Post by 10Tickler on Feb 8, 2012 3:14:55 GMT -5
Eclipse's Seventh character. Permission granted by Cap'n Sparra
Name: Zænia Urto
Sith Name: Caliga
Race: Sorrusian
Age: 22
Height: 5' 4"
Weight: 125 lbs.
Appearance:
The most striking thing about Zænia is...nothing. To the Naked eye, she would almost seem like a Normal Sorrusian woman, going about her business on whichever planet she was noticed on...that's if you noticed her. Unlike other Sith or Dark Jedi, Zænia doesn't do the whole "Blacker then black" ensemble, while that's not saying that she won't wear darker clothing, she tends to wear outfits that are more commonplace in the Galaxy at large. Usually, these clothes are more baggy than some of the people you'd witness, an effort to hide her toned figure from the naked eye.
Speaking of which, toned she is. Rather than focusing on Heavy muscles for power, she has trained in Flexibility and Speed, relying on toning of existing muscles, rather than adding new ones for greater strength. Combine this with her rather Petite build and you could almost call her cute. Short-cropped Dark hair dusts her head, spiking up from Temporal to crown, almost giving her an Avian appearance, and from underneath her hair, dark brown, chocolate, eyes observe the world around her. She's not too noticeable in the end, and that's just the way she wants it.
Disclaimer: This Image is created from Free-to-use Lineart and colored by myself. Respective rights belong to those whom possess them
Personality:
Zænia is a quiet woman, always observing those around her, always on the lookout. Paranoid by necessity, if one were to observe her back, two things would happen. Firstly, you would notice that she seems worried about something, and secondly, she would notice you and you would probably be found dead in a back alley, appearing to have overdosed on something, for all intents and purposes.
That's not to say that Zænia's completely anti-social, she just tends to worry about her cover too much. Since she's not highly skilled in the Force's ways, she can't erase herself from people's minds, nor make them forget of her presence. As an assassin, that makes her life a little more difficult, and she's mindful of that.
Approaching her in innocence, one finds a demure, quiet, but cunning girl, quick of wit and sharp of tongue. She enjoys life when she can, but when given a Target, she is all business. She's prideful of her work, yet not boastful. Zænia is a Mystery, wrapped in an Enigma...a Present waiting to be opened.
Birth place: Aargau
Faction: Sith
Rank: Assassin
Previous Faction: Dark Jedi
Previous Rank: Knight
Bio:
Coruscant, a busy, bustling metropolitan planet that never sleeps, controlling nearly all of the Political framework of the Government, the Senate itself, the Jedi Temple and offices representing a million planets. This is not the Planet of our Focus, however. No, instead, we look to Aargau, the planet home to one of the members of the Intergalactic Banking Council, thus making it a wealthy world of corporations and strict rules. It was on this planet, in the capitol city of New Escrow, that Zænia was born to a pair of mid-level Loan managers for the Primary form of government, the Bank of Aargau.
At 6lbs, 9oz, she was a small child, but had a strong pair of lungs, evidenced by her screams. Unfortunately, to give her Zænia life, her mother traded hers away, leaving her husband alone to care for the Child. Zakrei Urto, however, was a busy man and was therefore overcome with joy when he was informed that after the standard battery of tests, Zænia was eligible to join the Jedi Academy. Agreeing almost instantly, Zakrei was out of his daughter's life not even an hour after she was born.
Taken by the Resident Jedi of Aargau, the Baby was placed in the Jedi Temple's skilled Nursery, raised and cared for by Jedi. As she aged, she was noted to be a Selfish baby, not really caring to share toys with the other infants or toddlers. As she approached her Third birthday, slowly, her development went along the usual paths, learning to toddle and speak slowly, but surely.
At the appropriate age, Zænia was taken into the Initiate program, Joining a clan of other children taken into the Jedi fold who were around her age. Quickly it was apparent that something was not right. Where other children would excel, or even reach a moderate level of success, Zænia struggled. Telepathy, Telekinesis, even Meditation and the Study of written history and the Jedi Code seemed to tax her.
Tests were preformed, and it was revealed that Zænia was not Illiterate, but, instead had trouble with comprehension. Between a short attention span, and what she described as words "swimming" on the datapads before her, she struggled with some of the most basic of tasks in her education. This, of course, was quickly noticed by the other students.
Now, children will be, of course, children. Even though their ribbing was light-hearted and intended in an attempt to bring a smile to their classmate's face, Zænia took it wrong, every time. Whenever a student offered to help her with something, she would take offense, becoming verbally combative, and sometimes taking it out on the other students, in subtle forms, in the only area that she was actually a little above average in, Combat training.
That's not to say that Zænia was cruel, she just knew her strength and speed, in comparison to the rest of her Clan, and wasn't afraid to show the difference between them. Yet, her actions began to breed some manner of contempt among her classmates, bringing her loneliness. People she had considered friends started to ignore her, people that she had felt mostly neutral about? They would flat-out walk away from her when she approached.
Becoming a Social pariah, of course, didn't help Zænia's studies any, and her scores fell dramatically before the arrival of her Clan's Initiate trials. By this point, she had managed, at least, to memorize the Code of the Jedi, but that was about it. Worry led to self-doubt which led to, ultimately, failure. Having seen her progress through the Temple's Initiate stages, the Council had two choices. They could either recommend that Zænia be made a member of the Jedi Service Corps, or Leave. Without any actual skill in most of the abilities open to the Jedi, Zænia's options were...slim, She wasn't able to lift or move things with the Force, nor feel other people's emotions. When the decision came down, it wasn't a surprise to her. Zænia Urto was presented the choices, a life in the Jedi Service corps, probably as one of the weakest members, or to leave the Jedi Temple.
For the young girl, it wasn't a hard choice. She didn't really like it at the temple, and assumed that it wouldn't be that different among the Jedi Service Corps. She informed those to whom it mattered that she'd rather leave, and the deal was done. It wouldn't just be like that, however. She was a Minor, and her Father still lived on Aargau. One of the instructors was asked to take her back to him, and so they left, and Zænia was no longer a candidate to be a Jedi.
When the Instructor, a Tall woman by the name of Yala, arrived with Zænia on Aargau, she was met by a small contingent of well-dressed men, clearly bodyguards. Zakrei Urto had risen to a position of great power in the Banking Government, and therefore , when notified of his daughter's return, had sent a small team of his Loyal underlings to come and fetch her. They didn't know what to expect when they arrived, but Zænia probably wasn't anything like they imagined.
Dressed in a simple, light-brown tunic with a belt, she had let her hair grow out, Raven locks covering her eyes and ears completely. Her mouth held a sullen look to it as she looked around the spaceport, and with disgust, shook her head. Yala observed the girl's behavior curiously, an eyebrow raised...wondering what Zænia was thinking.
Then the girl spoke. He abandoned me at birth, glad to see that worked out well for him she spurted, turning, bowing, while respectfully, with a trace of disdain, to the instructor, then walked away with the men, letting them load her into a waiting Hoverlimo which quickly sped away. Thinking on what the Girl had said, Yala watched, somewhat sadly, then left, never to return to the Planet.
Launched into a world entirely unfamiliar to her, Zænia was plagued by the life that she had once lived in comparison to this new one. Her father was over-attentive, making sure that his daughter was dressed in the latest of tween fashions, pushed her onto the social circuit, sent her to parties even hosted extravagant parties for her. Compared to the simplistic way of the Jedi, this lifestyle chafed against Zænia's nerves in a way she never thought possible. Hedonism, the endless hunt for pleasure and Connections...it was disgusting.
The fake smiles that everyone plastered on their faces around her, her father's friends, their children with whom she was forced to associate. Not play, not in the normal sense at least. No, these were people who would one day be important, this was all about making connections early. Maybe even finding a Husband.
Zænia was only 12.
These things were the furthest from what she actually wanted. She wanted friends, a Father with which she could spend time, be a family. He provided Luxury and trips to exotic planets. If Zænia had wanted to, she could have probably asked to go hunting for something endangered, and he'd have made it happen.
