Post by Meira on Nov 20, 2009 14:28:23 GMT -5
Name: Mohana-Maya Lakshmi "Mo"
Race: Mirialan
Age: 27
Birthplace: Mirial
Allegiance: DLA
Status: Chief of Reconnaissance and Intelligence
Rank: General
Height/Weight: 5'6"/130
Appearance:
Slender and lithe, Mo is fast and flexible. Her black hair, which reaches a few inches past her shoulders, can be seen in all sorts of styles depending on her activity. Usually though, parts are pulled back to be out of her face and the rest is left to hang free. Blue eyes are bright against her olive green skin. The tattoo on her forehead is a mark of her tracking prowess, while the matching ones on the backs of her hands (not pictured) represent her role as a leader in the DLA. Her leadership is also marked by her DLA rank tattoo, which can be found on her rib cage below her left arm. Her clothing is practical for the farmlands and wilderness alike, adding to her tom-boy appearance.
She has earned herself a fair few scars over the years, some more recently than others. In particular, she has two vicious, and recent, scars; one cuts horizontally across her stomach, and the other across her shin. These scars mark the closest Mo has ever come to death. She's not fond of other people seeing them.
Mo doesn't often carry much around with her. Unlike many of her companions, she does not carry a pistol, or any blaster type weapon. She's absolutely terrible with them. Instead, she carries a hunting knife and her bow. Though considered primitive, in Mo's hands "Aditi" is accurate, silent, and deadly. It is limited, as she can only carry a small number of arrows with her at a time. But Mo's skills outweighs the weapon's shortcomings.
Personality:
Mo is a somewhat direct individual. She says what she thinks and doesn't often try to sugar coat things. In the life she lives with the DLA, sugar coating is pointless. She's not without kindness, however. Mo has been known to be sweet and loving with many of the orphaned children that reside at the DLA base. To those she considers family, Mo is intensely loyal. In particular, Mo wouldn't hesitate to die for either Dutch of Al. That dedication is slowly growing to include other members of the DLA as well, but none could hold such a deep place in her heart as those two.
She is a brave woman. Mo rarely balks at a challenge and has been known to dive straight into the fire to accomplish a mission. This has earned her a number of scars, both mentally and physically, but there are a multitude of reasons she won't stop any time soon. If she ever were to stop, it's possible that Mo could not go on. She, along with the others, has lived through too much death and destruction to come out unfazed. There is a dark pit, somewhere inside of her, where she banishes the hurt and grief. She cannot afford to face it. Not now, and maybe not ever.
Ships/Vehicles:
Equipment:
Aditi: a compound bow (click)
Hunting Knife
Stats: (Feeble, Below Average, Average, Above Average, Superior, Legendary)
Strength - Average
Agility - Superior
Intelligence - Average
Charisma - Above Average
Combat Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Pantajali/Pranayama: A breath and movement regimen that allows the practitioner to move through physical attacks, avoiding blows, and neutralizing one's opponent through -mostly- nonlethal means. Expert
Bow: Expert
Blaster weapons: Novice
Knives: Apprentice
Guerrilla Warfare: Adept
Demolitions: Apprentice
Other Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Tracking: Expert
Reconnaissance: Adept
Subterfuge: Adept
Field Medicine: Apprentice
Farming: Apprentice
Ground Vehicle Pilot: Adept
Atmosphere Vehicle Pilot: Novice
Biography:
Mohana was born to a slightly poor family. Her father, Girish tended to move from job to job, looking for get rich quick schemes that often left the family worse off than before. Her mother, Pritha, was a patient woman, in spite of her husband's misadventures. Though Girish seemed to earn the family a bad name due to his lack of skill in just about any job, Pritha kept the family afloat as best as she could with her work as a seamstress. She could create beautiful works of art in the clothing that she made, and was well known in their city. As a mark of her skill, Pritha had the palms of her hands tattooed, as per Mirialan tradition. Girish, had no tattoos.
With both parents hard at work to keep the roof over their heads and the food on their plates, little Mohana spent a good deal of time with her aunt and uncle. Her aunt, Pritha's sister had married a well to do man, and they lived comfortably. The love between sisters ensured that Mohana's visits never brought bad blood. Playing with her cousins under her aunt's watchful eye, Mohana was a happy toddler with a big smile and musical laughter.
Finally fed up with his poor reputation and inability to hold a job on their frigid home world, Girish jumped on what seemed to him to be his big break. A young mining company was looking for workers who were willing to relocate for what was promised to be a booming industry. The plan was to tap into the previously untried mountains of Dantooine and find a treasure trove of raw material. All would get rich in the process. How could Girish resist?
And so the Lakshmi family packed their belongings and joined the few other workers who had signed on for the venture. One of Mohana's earliest memories, and her only one of her home world, was of her mother saying goodbye to her sister. As practitioners of the fading art of Pantanjali*, Pritha and Mohana's aunt moved through a series of sutras before bowing to each other. Pritha turned quickly then, and Mohana trailed behind her mother, looking back toward her aunt as they boarded the star ship.
The Lakshmi family, as well as the families of the other workers arrived on Dantooine with high spirits. Mohana played with the few other children that had come as the workers set up a camp community not far from where the work on the mountains would take place. Already known for her skill as a seamstress, Pritha was busy from the start, making clothes for the whole of the community with the help of one or two other women. As the community had no people that might teach the children, education was very informal and consisted mostly of verbal instruction in specific subjects that were relevant to life in the mining community.
