Post by Julian on Jul 13, 2013 13:36:15 GMT -5
Name: Jorra D'Resh [Jor-ruh (rhymes with Dora) Duh-Resh]
Race: Human/Echani
Age: 41
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 164lbs.
Birth place: Ahto City, Manaan (Lived, however, on Galidraan).
Allegiance: The Mandalorians
Status: Clan D'Resh
Rank: Chieftain/Alor
Appearance:
-by Yumehosi-San, on DeviantArt. In no way do I own this image.
Statuesque, fierce, and supremely confident. Jorra has long stared into the eyes of Mars, and the lifestyle has left its marks. Her arms and legs are tapestries of scars and prominent veins against rough and calloused skin which cannot decide if it will bear the paleness of an Echani, or reflect the light of those many stars which have beaten down on it for decades. Even at rest, every muscle is taut and hard; her body could be likened unto a coiled spring.
Jorra could be called attractive, but her's is an unconventional appearance. Her jaw and chin are remarkably strong, made more prominent by high cheekbones and gaunt cheeks. Were it not for clearly feminine features, the architecture of her chiseled appearance would be worn well by a man. Supple lips, a slim nose, aggressively angled brows which fall just shy of their natural thickness. The real tell, though, is her eyes. Their human brown and Echani silver have mingled to become a golden-orange shade, and thick lashes frame a gaze which can best be described as predatory. Her Echani heritage again comes through in her hair, but only as natural silver streaks throughout the deep brown of her human heritage. Her hair falls just below her shoulders, but is always pulled back into a very tight and small ponytail at the nape of her neck from which one or two strands always manage to escape.
Her full lips should be pink, but the bottom tends to draw the eye and hide that. Shark bite piercings (two piercings at each corner of the lower lip; four rings, in her case) are separated by what appears to be a bar of black lipstick, but is actually a tattoo which mimics the same. There is another ring in her right nostril, and three more in each of her earlobes. Another tattoo --two more black bars at the top of her left cheek-- and two scars which respectively trace the hairline on the right side of her head and mark a trail from the right corner of her mouth to just below the left side of her chin finish out the look.
Jorra lacks any significant curves, in no small part due to the absence of any fat or water weight on her body. Her fairly small bust is restrained by bandages to accommodate tight-fitting armor, and her strong legs and washboard stomach draw the eye away from her hips.
She has strong hands with long fingers, and the ugly feet of a martial artist, all of which might as well be made of callouses.
When she moves, even an untrained eye feels that she has a strong sense of purpose, and there is a determination in her swagger which is carried over from her devil-may-care way of life.
Personality: Jorra walks a narrow line between motivational and abrasive, often tipping towards the latter if she goes too long without an outlet. She isn't unfriendly, but she expects people to own themselves enough to tolerate some friendly flak. Regardless of whether or not the person likes her, however, she carries both martyr and savior complexes wherever she goes, and is almost incapable of refusing the opportunity to take a hit on a friend's behalf.
She doesn't have a particularly good (but also not particularly bad) sense of humor, shamelessly laughing and cracking at the off-color and offensive with no regard to who it was in earshot of. In her mind, the taboo is better because there is an element of validation to it; there is no room for interpretation or defense, the joke is simply offensive and that is what it is. Since Jorra lives by a similar guideline of "What you see is what you get," this has always appealed to her.
Her confidence in her own abilities is a constant deluge which ripples forth in her every movement. This is not hubris, though, as she never makes a claim that she is not sure she will be able to live up to. When faced with an angry Sith, she would not make grandiose statements of killing him. Instead, she might promise that he will remember the fight, or that she will make sure he doesn't walk away whole.
This foolhardy willingness to go face-first into everything hasn't been without cost, though. If her mind is unoccupied by more pressing matters, she is kept awake my the guilt and pain of the past. Whether this is from flashbacks in her nightmares or thoughts which refuse to relent when the world becomes quiet, she will inevitably become stir crazy and short-tempered.
While she has the capacity to become very intelligent, she was not very well educated in regards to traditional academics. Because of this, she tends to resent intellectuals for having chances which she did not, and also those for whom growing as a person is a low priority. She has an appetite to learn and practice, both because to better herself and salve her conscience by means of physical and mental exhaustion. To finish a day with a drop of energy left is to have wasted a day.
Jorra lacks problem-solving skills that don't relate to battle, and isn't a very logical person. She follows her instincts and urges, often leading to the disastrous follow-through caused by a very dangerous person making decisions based on knee-jerk reactions. This can and often has turned out well on the battlefield, but very rarely done any good in her normal life.
Ships/Vehicles:
None
Equipment:
Mandalorian Battle Armor, Gold w/Red Details and Cape.
Twin Mandalorian Heavy Blaster Pistols
Twin K-7b Light Blaster Pistols (The gifts from Padrovi)
Stats:
Strength: Above Average
Agility: Superior
Intelligence: Below Average
Charisma: Average
Combat Training:
Teräs Käsi: Master
Echani Martial Arts: Expert
Mandalorian Wrestling: Expert
Mixed Martial Arts: Master
Blasters: Adept
Dueling Swords: Adept
Other Training:
Piloting: Adept
Tracking: Apprentice
Survival: Adept
Painting: Novice
Bio:
BOOM!
The turbolasers pounded relentlessly against the lip of the trench, peppering the four Mando'ade below with scorched and super-heated pebbles.
"Ahh!" Omin cried out futilely, firing his repeater into the clear blue sky over the wasteland. Jorra slapped his arm down.
"Save the ammo, and save it for the enemy!" She commanded, the barrage creating static through their helmet comms. Jorra watched the others: Omin, still green, who thought that war was nothing but glory and honor, and now had three blaster wounds that proved otherwise; Fel'ika, whom Jorra had been serving with since landing on this mess of a world, had her sniper rifle shouldered and was hunched down in defeat; and Praven, the son of a Clanmaster that promoted his son without merit, and now just made him look the idiot when a lower officer had to give commands.
BOOM!
Jorra lowered her eyepiece, and shifted to the edge of their cover. The turret was still going, and the operator was having a blast. She edged out just enough to see if it was manned or automated. When the line of fire didn't shift, she knew it had to be manned. Settling into a crouch and looking at the rest, she made a few quick guesses in her head.
BOOM!
"Fel'ika, there's someone pulling the trigger. I need you to be ready to change that, alright?" She said levelly, and watched the younger woman nod slowly. "Check your clip." She added, and Fel'ika did so, removing the nearly drained cell.
BOOM!
Omin sat, staring at the growing pile of earthen shrapnel that the turret was creating. Jorra clapped to get his attention, but he did nothing. She barked at him, striking his shoulder, but still he did not move.
BOOM!
Jorra looked at Praven. "Well?" She accused, jerking her head towards Omin. Praven started, but then looked.
"Omin! Wake up, vod!" He almost asked it, there was so little effort in his voice, but still Omin did not stir.
BOOM!
Jorra grabbed the young Mando by the back of the neck and forced him to look at her. "PAY ATTENTION!" She demanded, and the soldier finally snapped to. "Covering fire, that way." She coolly pointed towards the left of their position. Omin nodded stiffly, but shouldered his rifle and aimed.
BOOM!
"What are you gonna do?" Praven asked her, his own weapon dangling loosely from its strap. Jorra rolled her eyes at him, and holstered her pistols. She aimed herself towards their right flank. Planting one foot below her stomach, and putting her weight on her hands, she got down into a runner's crouch.
BOOM!
The turret fired.
BOOM!
And again.
BOOM!
"Now!" Jorra surged forward as Omin opened fire in the opposite direction. She could hear the swivel of the massive gun as it looked towards the blasterfire.
BOOM!
Then it found a real target.
Her every movement was a controlled fall, arms moving in perfect time as her long legs made broad leaps, wobbling the angle at which they landed to give the impression that her speed was changing. The first bolt meant for her hit well behind.
BOOM!
The second a little farther.
BOOM!
Another swivel as the gunner began to track her.
BOOM!
That one propelled Jorra forward a bit faster, and was too close for comfort. She chanced a look towards the gun, and as her right foot began its descent, time slowed.
She saw her foot land and her next step reach the top of its arc, and she saw a lance of green come surging towards her. An excellent shot.
Her right foot came down, and she dropped all of her weight onto it, and then sprung backwards.
BOOM!
The blast threw her through the air, and she skidded to a stop. Her ears were buzzing, and the smaller shot that followed didn't register. She lay there for a moment, looking at the cloudless blue. She hooked a hand under her helmet and slipped it off, squinting as the bright sunlight hit her eyes. Jorra raised a hand to shield them, but a shadow came over her face. There was Omin's green helmet with its blue visor, staring down at her dusty and bloody visage.
"D'that work?" She said, but judging by how he recoiled, a bit louder than intended. Omin touched a spot below her ear, and showed her the tip of his gloved finger. Red. "Did we win?" She whispered.
He nodded, and offered her his hand. She grabbed his wrist as he grabbed hers, and scooped up her helmet with the other hand. Yanked to her feet, Jorra dropped the gold bucket back onto her head.
"One down!" She said through the comms, much to the chagrin of those with their speakers turned up.
And only three to go.
Race: Human/Echani
Age: 41
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 164lbs.
Birth place: Ahto City, Manaan (Lived, however, on Galidraan).
Allegiance: The Mandalorians
Status: Clan D'Resh
Rank: Chieftain/Alor
Appearance:
-by Yumehosi-San, on DeviantArt. In no way do I own this image.
