[hider=Rask]
[center][h1][color=darkorange]Rask the Space Cowboy, Renegade, Rustler, Outlaw, and Regulator (retired/rehired)[/color][/h1]
[img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/3e/f4/16/3ef4162ce6cd6028cf785637b0bb7136.jpg[/img][/center]
[color=darkorange][b]|[u] {Full Name} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]Rask Coburn[/indent]
[color=Darkorange][b]|[u] {Age} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]45[/indent]
[color=Darkorange][b]|[u] {Species} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]Human[/indent]
[color=Darkorange][b]|[u] {Gender} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]Male[/indent]
[hr]
[color=Darkorange][b]|[u] {Force Sensitive/Alignment} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]Yes, but no real alignment[/indent]
[color=Darkorange][b]|[u] {Appearance} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]Rask stands at 6'11 as a consequence of living on a low-gravity moon, with a relaxed and easy posture; he always finds something to casually lean on, as if standing normally was simply too much work. His body is lean and rangy, limbs long but muscled, skin weathered and scarred. Rask's clothes seem equally worn and lived-in, perhaps half a size too large and faded throughout. He has a broad smile that reveals forager teeth with a sizable gap between the front two. Rask's dark eyes are surrounded by wrinkles and set back deep in his head, two narrow wells of obsidian whose sharpness betray his easy going appearance. A thick scar runs over one eye and down his cheek. The scar severed some muscle in his forehead that left his eyebrow sagging and unmoving, leaving him with permanent expression of either amusement or curiosity. He has a prominent Roman nose, slightly crooked at the bridge from a headbutt long ago. Rask's hair has grown long and wild since his retirement, and a few streaks of white run through his beard. He favors dusters, wide-brimmed hats, heavy boots, and ponchos. The usual Out Rim attire. Armor isn't really his thing. 
[/indent]
[color=Darkorange][b]|[u] {Equipment and Personal Belongings} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent][b]CW-64 Dragoon Blaster[/b] - A big ol' space revolver. Rask owns two, but generally only keeps one on his person. This simple weapon was designed for scouts on the Outer Rim during the Clone Wars who fought on speederbikes and needed a heavy, durable pistol they could hold in one hand which could also penetrate second-generation CIS droid’s heavy armor. Not only will this blaster shoot clear through the most droids, but also halfway through the one behind it too. Can't penetrate beskar, but it'll certainly bruise the person under it. To have such stopping power, the weapon uses a unique power cell and gas canister combination, wherein each cell contains only one shot and the weapon is chambered for seven shots per cylinder before it must be reloaded. The CW-64 is no longer in production, and ammo is becoming increasingly rare.

[b]Czerka Adventurer Repeating Rifle[/b] - This rifle operates on the same principle as Rask's Dragoon revolvers, and utilizes the same ammunition as well. The rifle is lever action, and the tube magazine's capacity is ten rounds. A simple scope is attached to the top of the repeater, and can be swung to the side on hinges if iron sights are more your speed. The wood furnishing looks a little battered, but not too worse for the wear. Rask doesn't carry this around unless he anticipates trouble, and if he wants to keep that trouble at a distance.

[b]Neji Arms Flechette Launcher[/b] - Picture a pump action shotgun. Now add another barrel. Next, saw those barrels down to nearly nothing. Do the same to the stock. Now we're talkin'. Tears up lightly armored targets and good for clearing out entire rooms if you're not worried about accuracy. Rask doesn't use this much, but when it comes out, he means business.

[b]Grenades[/b] - Of the concussion, ion, and flashbomb variety. Good party favors and great for taking bandits alive.

[b]Boot Knife[/b] - A knife, sheathed in his boot. 

[b]YT-1800 armed freighter, [i]The Patriarch[/i][/b] - This ship is essentially a flying rectangular brick, but it can move when it needs to and packs a punch as well. [i]The Patriarch[/i] is armed with two dual turbolasers, dual ion cannon turret beneath the cockpit, and two triple blasters mounted on stubby wings. It comfortably sits 4, uncomfortably 8. If he was real desperate, Rask could house passengers in the 150 metric-tonne cargo bay, though he might need to rearrange things to make room. Part of the cargo bay has been converted into three holding cells. They’re not very spacious. 

[b]74-Z speeder bike[/b] - Rask hates riding this death trap, and really doesn't even know why he keeps it on his ship. Nostalgia, maybe.

[b]Five-string hallickset[/b] - A cutdown version of the popular Naboolian instrument commonly found in the Outer Rim. The resonator has been removed, giving the hallickset a warmer, softer twang. The instrument looks pretty expensive. On the back is engraved, “Play this when I’m sick of hearing you talk - Mina."

[b]"Beskar" Armor[/b] - This battered and blaster-scorched tan cuirass, pauldrons, and helmet seem authentic upon first glance, as it did when Rask won the set in a card game, but when he tested the armor's protective properties, Rask's blaster left a dent so large in the helmet that it would have killed him had he been wearing it. He took it to a professional armorer who told him it wasn't real beskar, but a cheap knockoff both heavier and weaker than the real deal; barely a step up from plastoid, but it wouldn’t stop him from being bisected by a laser sword. He keeps it around because it looks nice, but never really wears it. 

