Post by Harukei on Oct 1, 2015 0:50:36 GMT -5
Name: Syrin Elar
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 24
Birthplace: Dantooine
Allegiance: Sith Empire
Status: Assassin
Rank: Sith Knight
Height/Weight: 5'7'' / 136 lbs
Appearance:
A stoic and comely woman with a certain allure more than few men and women alike turn to see her pass, Syrin is anything but weak. Shiny black hair flows shiny from the top of her head while the sides are shaved and is tied as a pony tail. Her body is slender and curvaceous while her skin is pale which complements her looks, yet dotted with scars, a product of the brutal training she endured while her eyes are an unusual and sinister dark shade of violet that turns bloody crimson once the powers of the Darkside course through her body.
Instead of the lavish dresses and attires worn bye some of her contemporaries, her attire favors practicality instead of luxury. Wearing a skintight dark red suit laced with armorweave for protection, yet light enough to allow her to remain nimble in battle. Black durasteel greaves and arm guards serve as additional protection for her while a dark red hood serves to shroud her usually stoic and void from emotion features.
Personality:
"The shadows dance among the dust. They are bound to me."
Silent and distant would be the best way to describe Syrin. This is due the hellish upbringing and then training she received under her master in which each failure was punished severely and each triumph hardly noticed at all. It is due this that perhaps her emotions have being reduced to an atrophied state suppressed by the influence of the Darkside of the Force leaving anger and hate mostly untouched.
Syrin has no patience or time for the petty squabbles that most of the Sith indulge, holding in belief that such attitudes and behaviors weaken the nascent new incarnation of the order as a whole. The concept of friends or attachments is one that she founds naive and idiotic for there are only allies and tools which are to be used and discarded pragmatically accordingly to the goals at hand.
In battle or during a mission she has no empathy or mercy, killing everyone that opposes her goals without much thought, care or regret. That being said, she only takes a life when whatever her assignment demands of it, rarely doing so out of a concrete desire or lust of blood. A personal tenant of hers is the belief that as shown by nature itself, the strong thrive while the weak perish. In many ways she believes that the Sith and the Empire are such the embodiment of said philosophy which reflects in nature itself, while the Republic and Jedi hold themselves to old values and beliefs that are little better than a decaying corpse, as both entities have stagnated the galaxy from the natural force that is progression.
Despite her distance with most individuals, she is able to effectively encourage those under her command, if ever allowed to lead. Allowing them to do as they wish as long they do not contravene with her own directives or goals, therefore inspiring loyalty in those around her, in turn she is not adverse to praise allies as well as enemies, albeit it in the latter case is grudgingly.
Ships/Vehicles:
Equipment:
Lightsaber, Synthetic Crystal, Red Blade
Armorweave laced body armour
Plasteel greaves and armguard.
Slicing Kit
Throwing Vibroblade x 3
Stats:
Strength - Average
Agility - Above Average
Intelligence - Above Average
Charisma - Average
Force Stats:
Telekinetic- Apprentice
Telepathic- Novice
Body- Adept
Sense- Apprentice
Protection- Novice
Healing:– Novice
Destruction:– Adept
Combat Training:
Tae-Jitsu:- Adept
Vibrodagger:- Apprentice
Force Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Force Stealth:-Adept
Other Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Infiltration:- Expert
Slicing:- Adept
Languages:
-Huttese: Adept
-Binary: Apprentice
-Twi'lek: Apprentice
Piloting: Apprentice
Lightsaber Training: (Untrained, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master, Specialist)
Shii-Cho- Adept
Makashi-
Soresu- Apprentice
Ataru- Expert
Shien/Djem So-Untrained
>>Sub-form Backhanded-Untrained
Niman-
>>Sub-form Jar-kai-Untrained
Juyo-
Double Bladed Combat-
Biography:
Syrin Elar was born twenty-three standard years ago on Dantooine to a former Republic Solder turned mercenary, Dasc Elar and his wife a former technician with the Republic Army, Mai Elar, becoming the first of two girls. The early years of her life were not easy. The life within the remote homestead and the few farmlands the family owed ensured this as barely operational droids, meager crops and the few credits to spare would force the young girl to help as much as her feeble body would allow her.
Her father would be an absentee for the most part of her early years as he spent much of his time off planet, hired and deployed in many fringe worlds in which individuals needed a muscle for security or simple to scare someone to cooperate for their schemes. It could not be said that the marriage between her parents was the best, in fact it was quite possibly as strained and difficult as it could be. Yet for some reason she remained with the man.
Unbeknownst to both parents their both Syrin and her sister, Asra were force sensitives, within her blood the potential to use the force if trained. However their potential didn't transmit in any obvious way that would make their parents suspicious, tacitly the force made both bond closer, having each other to rely unto during the rare stays of their father and his usual drunken bouts with their mother as arguments over money and the difficulty of life the family of the man faced in his absence filled their ears as they hid in their tiny shared quarters.