Statuesque, fierce, and supremely confident. Jorra has long stared into the eyes of Mars, and the lifestyle has left its marks. Her arms and legs are tapestries of scars and prominent veins against rough and calloused skin which cannot decide if it will bear the paleness of an Echani, or reflect the light of those many stars which have beaten down on it for decades. Even at rest, every muscle is taut and hard; her body could be likened unto a coiled spring.
Jorra could be called attractive, but her's is an unconventional appearance. Her jaw and chin are remarkably strong, made more prominent by high cheekbones and gaunt cheeks. Were it not for clearly feminine features, the architecture of her chiseled appearance would be worn well by a man. Supple lips, a slim nose, aggressively angled brows which fall just shy of their natural thickness. The real tell, though, is her eyes. Their human brown and Echani silver have mingled to become a golden-orange shade, and thick lashes frame a gaze which can best be described as predatory. Her Echani heritage again comes through in her hair, but only as natural silver streaks throughout the deep brown of her human heritage. Her hair falls just below her shoulders, but is always pulled back into a very tight and small ponytail at the nape of her neck from which one or two strands always manage to escape.
Her full lips should be pink, but the bottom tends to draw the eye and hide that. Shark bite piercings (two piercings at each corner of the lower lip; four rings, in her case) are separated by what appears to be a bar of black lipstick, but is actually a tattoo which mimics the same. There is another ring in her right nostril, and three more in each of her earlobes. Another tattoo --two more black bars at the top of her left cheek-- and two scars which respectively trace the hairline on the right side of her head and mark a trail from the right corner of her mouth to just below the left side of her chin finish out the look.
Jorra lacks any significant curves, in no small part due to the absence of any fat or water weight on her body. Her fairly small bust is restrained by bandages to accommodate tight-fitting armor, and her strong legs and washboard stomach draw the eye away from her hips.
She has strong hands with long fingers, and the ugly feet of a martial artist, all of which might as well be made of callouses.
When she moves, even an untrained eye feels that she has a strong sense of purpose, and there is a determination in her swagger which is carried over from her devil-may-care way of life.
Personality: Jorra walks a narrow line between motivational and abrasive, often tipping towards the latter if she goes too long without an outlet. She isn't unfriendly, but she expects people to own themselves enough to tolerate some friendly flak. Regardless of whether or not the person likes her, however, she carries both martyr and savior complexes wherever she goes, and is almost incapable of refusing the opportunity to take a hit on a friend's behalf.
She doesn't have a particularly good (but also not particularly bad) sense of humor, shamelessly laughing and cracking at the off-color and offensive with no regard to who it was in earshot of. In her mind, the taboo is better because there is an element of validation to it; there is no room for interpretation or defense, the joke is simply offensive and that is what it is. Since Jorra lives by a similar guideline of "What you see is what you get," this has always appealed to her.
Her confidence in her own abilities is a constant deluge which ripples forth in her every movement. This is not hubris, though, as she never makes a claim that she is not sure she will be able to live up to. When faced with an angry Sith, she would not make grandiose statements of killing him. Instead, she might promise that he will remember the fight, or that she will make sure he doesn't walk away whole.
This foolhardy willingness to go face-first into everything hasn't been without cost, though. If her mind is unoccupied by more pressing matters, she is kept awake my the guilt and pain of the past. Whether this is from flashbacks in her nightmares or thoughts which refuse to relent when the world becomes quiet, she will inevitably become stir crazy and short-tempered.
While she has the capacity to become very intelligent, she was not very well educated in regards to traditional academics. Because of this, she tends to resent intellectuals for having chances which she did not, and also those for whom growing as a person is a low priority. She has an appetite to learn and practice, both because to better herself and salve her conscience by means of physical and mental exhaustion. To finish a day with a drop of energy left is to have wasted a day.
Jorra lacks problem-solving skills that don't relate to battle, and isn't a very logical person. She follows her instincts and urges, often leading to the disastrous follow-through caused by a very dangerous person making decisions based on knee-jerk reactions. This can and often has turned out well on the battlefield, but very rarely done any good in her normal life.
Ships/Vehicles:
None
Equipment:
Mandalorian Battle Armor, Gold w/Red Details and Cape.
Twin Mandalorian Heavy Blaster Pistols
Twin K-7b Light Blaster Pistols (The gifts from Padrovi)
Stats:
Strength: Above Average
Agility: Superior
Intelligence: Below Average
Charisma: Average
Combat Training:
Teräs Käsi: Master
Echani Martial Arts: Expert
Mandalorian Wrestling: Expert
Mixed Martial Arts: Master
Blasters: Adept
Dueling Swords: Adept
Other Training:
Piloting: Adept
Tracking: Apprentice
Survival: Adept
Painting: Novice
Bio:
Family
Father: Thaydis [Echani] (d. 3,619 BBY)
Mother: Gayle D'Resh [Human] (d. 3,619 BBY)
Brother: Ved D'Resh [Hybrid]
Adopted Daughter: Zira D'Resh [Miraluka] (Missing, 3,611 BBY)
Birth and Childhood (3,642-3,627 BBY)
RP Sample:Jorra D'Resh was not a happy baby. She didn't cry or throw anymore tantrums than other babies, but there was always a grumpy scowl on her pudgy little face. No matter how hard her parents and her brother tried to make her giggle, there was no shaking Jorra's seeming annoyance with the world.
Of course, that's because there was no bad mood to snap her out of.
Jorra could see them making silly faces, feel them bounce and rock her, but she simply wasn't paying attention. No, she had her eyes on those things they were moving around, on, and she just didn't have the patience to wait for her's to catch up.
So at six months, Jorra D'Resh finally used that concentration which had been pooling since first her eyes saw this wonderful ambulation. She took her first steps. And then she fell down, finally seeing just how goofy her father's face could get.
The rest of her childhood followed a similar theme. Jorra was perpetually determined to take those first steps a little earlier than was expected. When she was four, she could keep up with her eight-year-old brother in a foot race. When she was six, she could spy on her father teaching Ved the second-tier Echani without being caught. Thaydis had begun to teach his children the first tier at their fourth birthdays, to accommodate the Verd'goten he knew that they might choose to pursue.
In fact, by the time she began training with her mother at eight, she had spent so much time secretly watching and mimicking her father's graceful war-art that she had already caught Ved up and was starting to surpass him.
This was fortunate though, as she would only have another five years to learn the rest of the second and all of the third tier before she would attempt her Verd'goten. Ved had been trained just as Jorra would be, but identified much more with his Echani heritage than his Mandalorian, and so would spend his teenage years after his own Ver'goten at home, learning from their father.
It was also during her pivotal eighth year that she first began having trouble in school. There was no lack of effort on her part, nor on that of her instructors. Despite several tests and examinations, there was no evidence of Jorra having a learning disability either. She simply wasn't retaining the cushy armchair knowledge of a Republic school with her mind so full of form etiquette and survival training. Regardless, the educational authorities suggested that Jorra be removed from the general student populace and educated by a private teacher.
Jorra's mother found the notion offensive, but followed the advice in a way; she withdrew Jorra completely, resolving to not waste her daughter's time with a Republic school and to become her exclusive teacher (as was Mandalorian tradition, which Gayle had relented to forego at Thaydis's request). This was bittersweet for Jorra; she was finally getting to embrace her Mandalorian heritage in full, but she knew that she would be an alien to other children.
It was an unfortunate truth, but she has never regretted becoming a full Mando. Gayle was an extremely talented warrior; she would have been the D'Resh chieftain had she not met Thaydis. Before the Treaty, Gayle had even spent a few years serving the Mandalore directly. After the Treaty, however, she met and came to love Thaydis. Her departure was very controversial, but the honor she had accrued in an illustrious career left her choice above question, and the decision was made to take no action against her. Many trusted that she would still obey the Resol'nare, and raise her children to be warriors and someday return to the Clans. She treated Jorra both as a daughter and as an equal, for the child was already better versed in the deadly martial arts of the Echani than her mother. She taught her to shoot, to hunt, to plan an ambush and escape one. Jorra learned the delicate maintenance of equipment which was notoriously finicky, such as flamers and slug-throwers.
When she was ten, Gayle gave Jorra her first suit of real armor. It was the same armor which had been handed down for the training of every young woman in their family line for more than a century, and Jorra treated the plasteel like gold. There were times, especially those when she was tasked with surviving out in the cold forests of her home without any gear but a blaster and her armor, that she would go so far as to sleep with everything on, helmet included.
Throughout this training, on those days or nights when both mother and daughter would be at home, Jorra learned from her father, and practiced with her brother. She always did so in her armor, building the muscles in her young body rapidly and viciously. The Echani focus on sweeping kicks coupled with the constant exercise with her mother made her legs exceptionally strong, and Gayle made a point to foster and focus on Jorra's natural and fast-developing agility. Gayle taught her ways to compensate for her shortcomings, such as building momentum to strike harder than her muscles would typically allow, and how to move erratically enough to throw off an enemy's aim while still getting to the next piece of cover in as little time as possible.
When Jorra turned thirteen, and had to give up her training armor (both because she needed a real suit and she had almost completely grown out of it) she cried for a day. Gayle used this to impart two things before Jorra began the Verd'goten of what would become her clan: Her emotions were not her enemy, but giving into them at the wrong time was always dangerous, and that by taking the loss of her armor so hard, she had proven to her mother that she would would do her proud.
The Verd'goten of Clan D'Resh was simultaneously very simple and very complex. A potential had only a single task, but the time that it took to complete could stretch from days to months. That task? To find a new way of doing battle, and bring it to the Clan.