Pritha did, however, begin a regimen of training in the Pantanjali sutras and philosophy for her young daughter. Though it was difficult for the energetic girl to hold in the sutras and focus on the confusing teachings of her mother, Mohana managed to begin growing an interest in it, and would continue her lessons with her mother through the coming years.
When Mohana wasn't causing general havoc with the other children in the community, she sometimes snuck off to where the miners worked to watch her father. Girish was placed with a few other men who were in charge of demolitions in order to clear large debris and open up caverns for the miners to work in. It seemed that here was a place where Girish could at least appear competent, if not skilled. He seemed to have a eye for placing explosives in just the right places in order to produce the best effect. Mohana marveled at the spectacle of the explosions, and felt very proud that it was her father who seemed to be in charge of it all. At first, she would watch from very far away, but as time would pass, she became more and more bold, sneaking ever closer.
Soon, a few more children joined her. The first time they were caught, they were reprimanded severely, not only by the foreman of the company, but by their parents as well. For some time, more attention was paid in the mining community as to the whereabouts of the children. And while this heightened alert lasted, the children kept their noses clean. But as the tension slowly faded away, childish plots to try again followed, and for a short amount of time, they were again successful at avoiding notice as they snuck in to watch the mining work. When they were discovered the second time, many of the children tattled on Mohana as the ring leader. This time, Girish had nearly lost his job, and Mohana was confined to the Lakshmi home for nearly a month. She never tried to sneak out to the mines again after that, for fear of her parents' wrath.
But over time, the mining venture was losing money. It soon proved that there was a reason the larger companies paid Dantooine no mind. There was no money to be made in her mountains. After four years, the venture went bust and the company pulled out, effectively leaving many of the workers stranded. With nowhere to go, the Lakshmi family turned to the few cities and settlements that dotted Dantooine. Work was hard to find, and the mining families were all competing for whatever they could get. For nearly a year Girish worked odd jobs, barely making enough money to feed his wife and daughter. They moved from city to city, more often homeless than not, until they made their way to the Kylah plains and found the Sampson family.
On the Sampson estate, Girish was hired as a general farm hand and began to assist with nearly all aspects of running the estate. Pritha again settled into her role a seamstress and began to develop a close friendship with Mrs. Sampson. Mohana, for the first time in her life, began to receive proper schooling from the tutors that were hired to teach the Sampson boys, Dutch and Al, though she still received private Pantanjali lessons from her mother.
As the years would pass, Mohana would find herself tagging along after just about any person that would tolerate her on the estate. The Lakshmi's were treated very well by the Sampson's. Indeed, everyone that lived and worked on the estate acted like one large family. Though she was obviously different than the humans, Mohana grew to love her "family" and formed particularly close bonds with Dutch and Al. Like Al, Mohana began to form a sort of admiration towards Dutch, who was growing to be quite the man of the family. Because of this, she often tried to emulate the things that he and Mr. Sampson, Erle, did. Eventually, she began to take on the nickname "Mo". Erle had called her by the nickname one day, and she had seen it as a sign of favor. Soon enough, she insisted on it rather than Mohana. Pritha and Girish, of course, refused to ever use the nickname.
Mo envied the attention Dutch paid to activities she seemed not allowed to be involved in. His fighting and hunting training seemed so exciting and dangerous. But what she envied the most was the attention Dutch seemed to be paying towards Lily. Though Mo was good friends with Lily, the daughter of the Sampson estate doctor. The girl wasn't interested in the same things are Mo was. But for some reason, Dutch seemed to like her quite a bit. Mo tried to watch Lily to figure out why, but there just didn't seem to be anything about the girl that Mo could spot as desirable. Of course, the young tom-boy of a girl didn't understand the mechanics of attraction, and wouldn't for a few years yet. And so she turned her attentions back to attempting to involve herself in the activities that Dutch participated in, sure that this would earn her the attention from Dutch that she so desired.
One thing in particular was when the men went out on one of their regular hunting trips. She had been told that she could not go with them because she was too young and might scare away the prey. She was left at the steps of the Sampson estate, lower lip in a pout and arms crossed. Her mother had tried to sooth her, singing and stroking the now 10 year old girl's hair, but she would not be soothed. Once the hunters were out of sight, Mo, in a fit of defiance, set off after them. Her stealth, gained from the sneaking games at the mining camp paid off, and soon Mo was among the hunters, though just out of sight. She kept pace with them as they stalked through the tall grasses of the plains. Soon enough, their focus was drawn to a sizable herd of iriaz that would be quite a catch indeed. Mo watched as they formulated their plan and move in to make their kill. What the hunters didn't see was that they had trekked across a stalker lizard nest and angered a mother who was guarding her eggs. The beast might have severely injured one of the men, had Mo not downed it with a well aimed rock.
The close call hadn't even been noted until after the men made a kill on a large iriaz and turned to see the dead lizard. Mo was then discovered, as was her seemingly heroic act. That night around the dinner table and under the stars, Mo's story was told and she was praised for her keen eye and quick thinking. After that, Arten, one of the family's best workers and a skilled tracker, took Mo under his wing and began to help her build upon her gift of stealth and tie it into the precise art form of tracking.
Mo was from then on welcome on the hunting trips, and under Arten's tutelage, became prized for her tracking skills. When not hunting, taking lessons, or practicing Pantanjali with her mother, the four close friends, Mo, Dutch, Lily, and Al would explore the plains of Kylah together. On one particular trip, they discovered a miraculous cave full of crystals that sat a good distance north of the Sampson estate. The cave wound deep into the low hills, with the crystal formations at the back, where they glowed with what seemed to be a light of their own. The four vowed that the cave would become their secret place. And for many years, it would stay as just that.
