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POOPHEAD189
Name:
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Personality:
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Woorah Sha
Age:
30
Class:
Bounty Hunter / Mercenary / Arsenal
Home Planet:
Ryloth
Appearance:
Woorah stands out in a crowd, not just a a turquoise colored twi'lek, but also because she is an inch shy of being seven feet tall. Despite the tendency for female twi'leks to be sexually objectified, and she certainly could invest in her appearance if she tried, people are usually taken aback when they see her. She's not like most twi'leks; built like some kind of amazonian warrior, her arms, back, abs, and shoulders broad with what must have been a lifetime worth of strength training. Her features are striking, with high pronounce cheekbones creating a sort of shadow over cheeks and giving her face an angular appearance on an otherwise squared shape. A single claw-shaped scar stretches from the bottom of the right side of her jaw to the middle of her cheek. Her eyes contrasts her skin with an intense orange hue and violet colored make up or warpaint covering the whole ocular socket and winging off a little bit down her nose, but far off to the sides of her head by her temple. A similar shade paints her upper lip, but her bottom lip is barren of makeup except for a single stripe running down the center. Woorah's lekku have wavy stripes going down from base to tip, but that is as complex as the pattern goes.
Her demeanor and how she carries herself is rather unusual for the type of image the above description would evoke, though. Her eyelids are usually drooped over her eyes, in a rather bored, uninterested, unimpressed, or apathetic fashion. This does not suggest that she does not feel, though some people might come to think that, but rather she does not wear her emotions on her face and instead has adopted a boring persona. This impeccable poker face is often root of many a hilarious dead-pan remarks and comments at the expense of others, and sometimes her bored, uncaring countenance will be interrupted by an immature smirk once in a while, but usually she just gives the impression that she'd rather not devote too much energy to any particular task and would rather spend her time lazing around. Though the perceptive ones among us would take note that the lazy do not have the build of an alpha kath hound. This goes to tell you that this display of passiveness is a show of deception, and luring the people around her into a false sense of security. Even while she's lazing around, she carries and positions herself carefully like she's expecting trouble – it's the relaxed, disguised poise of a hunter.
Her casual wares is telling, wearing a “keeping it simple” fashion sense with a v-necked white shirt, though a closer inspection reveals that the fabric is duranex, making it lightweight yet cut-resistant. This shirt is tucked into some snug-fitting, padded, synthleather pants. By the time you meet the high-cut boots, it becomes clear that she dresses for practicality, because nobody would take her for a person with a fashion-sense. The only accessories she wears with this outfit is a utility belt, a holster that is strapped to her right thigh, and she wears on her left wrist a wrist link.
When she's wearing her gear, she's a completely different sight. She's decked out in Flex Heavy Armor and a personalized Mandalorian styled helmet, complete with the T-shaped visor, but with two rounded slots in the back to compensate for her lekku. To clarify, this helmet slides right onto her face – she doesn't have to thread her lekku through a couple of holes. To go into detail about what she carries with her besides her two micro-pulse blasters would be a long list of technobabble, but it suffices to say that it comes equipped with a JT-9 jetpack, an adrenaline stimulator belt that acts as a home for grenades and mines, a retractable blade underneath her right wrist, a wrist rocket launcher on both arms, a miniature rail-cannon right behind the launcher on her left arm, and all of the ammunition she needs to make use of her gadgets. She has at her disposal a huge arsenal, and she can't wait to show you what it looks like.
Her demeanor and how she carries herself is rather unusual for the type of image the above description would evoke, though. Her eyelids are usually drooped over her eyes, in a rather bored, uninterested, unimpressed, or apathetic fashion. This does not suggest that she does not feel, though some people might come to think that, but rather she does not wear her emotions on her face and instead has adopted a boring persona. This impeccable poker face is often root of many a hilarious dead-pan remarks and comments at the expense of others, and sometimes her bored, uncaring countenance will be interrupted by an immature smirk once in a while, but usually she just gives the impression that she'd rather not devote too much energy to any particular task and would rather spend her time lazing around. Though the perceptive ones among us would take note that the lazy do not have the build of an alpha kath hound. This goes to tell you that this display of passiveness is a show of deception, and luring the people around her into a false sense of security. Even while she's lazing around, she carries and positions herself carefully like she's expecting trouble – it's the relaxed, disguised poise of a hunter.
Her casual wares is telling, wearing a “keeping it simple” fashion sense with a v-necked white shirt, though a closer inspection reveals that the fabric is duranex, making it lightweight yet cut-resistant. This shirt is tucked into some snug-fitting, padded, synthleather pants. By the time you meet the high-cut boots, it becomes clear that she dresses for practicality, because nobody would take her for a person with a fashion-sense. The only accessories she wears with this outfit is a utility belt, a holster that is strapped to her right thigh, and she wears on her left wrist a wrist link.
When she's wearing her gear, she's a completely different sight. She's decked out in Flex Heavy Armor and a personalized Mandalorian styled helmet, complete with the T-shaped visor, but with two rounded slots in the back to compensate for her lekku. To clarify, this helmet slides right onto her face – she doesn't have to thread her lekku through a couple of holes. To go into detail about what she carries with her besides her two micro-pulse blasters would be a long list of technobabble, but it suffices to say that it comes equipped with a JT-9 jetpack, an adrenaline stimulator belt that acts as a home for grenades and mines, a retractable blade underneath her right wrist, a wrist rocket launcher on both arms, a miniature rail-cannon right behind the launcher on her left arm, and all of the ammunition she needs to make use of her gadgets. She has at her disposal a huge arsenal, and she can't wait to show you what it looks like.
Personality:
Woorah is a little peculiar all things considered, because she doesn't carry herself in a way that would be expected of someone her size, shape, and age. She has mastered her poker face, carrying herself in a rather bored, uncaring, and even lazy manner. Indeed, she comes off to others as a very nonchalant individual and that things will usually work themselves out in the end, and perhaps not the whole presentation is a complete and utter facade and part of her might actually believe that not everything is worth putting all of her energy into. This apparent complacency does not equate to her being hospitable though. Instead, the delivery of the abrasive or blunt nature of her snark comes off as rather deadpan, since emotion is mostly filtered out of her casual everyday interactions. Jaded, uncaring, and seemingly impossible to impress, she mostly seems interested in chewing bubblegum and tinkering around.
That makes it especially hard to notice the other aspects of her personality. Her bluntness, for instance, is far more ingrained in her personality than her stoic presentation is. It's symptomatic of half a life lived while being raised and nurtured by Mandalorians. She speaks her mind and says what she means, always looking others in the eye, but her disposition sometimes makes others wonder if she's just being sarcastic or implying at something else. Which is fine by her, because as far as she cares, she did her job. She spoke her mind and how the other person receives that message isn't her problem. This devil may care attitude serves her well, as it keeps the other person guessing. A stranger being able to predict her is more unsettling than anything else, because she likes having the edge that being hard to read gives her over other people. Whether its one way or another, Woorah likes being in control even if the other party doesn't realize it. Having access to information or munitions unavailable to the other party makes her feel secure just in case she needs make an explosive exit or put the fear of Woorah into some poor bantha fodder.
Naturally, there is a side to her that she keeps to herself and doesn't ever show to anyone who isn't a part of her clan. She has proven to be intensely loyal to those she has devoted herself to protecting. Whether it's her sister or the other Mandalorians, they are her family, and to slight them is to slight Woorah. Though the years of discipline and number of firefights she has been in has steeled her nerves, tempered her resolve, and stoked her tenacity, she is not beyond losing her cool and tossing aside her poker face if it's in the name of survival or the absolute annihilation of her enemies. This telling emotional intensity can be counter-productive, making her easily readable and possibly manipulated, so she keeps this vulnerability under wraps as best she can. She rationalizes that if she can keep her emotions hidden, the enemy can't control them, which means to her that she's the one in control. Though it isn't readily apparent, love has actually been one of her greatest motivators in life.
