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Apr 21, 2019 6:20:23 GMT
NAME: As long as you're asking, my name is Katria Maize Vekarr. I chose the middle name myself. Not even sure I ever had one.
PRONUNCIATION: Cat-Ree-Uh Veck-Ar.
FACTION: Don't have one, but I'm a smuggler, mercenary and bounty hunter..
RANK: You might say I qualify as a drifter, but also a hunter-killer.
SPECIES: My father was mostly human and my mother was an epicanthix.
AGE: I'm twenty seven.
SEX: Let's keep this simple. I'm female and I like both men and women. But my love is reserved for ladies only.
HEIGHT: I'm roughly five feet and nine inches. I blame my freakishly tall mother.
WEIGHT: I'm about average weight for my height. Okay? On the slimmer side if you must know.
EYES: My eyes are hazel. I got them from my father's side of the family.
HAIR: Brown. Plain and simple. Didn't get my mother's dark, dark hair.
SKIN: My skin is average, by epicanthix standards, and I didn't have to search out any two sunned, backwater planet to get that way. I'm looking at you, Tatooine.
FORCE SENSITIVE: A rephrasing of the question: Can you make things float and shoot lightning from your fingers? No. No I cannot. Way to make me feel special ya kriffing dugg lover.
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES:
So I'm going to list these because I can't be bothered to be understructured.
I'm a class S marksman, if there was one. My father could have been classified as something in the multiple S's? I can hit a mark from half the recommended distance with my verpine rifle without a scope. Double the standard recommendation with the scope.
I know my way around a computer console and can slice through most codes presented to me. Unfortunately I'm not an encyclopedia of languages so there are a few computers out there I have no hope in all kark of cracking.
I can't pilot worth a damn. Basic flight and navigation? Sure. Give me a task involving a fire fight or an asteroid field and I'd prefer to be in the passenger seat or in the gunner's chair. That stupid bug can handle the piloting for me.
I don't do well with people. Sure I can talk and use complex sentences, but that doesn't mean I want to be anywhere near crowds of people for long periods of time. Am I afraid of them? No. I just don't like them. Especially the nosey types who don't know when to quite asking their questions.
Planning is my forte. Give me a layout, a map and a plan? We're golden. I do have a tendency to overthink things, however, which puts me in a position to have to improvise. Sure I know how to improvise, unfortunately I'm not very good at.
APPEARANCE:
I'm five nine, have hazel eyes and... Well I feel like I've told you this already. So... let's get to the more interesting stuff. I like to wear tight, form fitting pants, moderately small complimenting tops and the occasional jacket. I may not be one hundred percent practical, but at least I'm sensible. I have a job to do, and you can like it or not.
Of course, if we're going somewhere like Sullust or Mustafar? I'm going to need time to plan an outfit with minimal heat absorption but plenty of heat protection.
BIOGRAPHY:
My story starts twenty eight years back. My father met my mother while on a mission to commandeer a high class craft. How they ran into one another and where, I don't know and couldn't get anyone to tell me. All I know is that within the year they had conceived and brought me into... this galaxy.
For ten years my parents raised me as they would a girl who wasn't in the life. Unlike my cousin Tyria, it wasn't until I was ten that my father started teaching me what I needed to know to survive.
It only took the death of my mother to shake him into it. Not that that's a laughing matter. If I were to lie and say it didn't effect my father and I in the slightest, I'd be lying.
Devastated, my father spent the next ten years teaching me everything there was to know about the things I would need to be good at. Survival, marksmanship, blade work, hand to hand combat, seduction (as well as that can go between a father and his daughter) and even slicing. Thankfully he also taught me how to give less than a kark about how much moral and ethical value should go into our work.
If you can sleep at night after? Than you're golden.
All I knew after the day he and my uncle disappeared seven years ago was that I needed to survive. I needed to make a name for myself and survive with the majority of the old crew either missing, departed or dead.
And survive, I did.
I'm a Vekarr and it's what Vekarr's do.
SHIP AND EQUIPMENT:
I fly an old YT-1300 model that I inherited from my father and his brother. It's beat up and hasn't run at one hundred percent in years, but I'm making do. As long as I'm not the pilot, it's going to last me a very long time. When not flying in my personal ship, my operations are run out of a salvaged Imperial era Star Destroyer.
As far as equipment goes? I keep handy a supply of what I need to keep myself physically intact. That and I lug around my father's modified verpine rail-rifle and a military grade verpine modified Disruptor Rifle. I rarely keep on hand any of the smaller more pratical stuff, but you wouldn't catch me dead without a DL-44 or verpine shatter pistol on my hip. I also own a Taozin Amulet, a phrik combat knife, two mandalorian utility bracers (fitted with gabonna crystal memory links to a set of long range probe droids and fitted with micro interwoven silver faraday weave), two Verpine modified Hand Cannons, a Bothan grade Personal Cloaking Device and a military mobility shield. I also have armor for my arms and feet fitted with contoured ultrachrome plating to match with alchemically shaped, fitted and matching Terentatek hide fatigues for combat.
COMPANIONS:
June Tal - Katria's occasional romantic partner and the pilot of her ship the "Vekarr's Pride"
Skiss Iskiss - Katria's verpine engineer and gunsmith
ROLE-PLAYS:
None as of yet.
