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[center][img]http://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/starwars/images/0/0f/Female_Khil.jpg/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/308?cb=20080830094906[/img] 
[sub][I]Featured: the only pic of a female Khil I believe to exist[/I][/sub][/center][/color]
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[color=Mediumorchid]Xymone[/color]
[color=Mediumorchid]∇[/color] 32 [color=Mediumorchid]∇[/color] ♀ [color=Mediumorchid]∇[/color] 2.07m (6'8") [color=Mediumorchid]∇[/color] Force Sensitivity N
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[sub][color=Mediumorchid][b]Δ Appearance[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent] At a touch over two meters and hale all the way through Xymone is a picture of health from the flat of her heels to the tip of her hullepi. Built tall and meated to the bone--though a hand wouldn't sink far before meeting muscle she is plush in all the right places--her enviable athleticism doing little to detract from the fullness of her figure. Her voice is a melodic trill thanks to the jawless, tendril heavy mouth so emblematic of her ilk, an aspect oftentimes repellent to other sentients but held in the highest and most intractable esteem by this confident Khil. These sensile breathing tubes easily the most animated facet of her many expressions and seat of her self-assumed 'exotic charm' it is not uncommon to spy a preening hand pass through their ranks to subtly assess if they're presentable. Xymone's skin is a deep dark grey pebbled along the arms, legs and back with the heptagonal hallmarks of an ongoing addiction with 'slappers', an externally applied performance enhancing drug.

Possessed of a pragmatic propensity to place something thick between herself and bone rattling impacts Xymone favors a bulky set of Belnarian armor that was at one time bespoke. Fashioned from composite plates sandwiched between several sheets of insular synthetic material etiolated endorsements form a fragmentary filigree over much of the repurposed raiment she wears. The thing a sectional sportswear skeleton repaired and refitted so heavily as to hardly resemble itself, piecemeal straps and hard padding partially replacing an absentee sleeve. Though this wouldn't seem out of place on someone tailgating the hottest new ultrasport the carbon scoring and deep gouges are, each a point among the running tally of a deadly game she's taken into overtime.
 [/indent]

[sub][color=Mediumorchid][b]Δ Weltanschauung[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent] Polite and friendly for a woman so quick to adopt an 'us and them' mentality Xymone is the Khailian contradiction made manifest.  Competitive to the core and ambitious yet somehow carefree, a creature of arrogance and compassion that pursues profession and pleasure with an equal and impressive devotion. Always a bit too willing to put herself out there and experience new things she is no stranger to disastrous misadventures, an optimism and cultural belief that anything can be overcome with enough effort often seeing her through. As a direct result however she often breaks down under prolonged stress if progress isn't forthcoming, reaching for a chemical kick-me-up to carry her over the hump and even worse off should it fail her.

A companionable enough person before, after and during the time it takes to know her Xymone is quick to grow possessive of the friends she makes for fear of being abandoned, always reaffirming friendships through horseplay and physical gesture. Over time growing so bold as to eat off the same plate or drink from the same glass as someone she's taken a shine to and sure to have a quickfire quip or unsightly insinuation for those that may take offense or discomfort from such actions. For a sympathetic sort she takes an irritable glee in finishing her companions sentences in exaggerated imitation, often prefaced with 'look at me, I'm so-and-so...'

Nothing if not a compulsive showboater that aches for the shower of accolades she's grown accustomed to Xymone places undue stock in the sentiment and praise of others, this shallow self-assurance of her worth a bitter balm with which she soothes a damaged ego. Though closely guarded the anxiety she harbors has played silent partner to many a brash outburst, needless risk and sudden surge of violence.

Though not inherently cruel she harbors an impressive capacity for devious, vindictive behavior when her loyalty is called into question and has sometimes waited years to avenge relatively minor slights, as a certain blind Bith can attest to. Not being uncharacteristic of her people she sees such behavior as a retaliation rather than overreaction, though would be just as readily appeased by a heart felt apology. Which would be fine if she wasn't such a sore loser at games of chance, quick to feel cheated despite herself.

To this day she remains good friends with a pair of Aqualish she'd made an impromptu alliance with on Ando. Pybba and Tward have drifted into dirtier lines of work since the chance meeting and attempt to kill her from time to time mind you, but they're damned amicable about it all the same. As twins they've an infuriating habit of insisting she can't tell Aqualish apart and an infuriating habit of being exactly right.