It was at that at the tender of seven that her life would change. During another of their arguments, her father in a fit of alcohol fueled anger pulled out his side arm and blasted his wife ten times, unsuspecting that his eldest daughter observed in horror what had happened. Turning he saw the small girl as she slowly stepped back, only to knock her out with a swing to her face. The girl lost consciousness as her father would try to gather and think what to do.
With little thought he took the girls and all valuables and left in his speeder after setting the homestead ablaze to cover his tracks. Reuniting with his band of mercenaries he ordered them to board their ship and set course for the outer rim. It was hours before Syrin would wake up in the cargo hold of freighter, dazed and confused as the pain rang from her temples to jaw, noting that two of her teeth were missing.
Some of the mercenary companions of her father would come to look at her, feed them during the journey, yet the very man that had sired them would not dare to face them. Hours would turn to eternity as both girls found some solace within the other's embrace with the soft rumble of the hyper drive and sublight engines as a company.
The girls went back to sleep, only to be reawaken time later as the ship had landed on a fringe world in the outer rim. Dasc took them outside the ship, leading them through the maze that the bazaar was in which she wold see hundreds of alien species she had never seen in her life. It was then their father struck a deal with a Zygerrian slaver. Not understanding the grasp of the situation she was checked by a medical droid and soon enough approved which would lead to her be pass from someone with freedom to a slave.
Seeing as how her new master would shove her and handle hair roughly while securing a shock collar around her neck and that of her sister, Syrin would use all her strength to escape the claws of the slavers as she cried and yelled for her father to come for her, tears pouring and rolling down her cheeks. Her resistance was only subdued when the shock collar was activated, the unbearable pain coursing as ever cell cried in pain.
The months that came were hell for her, yet those months made something inside of her snap. At first her handlers would seem to be wary of the young girl as somehow she somehow had managed to break fingers and fight her captors, even if as the end result she would be find being the receiving ends of their fists and kicks. Her owner would call for her, ordering her to behave of her sister would be punished as well. With that her fighting spirit quelled but never died down, as time went her hatred would continue to grow. Hatred towards her owner and against the murderer that was his father.
Alone
By fate or luck, a team of Jedi would to undo the Zygerrian slaving group. She and her sister would only hear the firefight and the distant hums of the lightsabers. A light of hope would seem to gleam through the darkness that had being her life during those years, for the mythical defenders of the weak and hapless would come to save both sisters. However what would seem her salvation would end up being another bitter moment in her life.
As the Jedi would take a look at them, they noticed the latent potential that was within the two girls. Learning that they had nothing to return to, it would seem that the life of the Jedi was laid for them. However one of the elder Jedi would take a look unto Syrin, noting the ferocity and hatred which she was seeded deep within her, she was not taken to the Jedi temple to become a Jedi like her sister on the grounds that she was too old for that.
Instead she was left to live at an orphanage on the mid-rim world of Druckenwell, which was a small upgrade from her past as a slave. The rumor of her past somehow had managed to spread among her fellow orphans. Something which they used to pick on her constantly. Fights would ensue and so would punishments from the caretakers. Months would go by and while some children would be adopted Syrin would be overlooked.
It wasn't surprising that she would decide to escape, figuring that perhaps on the streets she would fare better than in the environment of the orphanage. In the streets she was unhinged, not contained by overseers or caretakers and free to do what she wanted, moving around the hidden passages within the massive cities. The world was her playground and while she sensed fear, there was something that guided her. Something which she wouldn't quite understand.
The girl would steal to live, never staying too long and when caught somehow using others as scapegoats to save her own skin. With time, Druckenwell would begin to feel small and thus she wished for a new challenge. Daringly she would stow away in one of the hundreds of thousands of freighters that would come and go from the industrialized world.
The rush of excitement would be with her as she would leave the planet, with Nar Shaddaa as destination. Upon sneaking off the ship, she would be overwhelmed by the world. The state of decay and the desperation of the people she saw living in the shanty towns made out of containers. But the world offered a new playground for her as the sprawling city-wide moon had numerous ways to make her life.
By the time she had turned eleven, the girl would follow the same plan she had followed since landing in Nar Shaddaa, stealing and leaving, never staying in a single place for too long. However she would one day be led by a whisper of a voice she recognized but could not remember to whom it belonged. Something prompted her to follow the whisper, with each step the whisper grew stronger as it called her name. It was then than she would see from the distance the same person that had condemned her of two years of pain and humiliation and life as a robber. Her father.
Her mind throbbed with revenge and anger. Without thinking she would sneak into a bar as something would seem to guide her. By chance she would quietly take a frag grenade from a mercenary as she passed by. Her steps would continue to be resolute as she made her way through the sea of people and stepped in front of the table in which her father sat.
The man would turn his eyes towards the girl wearing only tatters with messy black hair. But it was when his eyes met the man would recognize Syrin. His eyes shifted from the violet pools of hatred that burned on the features of her daughter, to the circular object she held in her hand. A grenade. It was then that Dasc realized her intent. His hands moved swiftly to pull his blaster out of his holster.