[b]Regulator Badge[/b] - A small, instantly recognizable badge typically pinned to Rask's shirt. Pentagonal, but with a raised crescent on one side and a number of small circles representing the Outer Rim and its numerous planets. "REGULATOR" is debossed into the center with bold lettering.

[b]Bits and pieces[/b] - Rask has an assortment of other useful tools, knick knacks, and assorted junk aboard [i]The Patriarch[/i]. He’s a bit of a pack rat, and his wife forced him to keep this habit limited to his ship’s cargo bay. Otherwise they’d be swimming through junk in their tiny ranch home. Among these items are macrobinoculars, a mish-mash of rations, repair kits, spare parts, old clothes that should be thrown out, new clothes he doesn’t like, a distress beacon (never used), comm link, stuncuffs, restraining bolts, datapad, utility belt, a workbench, Wookie bow caster (for some reason), a pilot droid riddled with blaster holes, various mementos and trophies, a beat-up Pazaak table, and an assortment of other stuff that he keeps around because, “Hey, you never know.” 
[/indent]
[color=Darkorange][b]|[u] {Physical Abilities} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent][b]Smooth Talker[/b] - Rask likes to talk things out in any situation; blasters tend to have irreversible outcomes for at least one party. As a Regulator, Rask learned how to deescalate crazed robbers, console grieving widows, convince guards to look the other way, and even managed to convince a woman to marry him once upon a time. His relaxed manner of speaking, easy demeanor, and Outer Rim accent tends to make people let down their guard and tell him things they normally wouldn't. He missed out on a career in talk therapy, to be sure.

[b]Shootist [/b]- You won’t last long in the Outer Rim as a lawman without some skill with a blaster, and Rask thinks he’s a pretty good shot. Some call him legendary but Rask thinks this is just flattery. He’s deadly quick on the draw with sharp reflexes, has a set of keen eyes on him, is as either handed as a spider, and can shoot the ass off a womprat from 600 meters or whatever Luke said in Episode IV. Rask's more of a precision shooter than high-volume, so he doesn't carry any automatic weapons nor much ammunition on his person. He says if you're in a firefight longer than 10 seconds, you've already lost.

[b]Regulator [/b]- Rask picked up quite a few tricks as a ranger of the Outer Rim. He can track suspects halfway across the galaxy on land or space and maintains various connections throughout the Rim, from low-ranking Hutt crime lords to fellow backwater rangers. He also made a name for himself in the Rim, especially as a boogeyman among no-good evil-doers, so his reputation often precedes him for good or ill.

[b]Force Sensitiveish[/b] - Son of two Jedi Padawans, it only makes sense their children would be Force sensitive as well. The “training” he received from his parents was rudimentary at best since they instead encouraged him to explore the Force on his own and without the Jedi’s preconceived notions of what it meant. Without a rigorous training regiment, Rask’s potential far outweighs his actual skill, and his abilities have atrophied since his youth since he had little interest in the Force. He’s capable of a couple parlor tricks, but primarily his sensitivity manifests itself as what his friends call luck. Blasters bolts seem to stray away from him at the last minute, weaker-minded people open up to him, and he has frequent “gut feelings” that more often than not pan out. How much of this is the will of the Force and how much it is him manipulating it, Rask doesn’t like to think about. The whole thing gives him the heebie jeebies if he sits on it for too long.

[b]Well-Travelled-[/b] Rask has travelled extensively throughout the Rim and has picked up enough in several common Rim languages to be considered somewhat fluent. “Just enough to be dangerous,” as he says. He can manage well enough to be mostly understood in Huttese, Taarja, Rodian, and a smattering of others. That being said, he is largely unfamiliar with the Core Worlds, and feels like a stranger there. 

[b]Hobbyist[/b] - At the encouragement of his wife, Rask started a playing the hallickset to keep him from going stir crazy in retirement. While far from a professional, he’s not too bad either, and has even composed a song or two. That's a notable skill, right? 
[/indent]
[color=Darkorange][b]|[u] {Force Abilities} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent][b]Telekinesis[/b] - Rask can move small objects with some degree of control, but he mostly uses this ability to make sure the dice roll in his favor. Just don't ask him to stop a ship from taking off or anything like that.

[b]Life detection[/b] - Rask is able to sense living presences within roughly a 50 foot radius if he focuses. Good for tracking down criminals or knowing when you’re walking into an ambush. 
[/indent]
[color=Darkorange][b]|[u] {Limitations} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent][b]Bum leg[/b] - Rask took a slug to the right knee some years ago and it never seemed to heal right. Rask can mask the limp as a sort of cowboy swagger when walking, but isn't too fond of running these days.

[b]Rusty[/b] - Rask retired from the Regulators four years ago, spending the time trying to carve out a little farm for himself. Until he breaks the rust off, Rask will be a little slower on the draw in nearly every aspect. 

[b]Moon Man[/b] - Born on a low-gravity moon, Rask is significantly taller than the average human. He moves with grace and ease in low to no gravity, but struggles some on higher gravity planets. He’s also not quite as strong as a standard human either, and his bones aren't as dense, but don’t tell him that.

[b]Isolated[/b] - Rask has spent the past four years on a backwater farm, and the last two in almost total seclusion. So, the Regulator is a little behind on current events. Even so, Rask has always paid very little attention to goings ons beyond his sector, so he remains ignorant of galactic politics and Jedi affairs that don’t directly impact him or the Outer Rim. Apparently there was a breakup of the Order? Who cares. 

