11-17-2020, 06:04 AM
(This post was last modified: 11-29-2020, 03:25 AM by Korstyn Steele.)
Character Sheet
Name: Korstyn Steele
Age: "Don't frak with me, Shabuir!"
Sex: Female
Hair: Red
Eyes: Hazel
Race: Mandalorian (Human)
Homeworld: Vorpa'ya, Vorpa'ya system, Mandalore sector.
Abilities
Combat Statistics
Hit Points:
Damage Threshold:
Speed:
Language Fluencies: Basic, Mando'a, Huttese(?)
Background: Mandalorians are used to the solo life. As the Galaxy's foremost hunters, mercenaries and hired guns, we often spends months away from the Clan on some assignment or other, often returning with great tales of glory and honor brought back to the Clan. And we don't need any silly, magical Force nonsense to do the job right, we're just that good. But when someone does show such capability...what is she to do with her dishonor? How exactly can she live with herself when the entirety of Mandalorian ethos is so against the Jetiise (or Jedi) that we've even participated in wars against them?
I was born on Vorpa'ya, a daughter of the ruling Clan. And unlike some weak-armed Alderaanian, we were trained from birth how to fight, to shoot, to hide in plain sight only to pop out of cover at the most inopportune (for our targets) moment and deliver a quick, clean strike. The best of us often went on to high levels in the Mando'ade, becoming generals in the army of great Mandalore. I wasn't just some lousy Nerf-herder, I was to be a warrior princess in an army like no other. And I was damn good at it, too. Best pilot in my age group, quickest on the draw, I could sneak up on my instructors and plant "Kick me" signs, then sneak back to the group and laugh when some di'kut tried to pull them off. It was, quite literally, the best years of my life. I was even sent to be my Clan's representative to The Great Hunt, bringing it great glory as I succeeded where so many others failed, dying by my hand because they couldn't stand the dishonor of failure.
That's when I started noticing things. Weird things. I wasn't just able to see things well, I was seeing things few Mandalorians could. Hearing things few Mandalorians could. Even enhanced races, even Mandalorians with special devices. And I wasn't the only one. Brother and sister Mandalorians, people I had shared food and bunks with, now looked at me as if I was bug to be squashed. I had no choice. So I approached my superior and requested the most difficult assignment he could give me. After a few times of me saying "No. Your. Most. Difficult. Assignment", he finally got the picture and sent me out into the Unknown Regions on some Space-forsaken quest to find some worthless artifact that meant nothing to anyone. Everyone in the Mando'ade knew there was nothing out there but Death and barrenness. That was fine with me. After reporting in once, I did what I do best: I disappeared. I had to. I couldn't go back to the Clan. Not anymore, now that I know what I am. I have no Honor. I am truly alone. And I will just have to survive that way.
Name: Korstyn Steele
Age: "Don't frak with me, Shabuir!"
Sex: Female
Hair: Red
Eyes: Hazel
Race: Mandalorian (Human)
Homeworld: Vorpa'ya, Vorpa'ya system, Mandalore sector.
Abilities
| Ability | Score | Modifier | Point Buy cost | Level Bonuses |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Strength | 14 | +2 | 6 | - |
| Dexterity | 16 | +2 | 6 | 4th Level |
| Constitution | 14 | +2 | 6 | - |
| Intelligence | 13 | +1 | 5 | - |
| Wisdom | 13 | +1 | 5 | - |
| Charisma | 12 | +1 | 4 | - |
Combat Statistics
| Statistic | Total | Base | Bonuses |
|---|---|---|---|
| Attack | - | - | - |
| Fortitude Defense | - | - | - |
| Reflex Defense | - | - | - |
| Will Defense | - | - | - |
Hit Points:
Damage Threshold:
Speed:
Language Fluencies: Basic, Mando'a, Huttese(?)
Background: Mandalorians are used to the solo life. As the Galaxy's foremost hunters, mercenaries and hired guns, we often spends months away from the Clan on some assignment or other, often returning with great tales of glory and honor brought back to the Clan. And we don't need any silly, magical Force nonsense to do the job right, we're just that good. But when someone does show such capability...what is she to do with her dishonor? How exactly can she live with herself when the entirety of Mandalorian ethos is so against the Jetiise (or Jedi) that we've even participated in wars against them?
I was born on Vorpa'ya, a daughter of the ruling Clan. And unlike some weak-armed Alderaanian, we were trained from birth how to fight, to shoot, to hide in plain sight only to pop out of cover at the most inopportune (for our targets) moment and deliver a quick, clean strike. The best of us often went on to high levels in the Mando'ade, becoming generals in the army of great Mandalore. I wasn't just some lousy Nerf-herder, I was to be a warrior princess in an army like no other. And I was damn good at it, too. Best pilot in my age group, quickest on the draw, I could sneak up on my instructors and plant "Kick me" signs, then sneak back to the group and laugh when some di'kut tried to pull them off. It was, quite literally, the best years of my life. I was even sent to be my Clan's representative to The Great Hunt, bringing it great glory as I succeeded where so many others failed, dying by my hand because they couldn't stand the dishonor of failure.
That's when I started noticing things. Weird things. I wasn't just able to see things well, I was seeing things few Mandalorians could. Hearing things few Mandalorians could. Even enhanced races, even Mandalorians with special devices. And I wasn't the only one. Brother and sister Mandalorians, people I had shared food and bunks with, now looked at me as if I was bug to be squashed. I had no choice. So I approached my superior and requested the most difficult assignment he could give me. After a few times of me saying "No. Your. Most. Difficult. Assignment", he finally got the picture and sent me out into the Unknown Regions on some Space-forsaken quest to find some worthless artifact that meant nothing to anyone. Everyone in the Mando'ade knew there was nothing out there but Death and barrenness. That was fine with me. After reporting in once, I did what I do best: I disappeared. I had to. I couldn't go back to the Clan. Not anymore, now that I know what I am. I have no Honor. I am truly alone. And I will just have to survive that way.
