Post by Keilara on May 21, 2009 12:54:53 GMT -5
Faction: Mandalorian
Department: Special Ops.
Rank: Sergeant
Name: Fable Barris
Race: Vahla
Age: 20
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 150 lbs
Appearance: Tall and thin, Fable is nymph like with a deceptively graceful bearing that hid her deadly personality. Being a Vahla, she has salt and pepper hair that reaches to her mid back when not worn up. Her skin is a light brown, appearing tanned even with all the time she’s spent hidden beneath her armor. Her eyes are a deep purple. Being a sniper/ assassin, she has modified the more traditional and bulky armor of the regular members of the army and comprised a closer fitting armor. She is accompanied, when not on duty, by a personally trained strill.
Birth place: A ship in the nomadic Valha pirate fleet her parents were a part of called The Goddess’ Wrath.
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 4
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 5
Leadership: 2
Unarmed: 2
Melee Weapons: 5
Ranged Weapons: 8
Weapons: swrponline2.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=indyguns&action=display&thread=5381
Alignment: -2
Bio: Fable Barris was the daughter of Taia and Aerith Barris, high ranking crew members of “The Goddess’ Wrath” a Vahlan pirate vessel. When she was about 4 years old, the ship was sent as part of a fleet to disrupt trade on the Daragon Trail. It was a stroke of misfortune that one of their fleet broke down not too far out of the orbit of the planet Mandalore. Dragging themselves into orbit around the planet, the Vahla quickly set to work on repairs; and while the Vahlan pirate fleets’ figurative back was turned, the Mandalorians struck and demolished them, sending “The Goddess’ Wrath” plummeting to the surface of the planet below.
Fable, a couple other children, boys named Eeth and Valek, and two badly injured adults were all that survived the crash. A scavenger party of Mandalorians checking out the crash site came upon the young girl attempting to care for her injured brethren. With amused approval at the very tiny girls attempts to ward them off with a branch nearly as big as she was, the frighteningly armored leader motioned someone forward who picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. With words she could little understand he turned and marched off into the forest, tiny Fable wriggling in attempts to get away.
She soon found herself in what appeared to be an encampment, and it was with childish and profound relief that not too much later the other surviving children were also carried into the camp. The adults had perished from their injuries as the Mandalorians attempted to patch them up and bring them as well.
The clan the group had come from absorbed the children into their everyday lives. Beds were provided, food given, and training in the ways of becoming a Mandalorian took up the majority of their days. Fable received the same level of training as the two boys who became her brothers, though she excelled at stealth style combat such as sniping or sneaking up on her enemies and quickly slitting their throats. Though tall, her body was light and agile and she could fit almost anywhere and sneak up on almost anything she was sent after.
At the age of 8 she was allowed to put her training to some practical use, and as she and her brothers were trained by their father, she was often their back up. Placed far back or high up in a tree; she would watch encounters between her brothers and their enemies, dealing deadly blows when it appeared one of them was in any amount of danger. If an enemy happened to get away, or a situation required someone who could be sneaky, Fable would sneak in, slit their throat, and sneak out. She and her brothers were all anxious to try their training on real people as they grew older, not just animals for dinner.
It never occurred to any of the children, as it did to the others in their clan, that they were in anyway exceptional. They simply did what they were told to do as best they could. It didn’t matter that they seemed to just know where their prey was, or that they just knew where each other were and could therefore coincide their maneuvers. They had grown up as Mandalorian children, and their Valhan heritage as force-sensitive entities was long forgotten, if they had ever been made aware of it to begin with.
The boys reached the age of 13 while Fable was still only 10, and the bond the three shared through the force had still not made itself known when the boys were sent to undergo the verd’goten. Fable railed against them being sent alone and refused to speak for the first day of their absence, her anger rising as her subconscious ability to sense them grew fainter and fainter the further apart the three became.
She never really knew what it was that compelled her later that night to disobey their fathers rules and sneak out after them. Grabbing a blaster and stealing a dagger of her fathers’, she quietly snuck out of the camp and took off running in the direction she had last felt her brothers. It was a difficult journey, and took her quite a while young as she was, but as she drew closer to them, the ties they had with one another through the force guided her. On the third day of her journey, she could feel that they were in a fierce battle with something as their anger, something that often fueled all three childrens’ abilities in battle was fierce. When she felt one brothers’ life force falter and diminish, she found her legs could move even faster and she burst into a clearing in time to see her other brother fall.
