Post by DreadPirateMissus on Apr 28, 2015 15:19:18 GMT -5
Name: Megaath Vaal
Race: Miraluka
Age: 26
Birthplace: Kavan
Allegiance: None but her crew
Status: Alive
Rank: Captain
Height/Weight: 5'10", 160 lbs.
Appearance: Meg is a bit of an odd duck for a Miraluka, and it's on purpose. Where many of her race might wear non-descript robes and forgo more cosmetic touches, Megaath Vaal likes (and would argue, for her craft, needs) a bit more flash. Whether it be her favorite purple brocade vest, the piercings up her ears, or the black-line tattoos creeping out from under her clothes, it is evident that she considers her appearance to be an important priority. The fact that her sight is through the Force just means she has to ask other people what colors look good on her. Apparently red hair with a shock of navy blue looks good, as she's kept that coloring in her chin-length, shaggy hair for years now.
In that vein, her most important possession is her mask. While normally a telltale sign of the Force-sight dependency of her people, Megaath's mask was lovingly crafted and designed to appear (though they certainly can't function) as cybernetic eye-plates, allowing her to pass as a cyborg human most of the time. It is not a good enough fake to fool most others of her species, but as a moderately good Miraluka, she trusts they won't tell on her.
Physically, Meg is best described as lanky. She's a little on the tall side for her species, and definitely a little on the thin side. What musculature she does have, however, is well-built and toned. Her face has features that are more on the rounded side, adding a bit of softness to her that she unfortunately can't hide. It brings her some comfort to know that this is generally balanced out by the calluses on her hands, the light smudges of soot on her pale skin, and the less than friendly weaponry at her side. In general, this confidence informs her posture, which is often proud and upright, with just enough of a slouch to indicate that the pride is earned, and not pompous. Her normal expression is generally neutral, erring on the side of suspicious, and her aura (if you can judge by these things) is almost always slightly tense.
Personality: Megaath has led an eventful life, and it shows in her personality. With most people, she takes at least a moment or two to size them up before she approaches. She's never the type to run into a situation guns blazing unless it is the last available option to her. She observes, plans, and if she's faced with an enemy, usually attempts to strike only when she's found a weakness to exploit. And when it comes to enemies, she prefers being far away, looking at them through a scope. Meg has a major chip on her shoulder for either of the major Force-using organizations, but actually seems to have more animosity towards the Jedi Order, believing them to be inconsiderate asses at best, and uncaring sociopaths that get people around them killed all the time at worst. Regardless, she won't deal with either side, even if they have the best intentions.
For those that she DOES deal with, Megaath is generally regarded as a fairly well-mannered businesswoman, if a bit straightforward and no nonsense at times. She considers herself pretty good at steering people towards a good bargain for both sides, and good at steering away trouble when she senses it. Usually steering trouble away just means convincing folks that she's not the smuggler for them. Sometimes it means convincing folks she's not the smuggler for them by quietly threatening to have certain key body parts removed.
At present, she doesn't have any major rivals or enemies of note, considering it bad for business if she lets those kind of relationships fester. She's not one to roll over or beg to make someone like her, but she's not above bribery and some posturing. And if someone does present themselves as an adversary, she's also not completely above blackmail and assassination, either. She protects herself and her own, and her business. Her morality apart from that can be flexible.
However, if you should find yourself identifying as one of her own, Megaath could not make for a more loyal friend. She will routinely risk life and limb to protect people she considers friends, and will rarely ask for anything in return more than "next time, don't do that". On the flip side, however, she doesn't trust easy, so a person who finds their way into her good graces and then breaks that trust will likely find themselves being treated worse than an enemy. You know what they say, keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and throw filthy traitors out the airlock.
Ships/Vehicles:
The Crimson Hare
(Scovus-Class Transport with slight modification)
The Hare, as she usually calls it, is a fairly light vessel for a smuggling ship. It's propulsion system has been optimized so as to make it a little speedier and more maneuverable, and Meg and crew DID buy the model with the turret mounts, but apart from that it looks basically like a standard transport that someone put a red paint job on.
Inside, the setup is a little different from standard. The walkways are a little narrower than normal, allowing for some secret storage compartments, and there is a clearly defined (though small) medical bay. There is also a distinct lack of steps on the ship, instead using ramps wherever possible (for ease of movement for Zed, who's leg never quite healed right). A cargo bay in the rear of the ship contains a somewhat beat up airspeeder, listed below.
In addition to their fleshy crew of 3, the Crimson Hare also employs a vocal and more than a little anal-retentive Aratech XT-2000 maintenance droid that the crew affectionately named Fidget.