By this point in her life, Jorra was a respectable practitioner of Echani, but she knew that her people would only laugh if she brought them a style of staves and cloth. She spoke with her father on what else might be out there, and he told her of a group called the Followers of Palawa. They were a society of refugees who, as legend told it, had lost their home due to the actions of the Jedi Council. Tales told that they had developed a deadly martial art on the planet of Bunduki.
Jorra investigated the myth, and learned that Bunduki was a small world near Bakura, practically across the galaxy. She knew that asking her family for help was an option, but resolved to accomplish this on her own. In the dead of night, she left her home behind with a few hundred credits (a farewell and good luck from her brother) and her training. She left a message to her parents of her goals, and implored them not to follow. Thaydis would have none of it, but Gayle and Ved convinced him to respect the wishes of his daughter.
The credits ran out quickly, and only took her as far as the core worlds. She stayed on Correllia for a time, and found a friend in the twi'lek bounty hunter Padrovi Kren. She met him outside of the cantina where she earned enough money to eat and begin saving by participating in a dueling circle. At no time was she allowed inside the bar itself, but the Dueling Circle officials had an adjacent building for sign-ups and the actual fights. She was a joke at first, the match officials going so far as to turn the energy inhibitors so high that she would barely feel it if a blaster bolt hit her. The other duelist, a first-timer that she had bet the last of her money she could put on the ground, had made the mistake of pandering to the crowd and putting his back to her.
Jorra grabbed his shoulders and used them to lift herself off of the ground, kicking the man in the back of the knees. He was so off-guard that all it took was for her to yank him backward and put her foot on his chest for him to submit. She made thirty credits that day. She spent forty on a small room and a hot dinner and breakfast. Fourteen hours after she got paid, she was listening to people cheer "The Mando Kid," for the fifth time that day, and dipping side to side while she drilled a Senator's son who thought he'd try his hand at being a gunslinger. At least, that's what they told the crowd. There had been surprisingly large betting on her first bout, and the officials saw the potential for a profit. They suited her up in fake armor, turned the energy inhibitors to their highest setting, and had her compete against paid actors and the occasional low-grade professional as a novelty act. Jorra had no illusions about this, and had been the one to demand the chance to fight real challengers.
She had been there for two weeks, and earned what she guessed was enough to book passage on a transport headed for the Inner Rim, when Padrovi saw her fight another Echani in the ring. It had been one of the duels which Jorra requested, as an opportunity to learn by failure what the older Echani could teach through victory. The older woman took Jorra apart, of course, but the fight was still exhilarating. Padrovi approached Jorra after she finished getting patched up, and congratulated her on the good fight. She thanked him, but also snarked that he should step in with her. The bounty hunter declined, but offered her free passage to any world as far as the Expansion Region if Jorra could convince her opponent to have a rematch in the alley behind the cantina.
Jorra thought about the offer, and demanded that he give her enough money to buy her way there as collateral, in case he welched. She had become jaded by the Dueling Officials, who she knew were keeping more of the profit than most duelists received after a win. He instead gave her one of his blasters, which he assured her was worth enough. She didn't fully believe him, but figured she could at least use it for protection.
She convinced the other duelist to meet her outside the building, under the pretense that the senior warrior explain to her what she had done wrong. The second that door shut behind them, a stun round nailed the wall beside them. The woman perked up and began to run away, only to have a second stun bolt peg her in the back. Jorra then told Padrovi she wanted to keep the gun.
The bounty hunter cleared his catch with a Hadron Corp. representative, and turned over their stolen vaporator schematics alongside the thief. He was 10,000 credits richer, and Padrovi even gave Jorra 500 for the help, as well as letting her keep the blaster.
True to his word, Padrovi was Jorra's ticket off of Corellia. During the journey, she picked his brain on what battles he'd fought in, famous criminals he'd gone after, and the best ways he had of hunting people down. Kren had led a tame career, mainly going after small-time crooks and the occasional corporate thief. Just the same, he loved her enthusiasm, and spared no expense telling her his best stories, giving away his most cunning tricks. They weren't much, but she devoured them with wide-eyed curiosity. Purely on the pleasure of her company, Padrovi took her to the Mid-Rim world of Riflor. He offered to take her all the way to Bunduki, but she was adamant in making the last leg of the journey on her own.
Before he departed, Padrovi left her with a small list of people that she could call on to find him, or if she needed help. He also gave her enough money to live when she arrived at Bunduki, still neither knowing nor caring why it was she was going there. Jorra watched him go, and immediately booked passage to the planet.
When she arrived, it took all the time of asking a customs officer what this art she had come to learn was. Teräs Käsi was well-known on the planet. Jorra spent the next week seeking out the martial art's origin, which brought her to the temple of the Followers.
She speaks very little of the two years which she spent there, except to say that she ate, slept, and breathed the style. Few students of her age had been more perfectly suited to learn it. The incredible strain her body had to endure was paltry compared to her Mandalorian training, and she had already developed the incredible speed which is centric to the art. Learning to anticipate her opponent's strikes was equally important to her Echani, and all of it combined turned her into a true exemplar of hand-to-hand combat. A blur of pinpoint and bone-shattering strikes.
She was finally told that there while there was much for her to learn, there was nothing more which she could be taught at this time, save for the trance which allows masters of Teräs Käsi to agelessly sleep for decades. It was a hard decision to leave, but Jorra knew in her heart that the life of a monk, even a warrior monk, was not for her.
The determined woman that stepped out of the doors of that temple was very unlike the girl who went in. She had grown much taller, and her young body was muscle all the way through. She was ready to earn her place among the D'Resh. She was still far from a true master of anything, but confidence filled the spaces where skill would someday rest.
The journey to Mandalore was dull, and all she did while waiting for whatever shuttle she had boarded to reach its destination is practice. She honed her techniques, and spent the month of transit blending her two styles into something else. She didn't name it --lacking the imagination for such things-- but by using the techniques of both Echani and Teräs Käsi, her battle insight had begun to verge on that which a Force-sensitive might feel. This would be her's though; she would give only Teräs Käsi to the Clan.
She was met at the spaceport by a representative of the Clan, having sent word ahead. He had brought a speeder, and she was cajoled for taking so long to finish what, for him, had been one month in a lab, looking over the shoulder of an engineer. She only smiled, self-assured, and let him rail away.
When she was brought before the Chieftain and the Clan, and declared herself to be the daughter of Gayle D'Resh, there were many shouts of surprise. Some were of outrage at Gayle, for leaving her Clan so completely behind. Jorra did not speak, only let things play out. When the Chieftain restored order, he asked of her what she had brought to the Clan in her long journey. She told him that she had brought steel hands.
To test her claim, she was sent to the Battle Circle. If she could stand her ground, and fight every foe,short of a former champion, to a draw, then her Verd'goten was complete. The first battle took her a minute. The second only took fifty seconds. In the third, the challenger demanded a dueling sword, but still Jorra persevered. It took a week, including time for her to rest, but Jorra showed the forty-six Mando'ade of Clan D'Resh that she was worthy of them. Of those forty-six, she had fought twenty, none of whom had ever been a champion nor had enough honor to receive a challenge from one. Those young and green whom she had used to prove herself were especially welcoming, and eager to learn the art which had bested them.
Even the champions, whom she lacked the honor to face, acknowledged that she had brought a fine addition to their own arsenals. When she was accepted, and given the armor of a Mandalorian in trade for her teaching this deadly art to her kin, Jorra knew that this was the life she wanted.
Jorra visited Galdiraan often, and was visited on Mandalore by Ved. He had joined the Republic military, and she envied him the minimal action he saw during the simple peace-keeping duties which the GAR performed. Jorra's relationship with her father was healthy and happy, but she frequently implored her mother to return to the D'Resh. Gayle obstinately refused every time, asserting that if loving and marrying Thaydis was something to be looked down upon, she would remain an exile. Eventually, during a visit on Jorra's twentieth birthday, the argument reached a peak.
Jorra accused her mother of being dar'manda.
Jorra left immediately after, leaving no time to make up. She sought out Mandalore, and implored him for a chance to prove herself. Convincing herself that by proving her worth as a Mandalorian, Chieftain Daala would have no choice but to fight Jorra. If a true Mandalorian questioned the Chieftain's honor, then by refusing to challenge Jorra, she would prove herself a coward. And if she did challenge Jorra, she would not be Clanmaster for long.
Mandalore himself had nothing for her, but she did find opportunity with a group of fellow Mandos that had taken to hiring themselves out to independent and rebellious groups which were making efforts to get Republic forces or influence off of their planet. And for a time, that was enough. She fought the wars of other people. The first life that she took belonged to the security guard a Republic communications facility. His head smashes against the wall made her sick to her stomach, but it simultaneously empowered her. This is what she could do. The next kill on exhilarated her, and that is how it has been since. During this time, she grew especially attached to the small pistol that was given to her years before. She used larger armaments when necessary, and eventually acquired a larger sidearm, but found herself becoming more in tune with pistols than rifles.
When Jorra was twenty-three, she was sitting in a spaceport when she saw a familiar face. Ved, on leave, was on his way home. She hadn't seen her brother in months, and the reunion was a welcome one. They both booked different departure times, and went to have a drink. Jorra was frugal with Ved when it came to her recent activities, and he was tight-lipped about Republic offensives in sectors that he knew she had been active in. Despite this strange new dynamic between them, they were still brother and sister.
On the news, it said that a large transport had been attacked, seemingly by pirates, and crashed on Galdriraan. They were shocked, but neither thought anything past sympathy for those whose loved ones had died.
Then Ved and Jorra received a simultaneous call.
The transport had crashed down in a city, and their childhood home had been destroyed. Thaydis and Gayle were dead, incinerated by the exploding ship.
