[hider=Loril Kaalun][center][h1][color=c0ffee]The Geneti--Secretary.[/color][/h1]
[sub][i]Image to follow when Aria either swallows her pride and finds art or else draws.[/i][/sub][/center]
[color=c0ffee][b]|[u] {Full Name} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]Loril Kaalun (Formerly Lomi Prolu)[/indent]
[color=c0ffee][b]|[u] {Age} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]Twenty-Four (born in 27BBY) [/indent]
[color=c0ffee][b]|[u] {Species} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]Kaminoan[/indent]
[color=c0ffee][b]|[u] {Gender} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]Female[/indent]
[hr]
[color=c0ffee][b]|[u] {Force Sensitive/Alignment} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]Decidedly Not. (True Neutral leaning Lawful)[/indent]
[color=c0ffee][b]|[u] Role on Ship [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]A… Secretary. Yes. Loril is an [i]exceptional[/i] secretary. She prides herself on her meticulous note-keeping and record organization, attending to the matters of her… business partner Clu’s work. She knows more than she ought to about the intricacies of cloning and genetic sequencing, and will not hesitate to blow everyone else out of the water with her knowledge if given the slightest opportunity. It’s a poorly kept secret that she’s a geneticist by trade, still on the run from the Empire nine years after the Kamino Uprising. It’s a slightly-better-kept one that she’s only alive for having been taken under Clu’s protection for her service in the future.[/indent]
[color=c0ffee][b]|[u] {Appearance} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]Loril is a proud and elegant creature, standing at the above-average height of 2.35 meters and bearing a graceful, slender form. Her pale skin is mostly unblemished – her pride allows nothing less – and her pale gray irises bright in her black sclera. She dresses impeccably and simply, her clothing close-fit and tailored, in shades of gray and cyan and white. She has a bit of her clothing left from Kamino – the one bit of sentiment she still carries – and a wide range of styles of other worlds that she’s journeyed to in the last few years. Her vanity seems to be anything that could be considered a head or neck adornment – she has many (simple, but elegant) necklaces and headpieces that she can be seen sporting.[/indent]
[color=c0ffee][b]|[u] {Equipment and Personal Belongings} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]Six: [url=https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/starwars/images/9/93/AZ-345211896246498721347.png/revision/latest?cb=20160906050712]An AZI biomedical unit[/url] fresh from Kamino’s labs. It has a numerical-soup designator, the last digit of which is ostensibly six (or it’s just Loril’s sixth droid. Hard to tell.) A little bit scrambled, roughed up around the edges, with a cracked visor screen and several dents on its hull. Often speaks in a technobabble, and often says things that don’t make sense. Its movements are jerky, suggesting sensors might be out of alignment. Loril has neither the money nor expertise to have it repaired, though it’s a high priority – she cannot [i]bear[/i] to have a piece of technology not functioning to its fullest. She has no attachment to the droid, or so she insists, putting its utility first - she will need a competent lab assistant wherever she sets up, and this particular unit has had a processor built in for her personal encryption codes. There is often argument between them; the droid’s very presence, and eternal lack of order, absolutely vexes her. But, its future utility outweighs the current inconveniences.
A large suitcase, battered and especially heavy. Always locked. If opened, revealed to be packed full of journals and notebooks that are written in a mix of Kaminoan and what appears to be a Kaminoan-derived cipher of some form or another. Chemical diagrams and data tables are scattered throughout them. 
A second briefcase that’s smaller, and though the cover of it is apparently battered and worn canvas, beneath lies solid metal that’s intricately locked. The inside of the case is thoroughly insulated, with a small cryo box set into the center of it, which contains many small vials in a holding box – all labeled in the Kaminoan cipher. Outside of the cryo box are some of the various tools and harder to come by reagents a geneticist would need, carefully fit into high-density foam cutouts especially designed to carry them, and one singular data sphere. 
A duffel bag of clothing. 
Holopad, wrist computer, and beaten up data sphere, usually on her person.

Other than the cases, Loril maintains an insanely sterile living quarters. Her bed is made with precision the moment she wakes up, laundry stored out of sight. There are no sentimental objects to be found whatsoever. 	
[/indent]
[color=c0ffee][b]|[u] {Physical Abilities} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent][b]Eugeneticist[/b] – For all of her (rather short, to this point) life, Loril has been trained and educated for the highly specialized cloning laboratories that dot Kamino’s surface. She was among the top innovators of Tipoca City’s laboratories, and her scientific knowledge is second to none.