Sorosuub Model 88 Speeder
This poor speeder has been through several scrapes, and looks it. The blue and yellow paint job is old, and scratched in several places. Everything in it still works, but it certainly does not look like a luxury speeder anymore.
Equipment:
Blaster Rifle
Blaster Pistol
Vibrospear with telescopic haft
Basic fine mechanics repair kit
Stats: (Feeble, Below Average, Average, Above Average, Superior, Legendary)
Strength - Below Average
Agility - Superior
Intelligence - Average
Charisma - Above Average
Force Stats: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Telekinetic- Unskilled
Telepathic- Unskilled
Body- Novice
NOTE: As explained in her Biography, Meg has no knowledge of having this skill. She just considers herself to be naturally more dextrous than most.
Sense- Adept
Protection- Unskilled
Healing:– Unskilled
Destruction– Unskilled
Combat Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Hand-to-Hand - Novice
Vibroblades - Apprentice
Vibroswords/staves - Adept
Blasters (pistols and rifles) - Expert
Simple explosives - Apprentice
Ship combat - Adept
Force Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
None
Other Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Stealth - Adept
Sleight of hand - Expert
Slicing - Apprentice
Social Manipulation (Intimidationg, Posturing, etc.) - Expert
Piloting - Adept
Mechanics - Apprentice
Lightsaber Training: (Untrained, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master, Specialist)
Completely and Purposefully Untrained. In your face, stupid Jedi!
Biography: Megaath Vaal had a simple, but fondly remembered childhood. She was the second of four children born to Hezih and Arhok Vaal, a pair of Miraluka traders living on Kavan. In her early years, she remembers a great deal of travel across the planet, even sometimes getting on freighters to Hapes for long-distance deliveries. When she was around four or so, however, her mother started showing signs of Cathington's disorder, causing tremors and the occasional gap in memory. Her symptoms worsened as time went on, and before Meg turned five, it became clear that the family needed to stop moving around and focus on Hezih's care.
After some searching around the many (mostly underground) towns of Kavan, the Vaal family came across Tchel'ti, a small but vibrant community in the southeastern hemisphere. Tchel'ti was a racially varied town, made up of mostly craftsmen and their families. Meg's father had little difficulty finding a niche there as a mover of their goods, and quickly became a respected member of the community. The stability of putting down roots helped ease Meg's mother's condition, and eventually a kind Twi'lek offered her services as Hezih's nurse.
As their first year in the town passed, Tchel'ti began to seem less like a town to Megaath, and more of an enormous family. While, yes, she did spend more time playing tricks on her brother Tebiish and braiding sisters' Vanad and Maelik's hair, Megaath's friends were simply siblings that lived in other houses to her. Even her mother, who had trouble leaving the house most days, bonded tightly with the people around her.
Which made the day that the Jedi came so much harder. Her father brought them home to meet her brother, after noting that the aura surrounding his only son had become brighter than the others around him. As a good Miraluka, Meg knew that it was important that Teb learn about what the Jedi training could offer him. The way of the Force was sacred, after all, and the Jedi could bring his soul in tune with the Force in a way her family never could. But she would never understand why he chose the Jedi over their little paradise, over his family. The day her big brother left to be a big Jedi was painful, but he promised he'd write often, and visit when he could. Their father explained only after Tebiish had left that he wouldn't be allowed to write at all, and visits were unlikely at best.
The silence in the house after that was deafening. It stayed that way for a few days, with each child and their mother trying to operate as though nothing had happened. After that, quite suddenly, the house erupted with noise. Cries, accusations, it was nearly as though Arhok had not just sent his son away to become something greater, but rather had killed him. Megaath didn't understand. Why NEVER send letters? Why no visits? How could separation from this wonderful place and its people, his FAMILY, make Tebiish better? No matter how much her father tried to explain, she never understood. After a while, she just didn't have any energy to ask those questions anymore.
Eventually, things stabilized back into a certain normality. Arhok's trips away were a bit longer at first, but he always came home to be with the family. Once the children were all too old to be taken by the Academy, a collective tension in the household eased. No one else could be taken. Hezih's condition worsened bit by bit over the years, but the family was there for her, and she wouldn't lose anymore children. Not to them.
Around age 12, Megaath began helping her father with his trading. She learned about contracts, inventoried products, and sometimes even helped barter for better prices for Tchel'ti's goods. Her sister Vanad took an interest in medicine, and became a remarkably young but able apprentice for her mother's nurse, Zumjapi. Mae'lik, the youngest, showed a talent for music, and the home was often filled with humming or plinking away at some new instrument. Things weren't just stable now, they were happy. Even with one of the settings from the dining table empty and unused.