She didn't ask, instead she just tolerated it, put up with it. Rode on the Stupid shuttles to resorts and ate Hors d'oeuvre. It just rubbed her the wrong way, constantly. She needed an escape, and at her Fourteenth birthday party, she discovered it. Neutron Pixie. A powerful Hallucinogenic drug, derived from Glitterstim. Less potent than the pure form, cheaper too. She could afford it in decent amounts with the Allowance that her father gave her monthly.
The boy who introduced her to it was a Human, the son of a Senator who knew how boring living life as a socialite could be.
The first hit? Magic. The Second? She was flying. The world was beautiful, amazing. Zænia could finally see how these idiots could enjoy these parties. The Loud music, the Colors, everything was so...real all of a sudden. She excused herself from the party with the young man, and that was the night Zænia first experienced love.
Was it pure? No. Was it fun? Yes, and that was all that mattered, it was a distraction, a diversion, a way to escape the world that her father was trying to create around her, a way to be free, to be herself and not care what he had to say or thing.
She started slow, going through maybe a Half-gram every month...but soon the need grew. Without it, she was irritable, everything was dimmer and she would grow sore. Soon she was up to an entire gram a month, her supplier the Senator's son, each visit marked by the Colors and the Sensations.
Two years later, she was a wreck, her hair cut short and choppy in the style of a musician from the Holonet, her favorite clothes ragged and torn in the wrong places. Her father noticed, but had a hard time disciplining her. Somewhere, deep inside, he felt guilty for ignoring her when she was born. That lack of will was the worst mistake he could ever make.
Two weeks after her Sixteenth birthday party, which had been spent in a hazy, colorful cloud, Zænia's life changed when a self-test showed Positive. Frantic calls were made, lies were told, and a few weeks later, It wasn't a problem anymore...her father never even knew where his money went, and honestly, didn't care.
Zænia dropped the drugs after that, going through several weeks of withdrawal, her body needing the High, her mind pleading within itself to try and convince her that it was the right thing to do. Zænia didn't care. The Drugs had made her vulnerable, she didn't remember the last time, and that scared her. She made a vow to never be that out of her own control again.
At the same time, she realized that the life her father had offered wasn't right, wasn't good for her, and had started to save her money up, saving a little each month, setting it aside. Three weeks before her Seventeenth birthday, she used it on Travel gear and a Ticket off-planet. Destination? Mid-Rim, hopefully far enough away that she wouldn't be found.
Tickets? Check.
Bag? Check.
Zænia had all she wanted or needed from her father's house. She was almost at the age of Majority anyways, and another year there would have probably killed her. It had been child's play to sneak out that evening. She had memorized the house's layout in her years there, knew where the Camera's blind spots were and the routes that the guards took while making their rounds.
She'd saved up a goodly amount, and as the Girl looked at the departure board, she thought about the ticket she'd purchased. It had been expensive, but she'd done some research on the Holonet, and her destination of Druckenwell was a well-thought upon choice. An Industrial planet, she was sure to find work there. She'd need that, she knew, in order to survive for very long. As she boarded the Flight, she took one last glance at the planet of her birth.
She wanted to Vomit. It was disgusting, even here, corruption and greed filled the air like the scent of a bender gone wrong, lingering the day after. Zænia was glad to go.
As Aargau faded behind her, she felt the familiar pull of the ship entering hyperspace, heard the thrumming of the massive engines as they pushed the ship through the stars towards the final goal. That's not to say that there wouldn't be stopovers. In an effort to save some money, Zænia had booked her flight on the lowest-costing option, and that meant stopping on other planets, picking up cargo and passengers, all headed to Druckenwell.
On one of the stops, on a planet named Talasea, Several figures boarded, including a Tall male, cloaked in dark robes, his face hidden from all on board. Purposefully, the male seemed to scan the passengers before choosing his seat...next to Zænia. Closer up, he was imposing. Despite her weak skills with the Force, she could feel it tingling around him, pricking against her senses. From beneath the hood, his eyes seemed to glow for a moment when they met her own.
Defiantly, Zænia held his gaze for a few moments, then turned away. The man was creepy, she wasn't sure why he'd chosen to sit beside her, but something inside was telling the girl to find a new seat. That was when he spoke. Voice deep, reverberating with power and status, he spoke to her as though she were a child, which by all rights, she was, legally. You're here alone? Hmm...Runaway, or simply abandoned?" he probed, pulling the hood back to reveal his face.
It was stunning. Scarred, but that only added to the man's looks. Human, but with hair that seemed more crimson than blood itself and green eyes that seemed to pierce her soul to it's darkest depths. It took a moment for Zænia to catch herself, then she replied with a soft "Humph" noise, continuing with a little exposition. What's the difference in the end? Who asked you to care anyways, you old pervert? she prodded in an unknowingly dangerous move.
His laugh was magical, loud and boisterous, filling the space between them with his mirth. Oh no, child. I recognize the Force within you...it's not strong, but it has potential. I'm guessing, however, with an attitude like that, that the Jedi didn't want you tainting their ever-so-perfect order, right?" he pressed, smiling a leaning closer. He smelled of Old leather and a spicy sort of Cologne.
Sitting back, Zænia shook her head. Wasn't even that. Too stupid to learn, sent me back to my idiot father and I got tired of him, now I'm here. What's your damage, old man?
Sitting back, away from her, the Man smiled, remembering his own time with the Order, then laughing a little. My problem was a little more...severe. Don't know enough, the Jedi don't want you. Want to know too much? You're told to leave. I dared to learn past what they wanted me to know, and now I find myself wanting to pass some of that on...Are you interested?
Interested? In what, becoming some sort of old man's servant? The idea didn't sound remotely interesting to Zænia, and the more she thought about it, the less she liked it. Here was some guy, obviously in his thirties, chatting up a 16 year-old in an attempt to get her to follow him wherever he went. That wasn't creepy at all. Then he spoke again, his voice smooth as the finest of honeys.
I offer you one thing, my dear. he began. A chance to Succeed where the Jedi only predicted failure. A chance to go beyond a life of working for your next meal and a chance to become a power feared in the Galaxy. What you do with that Chance...well, that's your choice, isn't it? It was too. It was only her choice at that point. She had tired of her life in the spotlight, at parties. She'd grown tired of Hedonism and in the end, could have avoided it all by not failing as an Initiate.
Fine she replied with a huff, having no clue that just one word, a single acknowledgement, would change her life completely. Life quickly became a whirlwind after that, following the man off of the Ship at Druckenwell she noted his gait, how he moved, and he noted her notice. She was observant, mistrusting. She had grown up, for the most part, with people who could sense and feel the Force around them, she clearly struggled with it. He could feel the Force's presence within Zænia, but it seemed to refuse to follow her commands.
In a small building that the Dark Jedi lived in, he tested her, Pushing her to Bend the Force to her whims. She could, but only just. Lifting and pushing more than a few inches was beyond her. Sitting her down, the man figured that it was time for Formal introductions. You will call me Master Phaylis he told the girl, telling in full his story, making it clear why he had left the Jedi. He had searched for more and more knowledge as a Knight, and according to them, had fallen to the Dark Side. From his view, however, the fall came after his being told to leave.
He would train her. Her strength would not lay in the more obvious Force powers, this much was apparent. No, her skills would lie more subtly, hidden from the view of the people around her, he was sure of this. Phaylis was a skilled Jedi, his tastes falling further towards the Dark side, and thus, the training began in earnest.
It was hard work, the training more intense than that offered to Initiates at the temple. At the same time, there wasn't any reading or Writing. The things that she was instructed to memorize were more Physical than anything else, and she excelled under his skilled tutelage. The days would start with a simple breakfast, high in protein to aid in her training's rigorous methods, then would move on to basic Exercises and stretches, loosening the muscles and preparing for later on.
Later in the day, after another light meal, they would practice with weapons. Phaylis had taken time after leaving the Temple to learn to use weapons other than a Lightsaber, since he had lost his. After his departure, when his Saber had been confiscated, it had been some time before he was able to find the required parts and Crystals to make another one, and as such, had trained to use other weapons and tools to their fullest extent. These skills he imparted upon Zænia. Shorter blades, the daggers and Brass knuckles were used to give a little extension to her reach and to the damage she could do with a strike. She proved to be good with these as well, as though the were the perfect fit.