Aten also began to train Mo in the use of a rifle, but no matter how she practiced with it, she simply couldn't seem to handle the weapon well enough. She understood the mechanics of it, could point and shoot, but she lacked the skill needed to wield the rifle on a hunting trip. The same could be told with a blaster, Mo would never pass beyond the basic knowledge of how to use one.
Changing tactics, Arten one day introduced Mo to a contraption that would soon become her most prized possession. Though archaic in nature and produced more for the "sport" of it, the compound bow was a marvel to the 17 year old girl. While Al was tinkering with mechanical stuff, and Dutch was off wallowing in his grief over Lily's choice to leave and attend medical school, Mo was practicing with her bow, which she nicknamed Aditi. Over time, she would decrease her target size, honing in on her deadly accuracy. Eventually, Arten would encourage her to shoot at the flame of a candle. Though she has not yet been successful in snuffing one out yet... she's getting very close.
Though it can't be said that Mo had become wise at such a young age, she had learned a bit of insight into herself. She'd come to understand that what she had once thought to be romantic love towards Dutch was really more of a familiar love coupled with admiration. She loved Dutch as she loved his father Erle. He was a brother to her, as was Al. And Lily, though far away learning to become a great doctor, was as dear of a sister to her as could be. This love, this family, that had been created on the Sampson estate bound them all together with tight cords of loyalty that would never be easily broken.
The years would pass, as they tend to do, and life on the Kylah plains was a happy one. Dutch was becoming renowned for his swoop bike and boxing skills, Al was coming into his own as a mechanic and gear head. And Mo was excelling at her tracking and hunting skills. From time to time, she would also spar with Al and Dutch. Her years of practice in the Pantanjali sutras had made her flexible and a surprising opponent.
As life on the farmstead could often be dangerous, as was evidenced by the occasional raids, Pritha had divulged something of a secret in her ancient practices that benefited herself and Mo. The sutras, after years of training in what was called Pranayama, or control of breath, stilled the body to be quick and agile. The sutras posed a means of defending oneself from attack without becoming violent in return. It was a means of avoidance in combat that left one's opponent both exhausted and unharmed. As a woman, smaller and much weaker than any would be attacker, this proved to be vital for Mo.
On her twentieth birthday, Mo received two gifts that she carries with her to this day. A set pf tungsten tipped, spiraled arrows from the aging Arten, and a tattoo from her parents. As per Mirialan tradition, Mo's skill in hunting and tracking warranted a mark of achievement. Pritha applied the tattoo herself, with her own hands marked in recognition of her skill. The pride that Mo saw in her parent's eyes struck Mo's heart.
Shortly after her birthday, Mo's father died. His age, coupled with a lung condition he had developed while working in the mines meant the event was no surprise, but it was no less a sad occasion. He was buried under a blba tree that sat near a stream. Mo would visit the grave occasionally with her mother to leave fresh flowers.
After her husband's death, Pritha too seemed to be taking a turn for the worst. During this time, Mo was absent from many of the hunting trips, as well as many of Dutch's races in order to care for her mother. It was during this time that Mo missed Lily the most. The concept of losing her mother left Mo yearning for another woman she might be able to turn to.
During her time caring for her mother, Pritha continued to teach her the philosophy of Pantanjali. She did so with a fervor, as if there was only a limited time to divulge the information. She didn't know how right she was. Just after Mo's 24th birthday, the Sith invasion began.
Pritha seemed to be doing well that morning, so Mo took the opportunity to do some hunting. Another worker promised to watch over Pritha while Mo was out. She had the day to herself in what seemed like far too long of a time. She set out, with Aditi strapped to her back, into Kylah's plains. She roamed away the morning, having caught a small bird, and found herself near the secret cave where she decided to rest. She drifted into a light slumber there, until explosions shook the earth and woke her.
Stumbling out from the cave, Mo was shocked to see a sky full of large ships. The Sith had invaded. Mo rushed back to the estate, where she found the Sampson's and farm hands gathering to form a resistance. She quickly tried to jump into the mix, but both Erle and Arten refused her. Erle insisted she needed to help get the women and children to safety, and Arten reminded her that she was more of a liability than a help with a blaster in her hand. But it wasn't until Dutch told his father about the cave, and then turned to Mo that she finally conceded.
Get everyone to the cave, Mo! Please!
Mo nodded her head to the man she considered a brother and then turned to gather the fleeing farm hands. Her first concern was her mother, who Mo put on the first transport, along with the children and a couple other women. When she saw that Al was getting others together, she jumped into the driver's seat and sped off. Mo, and those she had gathered were among the first to arrive at the cave. She instructed the people to get inside and hide, then jumped back into the speeder to go back and help the others.
She had barely brought the speeder about when the explosion rocked the whole of Kylah's plains. The smoke rose high into the air as the bombers looped back towards their ships. Mo stopped the speeder, crying out. It had been the Sampson estate, she was sure of it. Had anyone else gotten out alive?
A few minutes later, she got her answer. Al arrived with a few more people, and then shortly after, Dutch, Erle, and a handful of men followed. After that, no one else came. That night, and for many to come, the refugees would mourn the loss of many of their family members. Among the fallen, Mo mourned for her mentor Arten, who had volunteered to distract the sith forces while the others escaped.
Through the gloom of life hiding in a cave, and the grief of those they lost, something grew in the hearts of many of the survivors. But in none was it more than in the hearts of Erle and his sons. His wife, their mother, had been among those lost and their grief burned like a fire inside of them. Soon enough, Erle revealed his profession before becoming a farmer. As a member of an elite counter terrorist group, Erle knew how insurgent groups worked. He was a studied student of gorilla warfare, and proposed to apply what he'd learned against their unwanted invaders.