They booked passage home.
After a memorial service had been held, and wreckage from the crash had been cleared away, Ved and Jorra found the safe they knew their parents had kept below the house. Not much had survived the heat, but both knew that at least one item had.
Jorra left her armor, which had been relatively new and of middling quality, in that small room. She wore the beskar'gam of her mother, grandmother, and back from that day forth. It was gold with a black cape, and Jorra was loathe to change it. She resolved to return to Mandalore for a time, and allow herself to mourn. Then, she and her team would hunt down the criminals responsible. She was met not by her Clan, but by a representative of Mandalore. He told her that Mandalore shared her pain, knowing how unfortunate it was that Gayle had died. Especially when she had just requested his permission to return to Mandalore and her Clan.
Jorra learned that Gayle had finally made the decision to return to her people, as her daughter's accusation had given her reason to do some soul-searching. She made a direct appeal to the Mandalore, whom she had served beside under his predecessor. He agreed with very little hesitation, having been one of those who knew the woman best before her departure. Daala, who remembered Gayle from her childhood, knew that Gayle not only had the honor to challenge her right as Clanmaster, but more than enough skill to take it from her. She "arranged" for the crash, to protect her position.
That same day, Jorra walked into the gaudy and run-down "throne" room of Chieftain Daala D'Resh. Daala began to offer sympathies, but Jorra responded by putting her mother's helmet on and opening fire with a heavy repeater. The false Clan leader and those few who remained loyal to her had not even the honor to wear their armor, and were cut down quickly. Jorra approached the throne, decorated now by a corpse. She threw Daala's remains aside and kicked over the seat, finally freeing her Clan from a weak woman that sought to play queen.
When she stepped outside, she was faced with the last thirteen people of Clan D'Resh. They were looking at their new leader, a smoking weapon held loosely in her off-hand.
"We are no more." Jorra said, and left them behind.
Jorra retreated to Bunduki after disbanding her Clan. Her former kin went their separate ways, many joining Clans where they had friends and knew they would be welcome. She stayed in the temple again, and used the structures of that life to center herself. Another year she stayed, bringing new experience. She had been an expert, but it was during this stay that she became a master.
Jorra was now counted among the teachers, but the true masters still saw her as a student. She had no purpose, nothing to motivate her. For the first time, Jorra D'Resh was hollow. The masters saw her emptiness, and filled it with their wisdom and their knowledge. She became a vessel for their martial teachings. She rejected their philosophy, but few have come as close to perfect form.
Before she left, partially because she had grown restless, and partially because the masters had once again told her that she had more to learn, but little left to teach, Jorra painted her mother's armor. The vengeance had been sated, and now her memory was all that Jorra had. The golden plates would remain, and Jorra removed the black mesh. She replaced it with a new armorweave, styled after the light and freeing robes of the temple. She also replaced the black cape with a red one, to remind her of the woman and Clan which must always drive her to be the perfect soldier; an example for all others to follow, as her mother had been.
She made use of the list which Padrovi Kren had given her a decade prior, and found the now retired bounty hunter. He took her in, and agreed to become her handler so that she might take up the role he had left behind.
This is how she made her living and kept herself sharp for the second year. She also earned a name for herself, and was often hired by those who didn't care if the target came back dead or alive. Padrovi, as a sort of congratulations for her success, gave her the sister weapon to her own blaster. The second blaster, though as small as the first, gave her a sense of fulfillment. The weapons were two bodies with one essence, and it reminded her of the relationship between Mando'ad and Clan. Jorra began to remember who she was, and with the credits flowing steadily, she had little trouble setting up her friend with a much more comfortable retirement.
During her time as a bounty hunter, Jorra made use of Padrovi's old ship. However, she did not keep it when they parted ways for the last time, some ten years later.
It was a strange day, then, that she heard from her brother. He sent her a short message, simply asking that she meet him when she could. Jorra responded immediately, and they agreed to meet in the Corellian cantina where Jorra had briefly competed as a duelist. She arrived well before Ved, and enrolled in a day of duels for the fun of it. Now a grown woman, and a capable soldier, the other duelists were meat for the grinder. Until she got cocky.
A Rodian duelist, one that she did not recognize as a rival Hunter, doubled over after her first shot. Playing to the audience, Jorra removed her helmet and did a bow. Behind her, the Rodian had stood with his own helmet in hand, and bashed her over the head with it.
She came to in a soft bed, with her brother looking down on her. His face was a mask of relief and stress. The first blow had done little more than disorient the Mandalorian, but the subsequent strikes that her opponent dealt before he was dragged away from her had put her into a coma that last almost two weeks. The injury had healed, but she would forever be cursed with the occasional wave of pain on the level of a migraine. Fortunately, the medical staff had been able to put a plate in where her skull fractured without damaging much of her scalp, so there was no evidence of the injury save for the aches and a scar at her hairline.
All of this Ved told her as she lay there, pondering ways to most painfully kill her assailant. Then, Ved got around to why he had wanted to see her to begin with. He told her a strange tale of a refugee transport, and of the slavers that attacked it. Ved's patrol had come across the aftermath of this; the ship's hull was almost completely vented, with only the hold still containing air. The abduction had occurred at least two weeks prior. They knew that they would have to search for survivors, and Ved went aboard the bulk. He then spun a tale of a dead pirate, corpse laying before a young Miraluka that refused to let go of a small blaster.
At this point the door opened, and that girl stepped in. She wore a strap to conceal her eye sockets, and while she was clearly healthy, she had a feral air about her. Ved brought her forward, and introduced her as Zira D'Resh, his adopted daughter. After rescuing her, she refused to leave his side, and after so many months of staying with him while social services determined what to do with her, he had requested that he simply become her guardian.
This was agreeable, but only if he was able to find someone who could care for her when he was deployed (nearly all of the time). So he had thought of Jorra. Zira was eight, he said. And she was a fighter.
Of course, that's because there was no bad mood to snap her out of.
Jorra could see them making silly faces, feel them bounce and rock her, but she simply wasn't paying attention. No, she had her eyes on those things they were moving around, on, and she just didn't have the patience to wait for her's to catch up.
So at six months, Jorra D'Resh finally used that concentration which had been pooling since first her eyes saw this wonderful ambulation. She took her first steps. And then she fell down, finally seeing just how goofy her father's face could get.
The rest of her childhood followed a similar theme. Jorra was perpetually determined to take those first steps a little earlier than was expected. When she was four, she could keep up with her eight-year-old brother in a foot race. When she was six, she could spy on her father teaching Ved the second-tier Echani without being caught. Thaydis had begun to teach his children the first tier at their fourth birthdays, to accommodate the Verd'goten he knew that they might choose to pursue.
In fact, by the time she began training with her mother at eight, she had spent so much time secretly watching and mimicking her father's graceful war-art that she had already caught Ved up and was starting to surpass him.
This was fortunate though, as she would only have another five years to learn the rest of the second and all of the third tier before she would attempt her Verd'goten. Ved had been trained just as Jorra would be, but identified much more with his Echani heritage than his Mandalorian, and so would spend his teenage years after his own Ver'goten at home, learning from their father.
It was also during her pivotal eighth year that she first began having trouble in school. There was no lack of effort on her part, nor on that of her instructors. Despite several tests and examinations, there was no evidence of Jorra having a learning disability either. She simply wasn't retaining the cushy armchair knowledge of a Republic school with her mind so full of form etiquette and survival training. Regardless, the educational authorities suggested that Jorra be removed from the general student populace and educated by a private teacher.
Jorra's mother found the notion offensive, but followed the advice in a way; she withdrew Jorra completely, resolving to not waste her daughter's time with a Republic school and to become her exclusive teacher (as was Mandalorian tradition, which Gayle had relented to forego at Thaydis's request). This was bittersweet for Jorra; she was finally getting to embrace her Mandalorian heritage in full, but she knew that she would be an alien to other children.
It was an unfortunate truth, but she has never regretted becoming a full Mando. Gayle was an extremely talented warrior; she would have been the D'Resh chieftain had she not met Thaydis. Before the Treaty, Gayle had even spent a few years serving the Mandalore directly. After the Treaty, however, she met and came to love Thaydis. Her departure was very controversial, but the honor she had accrued in an illustrious career left her choice above question, and the decision was made to take no action against her. Many trusted that she would still obey the Resol'nare, and raise her children to be warriors and someday return to the Clans. She treated Jorra both as a daughter and as an equal, for the child was already better versed in the deadly martial arts of the Echani than her mother. She taught her to shoot, to hunt, to plan an ambush and escape one. Jorra learned the delicate maintenance of equipment which was notoriously finicky, such as flamers and slug-throwers.
When she was ten, Gayle gave Jorra her first suit of real armor. It was the same armor which had been handed down for the training of every young woman in their family line for more than a century, and Jorra treated the plasteel like gold. There were times, especially those when she was tasked with surviving out in the cold forests of her home without any gear but a blaster and her armor, that she would go so far as to sleep with everything on, helmet included.
Throughout this training, on those days or nights when both mother and daughter would be at home, Jorra learned from her father, and practiced with her brother. She always did so in her armor, building the muscles in her young body rapidly and viciously. The Echani focus on sweeping kicks coupled with the constant exercise with her mother made her legs exceptionally strong, and Gayle made a point to foster and focus on Jorra's natural and fast-developing agility. Gayle taught her ways to compensate for her shortcomings, such as building momentum to strike harder than her muscles would typically allow, and how to move erratically enough to throw off an enemy's aim while still getting to the next piece of cover in as little time as possible.
