Post by Swamps on Jul 3, 2014 9:02:48 GMT -5
Name: Cora Sarantis
Race: Zeltron
Age: 20
Height: 5'3"
Weight: 124lbs
Appearance:
Cora Sarantis is a slight woman with the red skin characteristic of her people, albeit in a lighter shade than most other examples. Freckles of a darker burgundy speckle her cheeks and body. She inherited her mother’s jet black hair and in bright light it shines with the same indigo that rolls about her curious eyes. Until recently it was worn long and Cora often held it in control with thin ribbon but after the death of her master, she had it cropped short. It is now only just long enough to warrant being tucked behind her ears and has developed some unruly curls.
Assailed by a strange insect whilst on Troiken, Cora was left with permanent nerve damage in her lower left arm. Apart from influencing her swordplay and daily life, it also altered her gait somewhat. Her pace is swift and smooth but jerky when any movement of her left arm is concerned. She attempts to make her actions minimal and keep them close to her body, conscious of any display of her strong and easily manipulated emotions.
Cora is most often seen in dark brown robes with an airy tunic underneath of creamy white. A stiff leather belt holds her tunic together at the waist and is intertwined with indigo ribbon, a relic of her childhood.
Personality:
Birth place: Zeltros
Faction: Jedi Order
Rank: Padawan
Lightsaber: Single-phase single blade
Color: Powder blue
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho - 4
Makashi - N/A
Soresu - 2
Ataru - N/A
Shien / Djem So - N/A
>>Sub-form Backhanded
Niman - 2
>>Sub-form Jar-kai, or Dual Wield - N/A
Juyo - N/A
Double Bladed Combat - N/A
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices: Force empathy, moderate healing capabilities
Telekinetic: 4
Telepathic: 7
Body: 2
Sense: 3
Protection: 2
Healing: 4
Destruction: 0
Specialized Skills: Practised medic, singing
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 4
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 5
Leadership: 3
Unarmed: 3
Melee Weapons: 1
Ranged Weapons: 1
Bio:
0-3 years old, Zeltros.
Artime and Yena Sarantis lived vibrant lives on their homeworld of Zeltros, but then what lives were not vibrant on Zeltros? Together they ran the highly popular cabaret bar known as Crimson Cave and along with a slew of bawdy comedies and conceptual musical acts were responsible for its significance amidst the sea of other bars and clubs on the party planet. Artime's head for numbers and knack for frivolous showmanship made him the perfect owner whilst Yena's honed voice pulled in the crowds from all around. Her strong will was also key as many a time Artime's light-hearted demeanour was taken advantage of, leaving Yena to see to the thugs and idiots themselves. Their lives were a perfect balance of pleasure and success, the only thing they desired being a child of their own. A little boy or girl who they could cherish and nurture and love; somebody who would achieve far more than their performer parents and reach beyond the myriad of entertainers on Zeltros.
For many years they tried but time and time again there was simply nothing. Doctors wondered and supposed that one of the two might have been infertile, but that turned out to be incorrect. Their healths were investigated thoroughly and nothing odd was uncovered. It was just bad luck, they said, they should just keep on trying. And so the two did but with each new failure their relationship was put under more and more strain - something not healthy for anybody, least of all Zeltrons. Fierce arguments often ended in violence and many times Artime would be left bloody and tearful, Yena having rushed out into the night. She would always return though with apologies spilling from her mouth like they burnt her insides. And then they would drift off into sleep in each other's shaking arms.
Then, without any fanfare or particular foreshadowing, the tests came back positive. At first Yena assumed it was a false reading like all the others had been - cruel mockeries of their fantasy - but a second test confirmed the first. As did a third. She couldn't believe it. Rushing into their bedroom, she shook Artime awake to show him and in seconds groggy eyes shone with the light of dreams realised.
Cora arrived just eight months later, having been the most beloved little lump on Zeltros for all of that time. She mewled and cried a little but quickly fell silent, seemingly soaking in her existence. Her eyes were little indigo suns of curiosity that rose above the soft hills of her pale red cheeks to find those of her parents. They fell in love instantly. She was healthy and happy in every possible way, the doctors would promise, before one of their number pointed out some irregularities in her charts. Icy fear began to creep down Yena's back. It quickly gave way to joy however as Yena and Artime learnt how unusually high their daughter's midichlorian count was. A miracle child in many, many ways.