Over the next few month, life began to shift in the secret cave. All that were able helped in many efforts, from making traps, IEDs, or hunting to feed the group. Mo split her time between caring for her mother, who was weakening under the less than optimal conditions of life in the cave, and helping the newly formed Dantooine Liberation Army. Erle put her to good use tracking down sith convoys and he often trusted her skill to feed the refugees when he and some of the men were off causing trouble for the sith. In general, their efforts were little more than an annoyance to the invaders. But sentiment was growing for their cause. They had even gained a few volunteers who sought them out wanting to help.
They were not without their tragedies. The DLA would see the loss of their leader and many other brave freedom fighters. It fell to Dutch to step into his father's shoes. It was not an easy role to fill, but he would manage with Mo and Al at his side. For Mo, her own mother's death weighed heavy on her soul, and stoked the flames of rebellion in her heart. For her, as for so many others, there was no going back. The idyllic life they'd known was gone. All that remained was to fight, drive out the invaders, and build a new world. It could never be the same, they knew, but it could be good again.
Soon, their number became too great for the tiny cave. Mo, along with other scouts, set out to find a new place where they might not only survive, but grow and prosper. Their prayers were answered when old ruins proved to house a large underground facility. Hidden beneath a maze of rubble and ruin, the DLA made a new home. From this new base of operations, they were able to antagonize the sith all the more.
Roleplay Sample:
The hunt had been all but a failure. She was so distracted, even the simplest of kills seemed difficult. In the end, they'd only managed to bring in a couple of birds and a scrawny iriaz. Mo brought the birds over to the makeshift cooking area and plopped them onto a table. She gave Lily and apologetic shrug and turned away to see her mother.
Pritha, who'd been bed ridden for at least two months now, was lying on her side facing a wall when Mo approached. Mo paused, a sudden fear that her mother wasn't breathing gripping her chest. But then she saw her mother's shoulder rise and fall, and she sighed, sitting down next to the bed roll.
"Mom?"
The sound of Mo's voice stirred Pritha's awareness, and the aging woman turned towards her daughter with a smile that lit up her paling blue eyes. With great effort, and some assistance from Mo, Pritha sat up, propping her back against the wall cushioned by a pillow. She reached her hand out and touched Mo's cheek with the backs of her fingers. The skin was paper thin, and the tattoos on her palms were fading into indiscernable shapes, nothing like the sharp patterns they had once been.
"Oh, Mohana. Look at your hair!" Her voice was weak and shaky as she caught a stray bit of Mo's hair in her hand. "Come here."
She tugged on Mo's hair to bring her daughter closer. Mo's could only chuckle and oblige, scooting close and turning so that her mother had better access. In spite of her age and condition, Pritha's hands moved with alarming dexterity as she combed and began to braid Mo's hair. For a few moments, the two were quiet. But a coughing fit caused Pritha to stop her braiding just as she was about to finish.
Mo quickly turned back around, insisting that her mother lay back down. After a weak resistance, Pritha obeyed her daughter and settled back down. Mo stood, and fetched some water. Se put the cup to her mother's lips and Pritha drank gratefully. Mo sat down next to her mother and brought Pritha's head into her lap. She stroked the near white strands of her mother's hair. The motion was comforting. After a long moment of silence Pritha began so whisper out a song.
"One gonna heal my body, another gonna heal my pain."
"Mama stop." It was a song Pritha had sung after the death of Mo's father.
"One gonna settle me down, then bring me back up again."
"Mama, don't!" Tears filled the young Mirialan's blue eyes as Pritha raised her head and moved to sit upright again. Mo helped her, as the woman had a stranger determination in her eyes that stopped all thoughts but compliance. She leaned in close to Mo, holding her daughter with frail arms as she continued the song. Her breathing was ragged now, uneven.
"One gonna hold my thoughts and another gonna hold my bones."
"Mama... please...."
"One gonna keep me warm and another gonna keep me cold."
"Don't."
"You're gonna keep my soul. It was....yours.... to have long...... ago."
The silence that followed rang in Mo's ears. One breath, two, and then no more. Pritha no longer moved in her daughter's arms. The body was now just a lifeless shell. All reserve that had held Mo together fell away, useless, and she curled around what had once been her mother as the sobs came and the tears flowed freely from her eyes. Even when the others came, it took two strong men to pry Mo off of her mother's body. Her strength was spent trying to fight them off as a group of women came and wrapped Pritha in sheets and moved her lifeless form away to prepare it for the burial.
--------------------------------------------------------------
The funeral was short the next morning. In the last few months the DLA had seen many deaths, and though they were sure to take the time to honor those they had lost. They could not afford to make an affair of it. Mohana-Maya, daughter Girish and Pritha Lakshmi, orphan, sat a the foot of her mother's grave for the better part of the morning and well into the afternoon and evening.
Then, as the sun began to set on the horizon, something inside Mo shifted. Like her "brothers", she finally felt that fire that had caused the birth of the DLA. She's been a member from the beginning, but understood its purpose better than ever now. Had the sith not invaded, her mother would have never died in a dark cave. Their work in the DLA, though small, could not pass in vain.
Standing, Mo moved through the sutras she had seen her mother perform that day they had left Mirial. There was nothing she could give her mother, but perhaps this, along with a vow to support the DLA until she drew her final breath might honor her memory.