When Jorra turned thirteen, and had to give up her training armor (both because she needed a real suit and she had almost completely grown out of it) she cried for a day. Gayle used this to impart two things before Jorra began the Verd'goten of what would become her clan: Her emotions were not her enemy, but giving into them at the wrong time was always dangerous, and that by taking the loss of her armor so hard, she had proven to her mother that she would would do her proud.
The Verd'goten of Clan D'Resh was simultaneously very simple and very complex. A potential had only a single task, but the time that it took to complete could stretch from days to months. That task? To find a new way of doing battle, and bring it to the Clan.
By this point in her life, Jorra was a respectable practitioner of Echani, but she knew that her people would only laugh if she brought them a style of staves and cloth. She spoke with her father on what else might be out there, and he told her of a group called the Followers of Palawa. They were a society of refugees who, as legend told it, had lost their home due to the actions of the Jedi Council. Tales told that they had developed a deadly martial art on the planet of Bunduki.
Jorra investigated the myth, and learned that Bunduki was a small world near Bakura, practically across the galaxy. She knew that asking her family for help was an option, but resolved to accomplish this on her own. In the dead of night, she left her home behind with a few hundred credits (a farewell and good luck from her brother) and her training. She left a message to her parents of her goals, and implored them not to follow. Thaydis would have none of it, but Gayle and Ved convinced him to respect the wishes of his daughter.
The credits ran out quickly, and only took her as far as the core worlds. She stayed on Correllia for a time, and found a friend in the twi'lek bounty hunter Padrovi Kren. She met him outside of the cantina where she earned enough money to eat and begin saving by participating in a dueling circle. At no time was she allowed inside the bar itself, but the Dueling Circle officials had an adjacent building for sign-ups and the actual fights. She was a joke at first, the match officials going so far as to turn the energy inhibitors so high that she would barely feel it if a blaster bolt hit her. The other duelist, a first-timer that she had bet the last of her money she could put on the ground, had made the mistake of pandering to the crowd and putting his back to her.
Jorra grabbed his shoulders and used them to lift herself off of the ground, kicking the man in the back of the knees. He was so off-guard that all it took was for her to yank him backward and put her foot on his chest for him to submit. She made thirty credits that day. She spent forty on a small room and a hot dinner and breakfast. Fourteen hours after she got paid, she was listening to people cheer "The Mando Kid," for the fifth time that day, and dipping side to side while she drilled a Senator's son who thought he'd try his hand at being a gunslinger. At least, that's what they told the crowd. There had been surprisingly large betting on her first bout, and the officials saw the potential for a profit. They suited her up in fake armor, turned the energy inhibitors to their highest setting, and had her compete against paid actors and the occasional low-grade professional as a novelty act. Jorra had no illusions about this, and had been the one to demand the chance to fight real challengers.
She had been there for two weeks, and earned what she guessed was enough to book passage on a transport headed for the Inner Rim, when Padrovi saw her fight another Echani in the ring. It had been one of the duels which Jorra requested, as an opportunity to learn by failure what the older Echani could teach through victory. The older woman took Jorra apart, of course, but the fight was still exhilarating. Padrovi approached Jorra after she finished getting patched up, and congratulated her on the good fight. She thanked him, but also snarked that he should step in with her. The bounty hunter declined, but offered her free passage to any world as far as the Expansion Region if Jorra could convince her opponent to have a rematch in the alley behind the cantina.
Jorra thought about the offer, and demanded that he give her enough money to buy her way there as collateral, in case he welched. She had become jaded by the Dueling Officials, who she knew were keeping more of the profit than most duelists received after a win. He instead gave her one of his blasters, which he assured her was worth enough. She didn't fully believe him, but figured she could at least use it for protection.
She convinced the other duelist to meet her outside the building, under the pretense that the senior warrior explain to her what she had done wrong. The second that door shut behind them, a stun round nailed the wall beside them. The woman perked up and began to run away, only to have a second stun bolt peg her in the back. Jorra then told Padrovi she wanted to keep the gun.
The bounty hunter cleared his catch with a Hadron Corp. representative, and turned over their stolen vaporator schematics alongside the thief. He was 10,000 credits richer, and Padrovi even gave Jorra 500 for the help, as well as letting her keep the blaster.
True to his word, Padrovi was Jorra's ticket off of Corellia. During the journey, she picked his brain on what battles he'd fought in, famous criminals he'd gone after, and the best ways he had of hunting people down. Kren had led a tame career, mainly going after small-time crooks and the occasional corporate thief. Just the same, he loved her enthusiasm, and spared no expense telling her his best stories, giving away his most cunning tricks. They weren't much, but she devoured them with wide-eyed curiosity. Purely on the pleasure of her company, Padrovi took her to the Mid-Rim world of Riflor. He offered to take her all the way to Bunduki, but she was adamant in making the last leg of the journey on her own.
Before he departed, Padrovi left her with a small list of people that she could call on to find him, or if she needed help. He also gave her enough money to live when she arrived at Bunduki, still neither knowing nor caring why it was she was going there. Jorra watched him go, and immediately booked passage to the planet.
When she arrived, it took all the time of asking a customs officer what this art she had come to learn was. Teräs Käsi was well-known on the planet. Jorra spent the next week seeking out the martial art's origin, which brought her to the temple of the Followers.
She speaks very little of the two years which she spent there, except to say that she ate, slept, and breathed the style. Few students of her age had been more perfectly suited to learn it. The incredible strain her body had to endure was paltry compared to her Mandalorian training, and she had already developed the incredible speed which is centric to the art. Learning to anticipate her opponent's strikes was equally important to her Echani, and all of it combined turned her into a true exemplar of hand-to-hand combat. A blur of pinpoint and bone-shattering strikes.
She was finally told that there while there was much for her to learn, there was nothing more which she could be taught at this time, save for the trance which allows masters of Teräs Käsi to agelessly sleep for decades. It was a hard decision to leave, but Jorra knew in her heart that the life of a monk, even a warrior monk, was not for her.
The determined woman that stepped out of the doors of that temple was very unlike the girl who went in. She had grown much taller, and her young body was muscle all the way through. She was ready to earn her place among the D'Resh. She was still far from a true master of anything, but confidence filled the spaces where skill would someday rest.
The journey to Mandalore was dull, and all she did while waiting for whatever shuttle she had boarded to reach its destination is practice. She honed her techniques, and spent the month of transit blending her two styles into something else. She didn't name it --lacking the imagination for such things-- but by using the techniques of both Echani and Teräs Käsi, her battle insight had begun to verge on that which a Force-sensitive might feel. This would be her's though; she would give only Teräs Käsi to the Clan.
She was met at the spaceport by a representative of the Clan, having sent word ahead. He had brought a speeder, and she was cajoled for taking so long to finish what, for him, had been one month in a lab, looking over the shoulder of an engineer. She only smiled, self-assured, and let him rail away.
When she was brought before the Chieftain and the Clan, and declared herself to be the daughter of Gayle D'Resh, there were many shouts of surprise. Some were of outrage at Gayle, for leaving her Clan so completely behind. Jorra did not speak, only let things play out. When the Chieftain restored order, he asked of her what she had brought to the Clan in her long journey. She told him that she had brought steel hands.
To test her claim, she was sent to the Battle Circle. If she could stand her ground, and fight every foe,short of a former champion, to a draw, then her Verd'goten was complete. The first battle took her a minute. The second only took fifty seconds. In the third, the challenger demanded a dueling sword, but still Jorra persevered. It took a week, including time for her to rest, but Jorra showed the forty-six Mando'ade of Clan D'Resh that she was worthy of them. Of those forty-six, she had fought twenty, none of whom had ever been a champion nor had enough honor to receive a challenge from one. Those young and green whom she had used to prove herself were especially welcoming, and eager to learn the art which had bested them.
Even the champions, whom she lacked the honor to face, acknowledged that she had brought a fine addition to their own arsenals. When she was accepted, and given the armor of a Mandalorian in trade for her teaching this deadly art to her kin, Jorra knew that this was the life she wanted.
Mandalorian (3,627-3,619 BBY)
As was agreed, Jorra became a teacher. The first to learn what she had brought to the Clan were its greatest warriors, who picked up the style quickly. Then came the population at large, until the only time Jorra had to teach a new student was when someone returned from the Verd'goten. It was pleasant, but lacked the action which Jorra so desperately wanted. Her mother had romanticized the Mandalorian life, not taking into account how little fighting there was to do at the time. She trained relentlessly, constantly taking on more and more challenges in the Battle Circle and while teaching. Over two years, she perfected her techniques and taught them to others, becoming more and more strict in regards to when another Mando'ad had learned enough to receive her approval.
It did not help then, when many of the D'Resh began to leave, pursuing mercenary careers. When Jorra was seventeen, the Chieftain died in his sleep, a most dishonorable way to go. There was nothing to hold most of them back. The young left first, discontent to sit and wait. Then the weak, who had never belonged. The new Chieftain, Daala, became so by being champion of the Battle Circle longer than any other living member of the Clan, but was not a strong-hearted woman. Daala dreamed of power and grandeur over honor and glory. She treated this new position not as one of a leader, but a ruler. More importantly, she lacked the will to rein in her Clan, and her failings reduced their numbers to twenty-four. Jorra was sorely tempted to follow the others, but knew that she would always feel as though she had betrayed herself. She began participating in more and more cross-Clan events, claiming honor in more Circles, and branching out to teach TK to Mandalorians that were not D'Resh.