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[sub][color=Mediumorchid][b]Δ History[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]Eldest offspring to come from the well-planned pairing of Qitat and Ysget (A duo of decorated athletes) excellence was always expected of Xymone. She delivered, and when the public eye expected her to overshadow her parents she did not disappoint. Where other children were pampered she had been prepared and thus groomed for greatness exploded onto the amateur circuit during her debut. Latest in the legacy her parents wished to cement Xymone had been shaped into a superb specimen and all her energies directed at the sport of Lu'Kratan, a 3v3 ball game which incorporates an obstacle course and wrestling. Krat as it's known in the common vernacular was said to have arisen from the rituals and war dances pre-modern Khil used to settle disputes and traditionally the pursuit of women. Though off-leagues for men and a myriad of imigrant species met with only lite resistance the later reformations saw staunch opposition.

One such mouthpiece during the high point of her career playing for Belnar City she went on record saying [color=lightgray]"Krat's always been more than just a game to me, it's about who we are and where we came from. I never thought I'd have to sit here and appeal on behalf of my heritage."[/color] During the above debate proceedings devolved into a shouting match, with Xymone insinuating integration was a slippery slope that would lead to droids replacing players. History remembers her as being on the wrong side of the argument, because not more than a year later she was squaring off against a mixed race team that included Sscusk Tolmz. A self-described full time Trandoshan that had long lobbied for his chance in the lime light Sscusk was a media darling already billing the bout--win or lose--as a triumph. He would come to be vindicated.

The match in question was a spectacular hard fought back and forth that would see Khil dominance in the sport challenged for the first time. By the final quarter it seemed a certainty that despite her best efforts Xymone would be stripped of the championship she'd sacrificed so much for, something she felt she could not allow so desperately at the time. Though a vocal campaigner against doping the waning icon saw no other out; not wanting to disappoint her parents, partners or the true fans she made the biggest mistake of her life.

Had she been more adventurous as a child she'd of known about the intensity of 'slapping' for the first time, had she been a more responsible adult she'd have weighed the risks more carefully. There were a million different ways that next hour could have gone and in the years since Xymone has agonized over them all. It had felt so unreal, she couldn't believe what she'd done even as she was doing it. In the aftermath of the highly illegal takedown that saw speculation as to whether Sscusk would ever walk again, let alone play on a professional level a disgraced Xymone faced criminal charges and a doping scandal. The evidence of performance enhancing drugs in her system called not only her own past achievements into question but those of her parents and teammates.

Stripped of a life's work due to a split second decision the relatively light sentence she received was of little consolation, what wealth she'd had after the settlement frittered away in self-imposed exile from her homeland. Unable to adjust to civilian life, a crushingly depressing job as a taxi driver and resentment that seemed to linger when she was recognized she ended up admiring the skyline from atop a railing one lonely night on Andor. Xymone never did determine one way or the other if the pair of Aqualish that approached her had any idea what they were interrupting, but they certainly made it belligerently clear they knew whom. Somehow they'd enticed her into replacing the suddenly absent third of their trio in an underground Krat match, if nothing more it was a chance for her to say a final farewell to the sport that had divorced itself from her. 

She was unprepared for how good it felt to be in the thick of the raw, no-holds-barred bastard child that was waiting for her; the time honored trials and wetlands of the sport boiled down to the basics of six bodies, a ball and some mud. The wash outs arrayed against her couldn't compete on her terms and didn't try to, using every cheap trick in the book to keep her on her toes; it was the most she'd enjoyed herself in years. Pybba and Tward cheated her out of much of the purse naturally, but it was a slight she could swallow to be back in the arena. From that day she dove headlong into the seedier side of the sport, beating her body back into fighting shape and then some--unable to will herself free of the potent rush 'slapping' offered and no longer needing to hide her addiction. She played wherever there was money to bet, slowly growing accustomed to the higher risks, infrequent firefights and looser interpretation of the rules.

Trekking from planet to planet, flophouse to flophouse, alley to ally slowly shaped her into the sort of person best bestowed a generous berth when passing by, her ability to plant boot firmly to ass written over every inch of her. That was about the time she was approached by a man that promised to make her either very wealthy or very dead and in no uncertain terms told her she'd be throwing an upcoming event. She'd decided that particular Twi'lek didn't need both front teeth to tell his Hutt no, and proceeded to make the biggest mistake of her life for the second time.