((Song lyrics from "Keepsake", by State Radio))
Race: Mirialan
Age: 27
Birthplace: Mirial
Allegiance: DLA
Status: Chief of Reconnaissance and Intelligence
Rank: General
Height/Weight: 5'6"/130
Appearance:
Slender and lithe, Mo is fast and flexible. Her black hair, which reaches a few inches past her shoulders, can be seen in all sorts of styles depending on her activity. Usually though, parts are pulled back to be out of her face and the rest is left to hang free. Blue eyes are bright against her olive green skin. The tattoo on her forehead is a mark of her tracking prowess, while the matching ones on the backs of her hands (not pictured) represent her role as a leader in the DLA. Her leadership is also marked by her DLA rank tattoo, which can be found on her rib cage below her left arm. Her clothing is practical for the farmlands and wilderness alike, adding to her tom-boy appearance.
She has earned herself a fair few scars over the years, some more recently than others. In particular, she has two vicious, and recent, scars; one cuts horizontally across her stomach, and the other across her shin. These scars mark the closest Mo has ever come to death. She's not fond of other people seeing them.
Mo doesn't often carry much around with her. Unlike many of her companions, she does not carry a pistol, or any blaster type weapon. She's absolutely terrible with them. Instead, she carries a hunting knife and her bow. Though considered primitive, in Mo's hands "Aditi" is accurate, silent, and deadly. It is limited, as she can only carry a small number of arrows with her at a time. But Mo's skills outweighs the weapon's shortcomings.
Personality:
Mo is a somewhat direct individual. She says what she thinks and doesn't often try to sugar coat things. In the life she lives with the DLA, sugar coating is pointless. She's not without kindness, however. Mo has been known to be sweet and loving with many of the orphaned children that reside at the DLA base. To those she considers family, Mo is intensely loyal. In particular, Mo wouldn't hesitate to die for either Dutch of Al. That dedication is slowly growing to include other members of the DLA as well, but none could hold such a deep place in her heart as those two.
She is a brave woman. Mo rarely balks at a challenge and has been known to dive straight into the fire to accomplish a mission. This has earned her a number of scars, both mentally and physically, but there are a multitude of reasons she won't stop any time soon. If she ever were to stop, it's possible that Mo could not go on. She, along with the others, has lived through too much death and destruction to come out unfazed. There is a dark pit, somewhere inside of her, where she banishes the hurt and grief. She cannot afford to face it. Not now, and maybe not ever.
Ships/Vehicles:
Equipment:
Aditi: a compound bow (click)
Hunting Knife
Stats: (Feeble, Below Average, Average, Above Average, Superior, Legendary)
Strength - Average
Agility - Superior
Intelligence - Average
Charisma - Above Average
Combat Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Pantajali/Pranayama: A breath and movement regimen that allows the practitioner to move through physical attacks, avoiding blows, and neutralizing one's opponent through -mostly- nonlethal means. Expert
Bow: Expert
Blaster weapons: Novice
Knives: Apprentice
Guerrilla Warfare: Adept
Demolitions: Apprentice
Other Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Tracking: Expert
Reconnaissance: Adept
Subterfuge: Adept
Field Medicine: Apprentice
Farming: Apprentice
Ground Vehicle Pilot: Adept
Atmosphere Vehicle Pilot: Novice
Biography:
Farewell Mirial
Birth to 4 yrs.
Birth to 4 yrs.
Mohana was born to a slightly poor family. Her father, Girish tended to move from job to job, looking for get rich quick schemes that often left the family worse off than before. Her mother, Pritha, was a patient woman, in spite of her husband's misadventures. Though Girish seemed to earn the family a bad name due to his lack of skill in just about any job, Pritha kept the family afloat as best as she could with her work as a seamstress. She could create beautiful works of art in the clothing that she made, and was well known in their city. As a mark of her skill, Pritha had the palms of her hands tattooed, as per Mirialan tradition. Girish, had no tattoos.
With both parents hard at work to keep the roof over their heads and the food on their plates, little Mohana spent a good deal of time with her aunt and uncle. Her aunt, Pritha's sister had married a well to do man, and they lived comfortably. The love between sisters ensured that Mohana's visits never brought bad blood. Playing with her cousins under her aunt's watchful eye, Mohana was a happy toddler with a big smile and musical laughter.
Finally fed up with his poor reputation and inability to hold a job on their frigid home world, Girish jumped on what seemed to him to be his big break. A young mining company was looking for workers who were willing to relocate for what was promised to be a booming industry. The plan was to tap into the previously untried mountains of Dantooine and find a treasure trove of raw material. All would get rich in the process. How could Girish resist?
And so the Lakshmi family packed their belongings and joined the few other workers who had signed on for the venture. One of Mohana's earliest memories, and her only one of her home world, was of her mother saying goodbye to her sister. As practitioners of the fading art of Pantanjali*, Pritha and Mohana's aunt moved through a series of sutras before bowing to each other. Pritha turned quickly then, and Mohana trailed behind her mother, looking back toward her aunt as they boarded the star ship.
King of the Mountain
4-8 yrs.
4-8 yrs.
The Lakshmi family, as well as the families of the other workers arrived on Dantooine with high spirits. Mohana played with the few other children that had come as the workers set up a camp community not far from where the work on the mountains would take place. Already known for her skill as a seamstress, Pritha was busy from the start, making clothes for the whole of the community with the help of one or two other women. As the community had no people that might teach the children, education was very informal and consisted mostly of verbal instruction in specific subjects that were relevant to life in the mining community.
Pritha did, however, begin a regimen of training in the Pantanjali sutras and philosophy for her young daughter. Though it was difficult for the energetic girl to hold in the sutras and focus on the confusing teachings of her mother, Mohana managed to begin growing an interest in it, and would continue her lessons with her mother through the coming years.