She rarely wore her armor, feeling that she had not yet earned the right to it. This made her few friends among the new Chieftain's ardent supporters, who had degenerated into thugs that dressed as Mando'a. By claiming that she had not seen battle enough to earn her armor, they saw her claiming that the Chieftain was not properly leading the Clan. More than once she fought for her life, and more than once she violently reminded them why she had been accepted into the Clan.
It did not help then, when many of the D'Resh began to leave, pursuing mercenary careers. When Jorra was seventeen, the Chieftain died in his sleep, a most dishonorable way to go. There was nothing to hold most of them back. The young left first, discontent to sit and wait. Then the weak, who had never belonged. The new Chieftain, Daala, became so by being champion of the Battle Circle longer than any other living member of the Clan, but was not a strong-hearted woman. Daala dreamed of power and grandeur over honor and glory. She treated this new position not as one of a leader, but a ruler. More importantly, she lacked the will to rein in her Clan, and her failings reduced their numbers to twenty-four. Jorra was sorely tempted to follow the others, but knew that she would always feel as though she had betrayed herself. She began participating in more and more cross-Clan events, claiming honor in more Circles, and branching out to teach TK to Mandalorians that were not D'Resh.
She rarely wore her armor, feeling that she had not yet earned the right to it. This made her few friends among the new Chieftain's ardent supporters, who had degenerated into thugs that dressed as Mando'a. By claiming that she had not seen battle enough to earn her armor, they saw her claiming that the Chieftain was not properly leading the Clan. More than once she fought for her life, and more than once she violently reminded them why she had been accepted into the Clan.
Jorra visited Galdiraan often, and was visited on Mandalore by Ved. He had joined the Republic military, and she envied him the minimal action he saw during the simple peace-keeping duties which the GAR performed. Jorra's relationship with her father was healthy and happy, but she frequently implored her mother to return to the D'Resh. Gayle obstinately refused every time, asserting that if loving and marrying Thaydis was something to be looked down upon, she would remain an exile. Eventually, during a visit on Jorra's twentieth birthday, the argument reached a peak.
Jorra accused her mother of being dar'manda.
Jorra left immediately after, leaving no time to make up. She sought out Mandalore, and implored him for a chance to prove herself. Convincing herself that by proving her worth as a Mandalorian, Chieftain Daala would have no choice but to fight Jorra. If a true Mandalorian questioned the Chieftain's honor, then by refusing to challenge Jorra, she would prove herself a coward. And if she did challenge Jorra, she would not be Clanmaster for long.
Mandalore himself had nothing for her, but she did find opportunity with a group of fellow Mandos that had taken to hiring themselves out to independent and rebellious groups which were making efforts to get Republic forces or influence off of their planet. And for a time, that was enough. She fought the wars of other people. The first life that she took belonged to the security guard a Republic communications facility. His head smashes against the wall made her sick to her stomach, but it simultaneously empowered her. This is what she could do. The next kill on exhilarated her, and that is how it has been since. During this time, she grew especially attached to the small pistol that was given to her years before. She used larger armaments when necessary, and eventually acquired a larger sidearm, but found herself becoming more in tune with pistols than rifles.
When Jorra was twenty-three, she was sitting in a spaceport when she saw a familiar face. Ved, on leave, was on his way home. She hadn't seen her brother in months, and the reunion was a welcome one. They both booked different departure times, and went to have a drink. Jorra was frugal with Ved when it came to her recent activities, and he was tight-lipped about Republic offensives in sectors that he knew she had been active in. Despite this strange new dynamic between them, they were still brother and sister.
On the news, it said that a large transport had been attacked, seemingly by pirates, and crashed on Galdriraan. They were shocked, but neither thought anything past sympathy for those whose loved ones had died.
Then Ved and Jorra received a simultaneous call.
The transport had crashed down in a city, and their childhood home had been destroyed. Thaydis and Gayle were dead, incinerated by the exploding ship.
They booked passage home.
After a memorial service had been held, and wreckage from the crash had been cleared away, Ved and Jorra found the safe they knew their parents had kept below the house. Not much had survived the heat, but both knew that at least one item had.
Jorra left her armor, which had been relatively new and of middling quality, in that small room. She wore the beskar'gam of her mother, grandmother, and back from that day forth. It was gold with a black cape, and Jorra was loathe to change it. She resolved to return to Mandalore for a time, and allow herself to mourn. Then, she and her team would hunt down the criminals responsible. She was met not by her Clan, but by a representative of Mandalore. He told her that Mandalore shared her pain, knowing how unfortunate it was that Gayle had died. Especially when she had just requested his permission to return to Mandalore and her Clan.
Jorra learned that Gayle had finally made the decision to return to her people, as her daughter's accusation had given her reason to do some soul-searching. She made a direct appeal to the Mandalore, whom she had served beside under his predecessor. He agreed with very little hesitation, having been one of those who knew the woman best before her departure. Daala, who remembered Gayle from her childhood, knew that Gayle not only had the honor to challenge her right as Clanmaster, but more than enough skill to take it from her. She "arranged" for the crash, to protect her position.
That same day, Jorra walked into the gaudy and run-down "throne" room of Chieftain Daala D'Resh. Daala began to offer sympathies, but Jorra responded by putting her mother's helmet on and opening fire with a heavy repeater. The false Clan leader and those few who remained loyal to her had not even the honor to wear their armor, and were cut down quickly. Jorra approached the throne, decorated now by a corpse. She threw Daala's remains aside and kicked over the seat, finally freeing her Clan from a weak woman that sought to play queen.
When she stepped outside, she was faced with the last thirteen people of Clan D'Resh. They were looking at their new leader, a smoking weapon held loosely in her off-hand.
"We are no more." Jorra said, and left them behind.
Mercenary (3,619-3,617)
Jorra retreated to Bunduki after disbanding her Clan. Her former kin went their separate ways, many joining Clans where they had friends and knew they would be welcome. She stayed in the temple again, and used the structures of that life to center herself. Another year she stayed, bringing new experience. She had been an expert, but it was during this stay that she became a master.
Jorra was now counted among the teachers, but the true masters still saw her as a student. She had no purpose, nothing to motivate her. For the first time, Jorra D'Resh was hollow. The masters saw her emptiness, and filled it with their wisdom and their knowledge. She became a vessel for their martial teachings. She rejected their philosophy, but few have come as close to perfect form.
Before she left, partially because she had grown restless, and partially because the masters had once again told her that she had more to learn, but little left to teach, Jorra painted her mother's armor. The vengeance had been sated, and now her memory was all that Jorra had. The golden plates would remain, and Jorra removed the black mesh. She replaced it with a new armorweave, styled after the light and freeing robes of the temple. She also replaced the black cape with a red one, to remind her of the woman and Clan which must always drive her to be the perfect soldier; an example for all others to follow, as her mother had been.
She made use of the list which Padrovi Kren had given her a decade prior, and found the now retired bounty hunter. He took her in, and agreed to become her handler so that she might take up the role he had left behind.
This is how she made her living and kept herself sharp for the second year. She also earned a name for herself, and was often hired by those who didn't care if the target came back dead or alive. Padrovi, as a sort of congratulations for her success, gave her the sister weapon to her own blaster. The second blaster, though as small as the first, gave her a sense of fulfillment. The weapons were two bodies with one essence, and it reminded her of the relationship between Mando'ad and Clan. Jorra began to remember who she was, and with the credits flowing steadily, she had little trouble setting up her friend with a much more comfortable retirement.
During her time as a bounty hunter, Jorra made use of Padrovi's old ship. However, she did not keep it when they parted ways for the last time, some ten years later.
It was a strange day, then, that she heard from her brother. He sent her a short message, simply asking that she meet him when she could. Jorra responded immediately, and they agreed to meet in the Corellian cantina where Jorra had briefly competed as a duelist. She arrived well before Ved, and enrolled in a day of duels for the fun of it. Now a grown woman, and a capable soldier, the other duelists were meat for the grinder. Until she got cocky.
A Rodian duelist, one that she did not recognize as a rival Hunter, doubled over after her first shot. Playing to the audience, Jorra removed her helmet and did a bow. Behind her, the Rodian had stood with his own helmet in hand, and bashed her over the head with it.
She came to in a soft bed, with her brother looking down on her. His face was a mask of relief and stress. The first blow had done little more than disorient the Mandalorian, but the subsequent strikes that her opponent dealt before he was dragged away from her had put her into a coma that last almost two weeks. The injury had healed, but she would forever be cursed with the occasional wave of pain on the level of a migraine. Fortunately, the medical staff had been able to put a plate in where her skull fractured without damaging much of her scalp, so there was no evidence of the injury save for the aches and a scar at her hairline.
All of this Ved told her as she lay there, pondering ways to most painfully kill her assailant. Then, Ved got around to why he had wanted to see her to begin with. He told her a strange tale of a refugee transport, and of the slavers that attacked it. Ved's patrol had come across the aftermath of this; the ship's hull was almost completely vented, with only the hold still containing air. The abduction had occurred at least two weeks prior. They knew that they would have to search for survivors, and Ved went aboard the bulk. He then spun a tale of a dead pirate, corpse laying before a young Miraluka that refused to let go of a small blaster.
At this point the door opened, and that girl stepped in. She wore a strap to conceal her eye sockets, and while she was clearly healthy, she had a feral air about her. Ved brought her forward, and introduced her as Zira D'Resh, his adopted daughter. After rescuing her, she refused to leave his side, and after so many months of staying with him while social services determined what to do with her, he had requested that he simply become her guardian.
This was agreeable, but only if he was able to find someone who could care for her when he was deployed (nearly all of the time). So he had thought of Jorra. Zira was eight, he said. And she was a fighter.