He pulled the trigger while at the same time pushing the table, using it as a makeshift barrier, but somehow the young girl would show incredible reflexes, while with an impossible toss the grenade would fly over the table, collide against the padded seat and roll down to where her father was. An explosion ensued, splintering the table and wounding many of the customers of the locale.
Yet the man was not dead, somehow he had managed to survive, jumping from the splinters, the heavy man tackled the girl, surrounding her tiny neck with his massive hands as blood oozed from his wounds. In a desperate struggle the girl would drive her fingers and nails against her father's eyes, blinding him in the process, which would only make the man anger even further.
As her live force begin to leave her, something kept her clinging to life. Instinctively she raised her hand and stroke the man with her palm on her hand, resulting in a wave sending Dasc against a wall, stunning him. Coughing and getting air back into her lungs she would weakly raise from the floor and stared at the man, focusing her anger on him. And something strange happened as the man would come to raise, yet a hand went to his neck as if something choked him while the other served as a way to gather his bearings.
Something overtook Syrin, her hand raising as if it hand it's own will and slowly forming a small fist, making the man lose is balance and squirm on the ground as a worm, both powerful hands seizing the thick of his neck. Something empowered her, not the enjoyment she felt about seeing the man suffer but the suffering that he was feeling, in a way enhancing all what she felt. Her fist tightened even more and before she knew it between the deafening rush of excitement and her rage, with a wheeze the man fell and everything went dark.
What passed as law enforcement in Nar Shaddaa arrived, watching the scene with the many wounded, a little girl and a bloodied man who seemed to have suffocated. The holocams would show that Syrin had something to do with the death of her father and once she would awaken she would be questioned. Unfortunately for the corrupted police forces of Nar Shaddaa this wouldn't happen as before she was even questioned the girl would banish without a trace.
Apprenticeship and the Sith
Roleplay Sample:
In the stillness of darkness, silence reigned. Her breath was stale as her consciousness would recede into the deep recesses of her mind for comfort and meditation. After all, as any blade needed a whetstone to sharpen so would her hatred and spirit. In a trance but aware of her surroundings, her breath would resume as the lungs would be filled with cold and inert air. But as she did, the Sith could feel the ripples and distant echoes through the darkside of the Force. She could heard it, the rhythmic beating from the core of Drommund Kaas to the ranging storms that split sky asunder, all intertwined to be the dark nexus from which the Empire grew as a war marchine.
Syrin would feel how the gravitas of the ancient power of this world, and multiple more within Sith space, would sync with her. The power within her felt enhanced and multiplied and her hatred and fury sharpened as she mentality repeated the mantra that every member of the order knew in her mind. Each inhalation would augment the flames that now raged within her. However there was something else that the darkside spoke of. A danger that approached at her.
The crimson of her eyes would open. Her still enhanced senses gathering information that she would process. Two of them, she considered after hearing the subtle rustle of robes and steps. Of the same trade as hers, yet sloppy and amateurish in their execution and delivery. It was with a sigh that she rose from her kneeling position. The prospect did little to bother her, it was the interruption of her meditation that brought discomfort from her.
At last her two assailants would reveal themselves as the bloody red of their blades snapped to life, revealing the couture and outline of their robes and bodies. A humanoid male and afemale by the looks of it. With a similar snap-hiss her blade would emerge. With a leap of both assassins all her instinct and training etched unto her flesh and will would emerge. Their assault was met with resistance, as her blade directed by her arm and wrist would move to meet, parry and deflect as the woman would have her eyes dart between their attacks in an aim to recognize their forms and their flaws.
With a single slash, she would sever the wrist of one of her attackers, the female who quailed in pain, seizing the wounded limb. Syrin would open her palm in the same sequence, a telekinetic surge pushing the female individual away. Her gaze and focus would then shift to the second attacker who she would sense the terror that coursed through him as he realized the gap of power between the two.
A flurry of rapid and quite attacks ensued upon her foe as the force coursed through her, enhancing her abilities even further, driving the second assassin into a desperate defense as she waited to open a breach into his defenses. And such the breach finally presented itself as a stroke would forge the saber aside, allowing her to slash her blade through cloth, flesh and bone, ending her foe.
The sweet scent of seared flesh would fill her nostrils as she gazed upon her foes without much care. One had died, a relatively painless death, far much than what he had deserved. The other still lived, wounded. With a firm step she would plant herself in front of the female, an Umbaran that made her own skin look dark in comparison. Forming a fist she raised the woman from the polished soil of her meditation chamber.
"I will not kill you." She said coldly. "At least, not yet. But you will tell me who sent you, even if I have to break every inch of your body in the process."
Syrin would not allow her a rebuke, slamming her against a wall. Knocking her unconscious. Although she wondered whom she had the attention of to incite such commitment of resources, she was in no rush to find her enemy. After all there were things that required attention from her and whether she liked it or not, her new prisoner would speak. It was all a matter of time.