It wasn't long before they returned home and when they did Cora found an adorable little room, all furnished and readied for her. A little wood-finish bed and a variety of matching furniture as well as several hand-painted murals of the night sky - beautiful and swirling in a kaleidoscope of colour. Or it would have been, if Artime had been a particularly good painter. "Cora could have done a better job," Yena would quip, and indeed that would be the tune that the two of them shared. Nothing could ever be more magical than their baby girl.
It was then that they received a caller. A stoic gentleman, all decked out in flowing brown robes and an expression that exuded mystery and authority. He introduced himself as Garn Vellis, a knight of the Jedi order, and the two excitedly invited him into their home. Vellis told them all about their daughter's nature and just how special she was before moving the conversation onto her place at the Temple. The pair of them were distraught, horrified at the prospect of losing the daughter they had waited so long for and loved so much. Yena became angry at the very suggestion of losing Cora and screamed at the Jedi to leave. He did so, bowing his head in understanding, and left his contact details with the calmer Artime.
The debate was fierce and threatened to tear the two lovers apart but eventually they concluded that their daughter was special, just as they had wished, but she was too special for them. She needed to grow and learn to live with others like her, not be tied down by them. Plus a Jedi education would leave her stronger than they could make her and put in her in such a position as to do a real good. Their daughter, the hero. Whenever they thought of her departure however, anger and a deep churning melancholy were quick to rise, so they resolved to keep her for three years before giving their daughter over to the Jedi. Inviting Vellis back, Yena apologised profusely for her temper before telling him of their plans. He listened before warning them that the longer they waited, the harder it would be to let go of their daughter. Yena scoffed at that and explained how hard it had been not to ask for six years. He nodded solemnly and left on friendlier terms than previously, waving the family goodbye and leaving them to their lives.
The next two years would be nothing short of utopian for Cora and with every day came a new happiness or wonder for her to enjoy with her parents. They picnicked frequently and took holidays to beautiful forested worlds; they attended plays and magnificent Mon Calamari operas; they played together for days and made all sorts of wonderful things. The walls of Cora's room would soon be adorned with their paintings, drawings and mementoes - the souvenirs of a little girl rushed through life. Cora made a habit of sitting in on her parent's more mundane duties also and mimicked her father's counting and muttered calculations as he worked. As a reward for being such a good girl Cora would always ask for daddy to do her hair and would sit contentedly as he did so. Afterwards she would display her neatly twined dark braids with great pride, fiddling and stroking the little blueish purple ribbon that held her hair in place often. She frequently sang with her mother around the house and when rendered sleepless by nightmares or tears it was only her mother's voice that would lull her into dreams. This was frequently necessary as the little Zeltron's emotions seemed to flip and dance from contentedness to melancholy; from silence to anger far quicker than any of her friends.
About four months before her third birthday, which seemed to be looming ever larger on the horizon, a particularly inebriated Aqualish tried to disrupt one of Yena's performances. With the usual security staff preoccupied Artime left Cora on her stool on the wings of the stage and moved to intercept him. Before he could escort the drunkard out a full-scale brawl erupted, and the Aqualish dragged him down into the crowd. He was pummelled senseless with leathery fists and booted feet whilst his attacker burbled furiously in his native tongue and blood rushed freely from his face. Moments later Yena was on top of the thug, scarlet fists ironically stained blue-green by Aqualish blood. Once the security staff had managed to pull her off of him, many of the attendees were stained similarly. Meanwhile Cora sat frozen on her stool with a little box of juice and a face stained both by blumfruit juice and hot, rushing tears.