Her relationship with the Mandalorians, and their multi-ethnic culture, means that she mostly doesn't suffer from racial prejudices – mostly. She still finds herself filled with hatred when she sees a Gamorrean or a Hutt, or any slaver, and heedful with Trandoshans at best. While there were one or two of the latter among their ranks, and they were the exception – not the rule. Her life philosophies reflect the philosophies taught in the Resol'nare and Canons of Honor. To live honestly and with honor, to seek glory in battle, and to be Mandalorian meant to readily die in the stead of a loved one. Though recently she has come in conflict with her code of honor; she is not sure if she could truly answer the Mandalore's call to arms if it meant potentially meeting her sister on the battlefield. She also wondered what it meant to be a leader. If the Mandalore did indeed lose to Exar Kun or whomever else, would they be a leader worth following if they dishonored themselves and all Mandalorians by dedicating the entire clan to another man's cause? A man who was not even Mandalorian?
Woorah, might not show it, but she has grown to be insightful, cunning, and acutely aware of her surroundings even if she might feign ignorance. She's intelligent enough to understand complex tactics and the construction and chemistry behind high-tech explosives and propulsion technology, and is a decent enough mechanic to perform some simple maintenance on her small freighter. At her best, Woorah is devoted and honest, but at her worst, she can be callous and volatile.
That makes it especially hard to notice the other aspects of her personality. Her bluntness, for instance, is far more ingrained in her personality than her stoic presentation is. It's symptomatic of half a life lived while being raised and nurtured by Mandalorians. She speaks her mind and says what she means, always looking others in the eye, but her disposition sometimes makes others wonder if she's just being sarcastic or implying at something else. Which is fine by her, because as far as she cares, she did her job. She spoke her mind and how the other person receives that message isn't her problem. This devil may care attitude serves her well, as it keeps the other person guessing. A stranger being able to predict her is more unsettling than anything else, because she likes having the edge that being hard to read gives her over other people. Whether its one way or another, Woorah likes being in control even if the other party doesn't realize it. Having access to information or munitions unavailable to the other party makes her feel secure just in case she needs make an explosive exit or put the fear of Woorah into some poor bantha fodder.
Naturally, there is a side to her that she keeps to herself and doesn't ever show to anyone who isn't a part of her clan. She has proven to be intensely loyal to those she has devoted herself to protecting. Whether it's her sister or the other Mandalorians, they are her family, and to slight them is to slight Woorah. Though the years of discipline and number of firefights she has been in has steeled her nerves, tempered her resolve, and stoked her tenacity, she is not beyond losing her cool and tossing aside her poker face if it's in the name of survival or the absolute annihilation of her enemies. This telling emotional intensity can be counter-productive, making her easily readable and possibly manipulated, so she keeps this vulnerability under wraps as best she can. She rationalizes that if she can keep her emotions hidden, the enemy can't control them, which means to her that she's the one in control. Though it isn't readily apparent, love has actually been one of her greatest motivators in life.
Her relationship with the Mandalorians, and their multi-ethnic culture, means that she mostly doesn't suffer from racial prejudices – mostly. She still finds herself filled with hatred when she sees a Gamorrean or a Hutt, or any slaver, and heedful with Trandoshans at best. While there were one or two of the latter among their ranks, and they were the exception – not the rule. Her life philosophies reflect the philosophies taught in the Resol'nare and Canons of Honor. To live honestly and with honor, to seek glory in battle, and to be Mandalorian meant to readily die in the stead of a loved one. Though recently she has come in conflict with her code of honor; she is not sure if she could truly answer the Mandalore's call to arms if it meant potentially meeting her sister on the battlefield. She also wondered what it meant to be a leader. If the Mandalore did indeed lose to Exar Kun or whomever else, would they be a leader worth following if they dishonored themselves and all Mandalorians by dedicating the entire clan to another man's cause? A man who was not even Mandalorian?
Woorah, might not show it, but she has grown to be insightful, cunning, and acutely aware of her surroundings even if she might feign ignorance. She's intelligent enough to understand complex tactics and the construction and chemistry behind high-tech explosives and propulsion technology, and is a decent enough mechanic to perform some simple maintenance on her small freighter. At her best, Woorah is devoted and honest, but at her worst, she can be callous and volatile.
History:
The Outer Rim planet of Ryloth was not home to many of the same luxuries that were afforded to the Core worlds, and given it's inhospitable environment of ripe volcanic activity and thick jungles filled with dangerous predators, it was also a risky investment for Imperial activity. With no major government keeping a close eye on the twi'lek home planet, this left it available to those who would exploit its resources and its people: the Hutts. Though it has been a target for so long, the Sha family stayed safe in the damp underground and never thought that it would ever happen to them. Unga'rasha and Ani'sha, her father and mother, cultivated edible fungi and made textiles to provide for their clan. There wasn't much time in her childhood for their parenting style or their philosophies to leave a mark on Woo'rasha and her younger sister, Allu'rasha, before they were dragged from their homes by Hutt cartel slavers with their mother. Trandoshans and Gamorreans sacked their home and when their father tried to defend them, a blaster bolt sent him dropping to the floor like a sack of bricks. Combined with brute force, they had broken their mother's fighting spirit and she allowed not just herself to be taken, but her children too. Woo'rasha was old enough to understand what was happening, and when she saw her mother give up, she felt betrayed.
Ani'sha was separated from her children and was probably sent to some backwater planet to act as some Hutt's trophy. It's difficult to say exactly where – Woo'rasha never saw her since then. She never committed herself to trying to get her back, accepting her fate like her mother did theirs when the three were first abducted from Ryloth, but that was also all the time she had to think on the matter. The cartel was keen on breaking the children to become subservient to their new Hutt master, Kabbura, on Nar Shaddaa. They knew better than to beat or whip them – you can't leave lasting marks on the merchandise after all... especially with the Cultural Exchange Festival coming soon. It was a series of days that came every couple of years where the merchants and traders would come to Nar Shaddaa to trade in exotic materials and products with one another, and there was a market for everything. Kaburra was of the mind that he would rent out some of his slaves for a night, and two young Ryloth-born twi'leks were bound to be popular with the other unlawful types. They were both above the average height – that must have meant that they were passable.
So instead they poked and prodded them with force pikes. Woo'rasha was the one between the two who gave them the most trouble, helplessly trying to defend her younger sister. It is entirely possible that her sister would have broken and succumbed were it not for her trying her damnedest to keep her together, but her younger sister was always the insightful and intuitive one. She was the one to tell her when she shouldn't fight back, as though she could see something Woo'rasha couldn't. The they were both too young and not matured enough for most people to try taking advantage of them, but that didn't stop Kabbura from parading two young twi'lek girls around like they were trophies.
Despite Woo'rasha's fighting spirit, she still felt afraid, and meeting Kabbura for the first time had put the fear of God in her. Whatever she did to the guards before, she never tried laying a single finger on the Hutt. Woo'rasha and Allu'rasha spent years grovelling underneath Kabbura's slimy thumb. While the older sister spent every waking moment she could wracking her mind to come up with a way to escape (that is, when the Hutt's enforcers weren't trying to beat her and make an example of her), the younger one had just about given up.