It was around this time that Phaylis began working with her on other skills as well, noting her lack of ability in most fields used by the Jedi, he tried to focus on others, helping her develop concentration exercises, in planning for the future.
Small, lithe and agile, Zænia grew older and more skilled by the day. Soon, Phaylis was taking her with him into the Galaxy at large to witness how others lived. He had a plan, and she was going to be a key part. Travelling with her Master, Zænia watched him interact with Minor Politicians, winning their favor with smooth words and plenty of lies. Yet, they seemed to not care, not even when the lies were blatantly obvious.
Most of the Politicians could tell that Phaylis wasn't a Jedi, some wanted his protection, some wanted the political power that could come from allying with someone of Master Phaylis' stature. Either way, most that she saw...were corrupt, down to the bone. After the meetings, her master would quiz her on what had happened, seeing her reactions to certain things. He was pleased. Zænia felt disgust most times, and that was what he wanted her to see, what he had wanted her to note.
He explained that if she felt disgust, then she'd view her targets as less than real people. They were beneath The two of them, less worthy. It made sense to her. The Corruption that she'd seen mirrored that of those with power on Aargau, her father included. It didn't take long for her to work around these thoughts and inquire of Phaylis what he wanted her to do.
It will be simple. You will remove the trash from power, clearing the way for a new power to take hold he had informed her, smiling, That is, once you train a little more he added, smiling. He explained a theory he had, that he wanted to test to Zænia. Phaylis believed that since her skills didn't seem to lay in the Spheres of Sensation or Alteration, they might lie within something else.
That somewhere, he explained, was within her own form. The training began in earnest once more, this time focused on herself and how she could use the Force. Not trying to use Telekinesis or other external Force Abilities, she found that focusing on her own body proved to be far easier. Phaylis had done a goodly amount of study in this area, and under his teachings, she learned how to Boost her speed, her strength. She moved onto other techniques, Agility based motions, aided and assisted by the Force and how to control her breathing.
It was soon after this that Phaylis presented her with a gift as well. Due to Zænia's issues with the Force, he had taken it upon himself to create a Saber for his Pupil. It was a Short-bladed weapon, with Synthetic Crystals at the core. Properly made, the hilt and blade were well-balanced, in comparison to Phaylis' own saber. But then, it wasn't a tool for a duelist, but rather the hidden weapon of...an Assassin.
Between the training at the Jedi temple, and Phaylis' own masterful instruction, Zænia's skills grew quickly, and over the months that followed, she began the arduous task of mastering the first lightsaber form, Shii-cho. Around this time, Phaylis began to take her with him more frequently, allowing her to fight by his side in battles, to grow in strength.
Here, in an element not quite accepted by the Jedi, she could feel the Force stronger, calling out to her in a more tangible way. In the midst of battle, it seemed to boost her strength, her speed. Rather than feeling a pull on her blade as other Jedi might, she felt more free, as though the Force was providing an outlet for creativity. Combat was clearly what she was best at, but with her smaller build and stature, she wasn't that amazing at it...
Soon Phaylis sat her down, explaining one of the theories that he had formed early on in Zænia's training. She didn't quite exude the Force as strong as others, was therefore less remarkable to those who could sense it. Announcing his plans to teach her more unorthodox styles of combat, he had smiled, placing a hand on her head. She would be an Assassin, sent to rid the Galaxy of the Trash that plagued it and brought the common people down.
Such a proclamation was an exciting thing for the young woman, and she redoubled her training, working with skill and enthusiasm at altering Shii-cho to fit her style, working the saber itself into other weapon forms, using the blade as well as her own, more specialized tools. Then Phaylis made his announcement, his grand wrapping up of things for Zænia.
Despite her having left home, her father hadn't forgotten her, and had, in fact, sent out several bounties, looking for the Girl, to bring her back to him. Apparently Zakrei Urto had grown softer in his old age and wished to see his daughter again...and between Zænia and Phaylis, it was clear that this could be a very good thing for the both of them.
Forgotten memories were surfacing, rumblings from the darkest and lowest corners of the Underworld. Whispered secrets from one ear to another, and they all mentioned one thing...the Sith were rising once more, to challenge the Galaxy and the Jedi themselves. To change society as it currently existed.
Phaylis and Zænia would travel the galaxy to find the Sith, but to afford such a thing, they would need money, and the best place to find it? Why, that would be a bank. As a Banker's daughter, Zænia stood a chance to find herself awash in credits, the kind of funding that would purchase a ship capable of travelling the Galaxy and the stores that would allow such a journey.
Taking public transportation back to Aargau, Phaylis took the trip's time to outline their plan. Zænia would be the prodigal daughter, returning to her father after roaming the galaxy at large for a few years. There would be no mention of her training, not at first at least. Just before they arrived, he presented her with a gift. Her birthday was a week away, and this was for it. Wrapped simply, a Cloak and Tunic made of fine, silky-feeling material awaited her eyes, and when opened, seemed to glisten just slightly in the light.
He explained that they were an Armorweave, made for her by a small contractor on another planet. Not quite as strong as real armor, but enough to deflect light blaster bolts. Underneath the first set of clothing, was another set, of a brighter material, but well-worn and clearly previously owned. These would be the clothes for her cover.
At the spaceport, Phaylis sent her along, promising to wait for her in a small tavern, which he marked on a datapad for her. The task would be completed in less than a week, and then the two of them would leave Aargau, hopefully forever.
Approaching her father's estate, Zænia could feel her heart throbbing in her chest, her adrenaline pumping. She didn't want to be here. The man who'd given her up in exchange for success, and taken her back upon her own failure...who'd spoiled her to make amends and had just ruined everything for her...she could feel the seething resentment in her breast for his very existence.
It would be good to finally see him dead.
At the gates, she pressed the com buzzer, waiting for the guards to respond, only to be surprised by the sound of her father's voice, much weaker than she remembered it, asking who was there. It seemed that much had happened in the past four years, and it would be interesting to see which would kill him first, the Vengeful daughter or the unexpected disease.
After announcing herself, and crosschecking with a retinal print, Zænia was allowed entrance, the gates swinging inward to allow her through. The path to the house, where it had once been lush gardens and beautiful flowers, was now a portrait of death itself, mottled browns and grays abounding as the dominant colors. When the door opened before her, the Young woman was shocked and forced to act dismayed. Before her stood Zakrei, his hair a mixture of patches that were falling out and grey straw. His skin, at one time healthy, was now patchy and translucent.
Zænia was disgusted, unable to bring herself to touch him, much less express any sort of love, she simply asked him what had happened. The explanation that followed was short, but honest. After she had left him for the Galaxy, he had fallen ill, a cancerous disease that was eating his body slowly and painfully. It was in it's final stages, and he had needed her here to work out what would happen to his estate.
Moving through the house, it was clear that it was dusty and unkempt. His shuffling steps made her even more curious. This man was wealthy enough to buy a team of women to care for his every need, yet he lived in filth. Then he told her why. Gesturing to the dust-filled house, he told her that he had fired all but one of the staff several years ago, focusing, instead, on finding Zænia and saving as much money as he could. When they finally reached his room, he motioned for her to follow him in and sit as he lay himself onto his bed.
"You...must hate me. Between foisting you onto the Jedi, then ignoring you....no amount of apologies could ever be enough" he began, his words interrupted by a fit of coughing. "I focused on what wasn't important in my life...money, fame...things that mean nothing now." he continued. "In the end, I just want you to live a happy life...to never have to want for anything ever again, and even that's not enough..." he finally said, shaking his head as his last servant stepped forward, holding a Datapad. Zakrai's hand was shakey as he signed the final line on the will that had been written onto it.
"I needed to know you...were still there to take this, it's all yours" he said...drawing his final rattling breath.
Through this all, Zænia's eyes were hard, unforgiving. The man was her father, yes, but only by blood. There was nothing else that he had really done for her in the end. The money? This house? Worthless to her. Dismissing the Servant with a wave of her hand, she stood and shook her head, saying the last words that Zakrei would ever hear in this mortal coil. "All I ever wanted was to know what love was really like. You will never know." Snatching the Datapad, she turned, leaving his corpse.