[b]Robophobia [/b]- Like many veterans of the Clone Wars, Rask is already prejudiced against droids after he spent years killing them. The final nail in the coffin though was when 62-SO, Rask’s trusted droid companion of nearly ten years, one day went haywire and nearly strangled him to death in his pilot seat while he slept. Since then, Rask has had an unhealthy hatred of droids, treating them like household appliances at best, or scrapping them if they get a little too mouthy.

[b]Gambler [/b]- Rask has always been a risk-taker, and when he discovered the beautiful game of Pazaak, it was love at first sight. While he certainly has an advantage in all games of chance or skill thanks to his Force sensitivity, he tends to push his luck too far and has a nasty habit of getting buried to his eyebrows in gambling debt. He has either a free stay or hefty tab at nearly every gambling establishment in the Rim, depending on his luck that week. 

[b]Recalcitrant [/b]- Like many in the Outer Rim, Rask has an instinctual disdain for big government, high-falutin' politicians, and military officials. He can barely get along with the Regulator's chief. This distrust for authority figures was amplified after his falling out with the Irregulars. Don't expect him to bow to or play nice with royalty and head honchos. His attitudes towards the various galactic governments range from indifference to seething hatred depending on which one we’re talking about and the time of day. 
[/indent]
[hr]
[color=Darkorange][b]|[u] {Personality} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]There are two Rasks in the galaxy. 

One he presents to the world. The open book, laid back, carefree and quick with a joke. Modest, a natural storyteller with many stories to tell. Perhaps a little reticent, but charmingly so; after all, no one likes a person who dumps all their woes on you. A just and righteous man who adheres to a noble, but sometimes murky moral code. He kills when he has to with compassion, but without mercy. The unlucky few who die by his hand probably had it coming, many think. They say he's a man who can’t help himself but help those in need. One imagines that he has few worries despite his storied life. He hangs his hat up when he gets home and sleeps soundly at night. 

This is where the second Rask lives, one shared only with those closest to him in rare moments.

As he enters his second stage of life and the future grows shorter and the past’s shadow longer, Rask looks more and more behind him. Hounded by his history, haunted by regrets and failures. He rode with the Raiders longer than he should have, did things he knew even then were wrong, and couldn’t round up and kill those who betrayed him and the Rim. The loss of his wife eats away at him, her ghost following him everywhere he travels. Constantly second guessing his actions. Wondering if someone he killed could have been spared, a life lost saved if only he made the right move. Rask worries for the future too, though not his own. That died with his wife. He agonizes over the Rim, tormenting himself with what might happen to it as factions vie for control, and how little there is that one man can do. He's set in his mind now though, to try and right his wrongs as best he can.
[/indent]
[color=Darkorange][b]|[u] {Place of Origin} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]Rask was born and raised on Tet V, a grassy moon orbiting a gas giant in the Outer Rim located in a swath of space none of the factions seem too interested in claiming for themselves. Rask spent most of his life traveling around the Rim, but retired to his homeworld.
[/indent]
[color=Darkorange][b]|[u] {Background} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]
[b]TL;DR version:[/b] Rask was born to a pair of Jedi Padwans who left the Order and raised him on a backwater planet. He joined a militia called the 86th Rim Irregulars who fought the Confederacy in Outer Rim space, eventually became bandits and betrayed him. Then, he joined the Regulators, basically space marshals, solved crimes, and hunted down some of his former gang. Rask got married, left the lawman life behind to start farming, then a plague hit his town and his wife died. Now he’s a Regulator again set on finding the leader of his gang and hunting his ass down.
[hr]

Rask was born on a backwater Outer Rim moon in the called Tet V in the small settlement of Greensprings, so named for the tall green grass that engulfed the moon and sulfuric hot springs nearby. His parents were a pair of Jedi Padawans who left the Order rather than subject their child to a life as a Jedi. The naïve couple and newborn Rask were unofficially “adopted” by a pair of ranchers on their new homeworld, the two locals knowing that these new arrivals would not last long on the harsh planet without guidance and protection. 

Rask’s parents brought him up, and later his brothers and sisters, in a communal and free-spirited home. His grandparents were much more traditional, rough-and-tumble Outer Rim denizens. Rask’s parents taught him and his siblings the ways of the Force, but free from the restrictions of the Jedi Order. They were encouraged to explore the Force for themselves. Rask didn’t much care for this space magic stuff, though he did enjoy the rare lightsaber sparring sessions. Instead he preferred the company of his grandparents, both of whom were veteran mercenaries. As a result of this mixed upbringing, Rask became something of a troublemaker. He ran off frequently with friends to explore the wild grasslands and mesas, skipped meditation to hunt wild game, and got into plenty of fist fights with other kids. Rask was young when the Clone Wars kicked off, too young to fight and too dumb not to know any better. He tried enlisting several times by crudely falsifying records about his age, but each time was rejected. Then the war came to him.

A scouting party of CIS droids dropped into their town and started ransacking it, suspecting the neutral planet of storing Republic supplies. The townspeople tried to route the CIS forces, but instead were pinned down in the town hall. As CIS droids closed in, they were rescued by a ragged brigade of unmarked fighters and a storm of speederbikes with rough-looking riders. Rask instantly recognized them as the legendary 86th Rim Irregulars, otherwise known as Jak’s Raiders.