When the Cultural Exchange Festival finally arrived, Woo was 14 years old and Allu was 10, and though Woo was older, her temperament discouraged anyone who would be interested in renting her from Kaburra for a night. Allu, on the other hand, was far more... submissive. Thus began the most frightening and fury-filled night of Woo'rasha's life. She spat and fought, bit and raged against her captors, and was prodded and stunned by force pikes only to start fighting again as soon as she finally regained consciousness. It was beginning to anger Kaburra. One of the most important events of the decade, and one of his products was beginning to cost him! Who knows what he would have done to her, if a particular group of men in suits of armor hadn't come to watch her fight and spit. They were amused, watching her like it was some kind of show. When the spit came flying their way, one of the dissatisfied men violently kicked her down to the ground, but it wasn't enough to stop someone who was already hardened by years of abuse. Another person entering the fray was exactly the type of distraction she needed, for while she was on the ground, she used her feet to pull the bottom of a Gamorrean's force pike towards her and kicked it into the bruiser's face.
With the pike still on its stun setting, it was enough send the Gamorrean falling over and convulsing for a few moments. Woo'rasha scrambled to try wrapping her chains around its neck until the other Gamorrean at her side yanked harshly on them from behind and sent her flying back. The guard promptly set its foot on top of her to keep her from moving while it prodded her with its own force pike over and over again on a lower setting. The armored men's amusement were replaced with surprised satisfaction, as though they were impressed – they agreed to ask for the Gamorrean to stop and to lead them to Kaburra. Woo'rasha, still chained, was dragged with them to meet her Hutt master. There, the men introduced themselves as Mandalorians, and the senior among them was named Garter Oai, who offered to buy the young twi'lek's freedom. It wasn't a hard trade on Kaburra's part at all, for it was either to hold onto a slave girl that couldn't be easily controlled or make him any money, or to make some profit now and cut his losses. The two parties agreed on a price, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt her shackles come off.
It didn't stop Woo'rasha from fighting, however. As far as she was concerned she was trading one master for another, and more importantly, they were going to leave her sister behind. She kicked and screamed, refusing to be taken again, believing that the freedom they bought her was an illusion. Finally, they relented. They asked, “Who's your sister, girl?”
“Allu'rasha.” She answered. “I'm Woo'rasha.”
They allowed her to lead them to where they were usually kept, and it took some time for her sister to return. When she did, she was escorted by a single Gamorrean, and shuffled along the ground. Her eyes were aimed the ground, dispirited, and avoided eye contact. She was more submissive, yes, but this? This was different. It looked like she lost any hope of fighting back, even while presented with the opportunity to leave. Woo had no idea what she suffered while she was gone, but whatever it was, it must have been terrible. The Mandalorians looked on with pity.
They told her they couldn't take her. Naturally, they were met with indignation, but they explained; it was because they were Mandalorians that they could not take her. They were a culture of warriors, and someone whose spirit was already so broken could never hope to survive their way of life. In addition, she was wrapped around Kaburra the Hutt's finger, and he would not be so keen on losing her too. It costed them enough to get one of them out of slavery as it was. Though she was still angry, it was the prodding of Allu'rasha that convinced her. Woo's younger sister told her to leave while she had the chance, and when she was stronger, Woo could come back for her. They shared a heartfelt goodbye and a hug, and Woo'rasha found herself stepping onto a G-Type light shuttle and flew off world for the first time in what felt like... forever. Garter Oai tried to ease the tension on board by half-halfheartedly offering her a chewstim.
The life ahead of her would be rough grueling – she would become acquainted with the best and the worst the Mandalorians had to offer her, but the one who had saved her, Garter Oai, would be the one that would teach her all of life's basics, especially including survival and combat. This new life began as soon as her feet touched the ground on world of Mandalore. The planet was varied in its different environments, with white-sand deserts near the equator and massive forests to the north, and when Mandalore couldn't provide, she would be shipped to the orbiting moon of Concordia, covered in thick forests – though some spots were stripped down for mining at this point of time, it was still dangerous enough with the local fauna that she would get a nice scar on the right side of her face from a maalraas.
The trials ahead of her consisted of being forced to fend for herself in the wilderness, being thrown into intense obstacle courses, enduring the elements, strength and endurance training, weapon training, computer usage, repair, first aid, and so on. Some training exercises required her to react almost instantly, conditioning the instinct to draw her weapon or parry an attack at a moment's notice, even if you've no reason to suspect it. She was rated on how quickly she could draw her beskar blade – Mandalorian iron – at the sound of a force pike or other similar weapon being activated behind her back at random times. The sound was a familiar one to her, and it often evoked a quick reaction from her, but it's true purpose was to simulate a fight with a Sith or Jedi, who were regarded to be one of the strongest opponents.
Some exercises were especially brutal. Not just physically, but mentally. They sought to condition her in almost every way.
“What's your name?!” Garter yelled at her while she exercised in the midst of a tropical storm.
“Woo'rasha!” She'd yell back.
“Wrong!” He'd shout, kicking her in the ribs. She couldn't tell if the crack came from her ribs or the distant thunder. When she fell over, they'd tell her to get back up. The hutts and slavers never wanted her to get back up, they didn't encourage perseverance. They would then continue, “Your father died shamefully and your mother left you for dead! Why do you cling to your old clan? Your clan is nothing! You owe nothing! You're a Mandalorian now! What's your name?!”
“Woorah! Sha!” She'd answer.
“What's your name?!”
“Woorah! Sha!”
The conjoining of a twi'lek's personal and clan name was meant to signify unity. To break them apart was to be dishonored or exiled. While she was not exiled or dishonored in the truest sense, she was dishonored by her own family, and to be left for dead could be a form of exile. This way, Woorah severed her own connection to her former clan. She was in the Mandalorian clan now – that's all that mattered. They drilled her on the Canons of Honor and rules of battle, what it meant to be strong and what it meant to be a Mandalorian; the Six Actions. She spoke the language, wore the armor, and acted for the sake of the clan. Though she soon found herself at home here, she was told to never reveal to an enemy or potential enemy what you're thinking. If you keep them guessing, they won't be able to predict what your next move will be. So she began practicing her poker face. She wasn't very good at it.
She even learned from weapon smiths, and found her talent in the chemistry of demolition. They volatile reactions and how to control or provoke them came naturally to her, and she found herself helping them make everything from fireworks to land mines and jump packs. There were some close calls, but she dedicated enough time with the weapon smiths to build a small usable arsenal from dumb rockets to the higher tech remotely-detonated magnetic darts, becoming one of the clan's demolition experts. Over the course of five years of dedicated every day training, she was, for all intents and purposes, a Mandalorian.
Her first mission would be at the age of 19, and her first mission would be at the historical Battle of Iskadrell. The Mandalorian Crusaders raided the cyborg slavers, and leading their ranks was Mandalore the Indomitable himself, piloting their personal basilisk war droid. His power and prowess in battle was unmatched, cutting down swathes of the enemy forces single-handedly in an unparalleled display of martial prowess. If the zealotry of the crusaders weren't enough, the Mandalore leading the spearhead was bolstered their spirits even further. To them, the battle was nothing more but an exercise. To some, a statement. Others found nothing but honor in the glory of combat, and while Woorah too found herself caught up in the exhilaration of the fight – ripping holes through all of her enemies with her repeating heavy blaster, blasting and tearing them apart with her vibroblade and home-cooked explosives – it was the liberation and conversion of thousands of slaves that she found most worthwhile. Not only did it give the battle a purpose, to her it also felt like a taste of revenge against those who would practice slavery. In her eyes, it made the honor and spilled blood of their glorious victory taste even sweeter.
Hell, she even wanted a tattoo to commemorate the occasion, which most if not all Mandalorians respect, but Garter was a fussy adoptive dad of sorts. He pressed to minimize the number of permanent markers as much as possible. Woorah reluctantly conceded.