Life went on, and for her 13th birthday, Megaath was allowed to go on one of the longer trips with her father. They were going to speak to an art dealer on the other side of the planet, and Arhok expected the formation of contracts to take several days. Megaath followed him excitedly, hoping to meet new friends and see new things.
What she did not expect to see was her own brother, dressed in robes and sporting a bizarre but familiar side-braid. It had been nearly 10 years since she'd seen him, but he was unmistakable. Suddenly, all those feelings of bitterness, abandonment, and scorn bubbled up to the surface and almost completely dissipated. But then, when she quickly approached and cried out to him, throwing her arms around him, she knew something was wrong. He didn't return the embrace, and when she examined his expression, she found no love or warmth in it. Only...calm. She asked if he recognized her, he said he did. A short conversation went on between them, mostly her asking questions about him, and him answering shortly.
Then finally, after much hesitation Tebiish asked, "How is mother? How is home?"
As if they had been watching all along, another robed figure emerged from between the stalls. A tall, proud-faced Cathar woman, deeply frowning, put her hand on Tebiish's shoulder and forcibly led him away. When Meg tried to follow, the woman who was Tebiish's Master blocked her path with a scowl. Tebiish was not to form personal ties, the Jedi said, and if she continued to follow, she would be ruining everything he had worked towards in the past ten years.
Meg was stunned into silence, and could only watch as her brother left...again. But just before he turned a corner, though, his aura flashed and he seemed to be trying to communicate...warning? Cautiousness? Perhaps he was just ashamed of having been seen with her. Perhaps he was trying to make her afraid of him. But still, it put her on edge for the rest of the trip, and she was relieved to return home, where she belonged. When her father asked about her nervousness, she made up a story about seeing someone who looked like Tebiish in the market. It would have been pointless to say otherwise, as her father would have just scolded her for trying to initiate contact, just as the Jedi Master had. Arhok was by far the most loyal to the Jedi in her family, and would always defend them in an argument. She never told him how much she resented him for that.
She never had the chance.
What neither Tebiish nor his master told Meg, and by all rights should have, was that they were being followed. Tebiish's Master, Micorr Rin, had made many enemies in her time as a Jedi. One of them, a Dark Side force sensitive Arkanian named Katur Delig, had been looking for a way to hurt her for years. Ever since he'd found out she took on a padawan, he was hell-bent on either killing him or turning him away from the Light Side. At the time of Megaath's conversation with her brother, he'd been sending out spies to watch for weaknesses. Imagine his glee when one returned, having seen and, more importantly, heard the exchange, telling Katur all about how they'd found the padawan's family. Arhok and Meg's ship was tailed immediately, and plans were made. Plans that Meg and her father were completely oblivious to.
A day went past without much notice. Another followed. Slowly, the tension from Meg's meeting with Tebiish faded. One day, to try to shake the shadows from her mind, she walked through the tunnels near home, spending some time on the surface. Despite her comfort with living underground, sometimes she just needed to feel sunlight on her skin, and smell open air. Lying down, for a moment the land seemed to rise and fall with her breath, and she was at peace.
Then the sound came, all fire and thunder and destruction. She'd never heard an explosion so loud, and it sent her running home on instinct alone. The closer she got, the more she could smell smoke, and...something much worse, that stuck to everything it touched. This wasn't just some freak accident. Tchel'ti was under attack.
When she reached the entrance to her home, the stone-sky was falling, and the whole place was shaken by a second explosion. There was so much blood...
She didn't remember much of what happened in the next several moments. There are images of her leveled home, finding one of her sisters, not finding anyone else. Then there was running as two more explosions ripped through the upper rock, and the enormous cave structure that held her home started collapsing behind them in earnest. She and Vanad made it to the surface. When they got there, there was a younger Devaronian boy, Zediph. His leg was broken, so they carried him.
Most of the events after that day, for a while, were an exhausted blur. They found a few more survivors, and continued to survive on their own long enough to get to the next settlement. Then there was a ship, space, a city on Hapes, lots of questions. No answers. Then it was adults talking in hushed whispers about what to do with the orphans.
Many of the Tchel'ti orphans found the Hapan foster system to be unsatisfactory. For Meg and her sister, the idea of having a new "home" opened up too many fresh wounds, and they mostly ended up on the street. Where they went, Zediph followed, becoming family almost out of necessity. They learned how to survive, and then later how to stow away on ships, and then the galaxy was theirs for the taking. Stowing away became odd jobs, which later became smuggling jobs.