A week? She hadn't even needed that, her idiot father had apparently done the work for her. Without her to care about, he hadn't even gotten his disease cured, which it surely could have been. He was weak, easily manipulated, and now, as she walked out of one of the Branch offices of the Bank of Aargau, she was rich because of it. No, Phaylis and Zænia were BOTH rich. Well over 6 Billion credits of wealth, on one little credit stick.
Finding her Master quickly, she presented him with the chip, and together, they went to a Local spaceport, finding and buying a ship big enough and powerful enough to take them and supplies to the outer rim. Phaylis, with his contacts amongst other Dark Jedi, had discovered of a meeting on the Planet Korriban, Hundreds would be there, and they would be joining them.
(Referencing the meeting in A Day darker than most
It took over a month to arrive, which was fine, they were on Korriban for a few hours before they needed to join the other Dark Jedi...yet they joined them almost immediately. Some were Phaylis' friends, to whom he introduced Zænia. Staying by his side, the young woman listened, introduced herself respectfully and waited, observing those around them. Some were clearly more violent, bottles of Champagne that had been shaken and were waiting to explode.
Others, more, were simply curious, perhaps seeking more power, or even prestige over their comrades...it would be an interesting thing to see how they turned out after today, and the woman made mental notes of some of them, as well as some of the other apprentices that were there.
When the time came, several people rose, above the rest. Taking a high point to deliver a speech unto the amassed Dark Jedi. One among them, clearly a leader, spoke of changing times, of a future that was coming and swiftly. Swiftly, others lobbied to join his cause. A Blind girl and what was apparently her tender. Some strong, some weaker and seeking protection. Among the Last, Phaylis Offered himself, and his Apprentice as Servants.
They were accepted, graciously, by the Sith's Leadership, the imposing figure of Inquisitious and his own pupils. Later, when asked, Phaylis told one of the Leaders of the sills that he had instilled within his pupil, with pride in his eyes as he spoke of her successes. Unfortunately, such skills weren't a way to simply reach a higher position for her, although he was appointed as a Master, and sent to teach other Acolytes in the Dark ways of the Force.
Zænia, on the other hand, was placed into a team, a group of three other Disciples and the Master over them. Given an order, they were expected to, and in fact did, move out immediately. From minor threats to the Sith's Secrecy to Personal Guards for important figures, the Team did what they were told, and eventually, they were assigned something that Zænia could relish.
A Politician, on a small backwater planet, had discovered the Existence of the Sith, and had attempted, stupidly, to blackmail them. The team was dispatched to rid the Galaxy of him, even though the Master knew, it would only take Zaenia to fix this issue.
Sent as a Delegation from their Masters, the team arrived on the small planet in relative silence and in the darkness of night, spending the night on the ship in order to prepare. It was decided that Zænia would accompany the master, while the other two acolytes would spend their time arranging to have a clear path to the ship, by whatever means needed. The next morning, they set off, under the light of a Blue-white sun, towards the government building.
When the Master and Zænia arrived, they were surprised. The Senator had gone all-out on Security, hiring a veritable private army to defend him on this day, and after a lengthy screening, their sabers confiscated by the hulking brute who would escort them, they were taken to the man. As they entered the door to his office, Zænia could only think of one descriptive term for the man. Rodent. He was small, with a tight face and pointed features. A little black on his twitching nose, and he'd fit right into a rodent's nest.
As the meeting started, Zaenia drowned out the conversation mostly, listening for the key words from her Master's lips. It was mostly fiscal discussion, although some other demands were coming through the Senator's mouth, nothing that she bothered to care about. Then, the Master said them, the three words that would trigger the end of the Senator's life.
We're not interested
In the next second, fueled by the Force and her powerful, taut muscles, Zænia was across the desk, a well-concealed weapon appearing in her hand, pulled from her sleeves with rapid efficiency. Two simple-looking metal sticks, with a button, which was depressed by her thumb, with a length of braided wire between them, hummed to life, the Vibro-Garrote wrapping around the Senator's neck and sending his head flying away in a gory mess that splattered the walls, as well as the Bodyguards around him.
Not that they'd notice.
It's an odd choice, to underestimate a Master of any style, especially one adept enough to lead a team of Acolytes into battle, and With a simple flourish of his hands, the Master had pulled both sabers to them, and Ripped through the Bodyguards around the room, then returned Zænia's saber to her, telling her that it was time to go.
As they walked through the building, it was apparent what had happened, the scent of seared flesh wafting through the air, dismembered limbs juxtaposed from doorways. Her teammates had done their job, admirably. This would be a lesson to other people hoping to make a quick credit off of the Sith and their desire of Secrecy.
Shortly afterward, in recognition for her skill in the fight, and speed in finishing the task, Zænia, as well as her fellows, was promoted, given her Title, Caliga, as well as her official rank. She would be a punishing hand of her Master's whims. Not a Judge, not a Jury, simply the executioner. The Assassin.
This has led, of course, to some interesting views on Zænia's part, however. Zænia has seen the galaxy at it's worst. Corruption, lies and the downtrodden of the weak by the powerful. Worse still, she's accepted it as fact. She Follows the Orders of the Sith Hierarchy unquestioningly, as by her view, most people deserve to die. She feels as though everyone is lying to those that love them, and receiving lies in return. She's no Justice-Bound quester, nor an avenger, merely a hand of her Lords and Ladies, dispensing punishment and pain by their command.
Lightsaber:
Shoto-Bladed
Color:
Pale red with a bright red sheen
Other Weapons:
Vibro-Knucklers
Vibro-Dagger
Vibro-Garotte
Curved-blade Knives (Sickle curved, single blade on inside of curve)
Armor:
Mk. 11-4a Armorweave Cloak/Tunic
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho: 5
Makashi: 0
Soresu: 0
Ataru: 1
Shien / Djem So:0
>>Sub-form Backhanded
Niman: 1
Juyo: 0
Double Bladed Combat: 0
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 1
Telepathic: 1
Body: 6
Sense: 1
Protection: 1
Healing: 0
Destruction: 2
Specialized Skills:
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 6
Leadership: 1
Unarmed: 6
Melee Weapons: 6
Ranged Weapons: 1
RP Sample:
The sound of rain flooded her ears, that soft pattering that comes from the tiny droplets as they flee from the heavens themselves, colliding with duracrete and steel. It was almost musical, the pattern that they sent into the night, it's darkness designed to envelop all things in shadows.
Yet, Caliga noted, people did everything they could to escape night, to hide their forms from the shadows with artificial lights, to brighten their own forms with clothing...it was pitiable and a bad idea at that. Clothed in her Cloak and Tunic, Caliga had hidden herself in a shadow that wouldn't have existed if it weren't for the lights, to wait out her prey outside of his home.
She had been there for an hour, and patience was a virtue, as it payed off. The man approached, rotund in his greed and desire for material possessions. Waiting for him to enter the door, she slipped in after him, acting as though she too owned an apartment here. It wasn't hard, a little confidence in her step and an upturned nose at any questions and few would be asked. In all honesty, however, most people in the building, guards included, knew the man's tastes and thought they knew why she'd be there.
The banker had only noticed her once they were in the Turbovator, and flashing him a winning smile, Caliga batted her eyes a little, striking up a conversation about the weather. He quickly grew uninterested. When the doors opened, they both exited, him ignoring the small, chipper-sounding girl as he moved to his door.
Once it opened, however, he noticed something was wrong...firstly, she was still behind him, and secondly, she was suddenly silent. Turning to face the Girl, he raised an eyebrow, demanding to know who'd sent her. "Was it Keer? Is this one of his little 'Gifts" he demanded.
Caliga merely smiled, shaking her head and pulling her hands from under her cloak, unsheathing a pair of Knuckle-blades that started to hum in a sinister manner. "No, this is a Punishment" she replied, her voice suddenly serpentine as she silenced his protests before he could even make them, the blade pressing against the flabby flesh of his neck, sending him flying back into the room as it severed his head from his body with a gory spray through the room. Following his now-dead body inside, she smirked, shaking her head a little.
"You people, always thinking about one thing, aren't you?" she commented, using a small blade to dig out one of his eyes, which she stored in a small baggie. Proof was needed, otherwise she wouldn't get the credit for the kill, and this one had been amusing anyways.