The many following years of her life would be filled with such battles, triumphs and defeats alike, but they never cowed in the faced of adversity and that's what kept their battles from being true defeats. It was shortly after the Battle of Iskadrell, now a blooded Mandalorian, did she ship out to return to Nar Shaddaa five years after she had initially left. She had two Mandalorians at her back in case things went south: Suna and Rayton, Mandalorians of her generations. The clan as a whole did not seek an all-out war between the trade planet and the many different cartels of Hutts that called it their home, but Woorah was following one of the Six Actions in defending her family, even if that family member was not one of the Mandalorians. Technically, there was no strict rule against it. If she were to fail here, it meant that the clan was obligated to back her up, and that meant war with all the Hutt cartels allied with Nar Shaddaa.
When she finally arrived and came face to face with Kaburra the Hutt once more, it took everything she had to keep herself from trying to kill him as he condescended to her. Mocked and belittled her as the same scared child that left him that day, and sarcastically commented on how glad he was to see her so grown up and strong, and that it was like watching his own children come of age. He continued to give her the run around when all she wanted to know was where her little sister was, until he was finally satisfied with exacting the kind of emotional response he wanted to get out of Woorah.
“She left me,” he said, “shortly after you did. Some men in robes asked for her, proposed a gamble I couldn't refuse.”
Though there was a look of desolation on her face, there was also a spark of hope. She wasn't here, but that wasn't a bad thing. Anywhere would be better than being a slave on this garbage planet.
Kaburra continued, “I don't like cheaters, so worry not Woo'rasha, I do intend on taking her back.”
Her hand immediately reached for the blaster pistol at her side, prompting all of the bodyguards in the room to draw their own weapons – and one of the Mandalorians at her side, Rayton, set his hand on hers, keeping her from drawing her weapon.
“That's all we came for.” He calmly reminded her. The twi'lek sighed out her frustration and nodded, leaving Kaburra alone in his chamber. He heard him call out after her, “If you ever come back here again, know that you'll never leave.”
The most she could hope for her sister from that moment was that wherever she was now, she was living a better life or that her suffering had ended. The brutal life of being a Mandalorian had her come to acknowledge and appreciate the brevity of life, and death was simply one part of it. She moved forward with her sister in mind, and though she was prepared for the worst, hoped that she may once again see her in the future. After seven years of many trials and hardships and stories to tell, fighting everything from beasts to battles and raids, she would get her wish at the age of 26.
Preceding the events that ignited the Great Sith War were years of boiling tension and preparations – the actions of Exar Kun and Ulric-Qel Droma were inciting unrest among countless factions across the galaxy. Some societies, like the Mandalorians, could practically smell war coming. It was a like a fog rolling across the stars, or a smoke billowing from a small handful of kindling. There were preparations to be made on their part as well if they were to play a part in the events to come. One such place where they could possibly use one of the Sith's ancient weapons against them was Malachor V, a planet that was deemed sacred by the Mandalorians, and mythed to be one of the locations for the originating Sith temples. Her clan sought to be the ones to prove the fact and Woorah was one of the ones who volunteered to find them. They were warned to come fully geared just in case, so she did just that. Covered in Flex Heavy Armor, sporting her jet-pack, armed to the teeth with wrist launchers and home-made demolitions, a couple of blaster pistols, and so on. There was a reason why she was famed in the clan for being a walking arsenal.
Unexpectedly, the fertile planet was lush, hospitable, and surprisingly devoid of any “crazy, unsettling, Dark-side voodoo magic” as the Mandalorians called it. No sign of civilization. There wasn't even a large abundance of predators, and their comlinks weren't suffering any interference, which was enough to convince the warriors that it was safe enough to split up to cover more ground. Woorah went ahead on her own to search the forest floor for any sign of an ancient civilization. She felt the tip of her boot hit a rock and she looked down –
The electrical sound of a weapon ignited nearby, and instantly, Woorah reacted with a retractable beskar blade ejecting from the underarm of her armor. She spun around and the blade immediately came into contact with a brilliant blue beam of light. Sparks flew between her blade and a lightsaber. Woorah had no time to get a visual on her assailant before they leaped away, but they were obviously a Jedi of some sort, and judging by the distance they put between them, they must have been alarmed by the fact that their weapon didn't immediately slice her in twain. It was that distance that helped her attacker to avoid an energy bolt that came screaming from the blaster in Woorah's other hand. The Jedi was swift and nimble, far more than Woorah was while covered in all of her armor and gear. They came flying at Woorah's back, so she activated her jetpack to send a rush of blistering hot fire and exhaust towards the Jedi's face, causing them to rear back just long enough for the propulsion to turn Woorah around while she was in the air so that she could face them directly –
That face... she'd know that deep ocean-blue face and elaborate lekku pattern anywhere.
Her moment of hesitation was enough to allow the Jedi to close the gap and swing an upward swipe towards Woorah as she landed, who only came to her senses just fast enough to narrowly avoid the lightsaber – but her helmet was scored up the center. The armor fell apart, revealing her face to Woorah's attacker. Revealing her face to Allu'rasha. Her face was stunned and speechless, her mouth agape, and Allu'rasha met her with an expression that was none too different.
“Allu'rasha...” Woorah said breathlessly, still not believing her eyes.
“Woo...” Her sister replied. Her body was covered in the iconic coarseweave tunic, but were dark brown in color and was lacking the tunic. Her pants were tucked into some black boots, and she wore a dark colored tunic. Woorah wasn't quite sure what she was seeing. Based on the illustrations she has seen, the way she dressed resembled both Jedi and Sith, but her lightsaber was definitively blue. The lightsaber itself was then suddenly deactivated. Alarmingly, the tone of Allu'rasha's voice suddenly sounded harsh as she asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I... ought to ask the same of you.” Woorah answered with some confusion. There was a sort of serenity in her sister's voice that she never remembered hearing before, although it almost sounded strained, as if she wasn't accustomed to using it. “What are you? A Jedi?”
“Yes...” She answered with some reluctance. Then she pointed towards the rock that Woorah had stepped on earlier. “And I came for that.”
Upon closer inspection, the partially buried rock had engravings upon the surface. Before Woorah had any time to even contemplate the discovery, the lightsaber ignited once again, and burned a hole straight into the ground. When the lightsaber turned off, the stone was destroyed and whatever script that was on it before was either gone or illegible.
“What was that for?” Woorah demanded. “And for a Jedi, you were awfully quick to try killing me.”
“I didn't know it was you!” Allu'rasha refuted. “The Jedi has its need for shadows, and Sith relics like these and those who seek to use them must be destroyed. The real question is why are you looking for them?”
“To fight the Sith, of course. Rumor has it there's a war brewing, haven't you heard?”
“Oh, Woo'rasha...” Her sister sighed.
“It's Woorah now.” She corrected.
“...What?” Allu'rasha spat, looking insulted. “Have you lost your senses?”
“Have you?” Woorah shot back. “Father died like a coward. Mother gave up on us. Why would you want to hold onto that? That sorry excuse of a clan did nothing for you or me, but the Mandalorians did everything.”
“Not for me.” Allu'rasha said. “But you did. That's why I kept it.”
“But Allura has such a pretty ring to it.”
“Don't... call me that.” Her sister said gravely at first, but then she sighed. Shaking her head, she took a few steps back. From that moment, a voice from Woorah's wristcom crackled to life.
“Sol`yc Ver`alor Woorah Sha, this is Alor`ad Garter Oai reporting in – nothing here to the west. What's your status? Over.”