The name itself was a bit of a joke, the number “86” was chosen at random. In truth, there were no more than five groups of partisans in the entire Rim waging war against the Confederacy, all with no connection  to eachother. They were a band of ragtag freedom fighters composed of former mercenaries, bounty hunters, smugglers, frontiersmen, rogue droids, and other scoundrels from throughout the Rim. They fought the Confederacy all over, striking when the droids least expected it and resisting CIS dominion any way they could. The Raiders were led by Jak “Brassteeth” Cyone, a charismatic reformed pirate fond of blasting droids and lost causes. 

Rask slipped away from home and signed up with Jak’s group of renegades, grabbing his grandmother's blaster as he left. Life among Jak’s Raiders was certainly exciting. The irregulars operated independently, but with some support from the Republic. They received intel and older gear in exchange for wreaking havoc on the Confederacy’s supply lines and operations within the Outer Rim. Additionally, the Republic offered them a unique exchange; 100 credits for each droid head they brought in. This deal proved lucrative at first, but as the Republic credit experienced hyperinflation later in the war, the Raiders took fewer and fewer heads, instead stealing CIS loot they could later sell. The Raiders themselves were an interesting bunch, some idealistic renegades and others just looking to make a buck. They all treated Rask fairly, though, as if he were the group’s mascot. Jak himself stuck out among the more cynical Raiders as a true believer in their cause. A free Rim, independent of both Republic and Confederacy, where every citizen is unbeholden to tyrannical governments. This was the promise of the Rim, and Rask was immediately under Jak’s spell. 

Rask fought with the Raiders for years, growing more and more competent. Less mascot, more freedom fighter. The Irregulars pirated Confederacy ships in space, destroyed supply lines, stole weapons and vehicles, and in general were a pain in the Confederacy’s ass. These missions grew difficult as the war dragged on and Republic support began to dwindle, while the Confederacy found ways to counter the partisan’s actions. Towards the end, they were little more than bandits. They became indiscriminate with their targets, always on the run, robbing vessels “suspected” of collaborating with the Confederacy and dipping into CIS space to attack soft civilian targets. Some of these raids still haunt Rask. Finally, when the Irregulars were at a breaking point, Jak promised them one last score that would change their fortunes and put them back in the game. 

Republic intelligence had learned of a hidden cache of beskar steel the CIS stole from Mandalore, and the Sepratists planned on using the rare metal to create a brigade of nearly-indestructible droids. After months of searching, the Irregulars, now reduced to just a war-weary few, finally located the treasure deep in CIS space. They assaulted the compound and seized their ill-gotten goods. Rask, along with several others in the party who were skeptical of Jak's leadership, demanded they sell the beskar to the Republic and use the money to repay the civilians they had stolen from. Tempers flared, blasters fired, and all of the "traitors" were killed. Rask was shot in the gut and tossed from the ship's airlock alog with the others, left for dead. He watched the ship dust off and narrowly escaped security forces, limping his way back to the only place he could think of over the course of months.

Back in Greensprings and with his family, Rask sunk into a deep depression. The galaxy burned around them, his friends betrayed him, and he'd been living a lie with bandits and thieves. His grandmother was now the de-facto lawkeeper in Greensprings, and she “deputized” him to assist her in keeping the peace. It wasn’t much work, mostly hauling drunks home from the cantina or settling grazing rights disputes among ranchers, but he felt good doing something that actually helped people after years of misguided idealism. Wanting to atone for his sins, Rask sought out something more. The newly-formed Outer Rim Regulators. 

The Regulators were established a few years after Knightfall, which engulfed the Outer Rim in chaos as any semblance of security and safety they previously enjoyed crumbled. The Regulators were a loose-knit group of legitimate law enforcement agents spread throughout much of the Outer Rim, funded by everyone from small mining settlements to wealthy moisture farmers, tasked with everything from breaking up smuggling rings to investigating disappearances. They took on missions that spanned multiple planets and that a bounty hunter might lack the finesse or profit motive to carry out. Most Outer Rim communities didn't have the means or the need for their own lawman, which is why they chipped in a meager amount to the Regulator’s funds. The organization operated through numerous sectors of the galaxy, independent of any nation. Most governing bodies realized that the Regulators were at the very least an adequate stopgap in maintaining some order in the Rim, at least until they could re-civilize it. So the Regulators operated with impunity on these outback worlds regardless of whose authority they actually fell under, so long as they cooperated with local government. Even the Hutts and Confederacy would allow Regulators to work in their corner of the galaxy if it served their interests. The marshals had a high degree of flexibility and typically worked with little oversight. The pay was bad, the hours long, and the work dangerous. Rask loved it.

Rask's career as a Regulator lasted 20 years. He had his share of triumphs and failures, though the latter grew rare as he went on. Some of the highlights were breaking up a Wookie slaver operation, rescuing a kidnapped water baron’s daughter from pirates, tracking down a band of Republic veterans turned bandits who terrorized CIS civilians, and liberating a town from Confederacy droids that had gone rogue. Rask’s ultimate goal as a Regulator, though, was revenge. Shortly after his betrayal, the Irregulars were branded as outlaws, and a bounty was placed on them by early every government in the galaxy. The remaining members disappeared from the face of the galaxy, though. He was constantly searching for the last dregs of the Irregulars, and he even captured or killed three of them. Still, many more remained, but he dead-set on getting Jak. Revenge threatened to consume him.