She ducked back into the tree line and aimed her blaster as the strill reared up and let out a loud baying sound. The triumphant noise boiled Fable’s blood and she fired the blaster hitting it cleanly in the shoulder. With a wail it fell and she quickly approached brandishing the dagger she had brought with her. The strill was writhing on the ground making whining noises and as she approached tried to run but was too weak. Unable to handle the saddening sounds along with the deaths of both her brothers, she tossed the dagger to the side and with a warning glare at the animal set to work bandaging it.
She was surprised upon her return to the village with the animal that her successful capture of it was viewed as, though early, her passage of the verd’goten. She spent the next few months, grieving for her lost family and training her companion whom she named Kistra. She grew more cold and detached as the days passed and she focused on her aim and her stealth. It was only in rare moments when alone with her pet, that she allowed a look of peace to descend on her face and let her look pleasant.
While Fable had always been a serious child, the village was used to seeing her smiling and playful with her brothers and the other children. Upon her return, and after the mourning period, her clan members were slowly made aware of a solemnity in her personality. Gone was the spritely girl who played simple children’s games with others, somehow the little girl had grown up.
By the age of 12, Fable had stopped speaking except when directly asked a question. She had allowed herself to get used to the lack of contact with anyone but her father when she went out hunting, and he was well known for not wasting words.
When she reached 13, tragedy befell her once again. Her father suffered a major injury while they were out hunting. He slipped on a loose rock and fell on a tree branch that went through his upper thigh. She used her sparse knowledge in first aid to stop the bleeding and bandage it, but they were a good days walk from the village with healthy legs, and by the time they returned an infection had set into his leg and it had to be removed. Fable became the sole provider for her family from that moment on and her father settled himself into the roll of protecting his home and doing light guarding of the village.
Over the next couple of years, Fable became more and more reclusive. Alone for days, sometimes weeks at a time, she grew used to silence. Her only companion was Kistra and she had learned through the accident with her father to make sure she brought the strill with her any time she was able. It was during these times that the two learned to communicate without words. The times Fable would speak were at night, after they had completed a successful hunt. She would praise Kistra and then work on teaching it a new non-verbal command. It took time, but Fable had that time and the patience. Within 18 months the two were a team to be reckoned with. Fable would point out a mark, Kistra would silently work its way around behind it and scare the enemy out into the open where Fable more often then not ended its life in a single shot. More often than not, the two returned with more than enough food for their family and were often able to help others in the village.
A few years after the deaths of her brothers, a military recruiter came to their village and asked that those capable of fighting come forward and be put into the army. It was no surprise when 16 year old Fable was readily accepted as many vouched for her abilities, but it was during training that she really let people know how good she was. Often looked down upon, she did not speak much around others. She had been forced to leave her companion in her village while undergoing training and one day out on a firing range, in a rare show of temper, she ripped the rifle out of a snotty recruits hands and taking aim in mere seconds, shot a small target at the far end of the range. With a look of smug satisfaction, she turned and handed the rifle back before exiting.
Her exceptional abilities in her areas of specialty had her nicely ranked right out of training. She rarely missed targets when on a firing range or in combat situations, and in 90% of assassinations acted quickly and decisively. Her weakness tended to be marks that whimpered or pleaded and she would hesitate a second before dealing a killing blow in those cases. Keilara, free from training, returned home to her village to honor her brothers and pick up Kistra. She returned to the base and settled into a regimented life as she waited for her first assignment.
RP Sample:
Eeth...must move faster...
Fable’s feet picked up speed as she caught a glimpse of open space up ahead. Valek’s life-force was faltering and she’d be damned if both her brothers fell
She burst out of the tree-line as the enemy her brothers were fighting, easily identified as a strill, swiped a claw and cleaved Valeks’ head from his shoulders.
“No...”