Allu'rasha's voice called out to Woorah before she could answer, “I can't... let you do this to me. I can't allow myself to be compromised, but I need you to listen to me: there are events unfolding that you can't foresee. When the time for your battle does come, your Mandalore will not be able to defeat Exar Kun. The Mandalorians – your... people are already fetishizing the dark side's power. Whatever you do... just please promise me that you won't pick the wrong side.”
Woorah hesitated for a few seconds, wondering if she should be honest to her captain or if she should lie to him for her sister's sake. It was an excruciating few seconds until she made her decision.
“Negative, nothing to report. This place is a dump.”
“Ten-four, we'll rally back to the rendezvous point and try to find another location. Over and out.”
Following the exchange on the comlinks, there was a few awkward moments of silence shared between the two sisters. A few off glances, especially for Woorah, who was so used to looking every one of her clan members in the eye and speaking her mind directly. Finally, their eyes locked together.
“Nice moves.” Woorah commented dryly.
“You too.”
“Where'd you get them?”
“My master. Temple instructors. They found me not even a year after you left. You?”
“Right... Mandalorians. Battles. Fist fighting wild animals.”
“Right...”
“Freed some slaves on Iskadrell, too.” Woo added.
“I wondered if you were there. Sounds like something you'd do.”
“Allu... rasha...” Woorah began, “...will I see you again?”
Her sister took a deep breath and pondered the question for a moment before saying, “That will depend on you.”
Allu'rasha suddenly disappeared, as if vanishing into thin air, but the rustle of the grass gave her away. To think that her sister had been adopted by the Jedi after all this time, and now she had her cool new weapons and crazy space magic. It would take some time to get used to, but so would her new disposition. She was never the type to fight, let alone make a first strike. She was never the type to sound so confident... or so wise... and it got Woorah thinking about the warning her sister made about picking the wrong side. She wasn't sure if she meant the wrong side for herself or simply the side that was the opposite of her sister. It would require some extensive thought. She didn't feel like she could just leave the clan on a whim, but it was surprising how her sister was able to make her doubt everything so easily.
She wasn't wrong, though. The clan seemed convinced that this power was their answer to winning.
Woorah returned to the rendezvous point and they eventually returned home with no results. They questioned why she was missing her helmet, but she shrugged them off by saying the damn thing hasn't been fitting her right for a while and she got frustrated with it; but if there was ever a Sith temple on this planet, they couldn't find it. They thought that it had to be invisible or long gone by now, but the guilt of lying ate at her a little bit. She hid her feelings with a stoic poker face, mastered over many years of practice, and went back to business as usual. Except it wasn't business as usual. The next two years were spent critically analyzing her clan with the echoes of her sister's warning ringing in her head.
She watched and listened, payed attention to the politics of Mandalorian leadership that she payed no heed to before – so many of them talked about the honor it would be to fight with a “Not Jedi”; a Sith. A Jedi too, perhaps, but the Sith were closer to their way of life. Seeking power to fulfill victory, and what a grand duel it would be... but Woorah realized that if any of the Sith were any stronger with their Force powers and lightsaber skills than her sister was, then none of them stood a chance. Exar Kun? Allura was convinced that even Mandalore the Indomitable couldn't beat them. What would that mean for Woorah? Would she have to fight her sister? If she joined her side, she'd have to fight her clan, and that wasn't an option either. She never thought about the consequences of losing or fighting a battle like this before. There seemed to be so few choice available and the time remaining until the impending war boiled over was running short.
When she was 28, she finally talked to her clan. She explained that after spending fourteen long years learning all she could about how to be a proper Mandalorian and finding glory in the name of the clan, she thought that it finally came time for her to see more of the galaxy. See new planets and the kind of people they offered her. It may be her last chance to see it before the next big war spills over and destroys all of it. She was surprised to find out that her clan was supportive of her decision. Individuality was important after all, and the only condition was to answer the Mandalore's call when the time comes. Right. The Resol'nare. She accepted, not sure if she be true to her word, and bid her goodbyes before taking to the stars with her clan's parting gift: a Plug-6 heavy fighter. Although it was small and somewhat cramped if holding more than a few people, it packed a bunch firepower in its small size and was still a suitable freighter for storing the belongings of a nuclear family.
The past two years have been spent exploring the galaxy, getting into trouble, and working odd jobs until she got into bounty hunting. It was the kind of work that put her skill-set to good use and was able to give her a reputation, though muddied it may be. She's not clean, but she guarantees that she can get the job done. Now 30 years old, she has left her mark from the Outer Rim to Core Worlds, done work on remote worlds like Kashyyk and Malastare, and has made contact with some interesting friends. Among her recent associations is an old wookie matron probably gone senile and a sardonic dug engineer with a god complex. She was curious to see what kind of people that galaxy had to show her, and oh boy, did the galaxy not disappoint.
Ani'sha was separated from her children and was probably sent to some backwater planet to act as some Hutt's trophy. It's difficult to say exactly where – Woo'rasha never saw her since then. She never committed herself to trying to get her back, accepting her fate like her mother did theirs when the three were first abducted from Ryloth, but that was also all the time she had to think on the matter. The cartel was keen on breaking the children to become subservient to their new Hutt master, Kabbura, on Nar Shaddaa. They knew better than to beat or whip them – you can't leave lasting marks on the merchandise after all... especially with the Cultural Exchange Festival coming soon. It was a series of days that came every couple of years where the merchants and traders would come to Nar Shaddaa to trade in exotic materials and products with one another, and there was a market for everything. Kaburra was of the mind that he would rent out some of his slaves for a night, and two young Ryloth-born twi'leks were bound to be popular with the other unlawful types. They were both above the average height – that must have meant that they were passable.
So instead they poked and prodded them with force pikes. Woo'rasha was the one between the two who gave them the most trouble, helplessly trying to defend her younger sister. It is entirely possible that her sister would have broken and succumbed were it not for her trying her damnedest to keep her together, but her younger sister was always the insightful and intuitive one. She was the one to tell her when she shouldn't fight back, as though she could see something Woo'rasha couldn't. The they were both too young and not matured enough for most people to try taking advantage of them, but that didn't stop Kabbura from parading two young twi'lek girls around like they were trophies.
Despite Woo'rasha's fighting spirit, she still felt afraid, and meeting Kabbura for the first time had put the fear of God in her. Whatever she did to the guards before, she never tried laying a single finger on the Hutt. Woo'rasha and Allu'rasha spent years grovelling underneath Kabbura's slimy thumb. While the older sister spent every waking moment she could wracking her mind to come up with a way to escape (that is, when the Hutt's enforcers weren't trying to beat her and make an example of her), the younger one had just about given up.
When the Cultural Exchange Festival finally arrived, Woo was 14 years old and Allu was 10, and though Woo was older, her temperament discouraged anyone who would be interested in renting her from Kaburra for a night. Allu, on the other hand, was far more... submissive. Thus began the most frightening and fury-filled night of Woo'rasha's life. She spat and fought, bit and raged against her captors, and was prodded and stunned by force pikes only to start fighting again as soon as she finally regained consciousness. It was beginning to anger Kaburra. One of the most important events of the decade, and one of his products was beginning to cost him! Who knows what he would have done to her, if a particular group of men in suits of armor hadn't come to watch her fight and spit. They were amused, watching her like it was some kind of show. When the spit came flying their way, one of the dissatisfied men violently kicked her down to the ground, but it wasn't enough to stop someone who was already hardened by years of abuse. Another person entering the fray was exactly the type of distraction she needed, for while she was on the ground, she used her feet to pull the bottom of a Gamorrean's force pike towards her and kicked it into the bruiser's face.