It wasn’t until Rask met his future wife that he started to let go of the past. They found eachother in a seedy Outer Rim spaceport cantina as he followed a lead on a member of the Irregulars, both looking for the same droid. She was a grizzled veteran of the Clone Wars, hot on the renegade Raider trail. Mina, a tall, strong Mirialan still fighting the last war and ten years his junior. Both were running themselves ragged to right their wrongs, and both were nearly at their wit’s end. They teamed up and hunted down the rogue droid over the next six months, slowly falling in love as they scoured the galaxy. Once they scrapped Rask's former companion, they finally turned from the past and looked to the future together as a married couple. 

The two moved back to Rask’s family home, much to the delight of his parents, grandparents, and numerous siblings. Greensprings had changed some, but not much. His parents opened up their rehabilitation center for former Jedi and veterans of the Clone Wars, where they all worked to farm, live, and forget the horrors of the past. Rask and Mina started a rach of their own. The work was hard but rewarding, and Rask felt himself finally relaxing, easing into the new lifestyle. Life on the Rim was still tough though, uncivilized and without many amenities. Two years into their marriage, a plague ran rampant through Greensprings. Mina, along with many other offworlders without any immunity to local diseases, died. Rask blamed himself for this, knowing that the planet was often burned through by diseases that Mina would be exposed to. He had wanted to go home, though, and now he paid the price.

Two more years passed as Rask sunk into a malaise. He threw himself into the farm to keep his mind numb. Decaying. It wasn’t until the head of the Regulators reached out to him that he finally returned to the land of the living. Their network of informants heard rumors of another member of his old gang resurfacing, now under a new name and living on Mandalore. Without thinking, Rask put his badge back on to hunt the bastard down.
[/indent][/hider]

[hider=Ellia]
[center][h1][color=goldenrod][s]Lannah Antilles[/s] 
[s]2240[/s] 
Ellia Arrant[/color][/h1]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/tO1uEft.jpg[/img][/center]
[color=goldenrod][b]|[u] {Full Name} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]Ellia “El” Arrant[/indent]
[color=goldenrod][b]|[u] {Age} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]29[/indent]
[color=goldenrod][b]|[u] {Species} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]Human[/indent]
[color=goldenrod][b]|[u] {Gender} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]Female[/indent]
[hr]
[color=goldenrod][b]|[u] {Force Sensitive/Alignment} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]No[/indent]
[color=goldenrod][b]|[u] {Appearance} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]Everything about Ellia speaks to a life that has known more than idle comfort. At 5'7, she is lean and well-muscled, a physique rare among rich Corellians. Ellia's topaz skin is marred with the occasional scar, though these have been treated just enough with bacta to become faint, but still visible. An affectation of sorts. She is rarely without some fresh injury from her travels or other less noble activities. A black eye, bruised cheek, or cut lip are not uncommon marks upon her Ellia's face; they're almost as much a part of Ellia as the constellation of freckles. The numbers 1183 are tattooed in bold, black letters on her collarbone and don't appear to have faded at all. Ellia’s curly and wild dark hair is either pinned up when out in the field or otherwise let loose to take whatever shape it may please. Her dark eyebrows are thick and expressive. They frame soft hazel eyes that catch any light, shifting from brown to green to gold. Ellia's wardrobe is ever changing, ranging from evening gowns to bulky spacesuits, but the iconic look many have seen on the cover of her holobook is a fur-lined pale blue parka and dark pants bearing the Corellian Bloodstripe. 
[/indent]
[color=goldenrod][b]|[u] {Equipment and Personal Belongings} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent][b][i]Sunrider[/i][/b] - A ship designed by Ellia herself, the Sunrider is a sleek, long, narrow, and lightly armored research vessel with quite a bit of giddyup. The ship has few offensive weapons, just a dorsal ion turret and two forward-facing turbolasers mostly used for blasting rocks instead of ships. The Sunrider’s countermeasures are significantly more impressive. Chaff launchers that can damage radar sensors or tractor beams, ventral-mounted seeker warheads to destroy incoming missiles, sensor inverters that release an electromagnetic pulse from a dorsal radar that can redirect missiles, and sensor jammers that can help mask the ship’s signature. The Sunrider is also kitted out with a state-of-the-art deflector shield and hyperdrive. Within its hull, the Sunrider features a science lab, medbay, quarters for eight, a cargo bay packed with vehicles and gear, a kitchen, a sauna, and of course, a full bar. The interior is opulent for a research ship. Ellia spared no expense on her new home. 

[b]Assets[/b] - Ellia’s got some big numbers in her bank account. Not only from her parents, but her own work as an explorer. She’s made some savvy investments as well, and her personal fortune has grown substantially. Ellia has enough to enjoy a quality of life that few in the galaxy would have for the rest of her days, and her investments continue to grow. 

[b]Dasri[/b] - The Sunrider’s mascot of sorts, Dasri is a large, quadrupedal vulpine animal Ellia and her crew found on a tidally locked jungle moon several years ago as a pup. Dasri weighs roughly 150 pounds, with a set of four dark eyes, a coat of short black fur, and bioluminescent quills that run down the creature’s back which change colors based on the creature’s mood. The animal is emotionally intelligent and has bonded with most of the Sunrider’s crew. Surprisingly, Dasri is also an herbivore. 