Artime recovered quickly and was back in the club within a week but Cora remained distraught and shaken. Every night for weeks after was spent huddled up in bed with Mummy, wide awake and tear-stained. As Cora was gradually soothed into happy silence, however, her parents became more and more downcast. It wasn't long until Vellis would return and, worried for Cora's sensitivity, Yena requested he come sooner. Although at first he objected to the Sarantis' hospitality he stayed with them for just over a month and soon 'Uncle Garn' was greeted with the same smiles and grabby hands as Mummy or Daddy were. Yena and Artime spent their last evening with their daughter curled up in front of the holoprojector and holding each other tight, their last evening as a family. Garn watched from the door way and left them to sleep amidst the dull conversation of whatever soap opera they were so preoccupied in not watching.
The next day they made their way to the spaceport. Garn's dock was empty save for them and yet it still rang with promises and encouragements and declarations of love. Little Cora was very confused but not at all concerned with going to play with Uncle Garn. Just last week he had taken her out for ice cream and that been wonderful. She just didn't see why her parents couldn't look at her without crying. Her mother took her hands, her own trembling, and told her she loved her again and again. Her father did the same and held her as close to his body as he could, shakily tying his daughter's hair up in blue ribbon for the last time. Cora smiled and patted her hair as she usually did when she was done but soon began to cry. She could feel her parents' feelings shifting and churning about her and although she didn't understand them, they hurt her. Moments later Cora was watching her parents' frantic waving grow smaller from a viewing port on Garn's starship, eyes still brimming with somebody else's tears.
3-12 years old, Coruscant.
Cora made quite an impression when she arrived at the Temple. She had always been kind and enthusiastic in all the things she did but, amongst those unaccustomed to Zeltron pheromones especially, she was adored. She had many friends within her clan and soon found herself very comfortable, studying diligently for the Masters and spending as much time as she could with her new friends. Her only embarrassments stemming from her perchance for singing without any regard to her volume or those around her, earning her endearment and distaste from many.
She often thought of home though and was almost inconsolable when she did. Her red cheeks were often tear-stained and many a night was spent clutching her little blue ribbon tightly to her chest. But Cora was not one to suffer in silence and so she attacked the problem through research, cramming her arms full of books and holocrons to be studied in her bedroom. The independent meditation that came out of this would help foster her already promising telepathic and empathic abilities as well as helping her come to terms with her life as a Jedi. The private study was also accentuated by the curiosity of Master Eldred Djorn, an eccentric Whipid with a proclivity for fierce swordplay and deep meditation. Taking interest in the youngling, Eldred began instructing her meditation and helping her extend her mental capabilities further. This resulted in her outstripping many of her classmates but she remained a stunted duellist, Master Djorn electing not to instruct her in swordsmanship "lest I become landed with another apprentice!".
The teachings of Eldred Djorn would shape much of Cora's thinking in years to come, to the chagrin of her later Masters. A realist with an odd love of idealism, Djorn believed that many of the Jedi's moral particulars were puritanical and impossible to enforce widely but that it was immensely helpful to be steeped in them. Not only did it give the Jedi a uniquely ethereal presence in the galaxy but it perpetuated a cycle of self reflection and improvement, something that Cora understood perfectly well. This would result in a sort of depreciating respect for the Order as a whole, as well as deep commitments to the kindness, clarity and balance that they preached. Eldred was also the first to warn her of the vulnerabilities of her species and of her strong empathy, citing this as the reason for her special attention whenever her tutors queried it.
By the time she was considered for apprenticeship Cora Sarantis was well prepared indeed. Many of her classmates worried that they would not be chosen but Cora was quietly confident. Master Djorn had promised to pluck her from the Jedi Service Corps, should she be wasted in such a way. His pledge was unnecessary however as she was quickly snapped up by Master Soraya Abazi, a diplomat and healer.
12-16 years old, Coruscant.
Cora was at first very nervous around her new Master, having only glimpsed her once before in the Halls of Healing. And even then she had been so dizzy with fever that the woman appeared to be her own mother. In truth, Master Abazi did not have much in common with Cora's mother. She had no passion or drive and seemed to only share a strange, indomitable will with far away Yena Sarantis. She was a masterful healer however and began to instruct Cora in her field immediately, something that was surprisingly welcome to her new apprentice. She always felt a rush when she was able to heal somebody, even if at age twelve it was only a bloody knee, and took great pride in her new power. Kindness and empathy came more than naturally too her, so she was dedicated from the off and although this pleased her Master she was concerned with the stock she placed in her patient's getting better. Many times she attempted to softly introduce Cora to the idea that sometimes people couldn't be helped but she smiled through these talks and passed Soraya's concern off as a lack of knowledge of the Zeltron people.
