[center][img]http://orig07.deviantart.net/c99e/f/2009/136/1/1/zabrak_space_captain_by_nolinquisitor.jpg[/img][/center]
[center][sub][color=c4df9b]Mus Rosh[/color]
[color=c4df9b]∇[/color] 33 [color=c4df9b]∇[/color] ♀ [color=c4df9b]∇[/color] 1.8m [color=c4df9b]∇[/color] N
[/sub][/center]

[sub][color=c4df9b][b]Δ Appearance[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]Mus looks much like your standard Zabrak standing with a manner of self-assured confidence that either reflected skill or urge for death. Red skin reminiscent dying sun stands in contrast to her hair. Long and black as tar, it is kept immaculately clean and never seen outside of a long loose ponytail. Hair curves gently around three rows of horns that line the top of her head. Unlike some of her people Mus keeps them trimmed and proper rising neatly into fine points. Her facial tattoos stand out simply out of simplicity. A single line across the bridge of the nose having left for greener pastures before the rest could be applied.   

Physically she stands lean and powerful. A body forged out of rigid discipline and work. Hands are rough and heavily calloused from constant use and strain. Bare skin is a patchwork of healed and healing wounds and scars each with its own story that Mus can recall. Always a lean child due to the active metabolism she thanklessly gained from her father. Over the years the leanness has faded away to a solid musculature that she maintains almost religiously wither she is upon land or in space. The simple fact of putting the work in now so that she doesn't regret it later. Her gait is eased and relaxed head held high, orange eyes glinting with a predatory shine to them. 

Her clothing is a simple affair. Common leathers with light armor weave built into them to help deal with a blaster shot or two. Despite whatever washing has been done to them they still reek of the blastpowder smell of her scattergun. 
   [/indent]

[sub][color=c4df9b][b]Δ Weltanschauung[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]
[center][i]Mus used to be a good person. Problem is good people don't work for slavers and crime lords. Good people don't put value on a human life based upon credits. Good people still cared. There was a time that she did care; a time when she was disgusted - no disappointed of the face that looked back at her. Now? Now she's blind to it all. The only thing that matters are the credits and the thrill. If damnation is what is coming for you, you might as well get the job done. [/i][/center]
Mus is always on. A rumbling mass of machinery that if stopped will never start up again. Always moving on to the next thing, always jumping at the next problem. Running. Running from what exactly? Her past? Herself? Nobody really knows for certain an she isn't one to kiss and tell. This constant motion leads her to think with her gut more than her head most of the time. Prone to decisions based upon instinct and gut feelings rather than well thought out plans. First to charge into the fight and probably the last to walk out of it. Rage keeps the fires burning and those fires run hot.

Despite a remarkable level of self-loathing she's something of a gregarious creature. Quick to strike up a conversation, tell a joke, or just generally get into a ruckus. A generous flirt not afraid to use her sexuality to all its advantages. Though nothing ever series comes from these dalliances as she's well aware of her own track record. Where some have in her field have an air of business and professionalism about them Mus is not one of those people. Life's too short for her to not have fun while she's still breathing. This gregarious air acts as a wall, a defensive perimeter that keeps everyone at a comfortable arms length.

The heat of battle is where Mus really comes alive. An adrenaline junkie at heart always looking for that next hit. Some people hate violence but Mus thrives in it. It dampens whatever else she is feeling, allows her to forget about everything, allows her to live. The challenge is almost intoxicating her. The kick of a slugthrower or crack of bone against her fists are better than any pay day or fuck. She comes from the school of blunt force repetition. If you throw yourself against the brick wall enough times either the wall is going to break or you are. This competitive confrontational streak leads to her always being on something of a hair-trigger three seconds away from exploding. She's childish to that degree with a temper and a capacity to hold some very long grudges. Basically if you can't shoot the problem dead, Mus doesn't think you are trying hard enough. [/indent]

[sub][color=c4df9b][b]Δ History[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]Mus was born to wealthy merchants on Raxus. Her father was a Spice Merchant one of the few luckily or influential enough to get a permit by the Republic to trade in the mind-altering substances. As a result he himself was a man of wealth and power. As a result Mus spent much of her young life between two homes of sorts one on Raxus and the other upon Coruscant. Because her father work kept him rather busy, her mother took care of her most of the time. Sadly though her mother fell ill when Mus was around eight years of age. Bacta would not heal the dieases and the doctors could not discover its origin. After two painful months she passed in her sleep.