[hider=Crew]The Sunrider’s crew and fellow members of the Centerpoint Cartographer Lodge are never far from Ellia. A group of misfits even among the Lodge, some have been around longer than others.

[b]Dr. Zarvas Sivron[/b] - Dr. Sivron is a short, slender Twi’lek archeologist with long, pale yellow lekku adorned with ancient relics from her discoveries. Dr. Sivron is well suited to archeology, as the woman is intensely withdrawn and shy, even to her crew. However, she is a brave archeologist, often risking her life for artifacts and delving into crumbling ruins to study them. Dr. Sivron is a superstitious woman and carries with her a variety of trinkets and baubles meant to ward off bad luck. 

[b]Drel Kibul-[/b] Drelis a massive figure, even by Devaronian standards, with brilliantly painted horns and deep red skin. Kibul serves as the Sunrider’s astrophysicist and occasional muscle when the situation calls for it. The closest the Sunrider has to a mad scientist, Kibul is known throughout the scientific community for his truly insane theories on hyperspace’s relation to black holes that border on mysticism, and he insists a breakthrough is just around the corner. Kibul is gregarious, friendly, and something of a womanizer. Drel is the longest-serving member of the Sunrider next to Ellia.

[b]T-3X "Tech"-[/b] An exceptionally talkative piece of machinery, T-3X is a custom-built pilot droid that doubles as the ship’s engineer. The droid loves to gossip about the crew and their activities, but seems to have genuine compassion for his friends. Tech also love to paint, for some reason, and their cramped quarters are filled with half-finished artwork.

[b]Thasero “Thas” Konnar-[/b] The Sunrider’s linguist is a slight Zabarak male with small cranial horns and skin covered in tattoos from numerous cultures. Thas is a laid-back man, too laid back to ever hold down a real job. However, The Sunrider suits him well. He enjoys fully immersing himself in alien cultures, often going “native” for extended periods of time much to the chagrin of his crewmates. Thas always returns though, and always with an entirely new culture and language thoroughly researched. He's recently obtained an extensive cybernetic implant in his skull that allows him to access a vast swath of linguistic databanks in an instant, giving Thas protocol droid-like translation abilities.

[b]Dr. Mara Creel-[/b] The only other Corellian on the Sunrider’s roster, Dr. Creel serves as the ship’s xenobiologist and occasional medic. Though only a few years older than Ellia, she has begrudgingly become a sort of caretaker to the others on the ship, perhaps because she’s the one who frequently patches up their broken bones. She has a calming presence, if a bit snarky, and is the biggest pessimist of the group. Mara has a deep fascination with exotic wildlife, and is part of the reason Dasri is part of the crew in the first place.
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[/indent]
[color=goldenrod][b]|[u] {Physical Abilities} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent][b]Explorer[/b] - Ellia has built a life on her abilities as an adventurer. She posseses a variety of skills in her repertoire, including climbing, mountaineering, diving, swimming, overland hiking, cartography, and so on. Ellia has exceptional physical endurance and is able to push her body well past the point at which others might break. Ellia is arguably one of the most well-traveled living individuals as well, and feels at home in most places throughout the galaxy. She relies on her crew to do much of the heavy lifting when it comes to scientific endeavors, but Ellia knows her way around an archeological dig site or how to make first contact with an isolated tribe unscathed. Mostly. 

[b]Socialite-[/b] Ellia is known throughout the galaxy thanks to her accomplishments as an explorer, and the woman’s popularity is further bolstered by her published accounts and holo-docs of the Sunrider’s adventures. The Corellian governmental propaganda doesn’t hurt, either. For better or for worse, Ellia is instantly recognized by almost anyone who hasn’t been living under a rock. She has a substantial network of local contacts and fixers in most major system as well, and can usually procure whatever she needs on short notice through favors or cold hard credits. 

[b]Corellian Blood-[/b] Some say Corellians have a natural predisposition to a life in space. Ellia thinks this is bullshit. But she does have a knack for ship engineering, having designed a new successful line of cruisers for her parent’s company, and even custom-built her own exploration vessel. She isn’t too bad of a pilot, either. Better at avoiding fire than slagging enemy fighters, though. Ellia can repair a ship in a pinch, but prefers buying shiny new ones instead. 

[b]Fisticuffs[/b]- Ellia is pretty good with her fists and likes to spar with her crew on occasion. Drunken brawl? She’ll likely come out on top. Martial arts competition? Maybe not.
[/indent]

[color=goldenrod][b]|[u] {Limitations} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]
[b]Hard Times[/b] - Ellia’s past haunts her, and the dark shadows of her life manifest themselves as phobias and aversions. She has an intense dislike and distrust of Force users, Jedi, and Togrutas, and will go out of her way to avoid these types. Togrutas, especially, are a major source of discomfort and anxiety for her. She loathes being alone for extended periods of time after a particularly nasty cave-in that left her isolated for a week in the spice mines. Ellia has an intense fear of being restrained, imprisoned, or otherwise confined without means of escape. She’d do practically anything to keep her freedom.

[b]Malaise-[/b] A common affliction of the rich and famous, Ellia feels as though she’s achieved everything she could have wanted and is now simply adrift. There’s a hole inside of her that she tries to fill with money, danger, sex, and drugs, but these are all temporary respites. Close associates noted an increased frequency of erratic behavior, binges, and outbursts of anger.