Vanad found a knack for medicine, "Zed" found his passion in piloting, and Meg grew into a natural leader and marksman. Through working in "business", Megaath discovered that most people with eyes preferred dealing with faces that had them too, so she paid someone to make her a mask that convincingly simulated cybernetics. When they built up enough of a nest egg to do it, the three of them bought a ship and a couple of droids, and took off. The first place they went was the place part of them never left. It was time to go home.
When they reached the place that Tchel'ti had rested under, they found mostly just rock, but for Meg it was more than she had prepared for. She remembered little Maelik's laugh, her mother's fragile hands, the stern but loving voice of her father. And her brother, in a far away market, running away. And who was he running away from? Surely it couldn't have just been chance that the attack on Tchel'ti came so soon after their meeting. She'd suspected that for some time now, but as tears of renewed grief and rage streamed down her cheeks, she remembered that flare of caution and fear in Tebiish, just before he ran. He knew. She was sure of that now. He knew and did nothing.
Megaath swore, there and then, that she would do what she could to help those that suffered like she had. It showed almost immediately in her work, as she would take trips out to stranded, ravaged, or just plain poor folk to deliver whatever supplies she could. She still took smuggling jobs, since that was how her crew made money, but she never took drugs or slaves, and more importantly, she never dealt with Jedi or Sith.
Roleplay Sample:
The smuggler’s market was singing tonight in Nar Shadaa. The sounds of profit for the taking, the smell of booze and smokes of all kinds filling the air. Sometimes it was intoxicating to Meg, who was drawn to the Fringe side of things like a particularly adept moth to a torch. She stepped confidently into the cantina that held the “market”, taking note of the auras of several prominent smugglers and scoundrels. She wasn’t big enough fish for them to worry about, but it was important to make sure that no one got the idea that she was someone to be messed with. Trouble was the very last thing she needed right now. She’d had just about enough of that lately, she thought as she latched onto the outlined features of her target, and the “don’t mess with me” attitude wasn’t an act anymore.
Putting her hands down on the right table, her frown nearly turned into a scowl.
“Anso. You and me? We gotta talk.”
The Balosar man opposite her did a good job of keeping his cool, to his credit. He was one of the classier looking folks around the cantina, but he was one of the unknowns. She’d heard he’d only arrived in town a couple of days before she touched down in the spaceport, but she’d taken the deal with him because it seemed fair. “Seemed” being the key term here. Anso shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat before speaking.
“Ah, Miss…Meg, was it? I trust your trip was without hiccups?”
A snarl was forming a bit more now as Meg growled her next words.
“Trip nothin’. You set me up, you stinking son of a Manka.”
He went pale.
“I…most certainly did not!”
“Don’t you hide behind your fancy words. Your boss tried to KILL me. AND my crew. Now, I understand that there are sometimes…negotiations, go down between a supplier and receiver. Scraps happen, and I try not to hold too many grudges in this business. But you tried to put me out of business permanently, and got pretty damn close to it. That, I will not abide.”
That got him talking, and the sudden realization that there was something very nasty looking and bladed slung off her waist just a bit TOO casually added a bit of desperation.
“Please, miss...can’t we talk about this? I’m sure we can find a way to compensate you for your unfortunate experience!”
At this point, he was cowering, antennae retracting to hide themselves under his fluffy hair. Meg took a moment to regain her composure, and reminded herself of the people in the room before responding.
“Yes, I think we can. You get to live, and in return, you are going to give me double the price you initially offered, and then you are going to take the next ship off this rock. You know what’ll happen if you don’t? Oh, I won’t kill you. I’m not above it, but you’re sure as hell below it. I’ll just raise my voice, and say one word, and you’ll be in such a pile of it that the best shovel won’t help you. You know what that word is? Filcher.”
If he was pale before, he was panicking now.
“You can’t…double? I could never…”
“Well, then you better start running, because if there’s one thing Nar Shadaa hates most, it’s people who filch on deals. You probably won’t make it out the door, but hey, if you don’t have the credits…”
“Fine! The credits will be in your account within the hour!”
Meg smiled, almost cruelly.
“They better. Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Anso sir. Now get the hell out of here.”
The now somewhat crumpled-looking middleman didn’t need telling twice. Had she eyes, Megaath imagined he’d have been gone in a blink, and most impressive, he didn’t leave a stinking trail when he did. Finding herself now presented with an empty booth, Meg settled herself into it, and gestured to a waitress for a drink.
Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad day after all.
Race: Miraluka
Age: 26
Birthplace: Kavan
Allegiance: None but her crew
Status: Alive
Rank: Captain
Height/Weight: 5'10", 160 lbs.
Appearance: Meg is a bit of an odd duck for a Miraluka, and it's on purpose. Where many of her race might wear non-descript robes and forgo more cosmetic touches, Megaath Vaal likes (and would argue, for her craft, needs) a bit more flash. Whether it be her favorite purple brocade vest, the piercings up her ears, or the black-line tattoos creeping out from under her clothes, it is evident that she considers her appearance to be an important priority. The fact that her sight is through the Force just means she has to ask other people what colors look good on her. Apparently red hair with a shock of navy blue looks good, as she's kept that coloring in her chin-length, shaggy hair for years now.
In that vein, her most important possession is her mask. While normally a telltale sign of the Force-sight dependency of her people, Megaath's mask was lovingly crafted and designed to appear (though they certainly can't function) as cybernetic eye-plates, allowing her to pass as a cyborg human most of the time. It is not a good enough fake to fool most others of her species, but as a moderately good Miraluka, she trusts they won't tell on her.
Physically, Meg is best described as lanky. She's a little on the tall side for her species, and definitely a little on the thin side. What musculature she does have, however, is well-built and toned. Her face has features that are more on the rounded side, adding a bit of softness to her that she unfortunately can't hide. It brings her some comfort to know that this is generally balanced out by the calluses on her hands, the light smudges of soot on her pale skin, and the less than friendly weaponry at her side. In general, this confidence informs her posture, which is often proud and upright, with just enough of a slouch to indicate that the pride is earned, and not pompous. Her normal expression is generally neutral, erring on the side of suspicious, and her aura (if you can judge by these things) is almost always slightly tense.
Personality: Megaath has led an eventful life, and it shows in her personality. With most people, she takes at least a moment or two to size them up before she approaches. She's never the type to run into a situation guns blazing unless it is the last available option to her. She observes, plans, and if she's faced with an enemy, usually attempts to strike only when she's found a weakness to exploit. And when it comes to enemies, she prefers being far away, looking at them through a scope. Meg has a major chip on her shoulder for either of the major Force-using organizations, but actually seems to have more animosity towards the Jedi Order, believing them to be inconsiderate asses at best, and uncaring sociopaths that get people around them killed all the time at worst. Regardless, she won't deal with either side, even if they have the best intentions.
For those that she DOES deal with, Megaath is generally regarded as a fairly well-mannered businesswoman, if a bit straightforward and no nonsense at times. She considers herself pretty good at steering people towards a good bargain for both sides, and good at steering away trouble when she senses it. Usually steering trouble away just means convincing folks that she's not the smuggler for them. Sometimes it means convincing folks she's not the smuggler for them by quietly threatening to have certain key body parts removed.
At present, she doesn't have any major rivals or enemies of note, considering it bad for business if she lets those kind of relationships fester. She's not one to roll over or beg to make someone like her, but she's not above bribery and some posturing. And if someone does present themselves as an adversary, she's also not completely above blackmail and assassination, either. She protects herself and her own, and her business. Her morality apart from that can be flexible.
However, if you should find yourself identifying as one of her own, Megaath could not make for a more loyal friend. She will routinely risk life and limb to protect people she considers friends, and will rarely ask for anything in return more than "next time, don't do that". On the flip side, however, she doesn't trust easy, so a person who finds their way into her good graces and then breaks that trust will likely find themselves being treated worse than an enemy. You know what they say, keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and throw filthy traitors out the airlock.
Ships/Vehicles:
The Crimson Hare
(Scovus-Class Transport with slight modification)
The Hare, as she usually calls it, is a fairly light vessel for a smuggling ship. It's propulsion system has been optimized so as to make it a little speedier and more maneuverable, and Meg and crew DID buy the model with the turret mounts, but apart from that it looks basically like a standard transport that someone put a red paint job on.
Inside, the setup is a little different from standard. The walkways are a little narrower than normal, allowing for some secret storage compartments, and there is a clearly defined (though small) medical bay. There is also a distinct lack of steps on the ship, instead using ramps wherever possible (for ease of movement for Zed, who's leg never quite healed right). A cargo bay in the rear of the ship contains a somewhat beat up airspeeder, listed below.
In addition to their fleshy crew of 3, the Crimson Hare also employs a vocal and more than a little anal-retentive Aratech XT-2000 maintenance droid that the crew affectionately named Fidget.