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 24
Birthplace: Dantooine
Allegiance: Sith Empire
Status: Assassin
Rank: Sith Knight
Height/Weight: 5'7'' / 136 lbs
Appearance:
A stoic and comely woman with a certain allure more than few men and women alike turn to see her pass, Syrin is anything but weak. Shiny black hair flows shiny from the top of her head while the sides are shaved and is tied as a pony tail. Her body is slender and curvaceous while her skin is pale which complements her looks, yet dotted with scars, a product of the brutal training she endured while her eyes are an unusual and sinister dark shade of violet that turns bloody crimson once the powers of the Darkside course through her body.
Instead of the lavish dresses and attires worn bye some of her contemporaries, her attire favors practicality instead of luxury. Wearing a skintight dark red suit laced with armorweave for protection, yet light enough to allow her to remain nimble in battle. Black durasteel greaves and arm guards serve as additional protection for her while a dark red hood serves to shroud her usually stoic and void from emotion features.
Personality:
"The shadows dance among the dust. They are bound to me."
Silent and distant would be the best way to describe Syrin. This is due the hellish upbringing and then training she received under her master in which each failure was punished severely and each triumph hardly noticed at all. It is due this that perhaps her emotions have being reduced to an atrophied state suppressed by the influence of the Darkside of the Force leaving anger and hate mostly untouched.
Syrin has no patience or time for the petty squabbles that most of the Sith indulge, holding in belief that such attitudes and behaviors weaken the nascent new incarnation of the order as a whole. The concept of friends or attachments is one that she founds naive and idiotic for there are only allies and tools which are to be used and discarded pragmatically accordingly to the goals at hand.
In battle or during a mission she has no empathy or mercy, killing everyone that opposes her goals without much thought, care or regret. That being said, she only takes a life when whatever her assignment demands of it, rarely doing so out of a concrete desire or lust of blood. A personal tenant of hers is the belief that as shown by nature itself, the strong thrive while the weak perish. In many ways she believes that the Sith and the Empire are such the embodiment of said philosophy which reflects in nature itself, while the Republic and Jedi hold themselves to old values and beliefs that are little better than a decaying corpse, as both entities have stagnated the galaxy from the natural force that is progression.
Despite her distance with most individuals, she is able to effectively encourage those under her command, if ever allowed to lead. Allowing them to do as they wish as long they do not contravene with her own directives or goals, therefore inspiring loyalty in those around her, in turn she is not adverse to praise allies as well as enemies, albeit it in the latter case is grudgingly.
Ships/Vehicles:
Equipment:
Lightsaber, Synthetic Crystal, Red Blade
Armorweave laced body armour
Plasteel greaves and armguard.
Slicing Kit
Throwing Vibroblade x 3
Stats:
Strength - Average
Agility - Above Average
Intelligence - Above Average
Charisma - Average
Force Stats:
Telekinetic- Apprentice
Telepathic- Novice
Body- Adept
Sense- Apprentice
Protection- Novice
Healing:– Novice
Destruction:– Adept
Combat Training:
Tae-Jitsu:- Adept
Vibrodagger:- Apprentice
Force Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Force Stealth:-Adept
Other Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Infiltration:- Expert
Slicing:- Adept
Languages:
-Huttese: Adept
-Binary: Apprentice
-Twi'lek: Apprentice
Piloting: Apprentice
Lightsaber Training: (Untrained, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master, Specialist)
Shii-Cho- Adept
Makashi-
Soresu- Apprentice
Ataru- Expert
Shien/Djem So-Untrained
>>Sub-form Backhanded-Untrained
Niman-
>>Sub-form Jar-kai-Untrained
Juyo-
Double Bladed Combat-
Biography:
Beginning
Syrin Elar was born twenty-three standard years ago on Dantooine to a former Republic Solder turned mercenary, Dasc Elar and his wife a former technician with the Republic Army, Mai Elar, becoming the first of two girls. The early years of her life were not easy. The life within the remote homestead and the few farmlands the family owed ensured this as barely operational droids, meager crops and the few credits to spare would force the young girl to help as much as her feeble body would allow her.
Her father would be an absentee for the most part of her early years as he spent much of his time off planet, hired and deployed in many fringe worlds in which individuals needed a muscle for security or simple to scare someone to cooperate for their schemes. It could not be said that the marriage between her parents was the best, in fact it was quite possibly as strained and difficult as it could be. Yet for some reason she remained with the man.
Unbeknownst to both parents their both Syrin and her sister, Asra were force sensitives, within her blood the potential to use the force if trained. However their potential didn't transmit in any obvious way that would make their parents suspicious, tacitly the force made both bond closer, having each other to rely unto during the rare stays of their father and his usual drunken bouts with their mother as arguments over money and the difficulty of life the family of the man faced in his absence filled their ears as they hid in their tiny shared quarters.
