring with her. Ascension is next. Can they crack the cat?
----
Databank (Click)
RP Sample:
It was such a satisfying feeling. Five years of grudges were finally released in one night. She knew they were dead. That poison concoction took three nights to prepare within the body, and on the forth night, all those fertile, deadly enzymes would release and seize a victim in a violent, seizure-like death. Cersa may not have seen it take effect personally, but there was simply no way those four could have survived. Nothing had gone right for the pirates since she was bumped up a class, separated from the hordes of Cathars who remained like cargo underneath the deck. Cersa had tricked them, drained them of precious time and resources, credits, food, and came out with the benefits.
And that was lying in a medium priced apartment bed that was nearly as plush as a first class apartment. Lying on her back, she examined the shadowed ceiling with dark eyes, her slit pupils widened to darkness. Behind her shades, the ever bustling city-planet continued with night life. Speeders raced by, and every now and then she could hear one, or hear a faint shout…
Her ear twitched, and she unclasped her hands that pillowed her head, scratching at her furred ear almost absently. Five years… she was finally so free. Well, free from the vengeful attitude she had harbored and nurtured from the night since she had been captured off of Cathar. She had fed it with hates and a vow to avenge her brother who had died because he was a good warrior. She was released. She could begin anew. The credits that pirate leader had given her would last her perhaps a month. In that time, she could seek a job and think a little more about her future. She was, after all, only eighteen. And before she died, Cersa had already promised herself she would discover what happened to her mother and her father.
Where was Carvros? Cersa winced visibly, though no one was there to see. Carvros hadn’t been with Gevyar. Where was her dearest elder? Of course, she had grown up and he had more likely than not have changed considerably. Was he wealthy? Was he poor? Was he happy? Was he miserable? Was he alive? Or was he laying with death? Surely not. He had to be well. It just didn’t make sense the other way around.
Was he thinking of her? The “baby sister”? Oh, had she hated that nickname. But, Cersa swore, if the name was directed at some other boy from Carvros’s mouth, she had giggled each time. Because that warrior boy had always been about to get his fangs knocked forcefully from his head.
“Come, Cersa,” the Cathar chided herself. “You need sleep.” But, sleep evaded her that night for some reason. It simply would not come. Perhaps she was excited to learn the possibilities given to her the next day? She believed they would be wondrous. She hoped they would be.
She could start anew. Maybe not as refreshed as she had hoped. Cersa mentally scratched the last five years, excluding what she had learned about blades and new additions to her “dance-fighting”. She believed that was important. Her life now…
And finally, her mind submitted to sleep in the middle of that thought.