Sorosuub Model 88 Speeder
This poor speeder has been through several scrapes, and looks it. The blue and yellow paint job is old, and scratched in several places. Everything in it still works, but it certainly does not look like a luxury speeder anymore.
Equipment:
Blaster Rifle
Blaster Pistol
Vibrospear with telescopic haft
Basic fine mechanics repair kit
Stats: (Feeble, Below Average, Average, Above Average, Superior, Legendary)
Strength - Below Average
Agility - Superior
Intelligence - Average
Charisma - Above Average
Force Stats: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Telekinetic- Unskilled
Telepathic- Unskilled
Body- Novice
NOTE: As explained in her Biography, Meg has no knowledge of having this skill. She just considers herself to be naturally more dextrous than most.
Sense- Adept
Protection- Unskilled
Healing:– Unskilled
Destruction– Unskilled
Combat Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Hand-to-Hand - Novice
Vibroblades - Apprentice
Vibroswords/staves - Adept
Blasters (pistols and rifles) - Expert
Simple explosives - Apprentice
Ship combat - Adept
Force Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
None
Other Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Stealth - Adept
Sleight of hand - Expert
Slicing - Apprentice
Social Manipulation (Intimidationg, Posturing, etc.) - Expert
Piloting - Adept
Mechanics - Apprentice
Lightsaber Training: (Untrained, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master, Specialist)
Completely and Purposefully Untrained. In your face, stupid Jedi!
Biography: Megaath Vaal had a simple, but fondly remembered childhood. She was the second of four children born to Hezih and Arhok Vaal, a pair of Miraluka traders living on Kavan. In her early years, she remembers a great deal of travel across the planet, even sometimes getting on freighters to Hapes for long-distance deliveries. When she was around four or so, however, her mother started showing signs of Cathington's disorder, causing tremors and the occasional gap in memory. Her symptoms worsened as time went on, and before Meg turned five, it became clear that the family needed to stop moving around and focus on Hezih's care.
After some searching around the many (mostly underground) towns of Kavan, the Vaal family came across Tchel'ti, a small but vibrant community in the southeastern hemisphere. Tchel'ti was a racially varied town, made up of mostly craftsmen and their families. Meg's father had little difficulty finding a niche there as a mover of their goods, and quickly became a respected member of the community. The stability of putting down roots helped ease Meg's mother's condition, and eventually a kind Twi'lek offered her services as Hezih's nurse.
As their first year in the town passed, Tchel'ti began to seem less like a town to Megaath, and more of an enormous family. While, yes, she did spend more time playing tricks on her brother Tebiish and braiding sisters' Vanad and Maelik's hair, Megaath's friends were simply siblings that lived in other houses to her. Even her mother, who had trouble leaving the house most days, bonded tightly with the people around her.
Which made the day that the Jedi came so much harder. Her father brought them home to meet her brother, after noting that the aura surrounding his only son had become brighter than the others around him. As a good Miraluka, Meg knew that it was important that Teb learn about what the Jedi training could offer him. The way of the Force was sacred, after all, and the Jedi could bring his soul in tune with the Force in a way her family never could. But she would never understand why he chose the Jedi over their little paradise, over his family. The day her big brother left to be a big Jedi was painful, but he promised he'd write often, and visit when he could. Their father explained only after Tebiish had left that he wouldn't be allowed to write at all, and visits were unlikely at best.
The silence in the house after that was deafening. It stayed that way for a few days, with each child and their mother trying to operate as though nothing had happened. After that, quite suddenly, the house erupted with noise. Cries, accusations, it was nearly as though Arhok had not just sent his son away to become something greater, but rather had killed him. Megaath didn't understand. Why NEVER send letters? Why no visits? How could separation from this wonderful place and its people, his FAMILY, make Tebiish better? No matter how much her father tried to explain, she never understood. After a while, she just didn't have any energy to ask those questions anymore.
Eventually, things stabilized back into a certain normality. Arhok's trips away were a bit longer at first, but he always came home to be with the family. Once the children were all too old to be taken by the Academy, a collective tension in the household eased. No one else could be taken. Hezih's condition worsened bit by bit over the years, but the family was there for her, and she wouldn't lose anymore children. Not to them.
Around age 12, Megaath began helping her father with his trading. She learned about contracts, inventoried products, and sometimes even helped barter for better prices for Tchel'ti's goods. Her sister Vanad took an interest in medicine, and became a remarkably young but able apprentice for her mother's nurse, Zumjapi. Mae'lik, the youngest, showed a talent for music, and the home was often filled with humming or plinking away at some new instrument. Things weren't just stable now, they were happy. Even with one of the settings from the dining table empty and unused.