It was at that at the tender of seven that her life would change. During another of their arguments, her father in a fit of alcohol fueled anger pulled out his side arm and blasted his wife ten times, unsuspecting that his eldest daughter observed in horror what had happened. Turning he saw the small girl as she slowly stepped back, only to knock her out with a swing to her face. The girl lost consciousness as her father would try to gather and think what to do.
With little thought he took the girls and all valuables and left in his speeder after setting the homestead ablaze to cover his tracks. Reuniting with his band of mercenaries he ordered them to board their ship and set course for the outer rim. It was hours before Syrin would wake up in the cargo hold of freighter, dazed and confused as the pain rang from her temples to jaw, noting that two of her teeth were missing.
Some of the mercenary companions of her father would come to look at her, feed them during the journey, yet the very man that had sired them would not dare to face them. Hours would turn to eternity as both girls found some solace within the other's embrace with the soft rumble of the hyper drive and sublight engines as a company.
The girls went back to sleep, only to be reawaken time later as the ship had landed on a fringe world in the outer rim. Dasc took them outside the ship, leading them through the maze that the bazaar was in which she wold see hundreds of alien species she had never seen in her life. It was then their father struck a deal with a Zygerrian slaver. Not understanding the grasp of the situation she was checked by a medical droid and soon enough approved which would lead to her be pass from someone with freedom to a slave.
Seeing as how her new master would shove her and handle hair roughly while securing a shock collar around her neck and that of her sister, Syrin would use all her strength to escape the claws of the slavers as she cried and yelled for her father to come for her, tears pouring and rolling down her cheeks. Her resistance was only subdued when the shock collar was activated, the unbearable pain coursing as ever cell cried in pain.
The months that came were hell for her, yet those months made something inside of her snap. At first her handlers would seem to be wary of the young girl as somehow she somehow had managed to break fingers and fight her captors, even if as the end result she would be find being the receiving ends of their fists and kicks. Her owner would call for her, ordering her to behave of her sister would be punished as well. With that her fighting spirit quelled but never died down, as time went her hatred would continue to grow. Hatred towards her owner and against the murderer that was his father.
Alone
By fate or luck, a team of Jedi would to undo the Zygerrian slaving group. She and her sister would only hear the firefight and the distant hums of the lightsabers. A light of hope would seem to gleam through the darkness that had being her life during those years, for the mythical defenders of the weak and hapless would come to save both sisters. However what would seem her salvation would end up being another bitter moment in her life.
As the Jedi would take a look at them, they noticed the latent potential that was within the two girls. Learning that they had nothing to return to, it would seem that the life of the Jedi was laid for them. However one of the elder Jedi would take a look unto Syrin, noting the ferocity and hatred which she was seeded deep within her, she was not taken to the Jedi temple to become a Jedi like her sister on the grounds that she was too old for that.
Instead she was left to live at an orphanage on the mid-rim world of Druckenwell, which was a small upgrade from her past as a slave. The rumor of her past somehow had managed to spread among her fellow orphans. Something which they used to pick on her constantly. Fights would ensue and so would punishments from the caretakers. Months would go by and while some children would be adopted Syrin would be overlooked.
It wasn't surprising that she would decide to escape, figuring that perhaps on the streets she would fare better than in the environment of the orphanage. In the streets she was unhinged, not contained by overseers or caretakers and free to do what she wanted, moving around the hidden passages within the massive cities. The world was her playground and while she sensed fear, there was something that guided her. Something which she wouldn't quite understand.
The girl would steal to live, never staying too long and when caught somehow using others as scapegoats to save her own skin. With time, Druckenwell would begin to feel small and thus she wished for a new challenge. Daringly she would stow away in one of the hundreds of thousands of freighters that would come and go from the industrialized world.
The rush of excitement would be with her as she would leave the planet, with Nar Shaddaa as destination. Upon sneaking off the ship, she would be overwhelmed by the world. The state of decay and the desperation of the people she saw living in the shanty towns made out of containers. But the world offered a new playground for her as the sprawling city-wide moon had numerous ways to make her life.
By the time she had turned eleven, the girl would follow the same plan she had followed since landing in Nar Shaddaa, stealing and leaving, never staying in a single place for too long. However she would one day be led by a whisper of a voice she recognized but could not remember to whom it belonged. Something prompted her to follow the whisper, with each step the whisper grew stronger as it called her name. It was then than she would see from the distance the same person that had condemned her of two years of pain and humiliation and life as a robber. Her father.
Her mind throbbed with revenge and anger. Without thinking she would sneak into a bar as something would seem to guide her. By chance she would quietly take a frag grenade from a mercenary as she passed by. Her steps would continue to be resolute as she made her way through the sea of people and stepped in front of the table in which her father sat.