Name: Zænia Urto
Sith Name: Caliga
Race: Sorrusian
Age: 22
Height: 5' 4"
Weight: 125 lbs.
Appearance:
The most striking thing about Zænia is...nothing. To the Naked eye, she would almost seem like a Normal Sorrusian woman, going about her business on whichever planet she was noticed on...that's if you noticed her. Unlike other Sith or Dark Jedi, Zænia doesn't do the whole "Blacker then black" ensemble, while that's not saying that she won't wear darker clothing, she tends to wear outfits that are more commonplace in the Galaxy at large. Usually, these clothes are more baggy than some of the people you'd witness, an effort to hide her toned figure from the naked eye.
Speaking of which, toned she is. Rather than focusing on Heavy muscles for power, she has trained in Flexibility and Speed, relying on toning of existing muscles, rather than adding new ones for greater strength. Combine this with her rather Petite build and you could almost call her cute. Short-cropped Dark hair dusts her head, spiking up from Temporal to crown, almost giving her an Avian appearance, and from underneath her hair, dark brown, chocolate, eyes observe the world around her. She's not too noticeable in the end, and that's just the way she wants it.
Disclaimer: This Image is created from Free-to-use Lineart and colored by myself. Respective rights belong to those whom possess them
Personality:
Zænia is a quiet woman, always observing those around her, always on the lookout. Paranoid by necessity, if one were to observe her back, two things would happen. Firstly, you would notice that she seems worried about something, and secondly, she would notice you and you would probably be found dead in a back alley, appearing to have overdosed on something, for all intents and purposes.
That's not to say that Zænia's completely anti-social, she just tends to worry about her cover too much. Since she's not highly skilled in the Force's ways, she can't erase herself from people's minds, nor make them forget of her presence. As an assassin, that makes her life a little more difficult, and she's mindful of that.
Approaching her in innocence, one finds a demure, quiet, but cunning girl, quick of wit and sharp of tongue. She enjoys life when she can, but when given a Target, she is all business. She's prideful of her work, yet not boastful. Zænia is a Mystery, wrapped in an Enigma...a Present waiting to be opened.
Birth place: Aargau
Faction: Sith
Rank: Assassin
Previous Faction: Dark Jedi
Previous Rank: Knight
Bio:
From Birth to Temple
Coruscant, a busy, bustling metropolitan planet that never sleeps, controlling nearly all of the Political framework of the Government, the Senate itself, the Jedi Temple and offices representing a million planets. This is not the Planet of our Focus, however. No, instead, we look to Aargau, the planet home to one of the members of the Intergalactic Banking Council, thus making it a wealthy world of corporations and strict rules. It was on this planet, in the capitol city of New Escrow, that Zænia was born to a pair of mid-level Loan managers for the Primary form of government, the Bank of Aargau.
At 6lbs, 9oz, she was a small child, but had a strong pair of lungs, evidenced by her screams. Unfortunately, to give her Zænia life, her mother traded hers away, leaving her husband alone to care for the Child. Zakrei Urto, however, was a busy man and was therefore overcome with joy when he was informed that after the standard battery of tests, Zænia was eligible to join the Jedi Academy. Agreeing almost instantly, Zakrei was out of his daughter's life not even an hour after she was born.
Taken by the Resident Jedi of Aargau, the Baby was placed in the Jedi Temple's skilled Nursery, raised and cared for by Jedi. As she aged, she was noted to be a Selfish baby, not really caring to share toys with the other infants or toddlers. As she approached her Third birthday, slowly, her development went along the usual paths, learning to toddle and speak slowly, but surely.
Failures as an Initiate
At the appropriate age, Zænia was taken into the Initiate program, Joining a clan of other children taken into the Jedi fold who were around her age. Quickly it was apparent that something was not right. Where other children would excel, or even reach a moderate level of success, Zænia struggled. Telepathy, Telekinesis, even Meditation and the Study of written history and the Jedi Code seemed to tax her.
Tests were preformed, and it was revealed that Zænia was not Illiterate, but, instead had trouble with comprehension. Between a short attention span, and what she described as words "swimming" on the datapads before her, she struggled with some of the most basic of tasks in her education. This, of course, was quickly noticed by the other students.
Now, children will be, of course, children. Even though their ribbing was light-hearted and intended in an attempt to bring a smile to their classmate's face, Zænia took it wrong, every time. Whenever a student offered to help her with something, she would take offense, becoming verbally combative, and sometimes taking it out on the other students, in subtle forms, in the only area that she was actually a little above average in, Combat training.
That's not to say that Zænia was cruel, she just knew her strength and speed, in comparison to the rest of her Clan, and wasn't afraid to show the difference between them. Yet, her actions began to breed some manner of contempt among her classmates, bringing her loneliness. People she had considered friends started to ignore her, people that she had felt mostly neutral about? They would flat-out walk away from her when she approached.
Becoming a Social pariah, of course, didn't help Zænia's studies any, and her scores fell dramatically before the arrival of her Clan's Initiate trials. By this point, she had managed, at least, to memorize the Code of the Jedi, but that was about it. Worry led to self-doubt which led to, ultimately, failure. Having seen her progress through the Temple's Initiate stages, the Council had two choices. They could either recommend that Zænia be made a member of the Jedi Service Corps, or Leave. Without any actual skill in most of the abilities open to the Jedi, Zænia's options were...slim, She wasn't able to lift or move things with the Force, nor feel other people's emotions. When the decision came down, it wasn't a surprise to her. Zænia Urto was presented the choices, a life in the Jedi Service corps, probably as one of the weakest members, or to leave the Jedi Temple.
For the young girl, it wasn't a hard choice. She didn't really like it at the temple, and assumed that it wouldn't be that different among the Jedi Service Corps. She informed those to whom it mattered that she'd rather leave, and the deal was done. It wouldn't just be like that, however. She was a Minor, and her Father still lived on Aargau. One of the instructors was asked to take her back to him, and so they left, and Zænia was no longer a candidate to be a Jedi.
When the Instructor, a Tall woman by the name of Yala, arrived with Zænia on Aargau, she was met by a small contingent of well-dressed men, clearly bodyguards. Zakrei Urto had risen to a position of great power in the Banking Government, and therefore , when notified of his daughter's return, had sent a small team of his Loyal underlings to come and fetch her. They didn't know what to expect when they arrived, but Zænia probably wasn't anything like they imagined.
Dressed in a simple, light-brown tunic with a belt, she had let her hair grow out, Raven locks covering her eyes and ears completely. Her mouth held a sullen look to it as she looked around the spaceport, and with disgust, shook her head. Yala observed the girl's behavior curiously, an eyebrow raised...wondering what Zænia was thinking.
Then the girl spoke. He abandoned me at birth, glad to see that worked out well for him she spurted, turning, bowing, while respectfully, with a trace of disdain, to the instructor, then walked away with the men, letting them load her into a waiting Hoverlimo which quickly sped away. Thinking on what the Girl had said, Yala watched, somewhat sadly, then left, never to return to the Planet.
Ups and Downs, Highs and Lows.
Launched into a world entirely unfamiliar to her, Zænia was plagued by the life that she had once lived in comparison to this new one. Her father was over-attentive, making sure that his daughter was dressed in the latest of tween fashions, pushed her onto the social circuit, sent her to parties even hosted extravagant parties for her. Compared to the simplistic way of the Jedi, this lifestyle chafed against Zænia's nerves in a way she never thought possible. Hedonism, the endless hunt for pleasure and Connections...it was disgusting.
The fake smiles that everyone plastered on their faces around her, her father's friends, their children with whom she was forced to associate. Not play, not in the normal sense at least. No, these were people who would one day be important, this was all about making connections early. Maybe even finding a Husband.
Zænia was only 12.
These things were the furthest from what she actually wanted. She wanted friends, a Father with which she could spend time, be a family. He provided Luxury and trips to exotic planets. If Zænia had wanted to, she could have probably asked to go hunting for something endangered, and he'd have made it happen.
She didn't ask, instead she just tolerated it, put up with it. Rode on the Stupid shuttles to resorts and ate Hors d'oeuvre. It just rubbed her the wrong way, constantly. She needed an escape, and at her Fourteenth birthday party, she discovered it. Neutron Pixie. A powerful Hallucinogenic drug, derived from Glitterstim. Less potent than the pure form, cheaper too. She could afford it in decent amounts with the Allowance that her father gave her monthly.