Her new Master also began instructing her in more complex swordplay and Force techniques, building on the foundation Master Djorn had created and chipping away at parts of it. Master Abazi was not satisfied with the influence Eldred had had on her student and sought to instill the trust and grandeur of the Jedi way in Cora to some success. She remained a staunch believer in independent over corporate effort however. She also grew moliminously in her status as an empath and by the age of 15 was known throughout the Temple for her talents. Many times she accompanied Master Abazi on diplomatic missions with the task of easing the Force about the troubled parties or attempting to strengthen certain opinions in the minds of delegates. Although at first she wondered at the dubious nature of these objectives, Soraya assured her that any influence she could exert would be on the behalf of the Force. It filled Cora with pride to know this and only motivated her further to remain kind and serene, increasing the frequency of her meditations to cater for this.
When she wasn't meditating or studying, she was training with her Master in the sparring chambers of the Temple. Master Abazi was a proponent of Niman and Soresu, balanced and reflective forms which gelled well with Cora's more pacifistic leanings. Soresu provided the ability to brace against attacks and begin to respond against the majority of threats. Niman however allowed the ability to shift into offence and incorporate deadlier, more demanding attacks as well as Force-based techniques into the duel if they were necessary. The two forms left her a capable, if offensively dwarfed duellist.
17-19 years old, myriad locations.
Whilst other blooming apprentices were assigned to investigative units or dedicated to offworld affairs, Cora was mostly limited to the confines of the Halls of Healing. Here her skills as a healer and an empath grew, whether she was easing a patient's distress or sewing the very atoms of their flesh together. She also began to earn her Master's trust and respect, any issue of emotional investment overshadowed by her sheer capability as a healer.
RP Sample:
Race: Zeltron
Age: 20
Height: 5'3"
Weight: 124lbs
Appearance:
Cora Sarantis is a slight woman with the red skin characteristic of her people, albeit in a lighter shade than most other examples. Freckles of a darker burgundy speckle her cheeks and body. She inherited her mother’s jet black hair and in bright light it shines with the same indigo that rolls about her curious eyes. Until recently it was worn long and Cora often held it in control with thin ribbon but after the death of her master, she had it cropped short. It is now only just long enough to warrant being tucked behind her ears and has developed some unruly curls.
Assailed by a strange insect whilst on Troiken, Cora was left with permanent nerve damage in her lower left arm. Apart from influencing her swordplay and daily life, it also altered her gait somewhat. Her pace is swift and smooth but jerky when any movement of her left arm is concerned. She attempts to make her actions minimal and keep them close to her body, conscious of any display of her strong and easily manipulated emotions.
Cora is most often seen in dark brown robes with an airy tunic underneath of creamy white. A stiff leather belt holds her tunic together at the waist and is intertwined with indigo ribbon, a relic of her childhood.
Personality:
Birth place: Zeltros
Faction: Jedi Order
Rank: Padawan
Lightsaber: Single-phase single blade
Color: Powder blue
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho - 4
Makashi - N/A
Soresu - 2
Ataru - N/A
Shien / Djem So - N/A
>>Sub-form Backhanded
Niman - 2
>>Sub-form Jar-kai, or Dual Wield - N/A
Juyo - N/A
Double Bladed Combat - N/A
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices: Force empathy, moderate healing capabilities
Telekinetic: 4
Telepathic: 7
Body: 2
Sense: 3
Protection: 2
Healing: 4
Destruction: 0
Specialized Skills: Practised medic, singing
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 4
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 5
Leadership: 3
Unarmed: 3
Melee Weapons: 1
Ranged Weapons: 1
Bio:
0-3 years old, Zeltros.