The man would turn his eyes towards the girl wearing only tatters with messy black hair. But it was when his eyes met the man would recognize Syrin. His eyes shifted from the violet pools of hatred that burned on the features of her daughter, to the circular object she held in her hand. A grenade. It was then that Dasc realized her intent. His hands moved swiftly to pull his blaster out of his holster.
He pulled the trigger while at the same time pushing the table, using it as a makeshift barrier, but somehow the young girl would show incredible reflexes, while with an impossible toss the grenade would fly over the table, collide against the padded seat and roll down to where her father was. An explosion ensued, splintering the table and wounding many of the customers of the locale.
Yet the man was not dead, somehow he had managed to survive, jumping from the splinters, the heavy man tackled the girl, surrounding her tiny neck with his massive hands as blood oozed from his wounds. In a desperate struggle the girl would drive her fingers and nails against her father's eyes, blinding him in the process, which would only make the man anger even further.
As her live force begin to leave her, something kept her clinging to life. Instinctively she raised her hand and stroke the man with her palm on her hand, resulting in a wave sending Dasc against a wall, stunning him. Coughing and getting air back into her lungs she would weakly raise from the floor and stared at the man, focusing her anger on him. And something strange happened as the man would come to raise, yet a hand went to his neck as if something choked him while the other served as a way to gather his bearings.
Something overtook Syrin, her hand raising as if it hand it's own will and slowly forming a small fist, making the man lose is balance and squirm on the ground as a worm, both powerful hands seizing the thick of his neck. Something empowered her, not the enjoyment she felt about seeing the man suffer but the suffering that he was feeling, in a way enhancing all what she felt. Her fist tightened even more and before she knew it between the deafening rush of excitement and her rage, with a wheeze the man fell and everything went dark.
What passed as law enforcement in Nar Shaddaa arrived, watching the scene with the many wounded, a little girl and a bloodied man who seemed to have suffocated. The holocams would show that Syrin had something to do with the death of her father and once she would awaken she would be questioned. Unfortunately for the corrupted police forces of Nar Shaddaa this wouldn't happen as before she was even questioned the girl would banish without a trace.
Apprenticeship and the Sith
Syrin would awaken, her eyes slowly adjusting to the influx of light forcing her to squint as a voice spoke to her. But unlike before, the voice did not came from within. After gathering enough information of her surroundings a male Zabrak would come from the shadows. Presenting himself as former Jedi Master Miraak Durr, he would ask about her. Who she was and who here parents were. Wary she responded, giving half answers and half lies.
In turn she asked him if he had rescued him and what did he want with her. The man would answer, telling her that in effect he had being her savior and that what she wanted was to asses her power. Not understanding he delve deeper into an explanation, telling her that she was force sensitive and she had just begun to scratch the depths of her potential and that through him, she could have all she wished. The offer was tempting, she had spent far too long living like vermin and if she could understand the powers she had, she could bring justice.
However these ideals would die quickly under the teachings of Dark Jedi Miraak Durr. Instead of the father figure and father she had always hoped, the man was as bad or even worse than her father. Each lesson was a test to her resolve, brutal and uncompromising, with good results barely noticed and each failure met with painful punishment, whose marks she still bears on her pale skin.
In truth Miraak Durr never sought to teach her out the goodness of his heart. As while he had grown to be a respected Jedi Master he had fallen to the Darkside and had begun to indulge in everything that the old order had prohibited. Credits, women, spice. He wanted it all and through deft manipulation he had begun to make a name for himself. The girl whose power he had felt echo even through the overwhelming rush of input through the Force had brought to him an opportunity he had not considered as he began his foray into the underworld. An assassin that could dispatch any rivals that had either wronged him or simply were in the way for a larger scheme
Each lesson deviated from the original Jedi methodology in which Durr was raised. Brutality increased with lessons both with the Force and with the forms of the lightsaber. Tortures broke her as he forced pain unto the girl and slowly extracted information from her memories, while she deprived her of all commodities, keeping her on a cage, chained as an animal. Slowly molding her into someone whose emotions were left atrophied and who could be easily controlled as she grew dependent of her master. Her training would be rounded up with additional training with vibrodaggers, computer slicing and piloting, skills which suited her well.
It was at the age of fifteen in which she would take her first serious assignment after a long list of petty assassinations, she would infiltrate the compound of a Gran Crimeboss Aak Leem. Using her looks, passing as one of the dancing girls. As a party would commence the young woman would slowly approach the Aak Leem, and with a swift wave of her hand, she would slice his throat with a vibroblade.
Surrounded by the gang of the now deceased Crimeboss she recognized that all avenues of escape in her original plan were cut off. Without much choice she would allow the darkside to flow through her body in order to fight her way out of the compound. Telekinetically, she lifted the body of Aak Leem with some effort, using it as a shield against blaster bolts and vibroblades her assailants would brandish against her.