Gamorreans and the occasional Gank-Killer were par for the course from there, outmatched, outpaced or otherwise eluded at every turn, but always around the next one. If you think you've beaten a Hutt however, you didn't notice that they'd changed the game you've been playing. In the end all it had taken was a winsome smile, a few good jokes and a night of whirlwind-drinking on some backwater rest stop for her to wake up with one hell of a headache surrounded by similarly bewildered strangers.[/indent]


[sub][color=Mediumorchid][b]Δ Equipment[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]This Khil combatant's arms and armor make a decisive statement: bigger is better. Armed with a Gamorrean vibro-axe acquired off one of her many porcine assailants and preferring to lob explosives over aim a blaster she is anything but subtle in a firefight. Her well worn and carbon scored armor weathered from forgotten frays yet not in disrepair; a Belnarian holdover from her time as a performance athlete. Between points A and B she usually relies on a beat up old repulsorlift that has seen better days. Bought used and then some the Arrow-23 seats five (if it wasn't missing a seat), boasts military grade plating (that should have been replaced years ago) and a spacious cargo hold (that doesn't quite lock anymore). Aside from these and a few sundries Xymone is usually nosing about with her personal secretary. [/indent]

[sub][color=Mediumorchid][b]Δ Skills[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]Having made a career out of tying other very strong people into knots while waist deep in what equates to a mudhole melee you'd best not put anything you want back in arms reach if her blood is up, extremities included. Though no gymnast Xymone's an efficient climber and can traverse irregular terrain and obstacles even while under great duress--especially wetlands and marshes like those found on her home planet. Sculpted by a lifetime of practice and repetition  her throwing arm is a precision cannon and pulling even the most poorly flung projectile out of the air has become involuntary--she had to get in the habit of throwing grenades back because she was already in the habit of catching them. She coordinates well as part of a small group and picks up on non-verbal cues quickly. Xymone is a pretty bad driver all things considered, but doesn't think twice about turning a chase or game of chicken into a destruction derby. A khil so solidly built that it bears mentioning twice. She can carry a tune for a mile and makes very good smoothies. [/indent]

[sub][color=Mediumorchid][b]Δ General Notes[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]She prefers chipper tunes like Figrin D'an and the Modal Nodes break out single [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BR0TvNGrxpI]"Mad About Me"[/url], can't eat solids and finds herself supporting most of the empire's policies while still being nonplussed with how human-centric things have become.[/indent]

[sub][color=Mediumorchid][b]Δ Relationships[/b][/color][/sub]
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[color=c4df9b][b]Mus Rosh[/b][/color] - Over the narrow window within which they've interacted it has become immediately obvious that--were it not for the cranium cracking consequences to follow--Xymone would have tried to break the crimson criminal over a knee by now. Much of this malice towards Mus manifesting merely from the fact she's standing in for the Hutts as someone to hate, a face to put to her problems. Xymone suspects the Zabrak enjoys lording her dominion over them.

[color=orange][b]Grida Cairnu[/b][/color] - A teeny tiny little thing with a pretty name and impressive hat, it actually took Xymone a bit longer than the rest of the crew to suss out for certain whether the Rodian was male or female. She thinks Grida much frailer than he actually is, often grabbing anything that looks heavy out of his hands and has grown into an annoying habit of rubbing a licked thumb over smudges she notices on his face. She mistakes his caution for compassion, believing the spry thief to be putting on a gruff air to compensate for his small stature. She thinks him adorable, like a messy youngster.

[color=wheat][b]Mokra Tem[/b][/color] - Xymone's habit of constantly complimenting others and blunting criticisms with humor made her mesh well with the self-conscious Kel Doran, and seeing as he's the only adequate sparring partner she spends quite a bit of her spare time around him. Though the two are like fire and ice enough similarities exist between them to foster a genuine respect, even if Xymone very vocally asserts 'he thinks too much' and should overcome his weaker constitution by 'getting stronger'. She has a running bet on whether he's handsome under the goggles and respirator and thinks his ceremonial sword silly and archaic. She doesn't believe in the force at all, thinking Jedi and Sith part of a convoluted cyborg conspiracy.

[color=lightgreen][b]Relloc Provnor[/b][/color] - As far as she's concerned a decent layer of dirt is telltale assurance someone's either exceptionally broke or equally hard working; though given the circumstances it's safe to mark Relloc down for both. Sharing his notion that the right tool and enough effort can fix any problem Xymone thinks well enough of the mechanic, which is problematic. Given that she doesn't dislike him Xymone sees no need to afford the man his personal space, her impractical size and genuine if misguided attempts to 'help' having made more than one job take longer than it should. She downplays any annoyance he's shown as being 'gruff' and suggested since he's always talking to the ship it seems to be ignoring him.

[color=0072bc][b]Rytthik Darhask[/b][/color] - At first assessment a bit boring, like someone constructed him factory standard from pre-packaged parts. As utterly unremarkable a human as she's likely to come across so much as appearances are concerned and seemingly dead set against standing up straight. He can talk circles around her though and tends to rope her into finishing a chore or help him in some questionable enterprise via paper thin excuses. She finds herself wanting to dislike him but so far incapable of doing so for long. She forgets Rytthik's name often and so has resorted to a more memorable nom de guerre derived from it: Thick.[/indent]

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