[b]Noncombatant-[/b] Ellia's familiarity with blasters begins and ends with which end is the dangerous one. She’s shot one a few times, but can’t be expected to hold her own in a firefight using conventional means.

[b]Lies Upon Lies-[/b] Ellia’s entire life is built upon deception and falsehoods. Some are bound to catch up with her.

[/indent]
[hr]
[color=goldenrod][b]|[u] {Personality} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]Those who've read Ellia's accounts see a brave and rebellious adventurer. Those who've met Ellia say she’s a charming and ambitious individual, if a bit rough around the edges. Those who [i]know[/i] Ellia, however, tell a different story. An intoxicating and volatile presence, a whirlwind of a woman whose desires and mood change with the wind. Combine all of these perceptions of Ellia, and you get something close to the truth. But not quite. 

To understand Ellia, one must know that she is a prolific liar, and none know this at all since she is exceptional at it. Her very survival depends on lying, so she must be. Ellia derives no pleasure from these fabrications, only the pleasure of living, and so she does it without thought. She lies about who she is. She lies about who she likes. She lies about what she thinks. Ellia sometimes wonders if she will lose her true self among all the lies.

Ellia is racked by guilt and shame. Ellia, the [i]real[/i] Ellia, had survived in the spice mines for so long, and was killed by a greedy little girl. At first, it had seemed like survival, and she felt no burden. But as Ellia grows older, the weight of her sins grow heavier. The real Ellia's ghost haunts her daily, eating away at her, consuming her. Ellia spends much of her time trying to push the dark thought from her mind.

Ellia is a deeply untrusting person, though does not come off as such. She expects to be betrayed at any moment by any person at any time as a sort of karmic justice for her crime, or believes everyone is capable of the same treachery she once committed. She does little with this distrust except harbor it deep inside herself. Ellia refuses to let anyone in her inner ramparts. Not her “parents”, not her friends, not her crew, and not her lovers. Some can sense this barrier, and those that can Ellia will “let in,” in a sense. Allow them to see the real her. But this, too, is a fabrication. 

Ellia’s rise to stardom was only a consequence of her attempt to distract herself from the past, seeking adventure to drown out the guilt, and soon the act of exploration itself became a compulsion. Though the fame came to her by accident, she does enjoy it to an extent. She enjoys the wealth that came with it, which she sees as the only thing capable of protecting her. She enjoys the freedom it affords her, which she vows never to never lose again. And some small part of her enjoys the recognition she receives because of it, once being a poor girl from a poor family. The free drinks don’t hurt either. 

Ellia can turn on the charm when needed, and she frequently needs to as a public figure. She adopts the persona people want to see, a sort of social shapeshifter. The heroic adventurer, the cunning Corellian patriot, or the exotic damsel. She speaks of what she’s seen, what she’s done, and who she’s met, wowing the rich and powerful of tales from the galaxy's edge. One of the few Corellians without a stick up her ass, they say. She’s played the part so often it has become a part of her. When free from this facade, Ellia is more prone to real emotions. Flirtations. Flashes of anger. Self-loathing. Drinking. A cycle, more often than not. This is as close to the real Ellia as people can get. Many are drawn into the cyclone that is Ellia, and many are happy to drown in it. The fleeting moments of authentic friendship or love Ellia lets slip out keep people around, desperate for another glimpse.

There is a growing feeling of discontent within Ellia though, like a cancer spreading its malicious tendrils. She feels as though she’s done all she can, ran as far as she could from her problems. But even at the edge of the galaxy, Ellia’s mistakes and burdens follow her. She’s not sure how much longer she can continue running before they finally catch up. Her attempts at forgetting the past are growing more and more desperate as she delves deeper into hedonism and self-loathing.

[/indent]
[color=goldenrod][b]|[u] {Place of Origin} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]Ellia was born in 26 BRS in Coronet City's slums on Corellia, but calls the Sunrider home now. 
[/indent]
[color=goldenrod][b]|[u] {Background} [/u]|[/b][/color]
[indent]
Ellia didn’t have much luck when she came into the galaxy. The first name she knew was a poor one, her parents two ship welders living in the lower warrens of Coronet City working for the Arrant Corporation. She was first called Lannah Antilles by them, and though they had very little, they were happy enough.

As the war dragged on, and the demand for Republic ships grew, safety standards in the shipyards plummeted. So too did Lannah’s parents when a fraying cable snapped as they welded plates to a destroyer, and the two fell to their deaths. Lannah was left an orphan with no family. Not knowing what else to do, the child sought work in the shipyards like her parents, employed as a “scrap rat”. She crawled through narrow nooks and crannies of destroyed ships to retrieve valuable raw materials and slept in the stripped skeletons of decimated cruisers. It was dangerous work and it paid little.

Lannah was eight when the coup on Corellia took place. While the regime change itself was bloodless, the same could not be said for those in the lower warrens of Correllia. Crime spiked as opportunistic vultures sought soft targets while the government was busy elsewhere. Lannah and hundreds of other street urchins were kidnapped by a band of slavers and shipped offworld to their new home, the spice mines of Kessel. Here, Lannah came into her second name, one that was tattooed onto her collarbone. 2240.