With the pike still on its stun setting, it was enough send the Gamorrean falling over and convulsing for a few moments. Woo'rasha scrambled to try wrapping her chains around its neck until the other Gamorrean at her side yanked harshly on them from behind and sent her flying back. The guard promptly set its foot on top of her to keep her from moving while it prodded her with its own force pike over and over again on a lower setting. The armored men's amusement were replaced with surprised satisfaction, as though they were impressed – they agreed to ask for the Gamorrean to stop and to lead them to Kaburra. Woo'rasha, still chained, was dragged with them to meet her Hutt master. There, the men introduced themselves as Mandalorians, and the senior among them was named Garter Oai, who offered to buy the young twi'lek's freedom. It wasn't a hard trade on Kaburra's part at all, for it was either to hold onto a slave girl that couldn't be easily controlled or make him any money, or to make some profit now and cut his losses. The two parties agreed on a price, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt her shackles come off.
It didn't stop Woo'rasha from fighting, however. As far as she was concerned she was trading one master for another, and more importantly, they were going to leave her sister behind. She kicked and screamed, refusing to be taken again, believing that the freedom they bought her was an illusion. Finally, they relented. They asked, “Who's your sister, girl?”
“Allu'rasha.” She answered. “I'm Woo'rasha.”
They allowed her to lead them to where they were usually kept, and it took some time for her sister to return. When she did, she was escorted by a single Gamorrean, and shuffled along the ground. Her eyes were aimed the ground, dispirited, and avoided eye contact. She was more submissive, yes, but this? This was different. It looked like she lost any hope of fighting back, even while presented with the opportunity to leave. Woo had no idea what she suffered while she was gone, but whatever it was, it must have been terrible. The Mandalorians looked on with pity.
They told her they couldn't take her. Naturally, they were met with indignation, but they explained; it was because they were Mandalorians that they could not take her. They were a culture of warriors, and someone whose spirit was already so broken could never hope to survive their way of life. In addition, she was wrapped around Kaburra the Hutt's finger, and he would not be so keen on losing her too. It costed them enough to get one of them out of slavery as it was. Though she was still angry, it was the prodding of Allu'rasha that convinced her. Woo's younger sister told her to leave while she had the chance, and when she was stronger, Woo could come back for her. They shared a heartfelt goodbye and a hug, and Woo'rasha found herself stepping onto a G-Type light shuttle and flew off world for the first time in what felt like... forever. Garter Oai tried to ease the tension on board by half-halfheartedly offering her a chewstim.
The life ahead of her would be rough grueling – she would become acquainted with the best and the worst the Mandalorians had to offer her, but the one who had saved her, Garter Oai, would be the one that would teach her all of life's basics, especially including survival and combat. This new life began as soon as her feet touched the ground on world of Mandalore. The planet was varied in its different environments, with white-sand deserts near the equator and massive forests to the north, and when Mandalore couldn't provide, she would be shipped to the orbiting moon of Concordia, covered in thick forests – though some spots were stripped down for mining at this point of time, it was still dangerous enough with the local fauna that she would get a nice scar on the right side of her face from a maalraas.
The trials ahead of her consisted of being forced to fend for herself in the wilderness, being thrown into intense obstacle courses, enduring the elements, strength and endurance training, weapon training, computer usage, repair, first aid, and so on. Some training exercises required her to react almost instantly, conditioning the instinct to draw her weapon or parry an attack at a moment's notice, even if you've no reason to suspect it. She was rated on how quickly she could draw her beskar blade – Mandalorian iron – at the sound of a force pike or other similar weapon being activated behind her back at random times. The sound was a familiar one to her, and it often evoked a quick reaction from her, but it's true purpose was to simulate a fight with a Sith or Jedi, who were regarded to be one of the strongest opponents.
Some exercises were especially brutal. Not just physically, but mentally. They sought to condition her in almost every way.
“What's your name?!” Garter yelled at her while she exercised in the midst of a tropical storm.
“Woo'rasha!” She'd yell back.
“Wrong!” He'd shout, kicking her in the ribs. She couldn't tell if the crack came from her ribs or the distant thunder. When she fell over, they'd tell her to get back up. The hutts and slavers never wanted her to get back up, they didn't encourage perseverance. They would then continue, “Your father died shamefully and your mother left you for dead! Why do you cling to your old clan? Your clan is nothing! You owe nothing! You're a Mandalorian now! What's your name?!”
“Woorah! Sha!” She'd answer.
“What's your name?!”
“Woorah! Sha!”
The conjoining of a twi'lek's personal and clan name was meant to signify unity. To break them apart was to be dishonored or exiled. While she was not exiled or dishonored in the truest sense, she was dishonored by her own family, and to be left for dead could be a form of exile. This way, Woorah severed her own connection to her former clan. She was in the Mandalorian clan now – that's all that mattered. They drilled her on the Canons of Honor and rules of battle, what it meant to be strong and what it meant to be a Mandalorian; the Six Actions. She spoke the language, wore the armor, and acted for the sake of the clan. Though she soon found herself at home here, she was told to never reveal to an enemy or potential enemy what you're thinking. If you keep them guessing, they won't be able to predict what your next move will be. So she began practicing her poker face. She wasn't very good at it.
She even learned from weapon smiths, and found her talent in the chemistry of demolition. They volatile reactions and how to control or provoke them came naturally to her, and she found herself helping them make everything from fireworks to land mines and jump packs. There were some close calls, but she dedicated enough time with the weapon smiths to build a small usable arsenal from dumb rockets to the higher tech remotely-detonated magnetic darts, becoming one of the clan's demolition experts. Over the course of five years of dedicated every day training, she was, for all intents and purposes, a Mandalorian.
Her first mission would be at the age of 19, and her first mission would be at the historical Battle of Iskadrell. The Mandalorian Crusaders raided the cyborg slavers, and leading their ranks was Mandalore the Indomitable himself, piloting their personal basilisk war droid. His power and prowess in battle was unmatched, cutting down swathes of the enemy forces single-handedly in an unparalleled display of martial prowess. If the zealotry of the crusaders weren't enough, the Mandalore leading the spearhead was bolstered their spirits even further. To them, the battle was nothing more but an exercise. To some, a statement. Others found nothing but honor in the glory of combat, and while Woorah too found herself caught up in the exhilaration of the fight – ripping holes through all of her enemies with her repeating heavy blaster, blasting and tearing them apart with her vibroblade and home-cooked explosives – it was the liberation and conversion of thousands of slaves that she found most worthwhile. Not only did it give the battle a purpose, to her it also felt like a taste of revenge against those who would practice slavery. In her eyes, it made the honor and spilled blood of their glorious victory taste even sweeter.
Hell, she even wanted a tattoo to commemorate the occasion, which most if not all Mandalorians respect, but Garter was a fussy adoptive dad of sorts. He pressed to minimize the number of permanent markers as much as possible. Woorah reluctantly conceded.
The many following years of her life would be filled with such battles, triumphs and defeats alike, but they never cowed in the faced of adversity and that's what kept their battles from being true defeats. It was shortly after the Battle of Iskadrell, now a blooded Mandalorian, did she ship out to return to Nar Shaddaa five years after she had initially left. She had two Mandalorians at her back in case things went south: Suna and Rayton, Mandalorians of her generations. The clan as a whole did not seek an all-out war between the trade planet and the many different cartels of Hutts that called it their home, but Woorah was following one of the Six Actions in defending her family, even if that family member was not one of the Mandalorians. Technically, there was no strict rule against it. If she were to fail here, it meant that the clan was obligated to back her up, and that meant war with all the Hutt cartels allied with Nar Shaddaa.