With a shove, she would toss the Gran's corpse against his minions, using her agility and and her skills with the vibroblade Syrin began to cut her way out until she reached the compound's hangar. She jumped into a speeder and left the area, only to ditch it lest she risked being followed, using the routes and shortcuts she had discovered years ago to reach her master's lair
Drunk in victory and his other vices the male Zabrak would celebrate this victory. However he was not satisfied with the woman that had warmed his bed so far, taking a moment to notice the maturity that the girl he had begun to teach had acquired thus he forced his way with Syrin, who placed little resistance.
Life would continue as it was, with Durr placing in line those who had followed Aak Leem, and sending her apprentice to eliminate those which would dare to oppose him. From time to time, Murr would allow himself to lust over Syrin as she matured into a woman. However things would change soon enough.
Whispers of the Sith were heard and a new order was to be born. As such bored and tired of his life as a crimeboss, Miraak Murr traveled with Syrin to Korriban, and there both pledged themselves to the Sith. Taking the role of a Sith Master due his mastery of the force. While the girl became an Initiate and later an Acolyte under her master.
The two would go on missions, serving the Empire and it's Order. Which would eventually mean the rise of Syrin to Sith Knight at the age of twenty-three. Something for which both celebrated out of the behest of the woman, which surprised her master. It was a night in which both indulged and drank.
However it would be the last mistake her Master made. As while both laid over the bed that night, she would raise upon the sleeping form of the Zabrak and stab him several times, prompting his eyes to open in horror. While hardy as anyone of his species he knew the dire predicament in which he was and as he tried to command the Darkside for his aid, it would all be in vain. Arcs of lightning would fly from her finger tips, slowly killing him as strength would ebb from him.
In his final moments, Syrin revealed that he hated him and had allowed the Zabrak to lust after her and be pleased and content upon her body because she needed to learn from him but that he had reached the end of his usefulness. While she thanked him for the training and the strength she had gained, to her, he was simply a stepping stone and with that she ended him. Syrin disposed of the body, having no used for his corpse. It was after this in which she would begin to operate as what she was trained, an assassin, in service of the Sith Empire and the members of the Inner Sanctum.
In turn she asked him if he had rescued him and what did he want with her. The man would answer, telling her that in effect he had being her savior and that what she wanted was to asses her power. Not understanding he delve deeper into an explanation, telling her that she was force sensitive and she had just begun to scratch the depths of her potential and that through him, she could have all she wished. The offer was tempting, she had spent far too long living like vermin and if she could understand the powers she had, she could bring justice.
However these ideals would die quickly under the teachings of Dark Jedi Miraak Durr. Instead of the father figure and father she had always hoped, the man was as bad or even worse than her father. Each lesson was a test to her resolve, brutal and uncompromising, with good results barely noticed and each failure met with painful punishment, whose marks she still bears on her pale skin.
In truth Miraak Durr never sought to teach her out the goodness of his heart. As while he had grown to be a respected Jedi Master he had fallen to the Darkside and had begun to indulge in everything that the old order had prohibited. Credits, women, spice. He wanted it all and through deft manipulation he had begun to make a name for himself. The girl whose power he had felt echo even through the overwhelming rush of input through the Force had brought to him an opportunity he had not considered as he began his foray into the underworld. An assassin that could dispatch any rivals that had either wronged him or simply were in the way for a larger scheme
Each lesson deviated from the original Jedi methodology in which Durr was raised. Brutality increased with lessons both with the Force and with the forms of the lightsaber. Tortures broke her as he forced pain unto the girl and slowly extracted information from her memories, while she deprived her of all commodities, keeping her on a cage, chained as an animal. Slowly molding her into someone whose emotions were left atrophied and who could be easily controlled as she grew dependent of her master. Her training would be rounded up with additional training with vibrodaggers, computer slicing and piloting, skills which suited her well.
It was at the age of fifteen in which she would take her first serious assignment after a long list of petty assassinations, she would infiltrate the compound of a Gran Crimeboss Aak Leem. Using her looks, passing as one of the dancing girls. As a party would commence the young woman would slowly approach the Aak Leem, and with a swift wave of her hand, she would slice his throat with a vibroblade.
Surrounded by the gang of the now deceased Crimeboss she recognized that all avenues of escape in her original plan were cut off. Without much choice she would allow the darkside to flow through her body in order to fight her way out of the compound. Telekinetically, she lifted the body of Aak Leem with some effort, using it as a shield against blaster bolts and vibroblades her assailants would brandish against her.
With a shove, she would toss the Gran's corpse against his minions, using her agility and and her skills with the vibroblade Syrin began to cut her way out until she reached the compound's hangar. She jumped into a speeder and left the area, only to ditch it lest she risked being followed, using the routes and shortcuts she had discovered years ago to reach her master's lair
Drunk in victory and his other vices the male Zabrak would celebrate this victory. However he was not satisfied with the woman that had warmed his bed so far, taking a moment to notice the maturity that the girl he had begun to teach had acquired thus he forced his way with Syrin, who placed little resistance.