[b]Meticulous[/b] – Loril’s dedication and attention to detail becomes apparent in more than just academic work. Everything about her is done with a purpose, her mind highly analytical and pragmatic, and it carries over into all aspects of daily life. There is nothing frivolous or unnecessary about her- this includes in her speech patterns, which are direct and to the point.

[b]Vengeful[/b] – Traditionally, Kaminoan services were open to the highest bidder. …Then the empire invaded, massacred countless scientists, and destroyed millennia of research. Loril would like nothing more than to see them brought to their knees and made to answer for the wanton destruction of so much knowledge, and will do anything in her power to make it happen.

[b]There's a Droid for That[/b] - Loril's expertise is highly specialized and not directly applicable, but her droid Six has a somewhat wider field of programming. If only it were in full repair, it would be Loril's surgical orderly and all-around laboratory assistant, with some knowledge of chemistry and basic lab techniques. It has protocols of anatomy with enough detail for surgeries to be performed on a fair range of humanoid species. ...of course, it's out of calibration now, so you might well get a scalpel stuck into your liver if you let it operate on you.
Beyond her own droid, Loril is passingly familiar with a number of other systems, from a variety of other planets - she can't program them herself, but working with a team of mostly-droids for three years has left her more than able to efficiently delegate tasks to droids of all sorts.[/indent]
[color=c0ffee][b]|[u] {Limitations} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent] 
[b]Traumatized[/b] – The uprising on Kamino was the day that her entire world inverted itself. She watched her loved ones die, watched her life’s work – save for what she managed to rescue – go up in smoke. It was a freak accident that she made it offworld, even. A lesser individual would be grief-stricken, rendered nonfunctional by such a horrific experience. Loril is not traumatized. Of course she couldn’t be; that is a silly emotional response for lesser individuals. She just avoids any such stimulus that might remind her of that day, isolating herself whenever the training decks are in use- when the decks of the ship are rife with the echoes of blaster fire. When she’s confronted by such, or if – heaven forbid – a combat situation forms in her vicinity - her gaze turns vacant and empty, her muscles locking and brain ceasing to function.

[b]Not Designed to Fight[/b] – Kaminoans are especially not known for their mobility, flexibility, or strength. Loril in particular is exemplary in her stiffness and slowness. Every movement she makes is graceful and assured, but that is only because it has to be – her long limbs seem as though they would give out if she had to run, and her shoulders and hips are so stiff that fighting or evasion would be out of the question.

[b]Unarmed, Untrained[/b] – She’s never had to fight. Of course she’s never had to fight, the galaxy forgot that Kamino existed until they needed the services offered there. She doesn’t know how to hold a blaster, nor does she much care to know. Such work is outside of her expertise and thus a waste of time, effort, and energetic resources.

[b]Stubborn as A Mule[/b] – Loril is exceptionally blunt. Many other Kaminoans are known in the galaxy as being placid, levelheaded and analytical – Loril bearn one, and only one, of those three traits. Painfully proud, and brutishly stubborn even when she’s proven wrong, it’s a wonder she hasn’t had anyone try to knock some sense into her. She has no common sense whatsoever.[/indent]
[hr]
[color=c0ffee][b]|[u] {Personality} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent][i]“A personality, you say? A dreadfully primitive waste of energy and thought.”[/i]

Loril is the master of her own emotions and thoughts. A control freak to the highest; everything must be in its place and functioning to its absolute best. Not one thing can be out of place, in her environment or in her mind. While many Kaminoans profess an understanding of the human psyche and nature, Loril scorns such work, insisting that one’s merit is determined solely by their genetic makeup, and any shortcomings in their character are the fault of their biology. (She will not admit to herself that anything is wrong. She will not admit that she is a flawed and hurt individual.)

She is a cruel and analytical young woman, nearly expressionless – at least, outwardly appearing as such – and holds a xenophobic and downright condescending view of many. It is hard to earn her respect, short of being an outstanding member of ones species- and even then her respect is mostly a scientific one. Her haughtiness is especially realized with species that still reproduce biologically and leave to random chance what science could guarantee. Thirsting for results above everything else, she has grown dismissive of even other Kanimoans in their haughtiness and refusal to enhance themselves with science. 

Loril’s proud and arrogant demeanor hides an inferiority complex, a constant, burning thirst for power and the realization that nothing she does is ever enough. Her greatest failings weigh heavily on her mind. She is obsessive, worrying over projects for hours and hours and ultimately reducing their efficacy for her incessant meddling. Her mind is often distracted in thoughts of impractical and even infeasible future projects, especially now that circumstance has rendered her unable to carry on her work for nearly a decade. She’s fidgety and irritable, especially when work is mentioned.