Artime and Yena Sarantis lived vibrant lives on their homeworld of Zeltros, but then what lives were not vibrant on Zeltros? Together they ran the highly popular cabaret bar known as Crimson Cave and along with a slew of bawdy comedies and conceptual musical acts were responsible for its significance amidst the sea of other bars and clubs on the party planet. Artime's head for numbers and knack for frivolous showmanship made him the perfect owner whilst Yena's honed voice pulled in the crowds from all around. Her strong will was also key as many a time Artime's light-hearted demeanour was taken advantage of, leaving Yena to see to the thugs and idiots themselves. Their lives were a perfect balance of pleasure and success, the only thing they desired being a child of their own. A little boy or girl who they could cherish and nurture and love; somebody who would achieve far more than their performer parents and reach beyond the myriad of entertainers on Zeltros.
For many years they tried but time and time again there was simply nothing. Doctors wondered and supposed that one of the two might have been infertile, but that turned out to be incorrect. Their healths were investigated thoroughly and nothing odd was uncovered. It was just bad luck, they said, they should just keep on trying. And so the two did but with each new failure their relationship was put under more and more strain - something not healthy for anybody, least of all Zeltrons. Fierce arguments often ended in violence and many times Artime would be left bloody and tearful, Yena having rushed out into the night. She would always return though with apologies spilling from her mouth like they burnt her insides. And then they would drift off into sleep in each other's shaking arms.
Then, without any fanfare or particular foreshadowing, the tests came back positive. At first Yena assumed it was a false reading like all the others had been - cruel mockeries of their fantasy - but a second test confirmed the first. As did a third. She couldn't believe it. Rushing into their bedroom, she shook Artime awake to show him and in seconds groggy eyes shone with the light of dreams realised.
Cora arrived just eight months later, having been the most beloved little lump on Zeltros for all of that time. She mewled and cried a little but quickly fell silent, seemingly soaking in her existence. Her eyes were little indigo suns of curiosity that rose above the soft hills of her pale red cheeks to find those of her parents. They fell in love instantly. She was healthy and happy in every possible way, the doctors would promise, before one of their number pointed out some irregularities in her charts. Icy fear began to creep down Yena's back. It quickly gave way to joy however as Yena and Artime learnt how unusually high their daughter's midichlorian count was. A miracle child in many, many ways.
It wasn't long before they returned home and when they did Cora found an adorable little room, all furnished and readied for her. A little wood-finish bed and a variety of matching furniture as well as several hand-painted murals of the night sky - beautiful and swirling in a kaleidoscope of colour. Or it would have been, if Artime had been a particularly good painter. "Cora could have done a better job," Yena would quip, and indeed that would be the tune that the two of them shared. Nothing could ever be more magical than their baby girl.
It was then that they received a caller. A stoic gentleman, all decked out in flowing brown robes and an expression that exuded mystery and authority. He introduced himself as Garn Vellis, a knight of the Jedi order, and the two excitedly invited him into their home. Vellis told them all about their daughter's nature and just how special she was before moving the conversation onto her place at the Temple. The pair of them were distraught, horrified at the prospect of losing the daughter they had waited so long for and loved so much. Yena became angry at the very suggestion of losing Cora and screamed at the Jedi to leave. He did so, bowing his head in understanding, and left his contact details with the calmer Artime.
The debate was fierce and threatened to tear the two lovers apart but eventually they concluded that their daughter was special, just as they had wished, but she was too special for them. She needed to grow and learn to live with others like her, not be tied down by them. Plus a Jedi education would leave her stronger than they could make her and put in her in such a position as to do a real good. Their daughter, the hero. Whenever they thought of her departure however, anger and a deep churning melancholy were quick to rise, so they resolved to keep her for three years before giving their daughter over to the Jedi. Inviting Vellis back, Yena apologised profusely for her temper before telling him of their plans. He listened before warning them that the longer they waited, the harder it would be to let go of their daughter. Yena scoffed at that and explained how hard it had been not to ask for six years. He nodded solemnly and left on friendlier terms than previously, waving the family goodbye and leaving them to their lives.