Mus' father remarried soon afterwards to a human from Coruscant. Mus never did get along with her step-mother or her step-siblings. She became distant and troublesome no longer listing to her instructors and tutors. At the ends of his limits, Mus' father had no choice but to send his daughter away to a Republic Military School on Corellia by the time she was twelve. She would never return home after this with communication with her father soon ending completely. The harsh discipline and rigid structure worked in some areas especially the mock military lessons, yet she still got into fights more often than not.

Things further escalated when she met Vraguo. Another Zabrak of a similar temperament two years older than her. Together the two of them  were both a bubbling reaction of bad news. The two of them slowly pushing each other towards destruction or something else. They cut class, the poured graffiti over the academy walls, they smuggled drugs in and the like. A classic whirlwind romance slowing spiraling towards destruction. Soon after Vraguo was about to age out of the academy and be shipped off to join the military the two of them broke away. No plan and no idea how to move forward things stalled. They would end up bumming around Cornet City, to live they ended up getting into debt with those that they shouldn't of. This would perpetuate a cycle of continual debt and favors to be own, until finally when Mus was nineteen where they able to undo their ties of bondage and hitch a ride going out towards the outer rim.

After spending years living in the slums of Cornet City the pair had become sick of big cities and towering buildings. So they found there way to Dantooine with its sparse population, open sky and wide open fields. Finding a plot of land was easy enough and soon they had a small homestead and farm operating. Ideas of children on the future and a happy life together. Mus felt happy for the first time in a long while. 

Out on Dantooine news of the greater galaxy didn't come that quickly. What came did so through the word and mouth of traders in the area coming to the system. As a result not many even realized the secession crisis had begun until battle droids began landing on the planet to fortify the nearby Muunilinst. Despite the increased military presence, since the planet held no real strategic value to the Separatist beside begin a staging point, they left the locals alone for the most part. Even helping in some cases with battle droids keeping away the local hostile fauna from attacking their animals. 

Soon though the Clone Wars began as blood stained the sands of Geonosis. Republic forces made moves to destroy the droid production facilities on Muunilinist and in the process war came to Dantooine. The Republic would characterize it as a great victory with Jedi Master Mace Windu fearlessly leading the charge. Yet during the battle, Vraguo was killed by a republic airstrike to deal with a high value Separatist target. Her lover's senseless death would drive Mus towards the Separatist cause. She returned to her home world of Raxus now the capital of the growing  movement and joined the fight for independence. 

Mus using the skills she learned in the academy would spend the rest of her time as an operative in the Separatist Military. She smuggled information to high value targets, lead guerrilla strikes on republic targets, and generally caused mayhem wherever she went. Bitter and disillusioned, the fire that had always raged inside of her was turned her into an efficient machine of war, like the droids around her. The fighting would take her across the galaxy and would help sharpen the skills she would use for the rest of her life Despite her own efforts and  passion for the cause the Clone wars would end three years later. The Separatists were broken and the armies scattered. Like many Mus went to ground blending back into the civilian population fearing the wrath of the newly formed Empire, its vengeance against the former Separatists swift and without mercy crushing all those that did not conform immediately. 

Having become almost addicted to battle and the war, Mus turned to becoming a mercenary. She applied her trade across the outer rim taking on whatever jobs came here way. It was in this process that she would first become acquainted with the many Hutt clans. Offered a decent sum of credits to deal with their various problems when called upon, Mus moved to Nar Shaddaa working as one of the many of the Hutts fast sum of hired help. It was through this that she became in charge of a motley crew of idiots falling deep into debt. Hired by her employers to keep watch over them and make sure they didn't try anything stupid. It may be her hardest job yet.
 [/indent]

[sub][color=c4df9b][b]Δ Equipment[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]Mus possess relatively little in the terms of equipment. A lovingly used slugthrower-based scattergun, looked down upon in most circles for being seen as brutish. Having carried the gun with her since Dantooine where it was used to defend her homestead and livestock from predators. She also keeps with her a simple hold-out blaster and a vibro-knife tucked into her left boot. While those are the general equipment she changes things up depending on what the situation calls for.   [/indent]

[sub][color=c4df9b][b]Δ Skills[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]Killing things, piloting, intimidation, sabotage, some other stuff.[/indent]

[sub][color=c4df9b][b]Δ General Notes[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]Hello![/indent]