Outwardly, she is exceptionally secretive and endeavors to be clinical in demeanor, preferring to hide everything she thinks and feels behind her “professional” expressionless mask.[/indent]
[color=c0ffee][b]|[u] {Place of Origin} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]Kamino, in one of the satellites of Tipoca City.[/indent]
[color=c0ffee][b]|[u] {Background} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]Loril- or as she was named upon her spawning, Lomi Prolu – was born of the egg and sperm of a pair of Kaminoan geneticists (and birthed from an incubation chamber in Tipoca.) In her early years, it became clear that she had a special knack for the biological sciences, and was fast-tracked through Tipoca’s medical and scientific schools, and earned her place among the rank and file of Kamino’s genetic sequencing units a whole year earlier than most of her peers, by the age of 10.

Lomi was fiercely driven to innovate, to question the traditional work of the Kaminoans – It was a belief of many of the elder scientists that their process had become so efficient, perfect and wasteless, that it was unable to be improved upon. Lomi challenged that notion and sought to do better. Though many of her early attempts at such innovation turned out to be drastic failure, she earned the grudging respect (and ill-veiled enmity) of many other scientists. As she grew in expertise and confidence, her projects turned into successes, and after that the promotions soon followed.

Within three years of her employment, she became the head scientist of a regional laboratory under the republic clone project, overseeing the work of others more than twice her experience. By this point, the process was flowing as a well-oiled machine would, every lab a piece fitting into the greater production machine.

She was under strict instructions not to tamper with the genome being used. 

Lomi was never good at following orders. Her laboratory started turning out batches of clones that were rather more specialized – some skills better than the average, some far worse. When she settled on the force as her next target of modifications – if one could simply instill midichlorians into a body and force the microbes to form a titer within the being, there would be no logical reason why one [i]couldn’t[/i] have an army of force-wielding clones – she was promptly removed from the project, told she would only be reinstated when she learned the discipline of scientific process.

Really, the demotion was serendipitous. Her lab was one of the few no longer monopolized by the republic project – one of the few permitted to take outside commissions. Though she would have liked to work on her personal projects, visions of force-using warriors and the perfect, genetically altered Kaminoan, she had neither the resources nor bearing to direct her laboratory onto such tasks. 

She had a few deals here and there over the next couple of years, simple, easy projects that were fast cash enough for her to amass a modest fortune. But the imperial presence was growing on Kamino – deals that she had formally been able to conduct in the open and with the assistance of many soon became hushed affairs conducted with only the knowledge of her few most trusted laboratory assistants. She grew to rely very heavily on droids – they could be trusted not to be whispering to the soldiers that now openly patrolled the research district.

She was approached at the end of the year 13 BBY with a particularly unique business proposition.

The man who brought it was a Duros, a humble “traveler”, he insisted, bearing a contract to be signed. A wealthy Muun businessman by the name of Clu Zanith was in the market for a new heart to be grown for him, and was willing to pay exceptionally handsomely for it to be done. The caveat? He wanted it to be an individual project, kept highly secret. Only the single scientist involved could be trusted with the information of his identity, and of what he needed. Secrecy and delicacy was key.

With the help of Halan Sil – as she had learned the Duros’s name to be – she set about organizing her laboratory for such a project, urging her handful of underlings to take on their own projects and do their own innovating, to be a bit secretive and inspire competition among themselves. They set themselves up with another imperial-sanctioned project, to draw suspicion away, and finally she decided they had as many measures in place as they could to begin the businessman’s work.

She never got to see how that panned out. It was a night shift, not the first time she had been working round-the-clock – she would work on her imperial project by day, and at night would “stay to finish some work” and begin the sequencing and splicing of the Muun businessman’s genome – that was disrupted  by screaming and blaster fire.

Her lab assistants fled into the corridor, and she watched them gunned down. Medic droids, programming overridden at the detection of silver-blue blood splattered on the walls, rushed out into the corridor- to be gunned down as well, and with them countless amounts of data and work. 

The blast doors slammed shut, and despite herself Lomi panicked, fearing herself trapped. But her terror was short-lived as Halan Sil himself stepped out of the utility door set into the side of the wall, throwing a large suitcase down onto the floor. “Hurry, pack what you can. I don’t know how long the doors will hold them.”