The next two years would be nothing short of utopian for Cora and with every day came a new happiness or wonder for her to enjoy with her parents. They picnicked frequently and took holidays to beautiful forested worlds; they attended plays and magnificent Mon Calamari operas; they played together for days and made all sorts of wonderful things. The walls of Cora's room would soon be adorned with their paintings, drawings and mementoes - the souvenirs of a little girl rushed through life. Cora made a habit of sitting in on her parent's more mundane duties also and mimicked her father's counting and muttered calculations as he worked. As a reward for being such a good girl Cora would always ask for daddy to do her hair and would sit contentedly as he did so. Afterwards she would display her neatly twined dark braids with great pride, fiddling and stroking the little blueish purple ribbon that held her hair in place often. She frequently sang with her mother around the house and when rendered sleepless by nightmares or tears it was only her mother's voice that would lull her into dreams. This was frequently necessary as the little Zeltron's emotions seemed to flip and dance from contentedness to melancholy; from silence to anger far quicker than any of her friends.
About four months before her third birthday, which seemed to be looming ever larger on the horizon, a particularly inebriated Aqualish tried to disrupt one of Yena's performances. With the usual security staff preoccupied Artime left Cora on her stool on the wings of the stage and moved to intercept him. Before he could escort the drunkard out a full-scale brawl erupted, and the Aqualish dragged him down into the crowd. He was pummelled senseless with leathery fists and booted feet whilst his attacker burbled furiously in his native tongue and blood rushed freely from his face. Moments later Yena was on top of the thug, scarlet fists ironically stained blue-green by Aqualish blood. Once the security staff had managed to pull her off of him, many of the attendees were stained similarly. Meanwhile Cora sat frozen on her stool with a little box of juice and a face stained both by blumfruit juice and hot, rushing tears.
Artime recovered quickly and was back in the club within a week but Cora remained distraught and shaken. Every night for weeks after was spent huddled up in bed with Mummy, wide awake and tear-stained. As Cora was gradually soothed into happy silence, however, her parents became more and more downcast. It wasn't long until Vellis would return and, worried for Cora's sensitivity, Yena requested he come sooner. Although at first he objected to the Sarantis' hospitality he stayed with them for just over a month and soon 'Uncle Garn' was greeted with the same smiles and grabby hands as Mummy or Daddy were. Yena and Artime spent their last evening with their daughter curled up in front of the holoprojector and holding each other tight, their last evening as a family. Garn watched from the door way and left them to sleep amidst the dull conversation of whatever soap opera they were so preoccupied in not watching.
The next day they made their way to the spaceport. Garn's dock was empty save for them and yet it still rang with promises and encouragements and declarations of love. Little Cora was very confused but not at all concerned with going to play with Uncle Garn. Just last week he had taken her out for ice cream and that been wonderful. She just didn't see why her parents couldn't look at her without crying. Her mother took her hands, her own trembling, and told her she loved her again and again. Her father did the same and held her as close to his body as he could, shakily tying his daughter's hair up in blue ribbon for the last time. Cora smiled and patted her hair as she usually did when she was done but soon began to cry. She could feel her parents' feelings shifting and churning about her and although she didn't understand them, they hurt her. Moments later Cora was watching her parents' frantic waving grow smaller from a viewing port on Garn's starship, eyes still brimming with somebody else's tears.
3-12 years old, Coruscant.
Cora made quite an impression when she arrived at the Temple. She had always been kind and enthusiastic in all the things she did but, amongst those unaccustomed to Zeltron pheromones especially, she was adored. She had many friends within her clan and soon found herself very comfortable, studying diligently for the Masters and spending as much time as she could with her new friends. Her only embarrassments stemming from her perchance for singing without any regard to her volume or those around her, earning her endearment and distaste from many.
