Karsci Rigor
Sept 28, 2019 10:20:57 GMT -8
Post by Karsci on Sept 28, 2019 10:20:57 GMT -8
[STAR WARS]
[Information]
Name - Karsci Rigor
Alias - The Banshee
Gender - Female
Age - [24]
Species - Human [Corellian]
Occupation - Bounty Hunter
Allegiance - Independent
[Appearance]
Height - 5'4"
Weight - 130 lbs
Eye-Color - Hazel
Skin-Color - Peach
Hair - Chestnut
Physique - Hour-Glass | Lean | Athletic
Extras - Tribalistic Tattoos | Shaved-Side Head [Right-Side]
[Personality]
Positive - Affectionate | Ingenious | Competent | Resilient | Devoted | Organized
Negative - Vindictively Sly | Aggressive | Vulgar | Secretive | Possessive | Rancorous
Likes - Hunting | Money | Fighting | Drinking | Pazaak | Travel | Echani
Dislikes - Competition | Drugs | Spices | Empire | Republic | The Laws
Attitude - All business, just for business, Karsci rides solo, preferring to get in and get out before things get complicated. She’s stern, cold and aggressive if the hunt requires, utilizing all of her professional experience to get the job done. She was raised on the underside of Corellia, and adorning the thug life meant keeping to herself, trusting no one. She had a family once, but she thinks it’s easier by herself — no one can interfere or sabotage. As one of the more reputable bounty hunters, she does prefer to capture alive — more money that way at times, but if someone is unwilling, she’s somewhat reluctant to kill; so incapacitating works just fine. In this regard, however, she can kill... it really depends on the customer. Republic and Empire can intermingle sometimes with their wants/desires — both sides asking for dead or alive. Whatever pays good. She enjoys a stiff drink, some R&R, and a scenic view — her job allows her to travel and experience thrills and sights. She’s guarded, but with a little elbow grease, she might open up to companionship and friendship.
Quirks - Adrenaline Junkie | Cautious | Detached
Philosophy - “It’s a rancor-eat-rancor galaxy out there.” | “If you play your cards right, you could make it in this hell-hole.”
[History]
Corellian bred, Karsci’s slum days were hard life-lessons. She learned the rules of the underworld, helped her parents with what they could, but they were addicted to spices, specifically death sticks. Smugglers who traded, dealt and took. She abhorred it. Originally she clung to the Corellian Exchange, the crime syndicate her parents sworn allegiance with but as fucked up as they were, they still wanted the best for their only child. They knew they were in too deep, especially with the Exchange closing in — they knew their spices were getting used, not enough incoming revenue. So they shipped her off as a stowaway both drugged and unconscious, “luck” guiding her along the way.
By that time, she was a teenager, having learned a thing or two about the way the galaxy worked — she landed on Dantooine, a farm world. Boring! Or so she thought. She took up odd jobs around farm estates, unaware of the lingering old Jedi ruins or Mandalorian colonies. One of the settlers she specifically worked for was a grouchy old man, never pleased with her work. During the span of several months, attacks on estates became more and more prevalent. She wasn’t the greatest of fighters at all, but she was hoping to save enough credits to get out and dodge. Before her escape, however, the mandalorians eventually ambushed the old man’s doorstep. The old man, who had taken a liking to this child, (perhaps considering her one of his own), challenged the leader to weaponless combat. And despite met with laughter, the mandalorian thug accepted. What the criminal didn’t know was the elder man thrived with Echani training — suffice to say, the thug got his ass whooped and off he fled with his tail between his legs. Physically worse for wear, Karsci’s spirit ignited — she needed to learn Echani. While the old man grumbled, he taught her. And so she became his prodigy, learning more than a combat technique, but a dance of skill — as well as surviving on the land.
Age took the man. Karsci wound up inheriting his estate, but used some of the large sum of credits to escape the emotional loss. She found herself on Nar Shaddaa, a Hutta controlled moon, delving back into scum and villainy. But this time, she had some tricks up her sleeve, a prowess in Echani training — she submerged herself in with a hunter crowd, picking up small gigs for easy credits, learning and thriving, developing with combat. The adrenaline and thrill of the hunt and fighting seemed to satiate the loss. Fighting and combat brought a euphoria, a coping mechanism. Years passed, her skills improved, money kept flowing, her alias notable — soon, she surpassed or stood with big name bounty hunters and found both imperial and republic scouting her for gigs. She seemed lucky to rise up in rank and status — little did she know she was force sensitive (she had zero face-to-face encounters with Jedi or Sith). With credits flowing, Karsci still keeps a-going.
[Combat]
Rank - Elite Bounty Hunter
Force-Sensitive - [Yes]
Weapon - Detachable/Extending Double-Bladed Vibroblade [Plasma Edge w/Electrical Stun Mode] | Dual Blaster Pistols w/Piercing Ability
Strengths - Hardened-Mind | Torture-Mind Resistant | Echani Weapon Training | Echani Hand-to-Hand | Tracker Skills
Weaknesses - Amateur Long Range | Light Armor | Force Sensitivity | Unable to use the Force | Notoriety
Specialties - Echani | Bounty Hunting | Survivalism w/First Aid | Scavenging [Foliage/Fauna]
Armor - Light-Medium Armor [Allows Flexibility] the color variation depending on the landscape/setting (changeable). Plated armor around vital areas. Phase-like abilities to provide stealth/minimal detection and boosts. Emits high frequency/pitch. Perfect 'stun' technique, frantic vibrations/pitch throws off the equilibrium of the victim. No balance/proprioception. Causes disorientation/dizziness/nausea. Her helmet saves herself.