Life went on, and for her 13th birthday, Megaath was allowed to go on one of the longer trips with her father. They were going to speak to an art dealer on the other side of the planet, and Arhok expected the formation of contracts to take several days. Megaath followed him excitedly, hoping to meet new friends and see new things.
What she did not expect to see was her own brother, dressed in robes and sporting a bizarre but familiar side-braid. It had been nearly 10 years since she'd seen him, but he was unmistakable. Suddenly, all those feelings of bitterness, abandonment, and scorn bubbled up to the surface and almost completely dissipated. But then, when she quickly approached and cried out to him, throwing her arms around him, she knew something was wrong. He didn't return the embrace, and when she examined his expression, she found no love or warmth in it. Only...calm. She asked if he recognized her, he said he did. A short conversation went on between them, mostly her asking questions about him, and him answering shortly.
Then finally, after much hesitation Tebiish asked, "How is mother? How is home?"
As if they had been watching all along, another robed figure emerged from between the stalls. A tall, proud-faced Cathar woman, deeply frowning, put her hand on Tebiish's shoulder and forcibly led him away. When Meg tried to follow, the woman who was Tebiish's Master blocked her path with a scowl. Tebiish was not to form personal ties, the Jedi said, and if she continued to follow, she would be ruining everything he had worked towards in the past ten years.
Meg was stunned into silence, and could only watch as her brother left...again. But just before he turned a corner, though, his aura flashed and he seemed to be trying to communicate...warning? Cautiousness? Perhaps he was just ashamed of having been seen with her. Perhaps he was trying to make her afraid of him. But still, it put her on edge for the rest of the trip, and she was relieved to return home, where she belonged. When her father asked about her nervousness, she made up a story about seeing someone who looked like Tebiish in the market. It would have been pointless to say otherwise, as her father would have just scolded her for trying to initiate contact, just as the Jedi Master had. Arhok was by far the most loyal to the Jedi in her family, and would always defend them in an argument. She never told him how much she resented him for that.
She never had the chance.
What neither Tebiish nor his master told Meg, and by all rights should have, was that they were being followed. Tebiish's Master, Micorr Rin, had made many enemies in her time as a Jedi. One of them, a Dark Side force sensitive Arkanian named Katur Delig, had been looking for a way to hurt her for years. Ever since he'd found out she took on a padawan, he was hell-bent on either killing him or turning him away from the Light Side. At the time of Megaath's conversation with her brother, he'd been sending out spies to watch for weaknesses. Imagine his glee when one returned, having seen and, more importantly, heard the exchange, telling Katur all about how they'd found the padawan's family. Arhok and Meg's ship was tailed immediately, and plans were made. Plans that Meg and her father were completely oblivious to.
A day went past without much notice. Another followed. Slowly, the tension from Meg's meeting with Tebiish faded. One day, to try to shake the shadows from her mind, she walked through the tunnels near home, spending some time on the surface. Despite her comfort with living underground, sometimes she just needed to feel sunlight on her skin, and smell open air. Lying down, for a moment the land seemed to rise and fall with her breath, and she was at peace.
Then the sound came, all fire and thunder and destruction. She'd never heard an explosion so loud, and it sent her running home on instinct alone. The closer she got, the more she could smell smoke, and...something much worse, that stuck to everything it touched. This wasn't just some freak accident. Tchel'ti was under attack.
When she reached the entrance to her home, the stone-sky was falling, and the whole place was shaken by a second explosion. There was so much blood...
She didn't remember much of what happened in the next several moments. There are images of her leveled home, finding one of her sisters, not finding anyone else. Then there was running as two more explosions ripped through the upper rock, and the enormous cave structure that held her home started collapsing behind them in earnest. She and Vanad made it to the surface. When they got there, there was a younger Devaronian boy, Zediph. His leg was broken, so they carried him.
Most of the events after that day, for a while, were an exhausted blur. They found a few more survivors, and continued to survive on their own long enough to get to the next settlement. Then there was a ship, space, a city on Hapes, lots of questions. No answers. Then it was adults talking in hushed whispers about what to do with the orphans.
Many of the Tchel'ti orphans found the Hapan foster system to be unsatisfactory. For Meg and her sister, the idea of having a new "home" opened up too many fresh wounds, and they mostly ended up on the street. Where they went, Zediph followed, becoming family almost out of necessity. They learned how to survive, and then later how to stow away on ships, and then the galaxy was theirs for the taking. Stowing away became odd jobs, which later became smuggling jobs.