When she finally arrived and came face to face with Kaburra the Hutt once more, it took everything she had to keep herself from trying to kill him as he condescended to her. Mocked and belittled her as the same scared child that left him that day, and sarcastically commented on how glad he was to see her so grown up and strong, and that it was like watching his own children come of age. He continued to give her the run around when all she wanted to know was where her little sister was, until he was finally satisfied with exacting the kind of emotional response he wanted to get out of Woorah.
“She left me,” he said, “shortly after you did. Some men in robes asked for her, proposed a gamble I couldn't refuse.”
Though there was a look of desolation on her face, there was also a spark of hope. She wasn't here, but that wasn't a bad thing. Anywhere would be better than being a slave on this garbage planet.
Kaburra continued, “I don't like cheaters, so worry not Woo'rasha, I do intend on taking her back.”
Her hand immediately reached for the blaster pistol at her side, prompting all of the bodyguards in the room to draw their own weapons – and one of the Mandalorians at her side, Rayton, set his hand on hers, keeping her from drawing her weapon.
“That's all we came for.” He calmly reminded her. The twi'lek sighed out her frustration and nodded, leaving Kaburra alone in his chamber. He heard him call out after her, “If you ever come back here again, know that you'll never leave.”
The most she could hope for her sister from that moment was that wherever she was now, she was living a better life or that her suffering had ended. The brutal life of being a Mandalorian had her come to acknowledge and appreciate the brevity of life, and death was simply one part of it. She moved forward with her sister in mind, and though she was prepared for the worst, hoped that she may once again see her in the future. After seven years of many trials and hardships and stories to tell, fighting everything from beasts to battles and raids, she would get her wish at the age of 26.
Preceding the events that ignited the Great Sith War were years of boiling tension and preparations – the actions of Exar Kun and Ulric-Qel Droma were inciting unrest among countless factions across the galaxy. Some societies, like the Mandalorians, could practically smell war coming. It was a like a fog rolling across the stars, or a smoke billowing from a small handful of kindling. There were preparations to be made on their part as well if they were to play a part in the events to come. One such place where they could possibly use one of the Sith's ancient weapons against them was Malachor V, a planet that was deemed sacred by the Mandalorians, and mythed to be one of the locations for the originating Sith temples. Her clan sought to be the ones to prove the fact and Woorah was one of the ones who volunteered to find them. They were warned to come fully geared just in case, so she did just that. Covered in Flex Heavy Armor, sporting her jet-pack, armed to the teeth with wrist launchers and home-made demolitions, a couple of blaster pistols, and so on. There was a reason why she was famed in the clan for being a walking arsenal.
Unexpectedly, the fertile planet was lush, hospitable, and surprisingly devoid of any “crazy, unsettling, Dark-side voodoo magic” as the Mandalorians called it. No sign of civilization. There wasn't even a large abundance of predators, and their comlinks weren't suffering any interference, which was enough to convince the warriors that it was safe enough to split up to cover more ground. Woorah went ahead on her own to search the forest floor for any sign of an ancient civilization. She felt the tip of her boot hit a rock and she looked down –
The electrical sound of a weapon ignited nearby, and instantly, Woorah reacted with a retractable beskar blade ejecting from the underarm of her armor. She spun around and the blade immediately came into contact with a brilliant blue beam of light. Sparks flew between her blade and a lightsaber. Woorah had no time to get a visual on her assailant before they leaped away, but they were obviously a Jedi of some sort, and judging by the distance they put between them, they must have been alarmed by the fact that their weapon didn't immediately slice her in twain. It was that distance that helped her attacker to avoid an energy bolt that came screaming from the blaster in Woorah's other hand. The Jedi was swift and nimble, far more than Woorah was while covered in all of her armor and gear. They came flying at Woorah's back, so she activated her jetpack to send a rush of blistering hot fire and exhaust towards the Jedi's face, causing them to rear back just long enough for the propulsion to turn Woorah around while she was in the air so that she could face them directly –
That face... she'd know that deep ocean-blue face and elaborate lekku pattern anywhere.
Her moment of hesitation was enough to allow the Jedi to close the gap and swing an upward swipe towards Woorah as she landed, who only came to her senses just fast enough to narrowly avoid the lightsaber – but her helmet was scored up the center. The armor fell apart, revealing her face to Woorah's attacker. Revealing her face to Allu'rasha. Her face was stunned and speechless, her mouth agape, and Allu'rasha met her with an expression that was none too different.
“Allu'rasha...” Woorah said breathlessly, still not believing her eyes.
“Woo...” Her sister replied. Her body was covered in the iconic coarseweave tunic, but were dark brown in color and was lacking the tunic. Her pants were tucked into some black boots, and she wore a dark colored tunic. Woorah wasn't quite sure what she was seeing. Based on the illustrations she has seen, the way she dressed resembled both Jedi and Sith, but her lightsaber was definitively blue. The lightsaber itself was then suddenly deactivated. Alarmingly, the tone of Allu'rasha's voice suddenly sounded harsh as she asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I... ought to ask the same of you.” Woorah answered with some confusion. There was a sort of serenity in her sister's voice that she never remembered hearing before, although it almost sounded strained, as if she wasn't accustomed to using it. “What are you? A Jedi?”
“Yes...” She answered with some reluctance. Then she pointed towards the rock that Woorah had stepped on earlier. “And I came for that.”
Upon closer inspection, the partially buried rock had engravings upon the surface. Before Woorah had any time to even contemplate the discovery, the lightsaber ignited once again, and burned a hole straight into the ground. When the lightsaber turned off, the stone was destroyed and whatever script that was on it before was either gone or illegible.
“What was that for?” Woorah demanded. “And for a Jedi, you were awfully quick to try killing me.”
“I didn't know it was you!” Allu'rasha refuted. “The Jedi has its need for shadows, and Sith relics like these and those who seek to use them must be destroyed. The real question is why are you looking for them?”
“To fight the Sith, of course. Rumor has it there's a war brewing, haven't you heard?”
“Oh, Woo'rasha...” Her sister sighed.
“It's Woorah now.” She corrected.
“...What?” Allu'rasha spat, looking insulted. “Have you lost your senses?”
“Have you?” Woorah shot back. “Father died like a coward. Mother gave up on us. Why would you want to hold onto that? That sorry excuse of a clan did nothing for you or me, but the Mandalorians did everything.”
“Not for me.” Allu'rasha said. “But you did. That's why I kept it.”
“But Allura has such a pretty ring to it.”
“Don't... call me that.” Her sister said gravely at first, but then she sighed. Shaking her head, she took a few steps back. From that moment, a voice from Woorah's wristcom crackled to life.
“Sol`yc Ver`alor Woorah Sha, this is Alor`ad Garter Oai reporting in – nothing here to the west. What's your status? Over.”
Allu'rasha's voice called out to Woorah before she could answer, “I can't... let you do this to me. I can't allow myself to be compromised, but I need you to listen to me: there are events unfolding that you can't foresee. When the time for your battle does come, your Mandalore will not be able to defeat Exar Kun. The Mandalorians – your... people are already fetishizing the dark side's power. Whatever you do... just please promise me that you won't pick the wrong side.”
Woorah hesitated for a few seconds, wondering if she should be honest to her captain or if she should lie to him for her sister's sake. It was an excruciating few seconds until she made her decision.
“Negative, nothing to report. This place is a dump.”
“Ten-four, we'll rally back to the rendezvous point and try to find another location. Over and out.”
Following the exchange on the comlinks, there was a few awkward moments of silence shared between the two sisters. A few off glances, especially for Woorah, who was so used to looking every one of her clan members in the eye and speaking her mind directly. Finally, their eyes locked together.