The word left her body in a breathless rush and suddenly everything slowed down. Feeling as though she were someone else, she calmly raised her blaster as the strill rose up on it’s legs and let out a triumphant howl.
ba-dump
She could hear her heart beating in her ears as she carefully took aim.
ba-dump
Lay your finger on the trigger, hold your breath ba-dump and gently squeeze...
The blaster fired and the strills’ triumphant cry was cut short as the shot hit home and with a wail it collapsed writhing on the ground. She dropped the blaster and moved to the animal, pulling the dagger she had borrowed from her belt. The strill writhed in obvious pain and turned to her a look of terror on it’s face as it tried to run away. Each movement caused it to whine and fall to the ground again. She raised the dagger to slice it’s neck when her eyes fell on her brother’s head and she dropped to her knees.
With a wail she fell to her knees and stabbed the dagger into the ground. Tears welled up in her eyes and she fiercely scrubbed at them.
“Why did you go without me...”
She turned her head to the whimpering strill and lunged for it, wrapping her hands around it’s neck. Being in such close contact with the foul smelling creature while under such emotional duress caused Fable to vomit, her hands falling away. The strill curled up into a pained ball, whining and whimpering in pain and fear.
Fable wiped her mouth and turned, resignedly, to the animal. Standing, she walked over till she stood in front of the creature.
“I will let you live and you will serve me. Let me see your wound. Now!”
The animal trembled at her tone of voice, but did not attempt to harm her as she checked the area.
“You will live. We must return home... and I must bathe and feed you before we get there.”
She took some nearby branches and twigs and began putting together a small sled for it to ride on.
“Get on. There is a river I passed with a good camp site not too far from here. You WILL bathe and we will rest there.”
She stood, stepping away from the sled, and brushed her hands against her pants. Then she gently helped the strill onto the sled and waited till it had settled. Stone faced, she set about burying her brothers. By nightfall she had laid them in shallow, stone-covered graves and turned back to the creature that had slain them. The strill had long fallen silent, it’s wound less painful than before, and as she approached it let out a mournful wail. She swiped her hands across her eyes before bending to pick up the handle of the sled and start on the trek to the river, thankful for the darkness to hide her tears.
Eeth, Valek... my brothers... I will never forget you... These tears I shed now will never be shed again. I will go on to make you both proud.
Department: Special Ops.
Rank: Sergeant
Name: Fable Barris
Race: Vahla
Age: 20
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 150 lbs
Appearance: Tall and thin, Fable is nymph like with a deceptively graceful bearing that hid her deadly personality. Being a Vahla, she has salt and pepper hair that reaches to her mid back when not worn up. Her skin is a light brown, appearing tanned even with all the time she’s spent hidden beneath her armor. Her eyes are a deep purple. Being a sniper/ assassin, she has modified the more traditional and bulky armor of the regular members of the army and comprised a closer fitting armor. She is accompanied, when not on duty, by a personally trained strill.
Birth place: A ship in the nomadic Valha pirate fleet her parents were a part of called The Goddess’ Wrath.
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 4
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 5
Leadership: 2
Unarmed: 2
Melee Weapons: 5
Ranged Weapons: 8
Weapons: swrponline2.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=indyguns&action=display&thread=5381
Alignment: -2
Bio: Fable Barris was the daughter of Taia and Aerith Barris, high ranking crew members of “The Goddess’ Wrath” a Vahlan pirate vessel. When she was about 4 years old, the ship was sent as part of a fleet to disrupt trade on the Daragon Trail. It was a stroke of misfortune that one of their fleet broke down not too far out of the orbit of the planet Mandalore. Dragging themselves into orbit around the planet, the Vahla quickly set to work on repairs; and while the Vahlan pirate fleets’ figurative back was turned, the Mandalorians struck and demolished them, sending “The Goddess’ Wrath” plummeting to the surface of the planet below.
Fable, a couple other children, boys named Eeth and Valek, and two badly injured adults were all that survived the crash. A scavenger party of Mandalorians checking out the crash site came upon the young girl attempting to care for her injured brethren. With amused approval at the very tiny girls attempts to ward them off with a branch nearly as big as she was, the frighteningly armored leader motioned someone forward who picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. With words she could little understand he turned and marched off into the forest, tiny Fable wriggling in attempts to get away.