“What are you doing?” She couldn’t help but gawp at him.

“Getting you out, clone master. You’re no use to our benefactor if you’re dead, and he’d rather his genetic information not be in a third party’s hands.” The Duros reached for her bookshelf, an obsolete feature with Kamino’s technology level, but one that Lomi had insisted on – the better to keep hard copy records of the work she’d done. A skilled hacker could tamper with databases, but it was considerably harder to tamper with paper books in an age where they were obsolete. 

The Duros started chucking the notebooks into the suitcase, with little regard for how gently he threw them – Lomi resisted the urge to chastise him, leaping for her sample briefcase. She gathered as many samples as she could fit into it. Most important were the working genomes of the Muun, as she was determined not to lose the month’s progress she’d made, a few that she’d had left over from the republic project (she hoped they were still viable, but wasn’t certain), and several from the various imperial projects she’d been commissioned on. Her meager handful of data spheres, and several vials of reagents that she wasn’t certain could be acquired elsewhere.

She got the case closed just as the blast doors were shoved open, tumbling into the maintenance door seconds before the room was bathed in laser light. Halan Sil was panting, body hunched over underneath the enormous suitcase. “Clone master,” he panted, “Why can’t you have a box of data spheres like literally every other cloner on this planet?”

“Would you have hired me if I was?”

He didn’t respond, grumbling and pushing onwards through the tunnel. It was a dreadfully uncomfortable journey, Lomi needing to hunch nearly in half to fit through the tunnel.

It would spit them out on the underside of one of the stilt towers. A speeder would take them back to the residential city. 

Halfway to their destination, give or take, a beeping began to emanate from the tunnels behind them. Fearing the worst, Halan Sil dropped the case, drawing his blaster. As the sound grew closer and louder, it began to sound remarkably unlike anything that might have been hostile. The beeping almost sounded like a repeating of Lomi’s name, over and over.

A mighty shadow grew on the wall.

A small, jerky robot rounded the corner, beeping excitedly upon the sight of Lomi.

Six.

Damn that little droid.

It seemed a lot worse for wear, pearly colors on its hull as though it had a few near misses with the laser weapons, eye screen shattered, body scratched and dented, and missing an arm. But here it was, mostly functional. With a sigh, she gestured for it to come along.

….
They made it back to the residential block, to find that the ship was all but swarmed with imperial officers. Lomi still doesn’t know how Halan Sil managed to get them out of his way- the only explanation he offered was that he [i]“has connections”[/i] and that was left to be that. 

However it happened, it worked. They got offworld. 

The vast majority of scientists and clones did not. 
….
She was taken to a nondescript business center on some mid rim world, without any real explanation of what was going on. Halan Sil told her only who she was to become. 

“Records will show that Lomi Prolu was shot down on Kamino. You are Loril Kaalun, a young administrative assistant utterly unconnected to anything to do with the cloning operation. You are a refugee hired off the streets as a secretary and office assistant. Your records will check out, I assure you. Unfortunately, you don’t have as many credits at your disposal as you once did, though my people will be seeing if they can’t recover your assets.”

Several years passed in a blur, the newly-renamed Loril being shuffled around from planet to planet every few months, doing menial organizational and paperwork tasks (intergalactic businessmen have an [i]obscene[/i] amount of paperwork to be processed) wherever she could. It seemed nowhere was safe enough for her to continue her research – occasional meetings with Zanith, when he happened to be in the area, confirmed that point, though he repeatedly referenced their contract for her services, implying that he was doing all he could to find a laboratory for her to continue her practice. 

Three-odd years ago, Zanith paid a visit once more- he seemed different then, muscles tense and eyes too bright, though it was not her place to comment on it - and told her that she was to bring all of her supplies (which had been kept safe in a temperature-controlled vault for the duration of her time working for him) and accompany him on one of the most lucrative business offers he’s been afforded.

The Kaminoan does not much care for the ragtag crew of the ‘Noreaster, taking much of her time alone save for when she absolutely [i]must[/i] interact with the crew, and despite instructions lording her intellectual superiority over them. Clu’s had to unstick them from several situations over these last three years, when Loril’s arrogant complex has had her reveal more than she should. He’s promised her that Anchorage will be what it takes to get her equipment, staff, and a place to continue her work.

She doesn’t know if any of her samples are viable - she hopes they are, but they were not packaged to be stored for a decade.  She might have to start over. Her work might be lost forever.

That thought is more terrifying than any other.
[/indent][/hider]