The shipyards had been tough, but the spice mines were hell. Disease ran rampant through the slaves and mine collapses killed just as many. The sadistic overseers were just as likely to beat their captives to death as they were to work them to death. 2240 was given a vibropick and sent below. The slaves rarely made friends with eachother, knowing they would likely die in just a few months, but 2240 made just a single friend in her time there. Another Correlian, a girl about the same age as her named 1183. The girls looked so similar that they might have been siblings. The only real difference between them being the numbers tattooed on their skin. 2240 showed 1183 how to squeeze through the crumbling mines, and 1183 taught 2240 how to escape the wrath of their cruel overseer, a disgraced Togruta Jedi called Boz.

For an astonishing six years the pair managed to survive in the mines, a feat which seemed to invoke Boz’s wrath. He was increasingly cruel to them, as if their insistence on living was a direct insult to him. Unbeknownst to both 1183 and 2240, tensions were brewing throughout the mine. Supplies started to go missing, blasting gear and weapons. Without warning, the slaves rose up against their masters, killing them with hand and foot, shovels and rocks. 1183 and 2240 were swept up in the rush to the surface where the slaves clashed with armed guards. In a frantic dash, the two girls managed to board a small shuttle that had been loading spice when the revolt erupted. With her life on the line, 2240 managed to get the shuttle off the ground and free from Kessel. As far as they knew, they were the only survivors of the revolt.

With some trial and error, 2240, now Lannah again, managed to punch in the coordinates to the nearest system. Finally free from Kessel, they shared their true names. 1183 was Ellia Arrant, heir to the Arrant Corporation. The same company that owned the shipyards Lannah’s parents worked in and died in. Ellia, too, was kidnapped by slavers, though she hid her true identity for fear they might kill her outright rather than face the wrath of a powerful family. Ellia promised Lannah that once they returned home, she would see Lannah rewarded for her friendship.

But Lannah didn’t want this pittance. She knew what would happen. The elites would give her some shiny metal, and she’d be right back where she started. Slaving away in the shipyards until she died of disease or crushed beneath the bulk of a cruiser. In a fit of fear and anger and desperation, Lannah drove a vibropick through Ellia’s skill and ejected her still-warm body into space.

Months later, Lannah landed on Corellia. Only she was no longer Lannah, but Ellia Arrant, the revenant daughter back from the dead. 

Ellia seemed uncouth and strange to her parents, hardly recognizable, but after eight years in the brutal mines it was to be expected. Ellia still had the same dark hair and hazel eyes, and that was enough. Her older brothers had all died in foolish ways, so Ellia’s parents were just happy to have a child in their home. She was raised like a proper heir to the family fortune, and after some time, grew used to this treatment. For someone with no real education, Ellia did well enough in school. Not top of her class, but her instructors always noted her drive, as if she sought to prove herself. Most scions simply rested on their parent’s laurels, but not Ellia. She took a keen interest in ship design and galactic exploration, constantly studying maps of planets and systems until she knew both every Corellian cruiser and the known galaxy like the back of her hand. 

Once of age and given the typical allowance afforded to wealthy Corellians, Ellia joined the Centerpoint Cartographer Lodge, much to her parent’s chagrin. On its face, the lodge was a multidisciplinary professional society dedicated to archeologists, xenobiologists, geologists, astrophysicists, and other scientists with a taste for exploration. This had once been the case, but in the years since the lodge’s founding, it became little more than a dumping ground for second sons, black sheep, and other wealthy rejects to swap stories of their galactic road-trips with other flunkies. Ellia had other ideas, though. 

With a small crew and the newly-constructed Sunrider, Ellia set out to explore the galaxy both known and unknown, paying little attention to governmental borders or conflict zones. She scoured worlds for novelty, roamed cities, wandered the most remote parts of every continent. Ellia climbed the highest mountains, delved the darkest caves, and dove into the deepest oceans. She chartered undiscovered systems in the galaxy, made first contact with sentient species, unearthed ancient ruins, and countless other accomplishments.

Ellia’s name became known throughout the galaxy for her exploits as an adventurer and explorer, receiving numerous honors from Hegemon Novar himself who called her a “shining example of Corellian exceptionalism.” At the president of the lodge’s urgings, Ellia wrote extensively about her travels and the subsequent books were widely read throughout the galaxy. A holo-doc was filmed shortly after, following the Sunrider and its crew on their adventures, followed by several more. In a meteoric rise, Ellia became one the most famous living Corellians alive. 

Ellia never sought a leadership position in the Centerpoint Cartographer Lodge, but her membership alone transformed the club. New and qualified scientists from all over sought to join, and a competitive entrance exam was put in place. No longer was it a club for rejects, but instead was home to some of the best and brightest the galaxy had to offer, although there is still an element of outcasts and eccentrics to the organization.

The Hegemon took Ellia into his confidence, using her as a diplomatic tool; Corellia was increasingly unpopular in galactic public opinion, and she was sent on occasional “missions” to wine and dine with high-ranking officials and diplomats or take them on trips to exotic and uncharted worlds. She loathed these tasks, but the Hegemon was more than generous with donations to the Lodge and her personal coffers, so it became a necessary evil. 

Ellia’s latest duty is on Mandalore for the 25th Founding, ordered to mingle with the high-society from around the galaxy and show them what [i]real[/i] Corellians were like. 
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