She soon found herself in what appeared to be an encampment, and it was with childish and profound relief that not too much later the other surviving children were also carried into the camp. The adults had perished from their injuries as the Mandalorians attempted to patch them up and bring them as well.
The clan the group had come from absorbed the children into their everyday lives. Beds were provided, food given, and training in the ways of becoming a Mandalorian took up the majority of their days. Fable received the same level of training as the two boys who became her brothers, though she excelled at stealth style combat such as sniping or sneaking up on her enemies and quickly slitting their throats. Though tall, her body was light and agile and she could fit almost anywhere and sneak up on almost anything she was sent after.
At the age of 8 she was allowed to put her training to some practical use, and as she and her brothers were trained by their father, she was often their back up. Placed far back or high up in a tree; she would watch encounters between her brothers and their enemies, dealing deadly blows when it appeared one of them was in any amount of danger. If an enemy happened to get away, or a situation required someone who could be sneaky, Fable would sneak in, slit their throat, and sneak out. She and her brothers were all anxious to try their training on real people as they grew older, not just animals for dinner.
It never occurred to any of the children, as it did to the others in their clan, that they were in anyway exceptional. They simply did what they were told to do as best they could. It didn’t matter that they seemed to just know where their prey was, or that they just knew where each other were and could therefore coincide their maneuvers. They had grown up as Mandalorian children, and their Valhan heritage as force-sensitive entities was long forgotten, if they had ever been made aware of it to begin with.
The boys reached the age of 13 while Fable was still only 10, and the bond the three shared through the force had still not made itself known when the boys were sent to undergo the verd’goten. Fable railed against them being sent alone and refused to speak for the first day of their absence, her anger rising as her subconscious ability to sense them grew fainter and fainter the further apart the three became.
She never really knew what it was that compelled her later that night to disobey their fathers rules and sneak out after them. Grabbing a blaster and stealing a dagger of her fathers’, she quietly snuck out of the camp and took off running in the direction she had last felt her brothers. It was a difficult journey, and took her quite a while young as she was, but as she drew closer to them, the ties they had with one another through the force guided her. On the third day of her journey, she could feel that they were in a fierce battle with something as their anger, something that often fueled all three childrens’ abilities in battle was fierce. When she felt one brothers’ life force falter and diminish, she found her legs could move even faster and she burst into a clearing in time to see her other brother fall.
She ducked back into the tree line and aimed her blaster as the strill reared up and let out a loud baying sound. The triumphant noise boiled Fable’s blood and she fired the blaster hitting it cleanly in the shoulder. With a wail it fell and she quickly approached brandishing the dagger she had brought with her. The strill was writhing on the ground making whining noises and as she approached tried to run but was too weak. Unable to handle the saddening sounds along with the deaths of both her brothers, she tossed the dagger to the side and with a warning glare at the animal set to work bandaging it.
She was surprised upon her return to the village with the animal that her successful capture of it was viewed as, though early, her passage of the verd’goten. She spent the next few months, grieving for her lost family and training her companion whom she named Kistra. She grew more cold and detached as the days passed and she focused on her aim and her stealth. It was only in rare moments when alone with her pet, that she allowed a look of peace to descend on her face and let her look pleasant.
While Fable had always been a serious child, the village was used to seeing her smiling and playful with her brothers and the other children. Upon her return, and after the mourning period, her clan members were slowly made aware of a solemnity in her personality. Gone was the spritely girl who played simple children’s games with others, somehow the little girl had grown up.
By the age of 12, Fable had stopped speaking except when directly asked a question. She had allowed herself to get used to the lack of contact with anyone but her father when she went out hunting, and he was well known for not wasting words.
When she reached 13, tragedy befell her once again. Her father suffered a major injury while they were out hunting. He slipped on a loose rock and fell on a tree branch that went through his upper thigh. She used her sparse knowledge in first aid to stop the bleeding and bandage it, but they were a good days walk from the village with healthy legs, and by the time they returned an infection had set into his leg and it had to be removed. Fable became the sole provider for her family from that moment on and her father settled himself into the roll of protecting his home and doing light guarding of the village.