When Mohana wasn't causing general havoc with the other children in the community, she sometimes snuck off to where the miners worked to watch her father. Girish was placed with a few other men who were in charge of demolitions in order to clear large debris and open up caverns for the miners to work in. It seemed that here was a place where Girish could at least appear competent, if not skilled. He seemed to have a eye for placing explosives in just the right places in order to produce the best effect. Mohana marveled at the spectacle of the explosions, and felt very proud that it was her father who seemed to be in charge of it all. At first, she would watch from very far away, but as time would pass, she became more and more bold, sneaking ever closer.
Soon, a few more children joined her. The first time they were caught, they were reprimanded severely, not only by the foreman of the company, but by their parents as well. For some time, more attention was paid in the mining community as to the whereabouts of the children. And while this heightened alert lasted, the children kept their noses clean. But as the tension slowly faded away, childish plots to try again followed, and for a short amount of time, they were again successful at avoiding notice as they snuck in to watch the mining work. When they were discovered the second time, many of the children tattled on Mohana as the ring leader. This time, Girish had nearly lost his job, and Mohana was confined to the Lakshmi home for nearly a month. She never tried to sneak out to the mines again after that, for fear of her parents' wrath.
But over time, the mining venture was losing money. It soon proved that there was a reason the larger companies paid Dantooine no mind. There was no money to be made in her mountains. After four years, the venture went bust and the company pulled out, effectively leaving many of the workers stranded. With nowhere to go, the Lakshmi family turned to the few cities and settlements that dotted Dantooine. Work was hard to find, and the mining families were all competing for whatever they could get. For nearly a year Girish worked odd jobs, barely making enough money to feed his wife and daughter. They moved from city to city, more often homeless than not, until they made their way to the Kylah plains and found the Sampson family.
On the Sampson estate, Girish was hired as a general farm hand and began to assist with nearly all aspects of running the estate. Pritha again settled into her role a seamstress and began to develop a close friendship with Mrs. Sampson. Mohana, for the first time in her life, began to receive proper schooling from the tutors that were hired to teach the Sampson boys, Dutch and Al, though she still received private Pantanjali lessons from her mother.
The Limitless Plains of Kylah
9-18 yrs.
9-18 yrs.
As the years would pass, Mohana would find herself tagging along after just about any person that would tolerate her on the estate. The Lakshmi's were treated very well by the Sampson's. Indeed, everyone that lived and worked on the estate acted like one large family. Though she was obviously different than the humans, Mohana grew to love her "family" and formed particularly close bonds with Dutch and Al. Like Al, Mohana began to form a sort of admiration towards Dutch, who was growing to be quite the man of the family. Because of this, she often tried to emulate the things that he and Mr. Sampson, Erle, did. Eventually, she began to take on the nickname "Mo". Erle had called her by the nickname one day, and she had seen it as a sign of favor. Soon enough, she insisted on it rather than Mohana. Pritha and Girish, of course, refused to ever use the nickname.
Mo envied the attention Dutch paid to activities she seemed not allowed to be involved in. His fighting and hunting training seemed so exciting and dangerous. But what she envied the most was the attention Dutch seemed to be paying towards Lily. Though Mo was good friends with Lily, the daughter of the Sampson estate doctor. The girl wasn't interested in the same things are Mo was. But for some reason, Dutch seemed to like her quite a bit. Mo tried to watch Lily to figure out why, but there just didn't seem to be anything about the girl that Mo could spot as desirable. Of course, the young tom-boy of a girl didn't understand the mechanics of attraction, and wouldn't for a few years yet. And so she turned her attentions back to attempting to involve herself in the activities that Dutch participated in, sure that this would earn her the attention from Dutch that she so desired.
One thing in particular was when the men went out on one of their regular hunting trips. She had been told that she could not go with them because she was too young and might scare away the prey. She was left at the steps of the Sampson estate, lower lip in a pout and arms crossed. Her mother had tried to sooth her, singing and stroking the now 10 year old girl's hair, but she would not be soothed. Once the hunters were out of sight, Mo, in a fit of defiance, set off after them. Her stealth, gained from the sneaking games at the mining camp paid off, and soon Mo was among the hunters, though just out of sight. She kept pace with them as they stalked through the tall grasses of the plains. Soon enough, their focus was drawn to a sizable herd of iriaz that would be quite a catch indeed. Mo watched as they formulated their plan and move in to make their kill. What the hunters didn't see was that they had trekked across a stalker lizard nest and angered a mother who was guarding her eggs. The beast might have severely injured one of the men, had Mo not downed it with a well aimed rock.
The close call hadn't even been noted until after the men made a kill on a large iriaz and turned to see the dead lizard. Mo was then discovered, as was her seemingly heroic act. That night around the dinner table and under the stars, Mo's story was told and she was praised for her keen eye and quick thinking. After that, Arten, one of the family's best workers and a skilled tracker, took Mo under his wing and began to help her build upon her gift of stealth and tie it into the precise art form of tracking.
Mo was from then on welcome on the hunting trips, and under Arten's tutelage, became prized for her tracking skills. When not hunting, taking lessons, or practicing Pantanjali with her mother, the four close friends, Mo, Dutch, Lily, and Al would explore the plains of Kylah together. On one particular trip, they discovered a miraculous cave full of crystals that sat a good distance north of the Sampson estate. The cave wound deep into the low hills, with the crystal formations at the back, where they glowed with what seemed to be a light of their own. The four vowed that the cave would become their secret place. And for many years, it would stay as just that.