“Nice moves.” Woorah commented dryly.
“You too.”
“Where'd you get them?”
“My master. Temple instructors. They found me not even a year after you left. You?”
“Right... Mandalorians. Battles. Fist fighting wild animals.”
“Right...”
“Freed some slaves on Iskadrell, too.” Woo added.
“I wondered if you were there. Sounds like something you'd do.”
“Allu... rasha...” Woorah began, “...will I see you again?”
Her sister took a deep breath and pondered the question for a moment before saying, “That will depend on you.”
Allu'rasha suddenly disappeared, as if vanishing into thin air, but the rustle of the grass gave her away. To think that her sister had been adopted by the Jedi after all this time, and now she had her cool new weapons and crazy space magic. It would take some time to get used to, but so would her new disposition. She was never the type to fight, let alone make a first strike. She was never the type to sound so confident... or so wise... and it got Woorah thinking about the warning her sister made about picking the wrong side. She wasn't sure if she meant the wrong side for herself or simply the side that was the opposite of her sister. It would require some extensive thought. She didn't feel like she could just leave the clan on a whim, but it was surprising how her sister was able to make her doubt everything so easily.
She wasn't wrong, though. The clan seemed convinced that this power was their answer to winning.
Woorah returned to the rendezvous point and they eventually returned home with no results. They questioned why she was missing her helmet, but she shrugged them off by saying the damn thing hasn't been fitting her right for a while and she got frustrated with it; but if there was ever a Sith temple on this planet, they couldn't find it. They thought that it had to be invisible or long gone by now, but the guilt of lying ate at her a little bit. She hid her feelings with a stoic poker face, mastered over many years of practice, and went back to business as usual. Except it wasn't business as usual. The next two years were spent critically analyzing her clan with the echoes of her sister's warning ringing in her head.
She watched and listened, payed attention to the politics of Mandalorian leadership that she payed no heed to before – so many of them talked about the honor it would be to fight with a “Not Jedi”; a Sith. A Jedi too, perhaps, but the Sith were closer to their way of life. Seeking power to fulfill victory, and what a grand duel it would be... but Woorah realized that if any of the Sith were any stronger with their Force powers and lightsaber skills than her sister was, then none of them stood a chance. Exar Kun? Allura was convinced that even Mandalore the Indomitable couldn't beat them. What would that mean for Woorah? Would she have to fight her sister? If she joined her side, she'd have to fight her clan, and that wasn't an option either. She never thought about the consequences of losing or fighting a battle like this before. There seemed to be so few choice available and the time remaining until the impending war boiled over was running short.
When she was 28, she finally talked to her clan. She explained that after spending fourteen long years learning all she could about how to be a proper Mandalorian and finding glory in the name of the clan, she thought that it finally came time for her to see more of the galaxy. See new planets and the kind of people they offered her. It may be her last chance to see it before the next big war spills over and destroys all of it. She was surprised to find out that her clan was supportive of her decision. Individuality was important after all, and the only condition was to answer the Mandalore's call when the time comes. Right. The Resol'nare. She accepted, not sure if she be true to her word, and bid her goodbyes before taking to the stars with her clan's parting gift: a Plug-6 heavy fighter. Although it was small and somewhat cramped if holding more than a few people, it packed a bunch firepower in its small size and was still a suitable freighter for storing the belongings of a nuclear family.
The past two years have been spent exploring the galaxy, getting into trouble, and working odd jobs until she got into bounty hunting. It was the kind of work that put her skill-set to good use and was able to give her a reputation, though muddied it may be. She's not clean, but she guarantees that she can get the job done. Now 30 years old, she has left her mark from the Outer Rim to Core Worlds, done work on remote worlds like Kashyyk and Malastare, and has made contact with some interesting friends. Among her recent associations is an old wookie matron probably gone senile and a sardonic dug engineer with a god complex. She was curious to see what kind of people that galaxy had to show her, and oh boy, did the galaxy not disappoint.
Equipment:
Flex heavy armor with retractable beskar blade, green and orange color motif, 15 kg
2 M-113 Micro-pulse blasters, 1 kg each
JT-9 jet pack, 9.1 kg
2 Wrist rocket launcher, 2 kg each
4 Dumb wrist rockets, .25 kg each
3 Homing wrist rockets, .25 kg each
3 Magnetic detonator darts, .25 kg each
2 Hollow-tip wrist rockets, .25 kg
1 Fusion missile, 3 kg
Miniature rail cannon, .5 kg
1 Flashbang grenade, .5 kg
2 Thermal detonators, .5 kg each
1 Ion grenade, .5 kg
Adrenaline stimulator belt, .5 kg
Total Weight: 95 lbs/43 kg
2 M-113 Micro-pulse blasters, 1 kg each
JT-9 jet pack, 9.1 kg
2 Wrist rocket launcher, 2 kg each
4 Dumb wrist rockets, .25 kg each
3 Homing wrist rockets, .25 kg each
3 Magnetic detonator darts, .25 kg each
2 Hollow-tip wrist rockets, .25 kg
1 Fusion missile, 3 kg
Miniature rail cannon, .5 kg
1 Flashbang grenade, .5 kg
2 Thermal detonators, .5 kg each
1 Ion grenade, .5 kg
Adrenaline stimulator belt, .5 kg
Total Weight: 95 lbs/43 kg
Skills:
Over the course of many years spent with the Mandalorians, Woorah had essentially mastered the art of warfare thanks to the tutelage of the artisans of war themselves. Tactically minded, gun savvy, physically capable, and one hell of a shot, she had honed her martial talent like a fine blade. Her strength and reflexes are fine tuned after years of intense conditioning. She also spent a lot of time with her clan's weapon builders, designing her own weapons her gear and building them from scratch. She has a mind for chemistry and mechanics judging from her ability to build, rebuild, and wire homemade demolitions and repulsor equipment, and make minor repairs on her freighter.
Like most soldiers, she has some basic first-aid training. While she's no battlefield surgeon, she knows how to use a medpac and how to inject stim-shots, and while she's no crack pilot, she's good enough at computers and vehicle operation to bring her from place to place and employ some evasive and combat maneuvers. She has been exposed to enough languages over the years to be fluent in a few of them. Aside from Galactic Basic, she can communicate in Ryl, Huttese, Mando'a, and can understand a little bit of Shyriiwook without a translater, and only knows how to speak back in one or two different gargles.
After a few years of bounty hunting, she was able to easily adapt the knowledge of hunting the Mandalorians armed her with and applied it to hunting people across an entire galaxy. Indeed, most of it pertains to extensive information gathering and computer operation, and with it, has once found a smuggler hiding in the Core Worlds all the way from the Outer Rim.
Like most soldiers, she has some basic first-aid training. While she's no battlefield surgeon, she knows how to use a medpac and how to inject stim-shots, and while she's no crack pilot, she's good enough at computers and vehicle operation to bring her from place to place and employ some evasive and combat maneuvers. She has been exposed to enough languages over the years to be fluent in a few of them. Aside from Galactic Basic, she can communicate in Ryl, Huttese, Mando'a, and can understand a little bit of Shyriiwook without a translater, and only knows how to speak back in one or two different gargles.
After a few years of bounty hunting, she was able to easily adapt the knowledge of hunting the Mandalorians armed her with and applied it to hunting people across an entire galaxy. Indeed, most of it pertains to extensive information gathering and computer operation, and with it, has once found a smuggler hiding in the Core Worlds all the way from the Outer Rim.
Misc:
Bubblegum in the Star Wars universe is called a chewstim and it's one of Woorah's favorites.