Over the next couple of years, Fable became more and more reclusive. Alone for days, sometimes weeks at a time, she grew used to silence. Her only companion was Kistra and she had learned through the accident with her father to make sure she brought the strill with her any time she was able. It was during these times that the two learned to communicate without words. The times Fable would speak were at night, after they had completed a successful hunt. She would praise Kistra and then work on teaching it a new non-verbal command. It took time, but Fable had that time and the patience. Within 18 months the two were a team to be reckoned with. Fable would point out a mark, Kistra would silently work its way around behind it and scare the enemy out into the open where Fable more often then not ended its life in a single shot. More often than not, the two returned with more than enough food for their family and were often able to help others in the village.
A few years after the deaths of her brothers, a military recruiter came to their village and asked that those capable of fighting come forward and be put into the army. It was no surprise when 16 year old Fable was readily accepted as many vouched for her abilities, but it was during training that she really let people know how good she was. Often looked down upon, she did not speak much around others. She had been forced to leave her companion in her village while undergoing training and one day out on a firing range, in a rare show of temper, she ripped the rifle out of a snotty recruits hands and taking aim in mere seconds, shot a small target at the far end of the range. With a look of smug satisfaction, she turned and handed the rifle back before exiting.
Her exceptional abilities in her areas of specialty had her nicely ranked right out of training. She rarely missed targets when on a firing range or in combat situations, and in 90% of assassinations acted quickly and decisively. Her weakness tended to be marks that whimpered or pleaded and she would hesitate a second before dealing a killing blow in those cases. Keilara, free from training, returned home to her village to honor her brothers and pick up Kistra. She returned to the base and settled into a regimented life as she waited for her first assignment.
RP Sample:
Eeth...must move faster...
Fable’s feet picked up speed as she caught a glimpse of open space up ahead. Valek’s life-force was faltering and she’d be damned if both her brothers fell
She burst out of the tree-line as the enemy her brothers were fighting, easily identified as a strill, swiped a claw and cleaved Valeks’ head from his shoulders.
“No...”
The word left her body in a breathless rush and suddenly everything slowed down. Feeling as though she were someone else, she calmly raised her blaster as the strill rose up on it’s legs and let out a triumphant howl.
ba-dump
She could hear her heart beating in her ears as she carefully took aim.
ba-dump
Lay your finger on the trigger, hold your breath ba-dump and gently squeeze...
The blaster fired and the strills’ triumphant cry was cut short as the shot hit home and with a wail it collapsed writhing on the ground. She dropped the blaster and moved to the animal, pulling the dagger she had borrowed from her belt. The strill writhed in obvious pain and turned to her a look of terror on it’s face as it tried to run away. Each movement caused it to whine and fall to the ground again. She raised the dagger to slice it’s neck when her eyes fell on her brother’s head and she dropped to her knees.
With a wail she fell to her knees and stabbed the dagger into the ground. Tears welled up in her eyes and she fiercely scrubbed at them.
“Why did you go without me...”
She turned her head to the whimpering strill and lunged for it, wrapping her hands around it’s neck. Being in such close contact with the foul smelling creature while under such emotional duress caused Fable to vomit, her hands falling away. The strill curled up into a pained ball, whining and whimpering in pain and fear.
Fable wiped her mouth and turned, resignedly, to the animal. Standing, she walked over till she stood in front of the creature.
“I will let you live and you will serve me. Let me see your wound. Now!”
The animal trembled at her tone of voice, but did not attempt to harm her as she checked the area.
“You will live. We must return home... and I must bathe and feed you before we get there.”
She took some nearby branches and twigs and began putting together a small sled for it to ride on.
“Get on. There is a river I passed with a good camp site not too far from here. You WILL bathe and we will rest there.”
She stood, stepping away from the sled, and brushed her hands against her pants. Then she gently helped the strill onto the sled and waited till it had settled. Stone faced, she set about burying her brothers. By nightfall she had laid them in shallow, stone-covered graves and turned back to the creature that had slain them. The strill had long fallen silent, it’s wound less painful than before, and as she approached it let out a mournful wail. She swiped her hands across her eyes before bending to pick up the handle of the sled and start on the trek to the river, thankful for the darkness to hide her tears.
Eeth, Valek... my brothers... I will never forget you... These tears I shed now will never be shed again. I will go on to make you both proud.