Life would continue as it was, with Durr placing in line those who had followed Aak Leem, and sending her apprentice to eliminate those which would dare to oppose him. From time to time, Murr would allow himself to lust over Syrin as she matured into a woman. However things would change soon enough.
Whispers of the Sith were heard and a new order was to be born. As such bored and tired of his life as a crimeboss, Miraak Murr traveled with Syrin to Korriban, and there both pledged themselves to the Sith. Taking the role of a Sith Master due his mastery of the force. While the girl became an Initiate and later an Acolyte under her master.
The two would go on missions, serving the Empire and it's Order. Which would eventually mean the rise of Syrin to Sith Knight at the age of twenty-three. Something for which both celebrated out of the behest of the woman, which surprised her master. It was a night in which both indulged and drank.
However it would be the last mistake her Master made. As while both laid over the bed that night, she would raise upon the sleeping form of the Zabrak and stab him several times, prompting his eyes to open in horror. While hardy as anyone of his species he knew the dire predicament in which he was and as he tried to command the Darkside for his aid, it would all be in vain. Arcs of lightning would fly from her finger tips, slowly killing him as strength would ebb from him.
In his final moments, Syrin revealed that he hated him and had allowed the Zabrak to lust after her and be pleased and content upon her body because she needed to learn from him but that he had reached the end of his usefulness. While she thanked him for the training and the strength she had gained, to her, he was simply a stepping stone and with that she ended him. Syrin disposed of the body, having no used for his corpse. It was after this in which she would begin to operate as what she was trained, an assassin, in service of the Sith Empire and the members of the Inner Sanctum.
Roleplay Sample:
In the stillness of darkness, silence reigned. Her breath was stale as her consciousness would recede into the deep recesses of her mind for comfort and meditation. After all, as any blade needed a whetstone to sharpen so would her hatred and spirit. In a trance but aware of her surroundings, her breath would resume as the lungs would be filled with cold and inert air. But as she did, the Sith could feel the ripples and distant echoes through the darkside of the Force. She could heard it, the rhythmic beating from the core of Drommund Kaas to the ranging storms that split sky asunder, all intertwined to be the dark nexus from which the Empire grew as a war marchine.
Syrin would feel how the gravitas of the ancient power of this world, and multiple more within Sith space, would sync with her. The power within her felt enhanced and multiplied and her hatred and fury sharpened as she mentality repeated the mantra that every member of the order knew in her mind. Each inhalation would augment the flames that now raged within her. However there was something else that the darkside spoke of. A danger that approached at her.
The crimson of her eyes would open. Her still enhanced senses gathering information that she would process. Two of them, she considered after hearing the subtle rustle of robes and steps. Of the same trade as hers, yet sloppy and amateurish in their execution and delivery. It was with a sigh that she rose from her kneeling position. The prospect did little to bother her, it was the interruption of her meditation that brought discomfort from her.
At last her two assailants would reveal themselves as the bloody red of their blades snapped to life, revealing the couture and outline of their robes and bodies. A humanoid male and afemale by the looks of it. With a similar snap-hiss her blade would emerge. With a leap of both assassins all her instinct and training etched unto her flesh and will would emerge. Their assault was met with resistance, as her blade directed by her arm and wrist would move to meet, parry and deflect as the woman would have her eyes dart between their attacks in an aim to recognize their forms and their flaws.
With a single slash, she would sever the wrist of one of her attackers, the female who quailed in pain, seizing the wounded limb. Syrin would open her palm in the same sequence, a telekinetic surge pushing the female individual away. Her gaze and focus would then shift to the second attacker who she would sense the terror that coursed through him as he realized the gap of power between the two.
A flurry of rapid and quite attacks ensued upon her foe as the force coursed through her, enhancing her abilities even further, driving the second assassin into a desperate defense as she waited to open a breach into his defenses. And such the breach finally presented itself as a stroke would forge the saber aside, allowing her to slash her blade through cloth, flesh and bone, ending her foe.
The sweet scent of seared flesh would fill her nostrils as she gazed upon her foes without much care. One had died, a relatively painless death, far much than what he had deserved. The other still lived, wounded. With a firm step she would plant herself in front of the female, an Umbaran that made her own skin look dark in comparison. Forming a fist she raised the woman from the polished soil of her meditation chamber.
"I will not kill you." She said coldly. "At least, not yet. But you will tell me who sent you, even if I have to break every inch of your body in the process."
Syrin would not allow her a rebuke, slamming her against a wall. Knocking her unconscious. Although she wondered whom she had the attention of to incite such commitment of resources, she was in no rush to find her enemy. After all there were things that required attention from her and whether she liked it or not, her new prisoner would speak. It was all a matter of time.
) and Meira both started out as Jedi, and any Jedi would have a minimum of 5 years training on her...a couple more in their particular cases. And despite one of these characters being a Consular, they both stick with Adept level as their upper end, which is about the level we tend to expect from a relatively young Knight. So, I'd say consider that your cap as well, and we'll work out the rest of the specifics from there.