Aten also began to train Mo in the use of a rifle, but no matter how she practiced with it, she simply couldn't seem to handle the weapon well enough. She understood the mechanics of it, could point and shoot, but she lacked the skill needed to wield the rifle on a hunting trip. The same could be told with a blaster, Mo would never pass beyond the basic knowledge of how to use one.
Changing tactics, Arten one day introduced Mo to a contraption that would soon become her most prized possession. Though archaic in nature and produced more for the "sport" of it, the compound bow was a marvel to the 17 year old girl. While Al was tinkering with mechanical stuff, and Dutch was off wallowing in his grief over Lily's choice to leave and attend medical school, Mo was practicing with her bow, which she nicknamed Aditi. Over time, she would decrease her target size, honing in on her deadly accuracy. Eventually, Arten would encourage her to shoot at the flame of a candle. Though she has not yet been successful in snuffing one out yet... she's getting very close.
Though it can't be said that Mo had become wise at such a young age, she had learned a bit of insight into herself. She'd come to understand that what she had once thought to be romantic love towards Dutch was really more of a familiar love coupled with admiration. She loved Dutch as she loved his father Erle. He was a brother to her, as was Al. And Lily, though far away learning to become a great doctor, was as dear of a sister to her as could be. This love, this family, that had been created on the Sampson estate bound them all together with tight cords of loyalty that would never be easily broken.
Silence, then a Spark
19-23 yrs.
19-23 yrs.
The years would pass, as they tend to do, and life on the Kylah plains was a happy one. Dutch was becoming renowned for his swoop bike and boxing skills, Al was coming into his own as a mechanic and gear head. And Mo was excelling at her tracking and hunting skills. From time to time, she would also spar with Al and Dutch. Her years of practice in the Pantanjali sutras had made her flexible and a surprising opponent.
As life on the farmstead could often be dangerous, as was evidenced by the occasional raids, Pritha had divulged something of a secret in her ancient practices that benefited herself and Mo. The sutras, after years of training in what was called Pranayama, or control of breath, stilled the body to be quick and agile. The sutras posed a means of defending oneself from attack without becoming violent in return. It was a means of avoidance in combat that left one's opponent both exhausted and unharmed. As a woman, smaller and much weaker than any would be attacker, this proved to be vital for Mo.
On her twentieth birthday, Mo received two gifts that she carries with her to this day. A set pf tungsten tipped, spiraled arrows from the aging Arten, and a tattoo from her parents. As per Mirialan tradition, Mo's skill in hunting and tracking warranted a mark of achievement. Pritha applied the tattoo herself, with her own hands marked in recognition of her skill. The pride that Mo saw in her parent's eyes struck Mo's heart.
Shortly after her birthday, Mo's father died. His age, coupled with a lung condition he had developed while working in the mines meant the event was no surprise, but it was no less a sad occasion. He was buried under a blba tree that sat near a stream. Mo would visit the grave occasionally with her mother to leave fresh flowers.
After her husband's death, Pritha too seemed to be taking a turn for the worst. During this time, Mo was absent from many of the hunting trips, as well as many of Dutch's races in order to care for her mother. It was during this time that Mo missed Lily the most. The concept of losing her mother left Mo yearning for another woman she might be able to turn to.
During her time caring for her mother, Pritha continued to teach her the philosophy of Pantanjali. She did so with a fervor, as if there was only a limited time to divulge the information. She didn't know how right she was. Just after Mo's 24th birthday, the Sith invasion began.
When the Spark Became a Flame
24th year-Present
24th year-Present
Pritha seemed to be doing well that morning, so Mo took the opportunity to do some hunting. Another worker promised to watch over Pritha while Mo was out. She had the day to herself in what seemed like far too long of a time. She set out, with Aditi strapped to her back, into Kylah's plains. She roamed away the morning, having caught a small bird, and found herself near the secret cave where she decided to rest. She drifted into a light slumber there, until explosions shook the earth and woke her.
Stumbling out from the cave, Mo was shocked to see a sky full of large ships. The Sith had invaded. Mo rushed back to the estate, where she found the Sampson's and farm hands gathering to form a resistance. She quickly tried to jump into the mix, but both Erle and Arten refused her. Erle insisted she needed to help get the women and children to safety, and Arten reminded her that she was more of a liability than a help with a blaster in her hand. But it wasn't until Dutch told his father about the cave, and then turned to Mo that she finally conceded.
Get everyone to the cave, Mo! Please!
Mo nodded her head to the man she considered a brother and then turned to gather the fleeing farm hands. Her first concern was her mother, who Mo put on the first transport, along with the children and a couple other women. When she saw that Al was getting others together, she jumped into the driver's seat and sped off. Mo, and those she had gathered were among the first to arrive at the cave. She instructed the people to get inside and hide, then jumped back into the speeder to go back and help the others.
She had barely brought the speeder about when the explosion rocked the whole of Kylah's plains. The smoke rose high into the air as the bombers looped back towards their ships. Mo stopped the speeder, crying out. It had been the Sampson estate, she was sure of it. Had anyone else gotten out alive?
A few minutes later, she got her answer. Al arrived with a few more people, and then shortly after, Dutch, Erle, and a handful of men followed. After that, no one else came. That night, and for many to come, the refugees would mourn the loss of many of their family members. Among the fallen, Mo mourned for her mentor Arten, who had volunteered to distract the sith forces while the others escaped.
Through the gloom of life hiding in a cave, and the grief of those they lost, something grew in the hearts of many of the survivors. But in none was it more than in the hearts of Erle and his sons. His wife, their mother, had been among those lost and their grief burned like a fire inside of them. Soon enough, Erle revealed his profession before becoming a farmer. As a member of an elite counter terrorist group, Erle knew how insurgent groups worked. He was a studied student of gorilla warfare, and proposed to apply what he'd learned against their unwanted invaders.