By Example (3,617-3,611)
Zira warmed to Jorra surprisingly quickly, and the two immediately had a strange type of bond. It was the connection between two people who have lost almost everything, but haven't given up. Jorra agreed to her brother's terms, that he remain Zira's legal guardian but Jorra become her mother.
A week later, Jorra introduced Zira to Padrovi. The girl had that same curiosity that had made him so fond of her mother, and they hit it off as Jorra knew they would. They had savings, and Padrovi suggested that Jorra should settle down from being a Hunter, at least for a few years. Jorra had no intention of settling down, but she resolved to only take work which wasn't especially dangerous.
As her father had done with her, Jorra began to teach Zira. And as her mother had done with her, Jorra began to train Zira. This girl became her world and her purpose. She imparted to her everything that she knew over the next years. It took time, but eventually Zira was able to speak of the family she had lost. Ved and Jorra had made the right choice, as Zira had no family left that might have been looking for her. The strange sight of the Miraluka had also shown her that her aunt and father were lost to her, as she had seen the lights of their lives go out. She had never known her mother.
When Zira turned ten, Jorra gave to her the same armor which she had once loved. She also began to take work again, showing Zira the vast reaches of the galaxy where Gayle had shown her a forest. Zira became an invaluable asset, and Jorra began to feel the first stirrings of hope that her Clan may not be dead.
When Zira turned 13, Jorra explained to her the Verd'goten of the D'Resh. Zira had no clue where to start, and so Jorra took her to Bunduki. She did not know what the masters said to her daughter, but it had been profound. Zira told her mother that she knew what she had to do, and asked for her permission to venture out. Jorra was reluctant, but knew that Zira would not feel complete unless she did this on her own.
Unlike Jorra, Zira kept in touch with the family she left behind. She never said where she was, but told them at least that she was safe and making progress. Six months after leaving, Zira reappeared.
Accompanying her was an elderly human, who said his name was Arles. He was a former Jedi. Zira had chosen to learn the intricacies of the Force, and this man was a true grey Jedi. Jorra had trouble accepting the idea, but eventually she admitted that because Zira had completely the Verd'goten, to learn was her choice. Zira bid her mother and Padrovi farewell, and disappeared from their lives.
A few months later, Ved came to Jorra in tears. The old man found him, and told him that Zira was dead. A Dark Jedi had captured the pair, and Arles watched while they tortured his apprentice with lightning and razor wire. She could only take so much, and they took her body away before releasing him. Jorra was stone-faced, and asked only where the old man was. She hasn't spoken to her brother since.
Jorra, in her grief, couldn't allow Zira's death to go unpunished. She sought Arles out because he had been entrusted with Zira's care, and he had let her die. In a moment of malicious brutality, Jorra resolved to kill Arles. And he would die as her daughter died: Torture, of the most heinous varieties Jorra could think of. It was all she could think to do, though it would bring her no more closure than letting the old man live.
When she found him, the resistance to the Force which had been imparted through her Teras Kasi training came in handy. They fought hard, but he was old and did not fight as hard as she had expected. His sword put the scar on her chin, but she eventually subdued him and shot him up with enough drugs to inhibit his Force abilities. Arles was her captive for three days, and neither slept during that time. Despite all she did to him, he never said a word. Jorra buried the Jedi in an unmarked grave.
In truth, Arles had told a lie. Zira was alive, but he had given her to a Dark-Side Cult. She was payment, so that his own small order might operate freely. When Jorra came for him, he knew it was comeuppance for the many that had gone before Zira. He never admitted this to Jorra, knowing that if she sought vengeance it would mean that those who also followed his path would no longer have amnesty from the larger cult. Either they would all be cut down by the Dark Jedi, or many would be killed by Jorra in her roaring rampage of revenge. To this day, Jorra believes that her daughter is dead.
A week later, Jorra introduced Zira to Padrovi. The girl had that same curiosity that had made him so fond of her mother, and they hit it off as Jorra knew they would. They had savings, and Padrovi suggested that Jorra should settle down from being a Hunter, at least for a few years. Jorra had no intention of settling down, but she resolved to only take work which wasn't especially dangerous.
As her father had done with her, Jorra began to teach Zira. And as her mother had done with her, Jorra began to train Zira. This girl became her world and her purpose. She imparted to her everything that she knew over the next years. It took time, but eventually Zira was able to speak of the family she had lost. Ved and Jorra had made the right choice, as Zira had no family left that might have been looking for her. The strange sight of the Miraluka had also shown her that her aunt and father were lost to her, as she had seen the lights of their lives go out. She had never known her mother.
When Zira turned ten, Jorra gave to her the same armor which she had once loved. She also began to take work again, showing Zira the vast reaches of the galaxy where Gayle had shown her a forest. Zira became an invaluable asset, and Jorra began to feel the first stirrings of hope that her Clan may not be dead.
When Zira turned 13, Jorra explained to her the Verd'goten of the D'Resh. Zira had no clue where to start, and so Jorra took her to Bunduki. She did not know what the masters said to her daughter, but it had been profound. Zira told her mother that she knew what she had to do, and asked for her permission to venture out. Jorra was reluctant, but knew that Zira would not feel complete unless she did this on her own.
Unlike Jorra, Zira kept in touch with the family she left behind. She never said where she was, but told them at least that she was safe and making progress. Six months after leaving, Zira reappeared.
Accompanying her was an elderly human, who said his name was Arles. He was a former Jedi. Zira had chosen to learn the intricacies of the Force, and this man was a true grey Jedi. Jorra had trouble accepting the idea, but eventually she admitted that because Zira had completely the Verd'goten, to learn was her choice. Zira bid her mother and Padrovi farewell, and disappeared from their lives.
A few months later, Ved came to Jorra in tears. The old man found him, and told him that Zira was dead. A Dark Jedi had captured the pair, and Arles watched while they tortured his apprentice with lightning and razor wire. She could only take so much, and they took her body away before releasing him. Jorra was stone-faced, and asked only where the old man was. She hasn't spoken to her brother since.
Jorra, in her grief, couldn't allow Zira's death to go unpunished. She sought Arles out because he had been entrusted with Zira's care, and he had let her die. In a moment of malicious brutality, Jorra resolved to kill Arles. And he would die as her daughter died: Torture, of the most heinous varieties Jorra could think of. It was all she could think to do, though it would bring her no more closure than letting the old man live.
When she found him, the resistance to the Force which had been imparted through her Teras Kasi training came in handy. They fought hard, but he was old and did not fight as hard as she had expected. His sword put the scar on her chin, but she eventually subdued him and shot him up with enough drugs to inhibit his Force abilities. Arles was her captive for three days, and neither slept during that time. Despite all she did to him, he never said a word. Jorra buried the Jedi in an unmarked grave.
In truth, Arles had told a lie. Zira was alive, but he had given her to a Dark-Side Cult. She was payment, so that his own small order might operate freely. When Jorra came for him, he knew it was comeuppance for the many that had gone before Zira. He never admitted this to Jorra, knowing that if she sought vengeance it would mean that those who also followed his path would no longer have amnesty from the larger cult. Either they would all be cut down by the Dark Jedi, or many would be killed by Jorra in her roaring rampage of revenge. To this day, Jorra believes that her daughter is dead.
The Martyr (3,611- BBY)
Jorra had been hardened now, in spirit as she had been in body. Once more, she returned to Bunduki. Another year she stayed, now considered as much a master as those who had taught her. She still refused to learn the last technique which would cement her standing, adamant that she had no desire to live longer than she had to. Her every movement was perfect, for there was nothing within which could impede them. She painted three red stripes onto her helmet, to remember her three failures.
Jorra returned to Mandalore, and pledged her life to whoever wore the mask. A spark of life returned, as she now felt she was as dead as those that she loved. Jorra had nothing left to lose, but could only further the cause of her people before she ascended to Manda. She would not die before her time, though. First, she would rebuild her Clan, and reclaim the glory of the ancients.
Her first instinct was to invite Padrovi to the D'Resh, but he was an old man and the life of battle was behind him. He died peacefully in his sleep in 3,604 BBY.
Ved continued his career in the Republic, throwing himself into the military with the same gusto that his sister did with the Mandalorians. He commands one of the vessels which make up the Coruscant Defense Fleet.
Following her return to the Mandalorians, Jorra's standing as a Clanmaster (without members, she was the last bastion of the D'Resh culture, and clan culture is of paramount importance to the Mando'ade) allowed her to surpass her former rank-equivalent and adopt a higher degree of influence (effectively a Captain at this time). Making use of her knack for learning, Jorra spent several months studying history's greatest tacticians and their favored techniques. Not afraid to seem weak, she also took lessons from fellow Chieftains on command, both in and outside of battle.
While the endeavor took a year or so to pay off, Jorra eventually caught up to her fellows and began taking formal command postings (she had formerly been sticking to Executive and Staff positions). It was here that an ability for leadership which she had never been conscious of (but had used during her time as a teacher and with the Mandalorian mercenaries in her youth, and fostered while she trained Zira) became readily apparent. While she was not outstanding, Jorra was a cut above the average officer. The broad variety of experiences she had been put through, and the immense personal discipline which she had developed in her life were projected onto the soldiers below her.
Her superiors came to expect a certain level of passion and discipline to manifest in Jorra's troops, and very rarely were they disappointed. She had been trained by the best, and spent most of her life teaching others; the transition to making soldiers out of recruits was natural and smooth. After a few years, and largely owing to the rarity of her situation and the unique practices of the D'Resh, she was asked to take charge of a training facility for potential Mandalorians that hadn't found a personal mentor, as well as Clanless that wished to rejoin their people. Accompanying the new appointment was a promotion.