Items - Grenades | Mines | Traps | Etc.
[Information]
Name - Karsci Rigor
Alias - The Banshee
Gender - Female
Age - [24]
Species - Human [Corellian]
Occupation - Bounty Hunter
Allegiance - Independent
[Appearance]
Height - 5'4"
Weight - 130 lbs
Eye-Color - Hazel
Skin-Color - Peach
Hair - Chestnut
Physique - Hour-Glass | Lean | Athletic
Extras - Tribalistic Tattoos | Shaved-Side Head [Right-Side]
[Personality]
Positive - Affectionate | Ingenious | Competent | Resilient | Devoted | Organized
Negative - Vindictively Sly | Aggressive | Vulgar | Secretive | Possessive | Rancorous
Likes - Hunting | Money | Fighting | Drinking | Pazaak | Travel | Echani
Dislikes - Competition | Drugs | Spices | Empire | Republic | The Laws
Attitude - All business, just for business, Karsci rides solo, preferring to get in and get out before things get complicated. She’s stern, cold and aggressive if the hunt requires, utilizing all of her professional experience to get the job done. She was raised on the underside of Corellia, and adorning the thug life meant keeping to herself, trusting no one. She had a family once, but she thinks it’s easier by herself — no one can interfere or sabotage. As one of the more reputable bounty hunters, she does prefer to capture alive — more money that way at times, but if someone is unwilling, she’s somewhat reluctant to kill; so incapacitating works just fine. In this regard, however, she can kill... it really depends on the customer. Republic and Empire can intermingle sometimes with their wants/desires — both sides asking for dead or alive. Whatever pays good. She enjoys a stiff drink, some R&R, and a scenic view — her job allows her to travel and experience thrills and sights. She’s guarded, but with a little elbow grease, she might open up to companionship and friendship.
Quirks - Adrenaline Junkie | Cautious | Detached
Philosophy - “It’s a rancor-eat-rancor galaxy out there.” | “If you play your cards right, you could make it in this hell-hole.”
[History]
Corellian bred, Karsci’s slum days were hard life-lessons. She learned the rules of the underworld, helped her parents with what they could, but they were addicted to spices, specifically death sticks. Smugglers who traded, dealt and took. She abhorred it. Originally she clung to the Corellian Exchange, the crime syndicate her parents sworn allegiance with but as fucked up as they were, they still wanted the best for their only child. They knew they were in too deep, especially with the Exchange closing in — they knew their spices were getting used, not enough incoming revenue. So they shipped her off as a stowaway both drugged and unconscious, “luck” guiding her along the way.
By that time, she was a teenager, having learned a thing or two about the way the galaxy worked — she landed on Dantooine, a farm world. Boring! Or so she thought. She took up odd jobs around farm estates, unaware of the lingering old Jedi ruins or Mandalorian colonies. One of the settlers she specifically worked for was a grouchy old man, never pleased with her work. During the span of several months, attacks on estates became more and more prevalent. She wasn’t the greatest of fighters at all, but she was hoping to save enough credits to get out and dodge. Before her escape, however, the mandalorians eventually ambushed the old man’s doorstep. The old man, who had taken a liking to this child, (perhaps considering her one of his own), challenged the leader to weaponless combat. And despite met with laughter, the mandalorian thug accepted. What the criminal didn’t know was the elder man thrived with Echani training — suffice to say, the thug got his ass whooped and off he fled with his tail between his legs. Physically worse for wear, Karsci’s spirit ignited — she needed to learn Echani. While the old man grumbled, he taught her. And so she became his prodigy, learning more than a combat technique, but a dance of skill — as well as surviving on the land.
Age took the man. Karsci wound up inheriting his estate, but used some of the large sum of credits to escape the emotional loss. She found herself on Nar Shaddaa, a Hutta controlled moon, delving back into scum and villainy. But this time, she had some tricks up her sleeve, a prowess in Echani training — she submerged herself in with a hunter crowd, picking up small gigs for easy credits, learning and thriving, developing with combat. The adrenaline and thrill of the hunt and fighting seemed to satiate the loss. Fighting and combat brought a euphoria, a coping mechanism. Years passed, her skills improved, money kept flowing, her alias notable — soon, she surpassed or stood with big name bounty hunters and found both imperial and republic scouting her for gigs. She seemed lucky to rise up in rank and status — little did she know she was force sensitive (she had zero face-to-face encounters with Jedi or Sith). With credits flowing, Karsci still keeps a-going.
[Combat]
Rank - Elite Bounty Hunter
Force-Sensitive - [Yes]
Weapon - Detachable/Extending Double-Bladed Vibroblade [Plasma Edge w/Electrical Stun Mode] | Dual Blaster Pistols w/Piercing Ability
Strengths - Hardened-Mind | Torture-Mind Resistant | Echani Weapon Training | Echani Hand-to-Hand | Tracker Skills
Weaknesses - Amateur Long Range | Light Armor | Force Sensitivity | Unable to use the Force | Notoriety
Specialties - Echani | Bounty Hunting | Survivalism w/First Aid | Scavenging [Foliage/Fauna]
Armor - Light-Medium Armor [Allows Flexibility] the color variation depending on the landscape/setting (changeable). Plated armor around vital areas. Phase-like abilities to provide stealth/minimal detection and boosts. Emits high frequency/pitch. Perfect 'stun' technique, frantic vibrations/pitch throws off the equilibrium of the victim. No balance/proprioception. Causes disorientation/dizziness/nausea. Her helmet saves herself.
Items - Grenades | Mines | Traps | Etc.