Over the next few month, life began to shift in the secret cave. All that were able helped in many efforts, from making traps, IEDs, or hunting to feed the group. Mo split her time between caring for her mother, who was weakening under the less than optimal conditions of life in the cave, and helping the newly formed Dantooine Liberation Army. Erle put her to good use tracking down sith convoys and he often trusted her skill to feed the refugees when he and some of the men were off causing trouble for the sith. In general, their efforts were little more than an annoyance to the invaders. But sentiment was growing for their cause. They had even gained a few volunteers who sought them out wanting to help.
They were not without their tragedies. The DLA would see the loss of their leader and many other brave freedom fighters. It fell to Dutch to step into his father's shoes. It was not an easy role to fill, but he would manage with Mo and Al at his side. For Mo, her own mother's death weighed heavy on her soul, and stoked the flames of rebellion in her heart. For her, as for so many others, there was no going back. The idyllic life they'd known was gone. All that remained was to fight, drive out the invaders, and build a new world. It could never be the same, they knew, but it could be good again.
Soon, their number became too great for the tiny cave. Mo, along with other scouts, set out to find a new place where they might not only survive, but grow and prosper. Their prayers were answered when old ruins proved to house a large underground facility. Hidden beneath a maze of rubble and ruin, the DLA made a new home. From this new base of operations, they were able to antagonize the sith all the more.
Roleplay Sample:
The hunt had been all but a failure. She was so distracted, even the simplest of kills seemed difficult. In the end, they'd only managed to bring in a couple of birds and a scrawny iriaz. Mo brought the birds over to the makeshift cooking area and plopped them onto a table. She gave Lily and apologetic shrug and turned away to see her mother.
Pritha, who'd been bed ridden for at least two months now, was lying on her side facing a wall when Mo approached. Mo paused, a sudden fear that her mother wasn't breathing gripping her chest. But then she saw her mother's shoulder rise and fall, and she sighed, sitting down next to the bed roll.
"Mom?"
The sound of Mo's voice stirred Pritha's awareness, and the aging woman turned towards her daughter with a smile that lit up her paling blue eyes. With great effort, and some assistance from Mo, Pritha sat up, propping her back against the wall cushioned by a pillow. She reached her hand out and touched Mo's cheek with the backs of her fingers. The skin was paper thin, and the tattoos on her palms were fading into indiscernable shapes, nothing like the sharp patterns they had once been.
"Oh, Mohana. Look at your hair!" Her voice was weak and shaky as she caught a stray bit of Mo's hair in her hand. "Come here."
She tugged on Mo's hair to bring her daughter closer. Mo's could only chuckle and oblige, scooting close and turning so that her mother had better access. In spite of her age and condition, Pritha's hands moved with alarming dexterity as she combed and began to braid Mo's hair. For a few moments, the two were quiet. But a coughing fit caused Pritha to stop her braiding just as she was about to finish.
Mo quickly turned back around, insisting that her mother lay back down. After a weak resistance, Pritha obeyed her daughter and settled back down. Mo stood, and fetched some water. Se put the cup to her mother's lips and Pritha drank gratefully. Mo sat down next to her mother and brought Pritha's head into her lap. She stroked the near white strands of her mother's hair. The motion was comforting. After a long moment of silence Pritha began so whisper out a song.
"One gonna heal my body, another gonna heal my pain."
"Mama stop." It was a song Pritha had sung after the death of Mo's father.
"One gonna settle me down, then bring me back up again."
"Mama, don't!" Tears filled the young Mirialan's blue eyes as Pritha raised her head and moved to sit upright again. Mo helped her, as the woman had a stranger determination in her eyes that stopped all thoughts but compliance. She leaned in close to Mo, holding her daughter with frail arms as she continued the song. Her breathing was ragged now, uneven.
"One gonna hold my thoughts and another gonna hold my bones."
"Mama... please...."
"One gonna keep me warm and another gonna keep me cold."
"Don't."
"You're gonna keep my soul. It was....yours.... to have long...... ago."
The silence that followed rang in Mo's ears. One breath, two, and then no more. Pritha no longer moved in her daughter's arms. The body was now just a lifeless shell. All reserve that had held Mo together fell away, useless, and she curled around what had once been her mother as the sobs came and the tears flowed freely from her eyes. Even when the others came, it took two strong men to pry Mo off of her mother's body. Her strength was spent trying to fight them off as a group of women came and wrapped Pritha in sheets and moved her lifeless form away to prepare it for the burial.
--------------------------------------------------------------
The funeral was short the next morning. In the last few months the DLA had seen many deaths, and though they were sure to take the time to honor those they had lost. They could not afford to make an affair of it. Mohana-Maya, daughter Girish and Pritha Lakshmi, orphan, sat a the foot of her mother's grave for the better part of the morning and well into the afternoon and evening.
Then, as the sun began to set on the horizon, something inside Mo shifted. Like her "brothers", she finally felt that fire that had caused the birth of the DLA. She's been a member from the beginning, but understood its purpose better than ever now. Had the sith not invaded, her mother would have never died in a dark cave. Their work in the DLA, though small, could not pass in vain.
Standing, Mo moved through the sutras she had seen her mother perform that day they had left Mirial. There was nothing she could give her mother, but perhaps this, along with a vow to support the DLA until she drew her final breath might honor her memory.
((Song lyrics from "Keepsake", by State Radio))