Vanad found a knack for medicine, "Zed" found his passion in piloting, and Meg grew into a natural leader and marksman. Through working in "business", Megaath discovered that most people with eyes preferred dealing with faces that had them too, so she paid someone to make her a mask that convincingly simulated cybernetics. When they built up enough of a nest egg to do it, the three of them bought a ship and a couple of droids, and took off. The first place they went was the place part of them never left. It was time to go home.
When they reached the place that Tchel'ti had rested under, they found mostly just rock, but for Meg it was more than she had prepared for. She remembered little Maelik's laugh, her mother's fragile hands, the stern but loving voice of her father. And her brother, in a far away market, running away. And who was he running away from? Surely it couldn't have just been chance that the attack on Tchel'ti came so soon after their meeting. She'd suspected that for some time now, but as tears of renewed grief and rage streamed down her cheeks, she remembered that flare of caution and fear in Tebiish, just before he ran. He knew. She was sure of that now. He knew and did nothing.
Megaath swore, there and then, that she would do what she could to help those that suffered like she had. It showed almost immediately in her work, as she would take trips out to stranded, ravaged, or just plain poor folk to deliver whatever supplies she could. She still took smuggling jobs, since that was how her crew made money, but she never took drugs or slaves, and more importantly, she never dealt with Jedi or Sith.
Roleplay Sample:
The smuggler’s market was singing tonight in Nar Shadaa. The sounds of profit for the taking, the smell of booze and smokes of all kinds filling the air. Sometimes it was intoxicating to Meg, who was drawn to the Fringe side of things like a particularly adept moth to a torch. She stepped confidently into the cantina that held the “market”, taking note of the auras of several prominent smugglers and scoundrels. She wasn’t big enough fish for them to worry about, but it was important to make sure that no one got the idea that she was someone to be messed with. Trouble was the very last thing she needed right now. She’d had just about enough of that lately, she thought as she latched onto the outlined features of her target, and the “don’t mess with me” attitude wasn’t an act anymore.
Putting her hands down on the right table, her frown nearly turned into a scowl.
“Anso. You and me? We gotta talk.”
The Balosar man opposite her did a good job of keeping his cool, to his credit. He was one of the classier looking folks around the cantina, but he was one of the unknowns. She’d heard he’d only arrived in town a couple of days before she touched down in the spaceport, but she’d taken the deal with him because it seemed fair. “Seemed” being the key term here. Anso shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat before speaking.
“Ah, Miss…Meg, was it? I trust your trip was without hiccups?”
A snarl was forming a bit more now as Meg growled her next words.
“Trip nothin’. You set me up, you stinking son of a Manka.”
He went pale.
“I…most certainly did not!”
“Don’t you hide behind your fancy words. Your boss tried to KILL me. AND my crew. Now, I understand that there are sometimes…negotiations, go down between a supplier and receiver. Scraps happen, and I try not to hold too many grudges in this business. But you tried to put me out of business permanently, and got pretty damn close to it. That, I will not abide.”
That got him talking, and the sudden realization that there was something very nasty looking and bladed slung off her waist just a bit TOO casually added a bit of desperation.
“Please, miss...can’t we talk about this? I’m sure we can find a way to compensate you for your unfortunate experience!”
At this point, he was cowering, antennae retracting to hide themselves under his fluffy hair. Meg took a moment to regain her composure, and reminded herself of the people in the room before responding.
“Yes, I think we can. You get to live, and in return, you are going to give me double the price you initially offered, and then you are going to take the next ship off this rock. You know what’ll happen if you don’t? Oh, I won’t kill you. I’m not above it, but you’re sure as hell below it. I’ll just raise my voice, and say one word, and you’ll be in such a pile of it that the best shovel won’t help you. You know what that word is? Filcher.”
If he was pale before, he was panicking now.
“You can’t…double? I could never…”
“Well, then you better start running, because if there’s one thing Nar Shadaa hates most, it’s people who filch on deals. You probably won’t make it out the door, but hey, if you don’t have the credits…”
“Fine! The credits will be in your account within the hour!”
Meg smiled, almost cruelly.
“They better. Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Anso sir. Now get the hell out of here.”
The now somewhat crumpled-looking middleman didn’t need telling twice. Had she eyes, Megaath imagined he’d have been gone in a blink, and most impressive, he didn’t leave a stinking trail when he did. Finding herself now presented with an empty booth, Meg settled herself into it, and gestured to a waitress for a drink.
Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad day after all.