When the crusade began anew in 3,602, Jorra requested and received the right to transfer out of training and to the front. Despite her age and standing, it was at this time that Jorra gained what is supposed to be the first honor of any Mandalorian. During the Liberator's early attacks, Jorra became a Staff Officer with a brigade that quickly earned quite a bit of respect, but a proportionately high mortality rate.
Her most recent promotion accompanied the Battle for Ordo. Following the death of the company's XO and the incapacitation of its CO, Jorra found herself the most senior officer available. Although losses were considerable, she successfully defended a very vulnerable flank from Republic forces during the Mandalorian acquisition of one of the planet's largest cities. After the fleet had mopped up the remaining red bellies and what was left of her forces had been absorbed, she was commended for valor and put up for promotion by her former Colonel.
Jorra was placed in command of a newly formed battalion following Ordo's reclamation, and promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. The battalion XO is a close friend and onetime lover from her days with the old D'Resh, as well as one of the few members of the new D'Resh. Jorra trusts her to lead in her absence, and to find Clanless and hopefuls worthy of their culture.
As of yet, Jorra has only sporadically added members to the D'Resh, but sometimes offers the name addition as an honorific to rookies that impress her. In truth, rebuilding the Clan has been an emotional battle for Jorra, and she is not yet comfortable with the idea of filling boots which she believes her mother should have worn.
With the death of Mandalore the Liberator, she pledged her service to Mandalore the Reclaimer as she had to those before. She is outspoken in regards to the cease-fire with the Sith, cautioning that they be kept at arm's length until they no longer serve a purpose.
With the Clans no longer restrained by the Treaty, Jorra advocates that all Mando'ade do as the D'Resh, and bring new and possibly unorthodox ways of war back from their travels, so that they may always keep their enemies guessing.
Jorra returned to Mandalore, and pledged her life to whoever wore the mask. A spark of life returned, as she now felt she was as dead as those that she loved. Jorra had nothing left to lose, but could only further the cause of her people before she ascended to Manda. She would not die before her time, though. First, she would rebuild her Clan, and reclaim the glory of the ancients.
Her first instinct was to invite Padrovi to the D'Resh, but he was an old man and the life of battle was behind him. He died peacefully in his sleep in 3,604 BBY.
Ved continued his career in the Republic, throwing himself into the military with the same gusto that his sister did with the Mandalorians. He commands one of the vessels which make up the Coruscant Defense Fleet.
Following her return to the Mandalorians, Jorra's standing as a Clanmaster (without members, she was the last bastion of the D'Resh culture, and clan culture is of paramount importance to the Mando'ade) allowed her to surpass her former rank-equivalent and adopt a higher degree of influence (effectively a Captain at this time). Making use of her knack for learning, Jorra spent several months studying history's greatest tacticians and their favored techniques. Not afraid to seem weak, she also took lessons from fellow Chieftains on command, both in and outside of battle.
While the endeavor took a year or so to pay off, Jorra eventually caught up to her fellows and began taking formal command postings (she had formerly been sticking to Executive and Staff positions). It was here that an ability for leadership which she had never been conscious of (but had used during her time as a teacher and with the Mandalorian mercenaries in her youth, and fostered while she trained Zira) became readily apparent. While she was not outstanding, Jorra was a cut above the average officer. The broad variety of experiences she had been put through, and the immense personal discipline which she had developed in her life were projected onto the soldiers below her.
Her superiors came to expect a certain level of passion and discipline to manifest in Jorra's troops, and very rarely were they disappointed. She had been trained by the best, and spent most of her life teaching others; the transition to making soldiers out of recruits was natural and smooth. After a few years, and largely owing to the rarity of her situation and the unique practices of the D'Resh, she was asked to take charge of a training facility for potential Mandalorians that hadn't found a personal mentor, as well as Clanless that wished to rejoin their people. Accompanying the new appointment was a promotion.
When the crusade began anew in 3,602, Jorra requested and received the right to transfer out of training and to the front. Despite her age and standing, it was at this time that Jorra gained what is supposed to be the first honor of any Mandalorian. During the Liberator's early attacks, Jorra became a Staff Officer with a brigade that quickly earned quite a bit of respect, but a proportionately high mortality rate.
Her most recent promotion accompanied the Battle for Ordo. Following the death of the company's XO and the incapacitation of its CO, Jorra found herself the most senior officer available. Although losses were considerable, she successfully defended a very vulnerable flank from Republic forces during the Mandalorian acquisition of one of the planet's largest cities. After the fleet had mopped up the remaining red bellies and what was left of her forces had been absorbed, she was commended for valor and put up for promotion by her former Colonel.
Jorra was placed in command of a newly formed battalion following Ordo's reclamation, and promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. The battalion XO is a close friend and onetime lover from her days with the old D'Resh, as well as one of the few members of the new D'Resh. Jorra trusts her to lead in her absence, and to find Clanless and hopefuls worthy of their culture.
As of yet, Jorra has only sporadically added members to the D'Resh, but sometimes offers the name addition as an honorific to rookies that impress her. In truth, rebuilding the Clan has been an emotional battle for Jorra, and she is not yet comfortable with the idea of filling boots which she believes her mother should have worn.
With the death of Mandalore the Liberator, she pledged her service to Mandalore the Reclaimer as she had to those before. She is outspoken in regards to the cease-fire with the Sith, cautioning that they be kept at arm's length until they no longer serve a purpose.
With the Clans no longer restrained by the Treaty, Jorra advocates that all Mando'ade do as the D'Resh, and bring new and possibly unorthodox ways of war back from their travels, so that they may always keep their enemies guessing.
BOOM!
The turbolasers pounded relentlessly against the lip of the trench, peppering the four Mando'ade below with scorched and super-heated pebbles.
"Ahh!" Omin cried out futilely, firing his repeater into the clear blue sky over the wasteland. Jorra slapped his arm down.
"Save the ammo, and save it for the enemy!" She commanded, the barrage creating static through their helmet comms. Jorra watched the others: Omin, still green, who thought that war was nothing but glory and honor, and now had three blaster wounds that proved otherwise; Fel'ika, whom Jorra had been serving with since landing on this mess of a world, had her sniper rifle shouldered and was hunched down in defeat; and Praven, the son of a Clanmaster that promoted his son without merit, and now just made him look the idiot when a lower officer had to give commands.
BOOM!
Jorra lowered her eyepiece, and shifted to the edge of their cover. The turret was still going, and the operator was having a blast. She edged out just enough to see if it was manned or automated. When the line of fire didn't shift, she knew it had to be manned. Settling into a crouch and looking at the rest, she made a few quick guesses in her head.
BOOM!
"Fel'ika, there's someone pulling the trigger. I need you to be ready to change that, alright?" She said levelly, and watched the younger woman nod slowly. "Check your clip." She added, and Fel'ika did so, removing the nearly drained cell.
BOOM!
Omin sat, staring at the growing pile of earthen shrapnel that the turret was creating. Jorra clapped to get his attention, but he did nothing. She barked at him, striking his shoulder, but still he did not move.
BOOM!
Jorra looked at Praven. "Well?" She accused, jerking her head towards Omin. Praven started, but then looked.
"Omin! Wake up, vod!" He almost asked it, there was so little effort in his voice, but still Omin did not stir.
BOOM!
Jorra grabbed the young Mando by the back of the neck and forced him to look at her. "PAY ATTENTION!" She demanded, and the soldier finally snapped to. "Covering fire, that way." She coolly pointed towards the left of their position. Omin nodded stiffly, but shouldered his rifle and aimed.
BOOM!
"What are you gonna do?" Praven asked her, his own weapon dangling loosely from its strap. Jorra rolled her eyes at him, and holstered her pistols. She aimed herself towards their right flank. Planting one foot below her stomach, and putting her weight on her hands, she got down into a runner's crouch.
BOOM!
The turret fired.
BOOM!
And again.
BOOM!
"Now!" Jorra surged forward as Omin opened fire in the opposite direction. She could hear the swivel of the massive gun as it looked towards the blasterfire.
BOOM!
Then it found a real target.
Her every movement was a controlled fall, arms moving in perfect time as her long legs made broad leaps, wobbling the angle at which they landed to give the impression that her speed was changing. The first bolt meant for her hit well behind.
BOOM!
The second a little farther.
BOOM!
Another swivel as the gunner began to track her.
BOOM!
That one propelled Jorra forward a bit faster, and was too close for comfort. She chanced a look towards the gun, and as her right foot began its descent, time slowed.
She saw her foot land and her next step reach the top of its arc, and she saw a lance of green come surging towards her. An excellent shot.
Her right foot came down, and she dropped all of her weight onto it, and then sprung backwards.
BOOM!
The blast threw her through the air, and she skidded to a stop. Her ears were buzzing, and the smaller shot that followed didn't register. She lay there for a moment, looking at the cloudless blue. She hooked a hand under her helmet and slipped it off, squinting as the bright sunlight hit her eyes. Jorra raised a hand to shield them, but a shadow came over her face. There was Omin's green helmet with its blue visor, staring down at her dusty and bloody visage.
"D'that work?" She said, but judging by how he recoiled, a bit louder than intended. Omin touched a spot below her ear, and showed her the tip of his gloved finger. Red. "Did we win?" She whispered.
He nodded, and offered her his hand. She grabbed his wrist as he grabbed hers, and scooped up her helmet with the other hand. Yanked to her feet, Jorra dropped the gold bucket back onto her head.
"One down!" She said through the comms, much to the chagrin of those with their speakers turned up.
And only three to go.