The boy who introduced her to it was a Human, the son of a Senator who knew how boring living life as a socialite could be.
The first hit? Magic. The Second? She was flying. The world was beautiful, amazing. Zænia could finally see how these idiots could enjoy these parties. The Loud music, the Colors, everything was so...real all of a sudden. She excused herself from the party with the young man, and that was the night Zænia first experienced love.
Was it pure? No. Was it fun? Yes, and that was all that mattered, it was a distraction, a diversion, a way to escape the world that her father was trying to create around her, a way to be free, to be herself and not care what he had to say or thing.
She started slow, going through maybe a Half-gram every month...but soon the need grew. Without it, she was irritable, everything was dimmer and she would grow sore. Soon she was up to an entire gram a month, her supplier the Senator's son, each visit marked by the Colors and the Sensations.
Two years later, she was a wreck, her hair cut short and choppy in the style of a musician from the Holonet, her favorite clothes ragged and torn in the wrong places. Her father noticed, but had a hard time disciplining her. Somewhere, deep inside, he felt guilty for ignoring her when she was born. That lack of will was the worst mistake he could ever make.
Two weeks after her Sixteenth birthday party, which had been spent in a hazy, colorful cloud, Zænia's life changed when a self-test showed Positive. Frantic calls were made, lies were told, and a few weeks later, It wasn't a problem anymore...her father never even knew where his money went, and honestly, didn't care.
Zænia dropped the drugs after that, going through several weeks of withdrawal, her body needing the High, her mind pleading within itself to try and convince her that it was the right thing to do. Zænia didn't care. The Drugs had made her vulnerable, she didn't remember the last time, and that scared her. She made a vow to never be that out of her own control again.
At the same time, she realized that the life her father had offered wasn't right, wasn't good for her, and had started to save her money up, saving a little each month, setting it aside. Three weeks before her Seventeenth birthday, she used it on Travel gear and a Ticket off-planet. Destination? Mid-Rim, hopefully far enough away that she wouldn't be found.
Space, the next great adventure
Tickets? Check.
Bag? Check.
Zænia had all she wanted or needed from her father's house. She was almost at the age of Majority anyways, and another year there would have probably killed her. It had been child's play to sneak out that evening. She had memorized the house's layout in her years there, knew where the Camera's blind spots were and the routes that the guards took while making their rounds.
She'd saved up a goodly amount, and as the Girl looked at the departure board, she thought about the ticket she'd purchased. It had been expensive, but she'd done some research on the Holonet, and her destination of Druckenwell was a well-thought upon choice. An Industrial planet, she was sure to find work there. She'd need that, she knew, in order to survive for very long. As she boarded the Flight, she took one last glance at the planet of her birth.
She wanted to Vomit. It was disgusting, even here, corruption and greed filled the air like the scent of a bender gone wrong, lingering the day after. Zænia was glad to go.
As Aargau faded behind her, she felt the familiar pull of the ship entering hyperspace, heard the thrumming of the massive engines as they pushed the ship through the stars towards the final goal. That's not to say that there wouldn't be stopovers. In an effort to save some money, Zænia had booked her flight on the lowest-costing option, and that meant stopping on other planets, picking up cargo and passengers, all headed to Druckenwell.
On one of the stops, on a planet named Talasea, Several figures boarded, including a Tall male, cloaked in dark robes, his face hidden from all on board. Purposefully, the male seemed to scan the passengers before choosing his seat...next to Zænia. Closer up, he was imposing. Despite her weak skills with the Force, she could feel it tingling around him, pricking against her senses. From beneath the hood, his eyes seemed to glow for a moment when they met her own.
Defiantly, Zænia held his gaze for a few moments, then turned away. The man was creepy, she wasn't sure why he'd chosen to sit beside her, but something inside was telling the girl to find a new seat. That was when he spoke. Voice deep, reverberating with power and status, he spoke to her as though she were a child, which by all rights, she was, legally. You're here alone? Hmm...Runaway, or simply abandoned?" he probed, pulling the hood back to reveal his face.
It was stunning. Scarred, but that only added to the man's looks. Human, but with hair that seemed more crimson than blood itself and green eyes that seemed to pierce her soul to it's darkest depths. It took a moment for Zænia to catch herself, then she replied with a soft "Humph" noise, continuing with a little exposition. What's the difference in the end? Who asked you to care anyways, you old pervert? she prodded in an unknowingly dangerous move.
His laugh was magical, loud and boisterous, filling the space between them with his mirth. Oh no, child. I recognize the Force within you...it's not strong, but it has potential. I'm guessing, however, with an attitude like that, that the Jedi didn't want you tainting their ever-so-perfect order, right?" he pressed, smiling a leaning closer. He smelled of Old leather and a spicy sort of Cologne.
Sitting back, Zænia shook her head. Wasn't even that. Too stupid to learn, sent me back to my idiot father and I got tired of him, now I'm here. What's your damage, old man?
Sitting back, away from her, the Man smiled, remembering his own time with the Order, then laughing a little. My problem was a little more...severe. Don't know enough, the Jedi don't want you. Want to know too much? You're told to leave. I dared to learn past what they wanted me to know, and now I find myself wanting to pass some of that on...Are you interested?
Interested? In what, becoming some sort of old man's servant? The idea didn't sound remotely interesting to Zænia, and the more she thought about it, the less she liked it. Here was some guy, obviously in his thirties, chatting up a 16 year-old in an attempt to get her to follow him wherever he went. That wasn't creepy at all. Then he spoke again, his voice smooth as the finest of honeys.
I offer you one thing, my dear. he began. A chance to Succeed where the Jedi only predicted failure. A chance to go beyond a life of working for your next meal and a chance to become a power feared in the Galaxy. What you do with that Chance...well, that's your choice, isn't it? It was too. It was only her choice at that point. She had tired of her life in the spotlight, at parties. She'd grown tired of Hedonism and in the end, could have avoided it all by not failing as an Initiate.
Fine she replied with a huff, having no clue that just one word, a single acknowledgement, would change her life completely. Life quickly became a whirlwind after that, following the man off of the Ship at Druckenwell she noted his gait, how he moved, and he noted her notice. She was observant, mistrusting. She had grown up, for the most part, with people who could sense and feel the Force around them, she clearly struggled with it. He could feel the Force's presence within Zænia, but it seemed to refuse to follow her commands.
In a small building that the Dark Jedi lived in, he tested her, Pushing her to Bend the Force to her whims. She could, but only just. Lifting and pushing more than a few inches was beyond her. Sitting her down, the man figured that it was time for Formal introductions. You will call me Master Phaylis he told the girl, telling in full his story, making it clear why he had left the Jedi. He had searched for more and more knowledge as a Knight, and according to them, had fallen to the Dark Side. From his view, however, the fall came after his being told to leave.
He would train her. Her strength would not lay in the more obvious Force powers, this much was apparent. No, her skills would lie more subtly, hidden from the view of the people around her, he was sure of this. Phaylis was a skilled Jedi, his tastes falling further towards the Dark side, and thus, the training began in earnest.
It was hard work, the training more intense than that offered to Initiates at the temple. At the same time, there wasn't any reading or Writing. The things that she was instructed to memorize were more Physical than anything else, and she excelled under his skilled tutelage. The days would start with a simple breakfast, high in protein to aid in her training's rigorous methods, then would move on to basic Exercises and stretches, loosening the muscles and preparing for later on.
Later in the day, after another light meal, they would practice with weapons. Phaylis had taken time after leaving the Temple to learn to use weapons other than a Lightsaber, since he had lost his. After his departure, when his Saber had been confiscated, it had been some time before he was able to find the required parts and Crystals to make another one, and as such, had trained to use other weapons and tools to their fullest extent. These skills he imparted upon Zænia. Shorter blades, the daggers and Brass knuckles were used to give a little extension to her reach and to the damage she could do with a strike. She proved to be good with these as well, as though the were the perfect fit.
It was around this time that Phaylis began working with her on other skills as well, noting her lack of ability in most fields used by the Jedi, he tried to focus on others, helping her develop concentration exercises, in planning for the future.
Small, lithe and agile, Zænia grew older and more skilled by the day. Soon, Phaylis was taking her with him into the Galaxy at large to witness how others lived. He had a plan, and she was going to be a key part. Travelling with her Master, Zænia watched him interact with Minor Politicians, winning their favor with smooth words and plenty of lies. Yet, they seemed to not care, not even when the lies were blatantly obvious.
Most of the Politicians could tell that Phaylis wasn't a Jedi, some wanted his protection, some wanted the political power that could come from allying with someone of Master Phaylis' stature. Either way, most that she saw...were corrupt, down to the bone. After the meetings, her master would quiz her on what had happened, seeing her reactions to certain things. He was pleased. Zænia felt disgust most times, and that was what he wanted her to see, what he had wanted her to note.
He explained that if she felt disgust, then she'd view her targets as less than real people. They were beneath The two of them, less worthy. It made sense to her. The Corruption that she'd seen mirrored that of those with power on Aargau, her father included. It didn't take long for her to work around these thoughts and inquire of Phaylis what he wanted her to do.
It will be simple. You will remove the trash from power, clearing the way for a new power to take hold he had informed her, smiling, That is, once you train a little more he added, smiling. He explained a theory he had, that he wanted to test to Zænia. Phaylis believed that since her skills didn't seem to lay in the Spheres of Sensation or Alteration, they might lie within something else.
That somewhere, he explained, was within her own form. The training began in earnest once more, this time focused on herself and how she could use the Force. Not trying to use Telekinesis or other external Force Abilities, she found that focusing on her own body proved to be far easier. Phaylis had done a goodly amount of study in this area, and under his teachings, she learned how to Boost her speed, her strength. She moved onto other techniques, Agility based motions, aided and assisted by the Force and how to control her breathing.
It was soon after this that Phaylis presented her with a gift as well. Due to Zænia's issues with the Force, he had taken it upon himself to create a Saber for his Pupil. It was a Short-bladed weapon, with Synthetic Crystals at the core. Properly made, the hilt and blade were well-balanced, in comparison to Phaylis' own saber. But then, it wasn't a tool for a duelist, but rather the hidden weapon of...an Assassin.
Between the training at the Jedi temple, and Phaylis' own masterful instruction, Zænia's skills grew quickly, and over the months that followed, she began the arduous task of mastering the first lightsaber form, Shii-cho. Around this time, Phaylis began to take her with him more frequently, allowing her to fight by his side in battles, to grow in strength.
Here, in an element not quite accepted by the Jedi, she could feel the Force stronger, calling out to her in a more tangible way. In the midst of battle, it seemed to boost her strength, her speed. Rather than feeling a pull on her blade as other Jedi might, she felt more free, as though the Force was providing an outlet for creativity. Combat was clearly what she was best at, but with her smaller build and stature, she wasn't that amazing at it...
Soon Phaylis sat her down, explaining one of the theories that he had formed early on in Zænia's training. She didn't quite exude the Force as strong as others, was therefore less remarkable to those who could sense it. Announcing his plans to teach her more unorthodox styles of combat, he had smiled, placing a hand on her head. She would be an Assassin, sent to rid the Galaxy of the Trash that plagued it and brought the common people down.
Promotion, of Sorts
Such a proclamation was an exciting thing for the young woman, and she redoubled her training, working with skill and enthusiasm at altering Shii-cho to fit her style, working the saber itself into other weapon forms, using the blade as well as her own, more specialized tools. Then Phaylis made his announcement, his grand wrapping up of things for Zænia.
Despite her having left home, her father hadn't forgotten her, and had, in fact, sent out several bounties, looking for the Girl, to bring her back to him. Apparently Zakrei Urto had grown softer in his old age and wished to see his daughter again...and between Zænia and Phaylis, it was clear that this could be a very good thing for the both of them.
Forgotten memories were surfacing, rumblings from the darkest and lowest corners of the Underworld. Whispered secrets from one ear to another, and they all mentioned one thing...the Sith were rising once more, to challenge the Galaxy and the Jedi themselves. To change society as it currently existed.
Phaylis and Zænia would travel the galaxy to find the Sith, but to afford such a thing, they would need money, and the best place to find it? Why, that would be a bank. As a Banker's daughter, Zænia stood a chance to find herself awash in credits, the kind of funding that would purchase a ship capable of travelling the Galaxy and the stores that would allow such a journey.
Taking public transportation back to Aargau, Phaylis took the trip's time to outline their plan. Zænia would be the prodigal daughter, returning to her father after roaming the galaxy at large for a few years. There would be no mention of her training, not at first at least. Just before they arrived, he presented her with a gift. Her birthday was a week away, and this was for it. Wrapped simply, a Cloak and Tunic made of fine, silky-feeling material awaited her eyes, and when opened, seemed to glisten just slightly in the light.
He explained that they were an Armorweave, made for her by a small contractor on another planet. Not quite as strong as real armor, but enough to deflect light blaster bolts. Underneath the first set of clothing, was another set, of a brighter material, but well-worn and clearly previously owned. These would be the clothes for her cover.
At the spaceport, Phaylis sent her along, promising to wait for her in a small tavern, which he marked on a datapad for her. The task would be completed in less than a week, and then the two of them would leave Aargau, hopefully forever.
Approaching her father's estate, Zænia could feel her heart throbbing in her chest, her adrenaline pumping. She didn't want to be here. The man who'd given her up in exchange for success, and taken her back upon her own failure...who'd spoiled her to make amends and had just ruined everything for her...she could feel the seething resentment in her breast for his very existence.
It would be good to finally see him dead.
At the gates, she pressed the com buzzer, waiting for the guards to respond, only to be surprised by the sound of her father's voice, much weaker than she remembered it, asking who was there. It seemed that much had happened in the past four years, and it would be interesting to see which would kill him first, the Vengeful daughter or the unexpected disease.
After announcing herself, and crosschecking with a retinal print, Zænia was allowed entrance, the gates swinging inward to allow her through. The path to the house, where it had once been lush gardens and beautiful flowers, was now a portrait of death itself, mottled browns and grays abounding as the dominant colors. When the door opened before her, the Young woman was shocked and forced to act dismayed. Before her stood Zakrei, his hair a mixture of patches that were falling out and grey straw. His skin, at one time healthy, was now patchy and translucent.
Zænia was disgusted, unable to bring herself to touch him, much less express any sort of love, she simply asked him what had happened. The explanation that followed was short, but honest. After she had left him for the Galaxy, he had fallen ill, a cancerous disease that was eating his body slowly and painfully. It was in it's final stages, and he had needed her here to work out what would happen to his estate.
Moving through the house, it was clear that it was dusty and unkempt. His shuffling steps made her even more curious. This man was wealthy enough to buy a team of women to care for his every need, yet he lived in filth. Then he told her why. Gesturing to the dust-filled house, he told her that he had fired all but one of the staff several years ago, focusing, instead, on finding Zænia and saving as much money as he could. When they finally reached his room, he motioned for her to follow him in and sit as he lay himself onto his bed.
"You...must hate me. Between foisting you onto the Jedi, then ignoring you....no amount of apologies could ever be enough" he began, his words interrupted by a fit of coughing. "I focused on what wasn't important in my life...money, fame...things that mean nothing now." he continued. "In the end, I just want you to live a happy life...to never have to want for anything ever again, and even that's not enough..." he finally said, shaking his head as his last servant stepped forward, holding a Datapad. Zakrai's hand was shakey as he signed the final line on the will that had been written onto it.
"I needed to know you...were still there to take this, it's all yours" he said...drawing his final rattling breath.
Through this all, Zænia's eyes were hard, unforgiving. The man was her father, yes, but only by blood. There was nothing else that he had really done for her in the end. The money? This house? Worthless to her. Dismissing the Servant with a wave of her hand, she stood and shook her head, saying the last words that Zakrei would ever hear in this mortal coil. "All I ever wanted was to know what love was really like. You will never know." Snatching the Datapad, she turned, leaving his corpse.
A week? She hadn't even needed that, her idiot father had apparently done the work for her. Without her to care about, he hadn't even gotten his disease cured, which it surely could have been. He was weak, easily manipulated, and now, as she walked out of one of the Branch offices of the Bank of Aargau, she was rich because of it. No, Phaylis and Zænia were BOTH rich. Well over 6 Billion credits of wealth, on one little credit stick.
Finding her Master quickly, she presented him with the chip, and together, they went to a Local spaceport, finding and buying a ship big enough and powerful enough to take them and supplies to the outer rim. Phaylis, with his contacts amongst other Dark Jedi, had discovered of a meeting on the Planet Korriban, Hundreds would be there, and they would be joining them.
To Join the Fold
(Referencing the meeting in A Day darker than most
It took over a month to arrive, which was fine, they were on Korriban for a few hours before they needed to join the other Dark Jedi...yet they joined them almost immediately. Some were Phaylis' friends, to whom he introduced Zænia. Staying by his side, the young woman listened, introduced herself respectfully and waited, observing those around them. Some were clearly more violent, bottles of Champagne that had been shaken and were waiting to explode.
Others, more, were simply curious, perhaps seeking more power, or even prestige over their comrades...it would be an interesting thing to see how they turned out after today, and the woman made mental notes of some of them, as well as some of the other apprentices that were there.
When the time came, several people rose, above the rest. Taking a high point to deliver a speech unto the amassed Dark Jedi. One among them, clearly a leader, spoke of changing times, of a future that was coming and swiftly. Swiftly, others lobbied to join his cause. A Blind girl and what was apparently her tender. Some strong, some weaker and seeking protection. Among the Last, Phaylis Offered himself, and his Apprentice as Servants.
They were accepted, graciously, by the Sith's Leadership, the imposing figure of Inquisitious and his own pupils. Later, when asked, Phaylis told one of the Leaders of the sills that he had instilled within his pupil, with pride in his eyes as he spoke of her successes. Unfortunately, such skills weren't a way to simply reach a higher position for her, although he was appointed as a Master, and sent to teach other Acolytes in the Dark ways of the Force.
Zænia, on the other hand, was placed into a team, a group of three other Disciples and the Master over them. Given an order, they were expected to, and in fact did, move out immediately. From minor threats to the Sith's Secrecy to Personal Guards for important figures, the Team did what they were told, and eventually, they were assigned something that Zænia could relish.
A Politician, on a small backwater planet, had discovered the Existence of the Sith, and had attempted, stupidly, to blackmail them. The team was dispatched to rid the Galaxy of him, even though the Master knew, it would only take Zaenia to fix this issue.
Sent as a Delegation from their Masters, the team arrived on the small planet in relative silence and in the darkness of night, spending the night on the ship in order to prepare. It was decided that Zænia would accompany the master, while the other two acolytes would spend their time arranging to have a clear path to the ship, by whatever means needed. The next morning, they set off, under the light of a Blue-white sun, towards the government building.
When the Master and Zænia arrived, they were surprised. The Senator had gone all-out on Security, hiring a veritable private army to defend him on this day, and after a lengthy screening, their sabers confiscated by the hulking brute who would escort them, they were taken to the man. As they entered the door to his office, Zænia could only think of one descriptive term for the man. Rodent. He was small, with a tight face and pointed features. A little black on his twitching nose, and he'd fit right into a rodent's nest.
As the meeting started, Zaenia drowned out the conversation mostly, listening for the key words from her Master's lips. It was mostly fiscal discussion, although some other demands were coming through the Senator's mouth, nothing that she bothered to care about. Then, the Master said them, the three words that would trigger the end of the Senator's life.
We're not interested
In the next second, fueled by the Force and her powerful, taut muscles, Zænia was across the desk, a well-concealed weapon appearing in her hand, pulled from her sleeves with rapid efficiency. Two simple-looking metal sticks, with a button, which was depressed by her thumb, with a length of braided wire between them, hummed to life, the Vibro-Garrote wrapping around the Senator's neck and sending his head flying away in a gory mess that splattered the walls, as well as the Bodyguards around him.
Not that they'd notice.
It's an odd choice, to underestimate a Master of any style, especially one adept enough to lead a team of Acolytes into battle, and With a simple flourish of his hands, the Master had pulled both sabers to them, and Ripped through the Bodyguards around the room, then returned Zænia's saber to her, telling her that it was time to go.
As they walked through the building, it was apparent what had happened, the scent of seared flesh wafting through the air, dismembered limbs juxtaposed from doorways. Her teammates had done their job, admirably. This would be a lesson to other people hoping to make a quick credit off of the Sith and their desire of Secrecy.
Shortly afterward, in recognition for her skill in the fight, and speed in finishing the task, Zænia, as well as her fellows, was promoted, given her Title, Caliga, as well as her official rank. She would be a punishing hand of her Master's whims. Not a Judge, not a Jury, simply the executioner. The Assassin.
This has led, of course, to some interesting views on Zænia's part, however. Zænia has seen the galaxy at it's worst. Corruption, lies and the downtrodden of the weak by the powerful. Worse still, she's accepted it as fact. She Follows the Orders of the Sith Hierarchy unquestioningly, as by her view, most people deserve to die. She feels as though everyone is lying to those that love them, and receiving lies in return. She's no Justice-Bound quester, nor an avenger, merely a hand of her Lords and Ladies, dispensing punishment and pain by their command.
Lightsaber:
Shoto-Bladed
Color:
Pale red with a bright red sheen
Other Weapons:
Vibro-Knucklers
Vibro-Dagger
Vibro-Garotte
Curved-blade Knives (Sickle curved, single blade on inside of curve)
Armor:
Mk. 11-4a Armorweave Cloak/Tunic
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho: 5
Makashi: 0
Soresu: 0
Ataru: 1
Shien / Djem So:0
>>Sub-form Backhanded
Niman: 1
Juyo: 0
Double Bladed Combat: 0
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 1
Telepathic: 1
Body: 6
Sense: 1
Protection: 1
Healing: 0
Destruction: 2
Specialized Skills:
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 6
Leadership: 1
Unarmed: 6
Melee Weapons: 6
Ranged Weapons: 1
RP Sample:
The sound of rain flooded her ears, that soft pattering that comes from the tiny droplets as they flee from the heavens themselves, colliding with duracrete and steel. It was almost musical, the pattern that they sent into the night, it's darkness designed to envelop all things in shadows.
Yet, Caliga noted, people did everything they could to escape night, to hide their forms from the shadows with artificial lights, to brighten their own forms with clothing...it was pitiable and a bad idea at that. Clothed in her Cloak and Tunic, Caliga had hidden herself in a shadow that wouldn't have existed if it weren't for the lights, to wait out her prey outside of his home.
She had been there for an hour, and patience was a virtue, as it payed off. The man approached, rotund in his greed and desire for material possessions. Waiting for him to enter the door, she slipped in after him, acting as though she too owned an apartment here. It wasn't hard, a little confidence in her step and an upturned nose at any questions and few would be asked. In all honesty, however, most people in the building, guards included, knew the man's tastes and thought they knew why she'd be there.
The banker had only noticed her once they were in the Turbovator, and flashing him a winning smile, Caliga batted her eyes a little, striking up a conversation about the weather. He quickly grew uninterested. When the doors opened, they both exited, him ignoring the small, chipper-sounding girl as he moved to his door.
Once it opened, however, he noticed something was wrong...firstly, she was still behind him, and secondly, she was suddenly silent. Turning to face the Girl, he raised an eyebrow, demanding to know who'd sent her. "Was it Keer? Is this one of his little 'Gifts" he demanded.
Caliga merely smiled, shaking her head and pulling her hands from under her cloak, unsheathing a pair of Knuckle-blades that started to hum in a sinister manner. "No, this is a Punishment" she replied, her voice suddenly serpentine as she silenced his protests before he could even make them, the blade pressing against the flabby flesh of his neck, sending him flying back into the room as it severed his head from his body with a gory spray through the room. Following his now-dead body inside, she smirked, shaking her head a little.
"You people, always thinking about one thing, aren't you?" she commented, using a small blade to dig out one of his eyes, which she stored in a small baggie. Proof was needed, otherwise she wouldn't get the credit for the kill, and this one had been amusing anyways.