She often thought of home though and was almost inconsolable when she did. Her red cheeks were often tear-stained and many a night was spent clutching her little blue ribbon tightly to her chest. But Cora was not one to suffer in silence and so she attacked the problem through research, cramming her arms full of books and holocrons to be studied in her bedroom. The independent meditation that came out of this would help foster her already promising telepathic and empathic abilities as well as helping her come to terms with her life as a Jedi. The private study was also accentuated by the curiosity of Master Eldred Djorn, an eccentric Whipid with a proclivity for fierce swordplay and deep meditation. Taking interest in the youngling, Eldred began instructing her meditation and helping her extend her mental capabilities further. This resulted in her outstripping many of her classmates but she remained a stunted duellist, Master Djorn electing not to instruct her in swordsmanship "lest I become landed with another apprentice!".
The teachings of Eldred Djorn would shape much of Cora's thinking in years to come, to the chagrin of her later Masters. A realist with an odd love of idealism, Djorn believed that many of the Jedi's moral particulars were puritanical and impossible to enforce widely but that it was immensely helpful to be steeped in them. Not only did it give the Jedi a uniquely ethereal presence in the galaxy but it perpetuated a cycle of self reflection and improvement, something that Cora understood perfectly well. This would result in a sort of depreciating respect for the Order as a whole, as well as deep commitments to the kindness, clarity and balance that they preached. Eldred was also the first to warn her of the vulnerabilities of her species and of her strong empathy, citing this as the reason for her special attention whenever her tutors queried it.
By the time she was considered for apprenticeship Cora Sarantis was well prepared indeed. Many of her classmates worried that they would not be chosen but Cora was quietly confident. Master Djorn had promised to pluck her from the Jedi Service Corps, should she be wasted in such a way. His pledge was unnecessary however as she was quickly snapped up by Master Soraya Abazi, a diplomat and healer.
12-16 years old, Coruscant.
Cora was at first very nervous around her new Master, having only glimpsed her once before in the Halls of Healing. And even then she had been so dizzy with fever that the woman appeared to be her own mother. In truth, Master Abazi did not have much in common with Cora's mother. She had no passion or drive and seemed to only share a strange, indomitable will with far away Yena Sarantis. She was a masterful healer however and began to instruct Cora in her field immediately, something that was surprisingly welcome to her new apprentice. She always felt a rush when she was able to heal somebody, even if at age twelve it was only a bloody knee, and took great pride in her new power. Kindness and empathy came more than naturally too her, so she was dedicated from the off and although this pleased her Master she was concerned with the stock she placed in her patient's getting better. Many times she attempted to softly introduce Cora to the idea that sometimes people couldn't be helped but she smiled through these talks and passed Soraya's concern off as a lack of knowledge of the Zeltron people.
Her new Master also began instructing her in more complex swordplay and Force techniques, building on the foundation Master Djorn had created and chipping away at parts of it. Master Abazi was not satisfied with the influence Eldred had had on her student and sought to instill the trust and grandeur of the Jedi way in Cora to some success. She remained a staunch believer in independent over corporate effort however. She also grew moliminously in her status as an empath and by the age of 15 was known throughout the Temple for her talents. Many times she accompanied Master Abazi on diplomatic missions with the task of easing the Force about the troubled parties or attempting to strengthen certain opinions in the minds of delegates. Although at first she wondered at the dubious nature of these objectives, Soraya assured her that any influence she could exert would be on the behalf of the Force. It filled Cora with pride to know this and only motivated her further to remain kind and serene, increasing the frequency of her meditations to cater for this.
When she wasn't meditating or studying, she was training with her Master in the sparring chambers of the Temple. Master Abazi was a proponent of Niman and Soresu, balanced and reflective forms which gelled well with Cora's more pacifistic leanings. Soresu provided the ability to brace against attacks and begin to respond against the majority of threats. Niman however allowed the ability to shift into offence and incorporate deadlier, more demanding attacks as well as Force-based techniques into the duel if they were necessary. The two forms left her a capable, if offensively dwarfed duellist.
17-19 years old, myriad locations.
Whilst other blooming apprentices were assigned to investigative units or dedicated to offworld affairs, Cora was mostly limited to the confines of the Halls of Healing. Here her skills as a healer and an empath grew, whether she was easing a patient's distress or sewing the very atoms of their flesh together. She also began to earn her Master's trust and respect, any issue of emotional investment overshadowed by her sheer capability as a healer.
RP Sample:
