Artemis Vahl'Nyx
I'll Be Your Lionheart
Name: Artemis Vahlen'de Nyx
Nicknames: The Silent Sentinel
Known Aliases: Primara Xyn
Call-Sign: Not Available.
Official Title: Lady Vahl'Nyx
Occupation: Hunter, Rogue Knight
Faction: Unaligned
Previous Factions: One Sith, The Empire, Grand Republic
Company: Xyn Amorni Designs
Rank: Chief Executive Officer
Force Status: Sensitive; Knight
Homeworld: Dromund Kaas
Gender: Cis Female
Voice Sample: Lilith {Borderlands}
Species: Hybrid/halfblood
Race: Firrerreo/Zorren Mix
Age: 35 GSY (Appears to be 28-32)
Height: Roughly 6'4" {1.93m}
Weight: Roughly 182 lbs {82.5 kg}
Potential Lifespan: 1000-2500 GSY
Sexual Orientation: Unknown
Marital Status: Single, never married
Languages Spoken:
- Basic: Common; Primary; Fluent
- Epicant: Common; Secondary; Fluent
- Vong: Common; Secondary; Near-Fluent
BIOGRAPHY:
Soul-Share 1: Twisted Childhoods
Nyx. The name is one that was once known throughout the galaxy. It's associated with a family of very high power, one that has stood tall in almost every rendition of the Galactic Empire. Members of the clan have been Generals, Emperors, Sith Lords, and one was even the right-hand man of a Dark Lord. They were feared. Respected. Revered. Their name danced upon the tongues of billions. And then came the Gulag Plague. A disease that devastated everything, everyone, every last thing in existence. Our universe had not been prepared for it. No one could have prepared for it. Some were unfortunate enough to be hit harder than others, such as the Zorrens- and by extension the Nyxai. They went from proud, hardy souls to a scattered, broken mess. Rising back up became their number one goal. Everything was riding on the lives of their few remaining children. The adults who weren't killed had ended up infertile by some twist of misfortune. In the end, it was up to those that they left behind to rebuild their legacy.
One child did especially well- if only for awhile. He helped reforge the Sith Empire, quickly ending up in a position of power. And yet that was not enough for him. In an attempt to further his status, he rushed into relationships, trying to get a woman to settle down with him and bear his children. Eventually he (somehow) managed. The romance started out as a spark, something seemingly beautiful. Together they had four spawnlings. Three died within a few weeks of birth due to complications. Only the fourth lived. That child was named Drapeam Sahara Nyx. Shortly after the time of her birth her mother realized that her 'lover' wasn't terribly great after all. If her daughter hadn't survived... she would have sought divorce very quickly. But 'for Drapeam's sake', she stayed with her husband. Some levels of normalcy were faked while the kid grew up. In her first five years, however, she did see her father cheating numerous times. She was simply to young too realize the extent of what was going on.
That ended when, three days after she turned six, her mother passed away of an 'unknown cause'. Within four months her father was remarried to someone he fancied a little more. Almost no time was spent mourning. Drapeam doesn't remember much about her real mother, but she can recall just enough to resent her dad for tossing her away so quickly. Despite that, she focused on other things for a long time. Though her family tried to get her to spend most of her time on politics or training, she preferred having philosophical discussions with her grandmother. Or at least as close to that as a child could get. In addition she spent many hours simply playing (as a youngster should). That did, unfortunately, displease her guardians. Already they thought she would amount to nothing- or, even more terrible, shame the family name. Once she turned thirteen they became extra hard on her... and things started to change.
Soul-Share 2: Corrupted Adolescence
Ah, that 'magical' time in everyone's life where they learn who they are, who they want to be, and who they like to frak. People often look back upon this period frequently. Sometimes they look at it with a smile, while other times they can't think of anything they hate more. But whether or not they like it... it's a time that helps shape them forever. Things were a 'tad' different than normal for Drapeam. Those seven years were when her family shaped her into a splendid killing machine. Of course, they did have some help from fate... and a few well-placed bullets. For a few years (13-15) Nyx was given extra classes, along with being expected (or, more accurately, made) to spend twice as much time on the shooting range. Additionally, her guardians attempted to speed up the process of puberty through various sorts of peculiar medicines. Despite their best efforts she remained a hopeful, scrawny girl. It wasn't until an Imperial official visited that she was 'set upon the right path'...
A high-ranking representative had come to the Nyxai household with a forced smile. Most kids from the family had shown great potential, he had been told, and the newest ones had to be evaluated. That task had fallen to him. Why? Because an even higher-ranking individual hadn't wanted to do it. Pretty typical. He had held back a groan of annoyance as he was ushered into the dining room. Had it already been time for dinner?... Apparently so. It was always quite hard to tell on Dromand Kaas. However, it had still felt pretty early for an evening meal. Perhaps they had been trying to 'butter him up'. That had been quite possible. The man had ended up deciding that his theory was correct when he first saw the young Drapeam. At that time she had looked rather frail. There were dark circles under her eyes, her hair was put back in a lazy, sloppy ponytail, and her gait was a bit off. Very lacking. However, the representative had thought she was cute.
That hadn't exactly counted for anything.
Just a few minutes into the meeting everything was cut rather short. Three bullets hurtled into the room. One broke the window, one slammed into the wall, and the third hit the guest of honor right in the center of his head. Most of the people present went into a blind panic. Some went to get guns while others barked out orders. But when chite hit the fan, our little 'hero' grabbed a rifle right out of a guard's hands and got to work. She looked through the scope, searching for any sign of the assassin. Movement on top of the neighboring building's roof caught her attention. There! A figure was partially visible, holding some sort of weapon, seemingly trying to get it to work. Drapeam fired three shots. Every one hit her target. One of the bullets slammed into the assassin's utility belt, striking something 'mildly' flammable. The resulting 'explosion' earned an utterance of 'boomshot' from one of the soldiers. Instead of worrying about the Imperial, the teenager's dad simply started to praise her. Because of that day a lot of people call her 'Boomshot queen' or 'Boom-queen Nyx'. She's always hated it.
On the other hand, the rest of the Nxyai were rather pleased with the title. Sure, it was a little crude, but it fit what she could become. Once everything had been smoothed over she was selected for more... specialized training. They decided to take advantage of her slimmer nature and sharp eye. A sniper she would be! A damn stealthy one, at that. All the while several things were drilled into her head: Jedi are bad, Sith are good, you were born to serve. You were made to throw your life away. Two more years passed quietly. Drapeam slowly retreated into a metaphoric shell- this was the start of her social decline. Meanwhile her father was losing favor fairly quickly, partially due to his... promiscuous nature. Another wife was abandoned and replaced. But this time the cause of death wasn't a mystery at all. The woman had been murdered. Later it would be proved that the killer was, unsurprisingly, Drapeam's father himself. He would be punished severely.
Pre-Arc 1: A Deadly Replacement
Before an Imperial Representative made an ill-fated trip to a sprawling mansion, it was believed that Drapeam Nyx would never amount to anything. Few considered her worthy of carrying her family's name. And so her father, terribly desperate to make up for his wilting military career, did what he thought had to be done. With the blessing of his superiors, Tywin authorized the creation of his daughter's 'replacement'. The new child would be everything he ever dreamed of. Or so he hoped, really. There wasn't a guarantee that the project would lead to any success, even with the introduction of genetic modification. Did that matter to the man? Not entirely. He'd have his victory, no matter how many tries it took, no matter who he had to ruin. With the amount of thirst for power he had, he would have made a damn fine Sith- had he only been able to use the force.
But since he couldn't, he was going to make his kid into a Sith.
The initial process wasn't too hard. Tywin had already planned on being the father, even if he knew his own genes weren't perfect. Finding a... suitable host proved to be fairly simple as well. Desperate as he was, he was more than willing to ignore the purity of blood for his endeavor. In the end, he chose a Firrerreo woman, someone of a similar but stronger species, to supply the other half of the genes to the child. There was no romance- not even a falsehood of love- between the two. Both were in it for business. Unfortunately for the soon-to-be mother, Tywin did not intend to carry out his part of the deal. As soon as the child had it's DNA together, he 'disposed' of his partner, not even trying to hide the fact from his lab techs. They knew how ruthless their master was... and how generously he paid his less expendable employees.
Once the baby was 'created', it's father did what he thought was necessary to increase the chance of a valuable spawn being produced, recruiting various cloning and biomedical specialists along the way. Within two years he had the base model. Artificial aging gave it a quick upbringing, making the thing seem to be a teenager after only a few months. In secret, far away from the rest of the Nyxai, the child was raised to be a killer, just as its original had been. Thousands upon thousands of credits were dumped on the project in an attempt to ensure its success. In the end, Tywin got a beast even stronger than he had hoped for. But in the end, it turned out he didn't need one, for the original child came back with a vengeance....
Soul-Share 3: Sinful Soldiers
Eighteen years can feel like a lot of time... but they can also seem to pass by before you even know it. For a certain Zorren, the years were achingly slow or far too fast at all the wrong times. When Drapeam finally reached adulthood, well, she didn't really feel any change. The differences weren't even noticeable until she just what doors had opened up- mostly those relating to laws on Dromund Kaas. Being 18 gave her a chance at partial freedom, the kind that, thanks to her upbringing, she had never been able to experience. What did that mean for her? Alcohol! Cigarettes! Leaving the house around the middle of the day and not coming back until early the next morning! Loud techno music! Opening a portal to another dimension and unleashing thousands of demons upon all of mankind!... Well, maybe not that last one. But she did experiment a bit with some of the more interesting spices she could find. One might be surprised by the kinds of things hallucin0genics can produce. At least if they haven't experienced any for themselves, really.
After several months of mischief, mayhem, and one two many nights at the tavern, she was found half awake on the street, having had just a little too much to drink. Her extended family dragged her back to the house for a little 'intervention'. Two days later she left again- with over a dozen new scars and quite a few new bruises. Time had, however, been good to her. Puberty had done it's job well. Instead of an awkward, gangly little thing, she was now a well-built, moderately attractive young woman. Not that she hadn't been pretty before! Now she was simply more to her career's liking, which made her folks ease up on her... if only slightly. Alas, her freedom still did not last long. Only a couple weeks passed between her incident and her enlistment into the Imperial military. Within another year she had shipped off to the front lines of the current conflict. Despite the fact that Nyx was an experienced sniper, the government put her in a generic position, starting her off (understandably) as a Private. This was partially due to her rather public drunkenness and partially due to her father's own mistakes.
One of her first posts was on a mostly oceanic world. There was a small garrison stationed by the beach- the first thing to be attacked if the planet was to be taken. No one really seemed to care for the place, though. But the Imperials guarded it anyway, perhaps for it's 'cultural significance', or perhaps because a powerful Sith Lord liked to vacation there. Regardless, Nyx found the place oddly peaceful. Relaxing, even. Most of her time there was spent thinking. Simply musing about her life. The galaxy. The countless wars going on... Not everything was so wondrous to think about. So sometimes she'd force herself to go to the shooting range, just to keep her mind off of things. Other days she'd mingle with the planet's natives, sipping tea in the cafes, strolling on the beach, pretending everything was normal. At one point a local man even caught her attention. They enjoyed each other's company, and eventually a romance formed between them- though it was brief- and it kept her busy. But as with all things... it ended. Mercenaries raided the base the day after Nyx left for another outpost. Only a few people survived, the rest meeting a painful end.. No one informed her of the attack. She never learned of the fate her once friends met... Truly, it was for the best. The woman was to be hurt enough as it was.
Soul-Share 4: The Devil's Due
Eventually her skill in combat was noted. Again. All of her family's hard work paid off quite well, in the end. Though she wasn't rising the ranks as they had expected, Drapeam was qualifying for a large list of 'special programs', ranging from the needlessly extravagant to the peculiarly profitable. For a while she was a part-time test gerbil for the Empire's newest 'toys'. Even got herself a very nice sniper rifle- one she'd end up using until the government's collapse. In addition she was selected for missions that were... tougher. The sort where quick thinking or high levels of skill were required. She never led any, of course. Probably a good thing, considering neither social skills nor leadership ones were her strong point. Rack up an impressive list of headshots? Yeah, she could do that. Lead a small team to victory?... No. Perhaps her parents had taught her to serve a little too well... The meaning of being a commander was seemingly lost on her. Though some troops were willing to follow her, she was rarely willing to lead them.
And so time passed. Drapeam became used to being referred to solely by her last name. That was fine with her. After all, her family was what defined her, no matter what those inspirational holo-vids tried to tell her. Everyone called her Nyx. Some added a title in there somewhere, of course. What exactly that was varied, depending on the person addressing her, the occasion, and how far along into her service it was. Private. Corporeal. Boomshot queen. Most days she didn't bother responding to anyone who used her first name. Few ever did call her by her birth name, however, and so the name almost faded from her record. Except her aunt was ever so fond of referring to her by her given title. Yes, her aunt never called her by just her last name, as her aunt never saw her as just a Nyx. She was far more than another faceless family member. The older woman saw more potential in her niece than she saw in her own children, and so, when she was given the chance, it was Drapeam whom she introduced to someone very, very special: Kaine Zambrano. Why? Because the Blackblade Guard was always looking for top-notch warriors to recruit. Although the woman never met her new overlord, she did meet some of the legion's captains, and was offered a position within their ranks.
She happily took her place amongst the devils.
For some time she worked with the men and women, a sense of pride worming its way into her heart. This was what her family had wanted her to achieve. Perhaps it wasn't her dream, but thanks to the conditioning they gave her as a child, along with the damage done to her personality, it felt like her goal. Serving Vornskr proved to be an interesting endeavor. While she was used to difficult fights, she hadn't been fully prepared for how intense things could get for the Blackblades. Every operation left her feeling sore. Some soldiers would gripe about the extra strain put on them. But Nyx?... She didn't. Hell, she loved the extra challenge, the added level of pressure put on her every time she left the barracks. It was glorious for as long as it lasted.
After a particularly tough battle she was wounded severely and put on leave. That, of course, didn't please her. It was the height of yet another war with the Republic. She had to go out and fight! There were innocent people who needed protecting! If she... if she didn't help them, who would? Someone got tired of her grumbling. Less than a month after she was off crutches her boss requested that she be moved for the remainder of her recovery. Another person suggested that she spend some time with a few up-and-coming Sith who were working on creating better soldiers. Pleased with the compromise Nyx gladly accepted. Later on she'd consider it one of, if not the, biggest mistake she had ever made.
Pre-Arc 2: No Longer Available
What do you do when your creation has become pointless? Do you give it a new purpose, hoping everything you did will still be worth it, or do you cast it aside, leaving it to rot? When the eldest Nyx child found her glory, these were the questions that her father asked. Not of her, of course, but of her 'sibling'. The young Artemis was powerful in her own right, yet keeping her around wasn't an option Tywin was willing to take. Why? Because she had always been meant to replace Drapeam. To take her place, to steal her name, her look, her responsibilities, all over the span of a year. But with the 'Boomshot queen' rising to a more admirable position, removing her from the picture was impossible. There was little room for Artemis elsewhere, and so Tywin did his best to devise a plan that would allow her to still serve him... just not in the manner, or time period, originally intended.
Of course, by that point he was not the most stable of men. His ability to rationalize, to think logically, had diminished to some degree. Soon even his most trusted advisers would think almost nothing of him. And not long after that, his superiors would question his worth, lower his status, and eventually remove him from their plans entirely. 'Twas that fact that ended up damning Artemis. Though her father succeeded in hiding her way, none would be left to ever retrieve her. Unaware of this, the young killer accepted her fate, taking a shuttle to Ord Mantell without any resistance. Part of her did, however, resist when her father's goons attempted to place her within a stasis chamber. In the end they failed in that task- but found triumph in simply knocking her out. Steady supplies of sedatives kept her unconscious, alone with her dreams, unable to fight against what was planned for her.
The plan's climax never came, though, and she was left to sleep for eternity... or so one would think.
Soul-Share 5: Empires of Dust
Soon it became apparent that her new roommates were absolutely insane. Constant threats against her were made- none of the typical kind. Whenever she hesitated they would mention the possibility of giving her feet for hands or placing an ear on her rear end. Other times they'd simply show her a picture of what had happened to the last person that disappointed them. Just the thought of the image could form a knot in her stomach or a lump in her throat. She had no choice but to obey. Had there been an option to leave... would she have taken it? Nyx thought about that often. Never did find an answer though. This work, although uncomfortable (and sometimes sickening), was very, very important. Even a 'lowly soldier' like her knew that.
The news reached her dorm last. Their Empire, their home, had fallen. Instantly the place had gone to the dogs. Some people fled while others prepped the compound for a full-out assault (should it come). Originally she had planned on heading home to her family... but the Sith who had been working on her refused to let her go. They knocked her out, drugged her, and took her to their 'secret base'. In reality it was the basement of an abandoned house somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Not exactly hidden. Though not exactly easy to find either. Plenty of people knew about it as well. Mostly fellow dark siders and ex-Imperials. A few rogue mercenaries could remember it's general location. Did that matter? No. Why?
Because no one was looking for her. They all assumed she had died in a glorious battle.
Instead she was getting poked with even more needles than before. Her captors realized her potential in the force. They told her- rather indirectly- before telling her that they could make her like them. Of course she had no idea what they were talking about. Everything that happened afterwards was a horrid blur. Wake up. Injections. Torture. Sleep. Repeat. Sometimes she caught glimpses of the bigger picture: Poison. Sith poison to be exact. The kind that would flow through your veins, changing everything about you, filling you with rage, breaking down your sanity. There were only a few clear memories of her time there. Her arrival. The first time they hurt her. When they had torn open her arms. And all three times the poison was put- no, forced- inside of her. One shot to the right eye. One at the base of her spine. One in the neck.
Soul-Share 6: What God Hath Wrought
When had they slipped up?... She couldn't remember. Still can't. But somewhere along the way someone had forgotten to give her the 'quiet juice' as they called it. For once she was able to think. More importantly she was actually awake. Unfortunately she was still rather groggy. That didn't matter though! This was her chance to escape! She had to take it. Who knows when she would have gotten another opportunity? Parts of that day are gone from her thoughts. What had happened?... Oh... there had been Sithspawn. Lots of them. Patrolling, guarding, terrifying. They had practically been everywhere.
How many had Nyx had to kill? At least a dozen... yeah, that sounded about right. She distinctly remembered that at some point she fought one of the Sith. A lightsaber had ended up in her hand (how?) and she fought the man. Next thing she knew the blade had gone right through his chest. Without a moment's delay she had ran out of the building. Running... that's what she had done next. Ran all the way to the nearest town before collapsing. So much after that was fuzzy... why was it so fuzzy?... It took four months for her to fully recuperate. Even then she didn't know what to do. Her empire... her people... they were all gone...
Just dust and ash now.
]
Pre-Arc 3: Damaged Dreaming
When she dreamed, she dreamed of many things. Of hellfire, the vanishing of trillions, boiling blood forming crimson rivers. Of darkness overcoming light, shadows crawling up walls, misty tendrils wrapping themselves tight around a once stalwart heart. She dreamed of a figure clad in armor, with red locks of hair, who bore a face cut from the same cloth as hers. It did not take her long to realize who she saw in her nightmares. 'Twas her sibling- the one she had spent years preparing to become. Most of what Artemis saw came to her in fragments. Simple glimpses of what Drapeam was up to, along with shallow hints at possible futures. But, of course, she had no way of telling what was what, making the visions more confusing than enlightening. Over time Artemis learned to hate her kin, if only because she needed something to latch onto. For years she would have nothing but her anger, images of her family's failings, and the coldness surrounding her. Every once in awhile she would be blessed with true unconsciousness... and those were the times she felt best.
Unbeknownst to her, her father's work would continue to crumble around her all the while. As the months, then years, passed, less and less workers would visit her private facility. Checkups were reduced to once a year instead of every other month, and they became ever more careless with their sedative dosages. The fact that she would suffer no permanent injuries from this was a testament to both her physical and mental strength. Her father, of course, would gladly claim that strength to be his doing. But while Artemis slumbered, he broke beneath the weight of his own ego. In time his facilities were almost all abandoned or destroyed. This left his creation in a poor position, and as there were none who cared enough for her to save her, she was simply sent to a regular hospital under a false name, given a plain room, and forgotten. From then on her dreams became more chaotic, filled with a deeper anger. Still, it would be another few years before anyone would hear her name again.
Soul-Share 7: Ill-Fated Infiltration
The Jedi Order. They were the only people she could even consider going to. Who else had the resources to treat a case like hers? With a heavy heart and paranoia weighing her down the Zorren made her way to Republic space. It didn't take long to convince them to give her assistance. A member of the Protectorate with a rare condition? She was an ally- one the students could learn from. Sending her to Ossus was the only option that made sense. Being surrounded by force users didn't help to calm her nerves. However she quickly learned that most were nothing like she had been taught. Especially two important individuals: Corvus Raaf and Dr. Lydia Stone. The latter was her healer, the woman who would spend the next six or so months carefully removing the poison. The former was the academy's headmaster, who, in a surprising moment, managed to earn some amount of trust and respect from Nyx.
After a few months the Zorren had grown to... enjoy spending time at the Academy. Even though she didn't show it, she found the place relaxing, and willingly stayed there in between sessions. Over time she became quite popular with the younglings. As it turns out, Nyx is excellent at braiding hair! Some of the Knights and Masters, however, were cautious about having 'someone like her' around the children. For a while they did whatever it took to keep her away. Once Stone gave them a 'stern talking to' they promptly backed off. They never did fully accept her though. Who blamed them? Having an ex-Imperial around a bunch of Jedi kids seemed like a horrible idea. The woman understood that. She simply hoped that, at some point, they would either stop giving a frak or learn to accept her past. Once, when she mentioned that to one of them, they quickly spat back, saying "How can I accept your past if you never have?" There was no response she felt appropriate.
So she flipped him off instead.
Another month passed before disaster struck. Nyx, along with billions of others, vanished in an instant. This would later be called the "Rapturing". When they awoke, they found themselves in Hell. Literally. A nightmarish woman, or perhaps Goddess, had summoned them all to the Netherworld as part of her plans. Nyx wound up in the 'Blood Wastes'... an area filled with boiling blood. Luckily there were enough rocks and bones scattered around to be able to move. Otherwise she would have never found a way out. In an attempt to stay calm the woman simply started running. Less than a minute passed before she managed to trip over a bone, falling flat onto her face, and the corpse of another victim. Whoever it was had (apparently) been a force user, as she was able to collect a discarded lightsaber from their robes. Before she could check for anything else there had been a piercing scream. Figuring that someone was in trouble she rushed towards the noise. That was her first mistake. The second was attacking the she-devil she found in an attempt to save innocent lives (who would have lived anyway).
Thirty seconds later and the fight was over- only because someone else had stepped in to save her neck. But the darkside filling the air was enough to guarantee that this wasn't the end of things. With every passing moment the poison in her veins made it harder to think. By the time she finished 'threatening' the 'helpless' woman her mind had entered a state of rage. Filled with immeasurable anger she ran off (again), cutting down stragglers left and right, not caring about the consequences. Luckily it was impossible to truly die in hell. Everyone she 'killed' simply reappeared elsewhere. That did not, however, make her feel any better when she regained her composure. Drapeam Nyx had wandered for awhile, searching for a way out, before finding a gaping tear in the fabric of the universe. Deciding that this was the best option available, the woman did what was obviously the logical thing to do: She jumped through.
Quite unceremoniously she crashed onto Alderaanian permacrete.
Soul-Share 8: Hell Hath No Fury
A few days passed while she recovered. Not a single moment passed without her thinking of what she had done in her madness. Had anyone mentioned it to her? No. They didn't even tell her how they had been forced to knock her out when they found her tearing apart already-dead Vong soldiers. They didn't bother explaining what exactly had happened. There had been far more important things for them to focus on. For example: Most of the others were still missing. What did all of this mean?... Understandably no one tried to answer that question. Instead they (generally) threw themselves into their work. Both the Republic and the Protectorate reached out, hoping to secure the planets that needed it most in the midst of all the chaos. Needing a distraction, Nyx volunteered to help. If the universe hadn't been ending they would have told her no. For what felt like years she helped reestablish order on over a dozen worlds- including Ossus. All the while she looked for signs of Doctor Lydia Stone. None were found.
She only found a lightsaber, a data pad, and feelings she had been trying to repress.
Before she had a chance to re-enter the Netherworld to attempt to find her friend, her reason for fighting, the finale had come. She had no time to try to rescue her makeshift family. Unable to cope with the stress of the academy, the Zorren returned to Protectorate space for a few weeks. During that time she was tested, had her file reviewed, and was checked by a doc to see if she was healthy. To her (immense) surprise one of the forcies working there said she was worthy of the rank of Knight. Nyx's initial response was to say that "Stone still calls me Padawan". The conversation ended there. Having found no comfort on Fondor she returned to Republic space for further treatment... even if her usual healer was still missing. A large complex had never felt so cramped to her. Not even her childhood home (a massive mansion) had seemed so... tense. Without Stone present, those who had shamed her now seemed to double their efforts. Several times she was reported (and punished) for things she never did. Things got bad enough that she left, weaving a small circle of lies to temporarily cover her tracks.
It was time to visit Stone's homeworld: Cularin. Without hesitation she traveled to the planet as 'a tourist'. No one questioned the sight of a woman wearing Jedi robes (Stone's) walking around. Perhaps she was just there to visit the old enclave? Yes, for once the strangers were right in their assumptions. Partially. Roughly twenty days passed as she slowly broke down farther and farther. Missing her friend was getting to her. Had she decided to confide in another friend- Corvus Raaf, perhaps- she would have fared far better. Instead she ended up wearing full armor with two lightsabers clipped to her belt, watching the enclave through a rifle scope. Paranoia didn't leave her. Something bad was going to happen. She knew it. SOMETHING HORRIBLE WAS GOING TO HAPPEN. Oh, darling, Nyx, if only you knew just how horrible it would be...
Dropships came in quietly. They dropped off perhaps three dozen individuals on the grounds before leaving. Among them was the Head/Grandmaster herself- the woman who had first started to break down Nyx's shell. Knowing that this was what she needed the Zorren ran down the hill, rushing to join her comrades, hoping to find some sort of peace. On the way, however, she was stopped by a few troopers. Apparently she lacked the clearance to go past that point. Despite her best efforts (plus her bragging) they didn't budge until another soldier, Faa'len, vouched for her. Together they went up to the roof where he'd fix up the electrical system while she kept watch. That proved to be quite important, as she was the first to spot the bombers who approached. One Sith forces arrived in bulk. Some caused explosions while others simply hunted down stragglers. Once she knew her companion was safe our 'hero' moved back to a different roof where a large ship was landing.
Sith troopers poured out of it. Fortunately, well, also unfortunately, there was one Sith Knight among them. Just one. But a devilish one at that! Knowing that she had to buy time for the others to escape, Nyx went to fight the woman alone, unaware of the fact that her allies were busying themselves with far less important work. She hid behind rubble, only to find liquid fire splash against her. Then she moved along the edge of the roof, only to find the area filled with smoke, and then was promptly force pushed off of the building. Had there not been a leafy tree to break part of her fall... With a battered body she had gone to hide in the shadows of the lower rooms. Quietly she had done her best to turn invisible, using a technique that 'Vanessa' had taught her a month before. This proved to be pointless. The Knight, known as Vrag, found her with ease. A grenade sent her flying into a wall and her arm was split open on a sharp stone.
Drapeam Nyx was left defenseless. What happened next was slow, painful, rather horrific to witness. Despite that she held on for as long as she could. Somehow she managed to dent her opponent's helm. That, however, enraged the woman, who promptly slapped her. Then came the worst of it: Vrag pressed her lightsaber to the Zorren's side before igniting it. In a split second she was impaled on a red blade much like her own. Taking in a shaky breath she mumbled what would be her last words: "I want you to look me in the eyes when you do", referring to her demise. Her wish was not granted. Sleep overtook her a mere moment later. All the while her foe watched, filled with a morbid sense of curiosity, watching the crimson liquid seep out of the Jedi. After her eyelids grew to heavy... Maybe she could have survived. Bacta was flowing from her armor, already starting to patch parts of her up, and the Sith seemed interested in 'playing' with her further.
She could have been captured.
Instead Grandmaster Corvus Raaf stepped onto the opposing roof, standing tall, and called out. "Get away from her. NOW!" This proved to be what got the 'her' in question killed. Vrag took one look at the dark-haired woman, then one at Nyx, and back to the only remaining Culrain defender. "She deserves a warrior's end." Once again a red blade cut through the air, this time lashing out sideways, slashing right through the unconscious woman's neck. As quickly as one could say 'no' she was decapitated. Drapeam Nyx's head hit the ground with a sickening thud. For a moment everything was quiet. You could only hear the sounds of distant combat paired with wind rustling through the complex. Then the rain picked up, slamming onto the ground, crashing against all those present. Maybe the world remembered Stone. Maybe now it mourned with her- for her. As the water fell, a slight shimmer could be seen behind the Knight. Of course it was nothing. What could it be? Not Nyx. No. Drapeam Sahara Nyx, Nyxius Stone, The Boomshot queen, was dead... right? Of course she was. But who said that death was the end?
Pre-Arc 4: Costly Comatose
When Drapeam died, a small echo was sent out in the force. Few would feel it, and feel it truly, but one who did would take enough strength from it to keep going. From her death, Artemis took pleasure, and from it they would both gain a glimpse at their fates.
Soul-Share 9: What Is Dead Cannot Die
When she died, they mourned her as one of their own. The Jedi held a funeral for her on Ossus, burying mementos of her alongside the graves of others. Corvus cried, Faal'en raged, Vivienne wondered, and Stone celebrated what had once been. They all remembered her fondly. But unknown to them, they did not despair alone. Only one person had noted the presence of a familiar woman at the gathering... Though Circe Savan had only met her face-to-face once, it hadn't been hard for her to recognize the appearance of Drapeam Nyx. Even if said appearance took shape in the form of a ghost. Despite what everyone seemed to think, the ex-Blackblade had not simply gone back to Chaos. Nor had she become one with the force. At least not entirely. No, she had come back as an angry, angry spirit. What kept her in the realm of the living? Perhaps the need she felt to finish what she had started while alive. Whatever it was, it had kept her around, and her first act as a specter had been to attend her own funeral. Just to see how others had remembered her.
By the time it was over, and the rain had soaked the others, she oddly felt even more anger than before. Why had any of them gotten attached to her? Didn't they know how awful attachments could be, platonic or not? To her it was evident that they didn't. The idea of getting close to others had almost always confused her. Watching her own comrades die in past wars had been enough to make her make her feel that way. And seeing others be so negatively affected by her death only solidified her opinions on relationships. There were only a few people that she'd ever consider getting close to. First and foremost was Lydia Stone, the woman who had captured her heart on Ossus all those months ago. Despite losing her... Nyx still considered the doctor to be one of the best things to ever happen to her. Even if she'd never admit it to another living soul. But in the end there has only ever been one individual she has ever allowed herself to truly love. Or, more accurately, one government.
The Empire.
As it turns out, the woman had never been loyal to the Protectorate, or to the Republic. Nor had she fully been betrayed by the Sith who poisoned her. While visiting Bastion for a Ball, she ran into an old 'partner' of hers, Lady Aldora. Through their conversation, several things were revealed, though only to each other. Drapeam Nyx had been sent prepped for the role of a sleeper agent for some time. The plan had only slightly gone awry. During her time with the Sith Lords she was discovered to be force sensitive, removed of her military rank, and given a new mission. Turning her and the others into super soldiers had failed, yes, but they had a glorious vision for what she could still become. And so, as the Empire collapsed, they prepared her to venture deep into enemy territory. And though they trusted the wrong Sith, she did end up where she needed to be. Ossus took her in, nurturing her, ignorant of her true, despicable nature.
If it hadn't been for Vrag, she would have eventually unleashed hell upon the Jedi, or at least returned with a mountain of information for her superiors. Instead she was sent back with anger burning in her soul. She brought back only a moderate gathering of information. Not much would prove to be any use to the One Sith (those she considered the New Empire). With many doubting her loyalty, and with her lack of gifts, she had trouble getting accepted back into her 'clan'. It took to long for her Imperial Intelligence to dig up the right files on her. Months passed before she was given her old job back, placed into a smaller division. Another few weeks passed before her admirable skills earned her the title of Cipher. As much as some wanted to displace her, the woman's capabilities had only improved after her demise. In essence she was a neigh perfect assassin. And so they slowly accepted her back into their fold, ignoring her burning desire for vengeance, using her for whatever tasks needed a 'special touch'. It wasn't work she enjoyed...
But it was a start. She'd get what she wanted eventually.
Soul-Share 10: Ghosts Of You
It didn't work. Try as she might, Drapeam found herself unable to make her ghostly existence feel worthwhile. Her mortal foe was vanquished, or at least out of the picture, her family was in ruins, and those she had once longed to protect were already long dead, bodies six feet under or forgotten beneath rubble. Those she aligned herself with viewed her with some level of contempt, as if they knew that she felt no loyalty to their cause. With every day that passed she felt more and more out of place. What started out as a discomfort in her nonexistent chest slowly grew into shroud of unease, something that she carried with her everywhere, a constant companion that she couldn't dismiss. It weighed on her, eventually becoming too big of a burden to ignore. Once more, without warning, she vanished, leaving the One Sith behind. For months her ghost wandered, searching for things unknown. Countless leads left her empty-handed. A lesser soul might have given up and simply moved into the light- but Drapeam had always been as stubborn as she was angry. So she kept looking.
Somehow she eventually found something, despite never knowing what it was she wanted to find. Somewhere along the fabric of the universe was a loose piece of thread, begging to be unraveled and undone, and when she pulled on it, following its trail, she discovered the remnants of her father's scheming. At first she wanted to ignore it; she hated anything and everything to do with her father, after all. But it called to her, continuously, rendering her unable to resist the urge to investigate. Months passed before she found the end of the road- though this passage of time went utterly unnoticed by her. As she had said countless times, ghosts were notoriously bad at keeping track of time. By the time she hovered above the hospital bed of her half sister, whom she believed to be her cousin, she had been away from galactic politics for nearly two years. Unaware of this, she contacted an old friend in the same manner she would have if it had only been a few weeks since their last meeting.
Drapeam's intention had been to clone her kin, transfer her own soul into the new body, and get a second chance at life. Upon examination, however, she found Artemis' body to be seemingly empty. 'Twas like her spirit had sensed its doom and fled. After a short discussion with her old comrade/mentor, the Nyxai woman decided to simply take over the 'living corpse'. She didn't fully like the idea, finding it somewhat disrespectful to her blood-share, but she was desperate, felt oddly short on time, and didn't want the vessel to go to waste. Had the end result been known to her... she would have abandoned the plan immediately. Drapeam was no star-seer, however, and proceeded with haste. The process was odd, but made easier by the woman who guided her through it. Little time passed before she was awaking inside a new body, seeing the world with new eyes, reaching out with fresh hands. For a short while, everything seemed alright. She was able to start to live a true life once more.
Until she stepped out of the reach of her mentor, and found iron jaws clamping tight around her mind. From the darkness of her subconscious emerged the 'lost' Artemis, as angry as ever, ready to reclaim her body. They struggled for control in a fight no other could see. Hours were spent with the two souls locked in internal combat, their individual willpower tested against that of the other, each unable to rest for even a second. In the end, 'twas Artemis who claimed victory. She had spent a personal eternity preparing for the moment. Every part of her had been ready for the fight, for the conflict, for years. With the addition of surprise on her side, it was no surprise that she was able to resume control of her body. Drapeam had woken her, yes, but the sniper had never been meant to stay in power. Unable to accept defeat, however, she refused to fully let go, lurking in the corners of her shared mind, impatiently waiting for a chance to strike back.
Arc 1: Defying Death {CURRENT}
She has reclaimed her body, her power, and soon, her place in the galaxy. This time around she won't let anything get in her way.
Every Shot Counts- Long Range Edition:
In the depths of the battlefield, far from home, far from familiar faces, every round, every bullet and blaster charge, counts. A single one can mean the difference between life and whatever lies beyond. Among the Imperials, not every individual saves theirs in the same way. Some carry disastrous weapons, so mighty that aim does not matter, while others use care and precision. Of course... there are also fools who lack the ability to use their resources efficiently. Unfortunately, those imbeciles are what many picture when they think of the Imperial legions. Members of the Nyxai never, ever, fit into a category of wastefulness. Especially members such as Drapeam and Artemis, who were both trained to use their quick thinking and sharp eyes. The half-sisters are both incredible marksmen, able to use a variety of ranged weapons, though most skilled with sniper rifles, to devastating effect. They are both most useful at long range, keeping a deadly watch over the battlefield.
You Will Never See Me Coming:
There are those who believe that the only honorable way to fight is in the light, where none of your actions can remain secret. If you ask most members of the Nyxai family, however, they will claim that the most honorable way to fight is to play to your own strengths, whatever they may be, so that you may fight your hardest. For both Drapeam and Artemis, such a thing would mean clinging to the shadows. Naturally stealthy despite their height, both women are at home in the darkness, able to blend into empty space or crowds with ease. They're experts in locating hiding spots, along with moving between multiple ones silently. When able to access the force they are even more capable. Regardless of environment they can find a way to sink into the background, only becoming spotted by those they let see them... or those with especially sharp eyes. For many of their former targets, death never showed its face, claiming them quickly and quietly, without even the slightest warning.
Made For War, A Military Mind:
Through conflict, one gains experience. Through experience, one can survive long enough to gain more experience. One lifetime of war, paired with half a lifetime of preparing for one, has left the dual-souled Artemis with quite a few scars- and valuable lessons taken from each one. These work alongside what her instructors taught her to provide her an impressive knack for combat. She is quick-thinking, fast on her feet, and familiar with the signals most combatants subconsciously send during fights. Both on and off the battlefield she is able to read these, allowing her to more easily predict her opponent's movements. Although not as strategic as other commanders, such as her once famous grandfather, Artemis is capable of organizing and leading squads into the fray. Unlike her half-sister, she feels fairly comfortable in a leadership position, and will not shy away from one, instead taking charge quickly and efficiently when given the chance. Some under her command might complain about her personality, but they can't often complain about her ability to think tactically.
Everything Shall One Day Burn, As I Once Did:
Once upon a time, Drapeam Nyx knew nothing of her own potential in the force. Even back then, however, she had an uncanny knack for setting things alight, simply blaming it on a lousy lighter or her own 'forgetfulness'. On countless occasions she lit her cigarettes without flipping a switch or striking a match. One might say she was foolish for never realizing the truth- or one might understand her hesitance to admit her gift, considering the hatred she once held for force users. Upon coming to terms with her own nature, the woman was able to fully understand what had been happening for years. She honed the skill, pouring hours over time into it, slowly learning to control flames as if they were an extension of herself. Death understandably slowed down the process. As a force ghost she had less access to all of her powers, including that of pyrokinesis. When she was 'resurrected' in the body of her half-sister, however, she regained her full potential, and subconsciously passed it along to her soul-share. In times of great danger, when pain or stress weaken Artemis, it is not uncommon for Drapeam to unleash flames of her own, trying to burn anything in her way.
Through Brightest Day Or Darkest Night:
When one is training to join one of the most elite groups within a military, there are countless things they must learn, far more than some would expect. Being able to not just survive, but thrive, in any type of environment was a skill that most groups required (though admittedly to varied degrees). With the aid of simulations Artemis was prepared to fight through the most common terrain types, along with a few rarer ones. Her training, however, was cut short by the unexpected success of her half sibling, Drapeam. The older Nyx would end up traveling across dozens of worlds throughout the galaxy. What Artemis had only ever experienced in virtual reality, her sibling lived through, fighting in harsher conditions than even her superiors had originally anticipated. Years later, when the two would reside within the same body, their knowledge would combine, cementing their ability to adapt to their environment as needed.
Weaknesses:
Expect No Kindness But A Swift End:
One could potentially write multiple essays on the tendency for Nyxai to be hostile, bitter people. Studies could be done with ease, considering the numerous available subjects, and books could be written at an incredible pace. There are thousands of examples of the family being needlessly rude, cruel, or spiteful. While not every person with the surname 'Nyx' is mean, it seems like all of their most notable members are. Both Drapeam and her father had infamous tempers. Few seemed to enjoy working with or for either of them, and neither made many friends during their lives. During the start of her life, while she was still a single soul, Artemis appeared to 'break tradition'. Though not overly kind, she did not anger quickly, nor did she make any snide remarks. 'Twas not until her many years trapped inside her own dreams with naught but visions for company that she became bitter. Merging with her sibling worsened this, leaving her with a nasty temperament. Despite not being as openly crude as her sister, Artemis is still what most would consider a 'jerk' (for lack of a more fitting term). She is capable of making many allies, but that is all they will likely ever be, as her personality leaves little room for friendships or romances of any kind.
The (Fear Of The) Finale Frontier:
Despite spending countless months traveling the depths of space, and quite a measure of time living on ocean worlds, Drapeam Nyx was never able to overcome her two greatest fears: The fear of no gravity and the fear of deep water. Any sort of environment where there is no clear 'up' freaked her out immensely, causing her a massive amount of stress. This panic manifested itself in various ways, most commonly in shaking, increased perspiration, and difficulty breathing. When her soul moved into the body of her sibling, she started to share her phobias, causing Artemis to have nearly as much trouble as she once had. Spending even a small amount of time without gravity causes her to panic. At best she simply uses a little extra oxygen, while at worst she has a full breakdown, requiring immediate extraction and up to four hours to calm back down.
All Scars Come In Pairs:
There is only so much one can take. Only so much you can go through before parts of you are shattered. Even if you manage to get back up, to keep fighting, you're left with scars. For every physical mark on your flesh there's another in your mind. Struggles of all kinds can leave marks, and few ever fully heal. For Drapeam, most of these scars come from war, almost every other from her father's abusive tendencies. The woman carried those with her every day of her life. They manifested as panic attacks, flashbacks, outbursts, or fits of depression. Although there were countless ways for her to seek help, her pride never let her do so. And so, all the way up until her death, and even past that, she suffered. While her sibling never faced any demons as harsh, Artemis still had her share of internal battles, making the merging of their minds a troublesome thing. As used to dealing with her own problems as she was, she was unprepared to adjust to her sister's triggers. More days than not she ends up in some sort of panic, remembering a life she never lived, coping with actions she never took.
Armor Cannot Protect One From Their Own Self:
Every day she lives is a day she takes some sort of revenge on the woman she hates- on her own sibling. Every day she lives is a day that Drapeam is trapped in her mind, unable to do what she wishes, unable to advance her own plans. And so every day is a victory to Artemis. But oftentimes that means that she does not care much for enjoying things, or thriving, or letting her skin remain unbroken. Sometimes it means she does not even care if she dies- for if she dies, Drapeam would be left without a body once more, and that too was a victory of sorts. So she lets herself be hurt, sometimes broken, because for now she does not care. Perhaps she will, someday. But by then she will have already been damaged greatly, and by then she will know little besides regret.
Neutral Traits:
One Body, One Heart, Two Spirits:
They say that two heads are better than one. In some cases, this is true. Two minds, when aligned, can solve problems far faster than they could alone. More than that, four hands make quick work of small jobs. However, when the situation involves two heads fighting for control of a single body... well, things tend to be a lot more chaotic. Although Artemis has more power over her vessel than her soul-share, she has to be almost constantly on the lookout for attacks from her sibling. The two have yet to reach a state of harmony, instead locked in an internal struggle, unable to come to terms with the other's existence. Only one benefit seems to come alongside this conflict: Try as she might to hide herself, Drapeam is incapable of preventing Artemis from accessing the majority of her memories, instincts, and, to a lesser degree, her powers. When the younger of the two does particularly well in her internal fight, or when their desires somehow manage to align, she is able to draw upon her soul-share's strength.
Thin Hides Are Better Than None:
Over several dozen years, both Drapeam and Artemis Nyx fought long and hard, donning themselves in light armor before each battle. Though they knew that heavier gear afforded more protection, they valued their mobility (along with their subtlety) too much to make the switch. To this day they both prefer their suits to be as close to weightless as possible. It's one of the few things they can both agree on, making the act of getting suited up nice and easy. However, should they ever need, for any reason, to don thicker armor, neither of them would be able to function as well. They're both used to working light, making the use of medium or heavy armor harder than usual.
Blood Is Thicker Than Water- Hybrid Edition:
Being of mixed blood gives Artemis several advantages and disadvantages. The most notable is her enhanced senses: Both her Firrerreo and Zorren blood heighten her sight, smell, hearing, taste, and touch. This can be a blessing as well as a curse. Activities such as tracking, fighting, and sometimes even gambling are made easier for her. However, she is at a higher risk of experiencing sensory overload. More positive is the strength granted to her by her heritage, seeing as both of her parents' species are known for being stronger than most near-human races. Unfortunately, her 'scrambled' DNA, along with her Firrerreo side, can make being treated by medics very difficult. Scanners and robots that aren't programmed for her specific situation can do far more harm than good. Of course, this is partially nullified by the accelerated healing granted to her by her blood.
Eyes:
Once upon a time a child was born with bright eyes like the morning sky. Beautiful teal orbs always with a glimmer in them, always seeming to smile more than her pale lips ever could. Her eyes were like two nebulae, much like herself, full of life and waiting to bloom into even more. Yet as she grew up they started to dull. Perhaps her eyes were always meant to mirror her personality or her innocence. Age turned them colder, darker. The shimmer left. Their glow lessened. Then came the 'trials' all of her people must face. Once blue spheres became a powerful gold, seeming to regain their shine. Still they held a hardness to them. A roughness not unlike that in her chest. Their shape remained mostly consistent, falling under the simple category of 'almond-shaped'. Many would say that they almost always seemed to be narrowed in one display of irritation or another, never widened in shock, and never felt the wetness of tears.
Skin:
Once upon a time there was a fair-skinned girl free of blemishes. Her skin was a beautiful tanned shade. A few freckles dotted her skin, gathering in greatest numbers upon her rosy cheeks. Even as the years went by this seemed to go unchanged. Why would it? Our darling Artemis never seemed to leave her homeworld, never left her father's facility, and never marched off to war (as the rest of her family did). Of course, the lass eventually left, finding herself locked away, to be hidden from the sun for far too long. Although her skin lost some of its color, it never became truly pale. The blood in her veins was too strong, too stubborn, to fade so much. Still, the shift was enough to catch her by surprise when she first awoke from her slumber. She did not lament the loss of pigment, however, for she knew it could easily be returned.
Body Structure:
Once upon a time breaks didn't riddle bones. A girl's body was allowed to grow in peace, it's own power, firm nature, and rough appearance mattered little. When this didn't seem to be changing... Others were pleased. Yet they wanted more, they wanted her to be the picture of perfect health. They wanted her to be the epitome of a powerful Nyxai woman. Our protagonist was sent to several specialists. Each worked their trade upon her, providing what push her body needed to continue growing. Now she's even taller, nearly giant, her muscles clearly visible, the very build of her body screaming strength. Yet there were still curves hidden among corners, still edges that defined her femininity. Artemis never really considered the effort to be worth the credits, but it had never been her decision in the first place.
Hair:
Once upon a time red hair was considered to be a sign of witchcraft- much in the same way as being left-handed was. Perhaps there were some who wondered about her when they say the color of her hair. Maybe they were right. But that didn't matter to her. The girl loved her mane of ginger quite a lot. For a long time she kept it at a great length, letting it fall far past her shoulders. Most of the time her family would make her put it up into a pony-tail or bun. But when she was alone she'd let is cascade down her back in beautiful waves. Time passed. Her affection for her hair, which had started to darken over time, dwindled. It still hurt to have all of it shaved off by her father. Artemis sometimes stares into the mirror, running a hand through the short locks, reminiscing about a lost time... She never stares for long, though, knowing that living things never truly stop growing.
Clothing:
Once upon a time there was a girl wore floral dresses or long flowing skirts with light pink blouses. Everything that ever graced her skin seemed to compliment her perfectly. No matter how eccentric her outfits seemed... they always worked. Somehow. Most days she donned herself in fabrics fit for royalty... yet looked like they belonged to the court jester. Despite that she always appeared regal. In time her choice of attire 'calmed down'. Bright yellows and greens turned into darker blues and soft oranges. They were accompanied by blacks, greys, those sorts of tones. Constant shines were traded for simple pops of color. Our little girl went from a happy princess to the sophisticated Imperial her father always hoped she'd be... Even if she was no longer a soldier. Generally, Artemis finds her current garment choices pleasing- if it a bit rougher than they used to be.
Equipment:
Starships/Vehicles: N/A
Droids/AIs: N/A
Melee Weaponry:
Umbra: Plain vibroblade, x1
Czerka Fighting Knife, x1
Lightsaber: Standard, x2
Ranged Weaponry:
B-103 Sentry Pistol, x2
AT-90R Sniper Rifle, x1
CZ-838 Sniper Rifle, x1
Armor/Shields:
Blackblade Armor: Broken, x1
ECHO Bactarma GEN-1, x1
Assistants: N/A
Miscellaneous:
Tetrex Watch: Military version, x1
Personality:
Personality Type: ISTJ {Introvert, Observant, Thinking, Judging}
Four Temperaments: Choleric
The Big Five:
Curious<<<Cautious
Organized<<<<Careless
Reserved<<Energetic
Detached<Compassionate
Confident<<<Nervous
Morality: True Neutral
General Personality:
Some would say that Artemis is like her sister in every conceivable way- especially when it comes to personality. She, however, would disagree. It would be a quiet disagreement, perhaps, but one nonetheless. As angry as she often is, she knows that she is never as loud or as verbal as her sibling was. Nor did she ever let herself accept a disorganized work environment. No, Artemis is neat, clean, often reserved, and quiet, even in her rage. Unlike her father, she rarely ever raises her voice. When she unleashes her anger she does so softly. Tis not her level tone that lets others now how she feels, but the edge hidden behind it, the furrow of her brows, and the sharpness in her eyes. Like Drapeam, however, she is often quick to judge the worth of those around her. Additionally she is prone to mild mood swings, though these are far less noticeable than those of her family members.
{Skill Level Reference, Weakest to Strongest: Initiate, Apprentice, Adept, Knight, Expert, Master, Legendary, Exalted}
TRAINING:Combat Training:
Primary Melee Form: General Brawling, Muay Thai
Skill Level: Knight, Knight
Trainers: Family + Military Trainers
Weapon of Choice: Sniper Rifle
Skill Level: Legendary
Trainers: Military + Family
Primary Lightsaber Form: II, Makashi
Skill Level: Knight
Trainers: Self, Circe Savan
Secondary Lightsaber Form: III, Soresu
Skill Level: Apprentice
Trainers: Self, Jedi Order
Specializations:
Anti-Force Tactics: Knight
Anti-Force Conditioning: Expert
Military Combat/Tactics: Knight
Force Skills/Powers:
Control:
Force Stealth: Expert
Force Body: Knight
Sense:
Force Sense: Adept
Alter:
Pyrokinesis: Expert
Telekinesis: Adept
Mentalist:
Illusions: Knight
Force Fear: Adept
Alchemy:
General: Adept
White Current:
Stealth (WC): Expert
Illusions (WC): Knight
Social Training:
Emotion Management: Adept
General Diplomacy: Adept
Leadership: Knight
Intimidation: Expert
Survival Training:
Desert Survival: Master
Jungle Survival: Knight
Tundra Survival: Expert
Hunting/Tracking: Knight
Flora/Fauna Identification: Adept
Outdoor Cooking: Apprentice
Miscellaneous Skills:
Rock/Wall Climbing: Adept
Spatial Mapping: Adept
Sketching: Adept
RELATIONSHIPS:
Family:
Tywin Hermastus Nyx: Biological father. Fate unknown.
Athesian Primara Nyx: Biological mother. Deceased.
Gregarius Mahrs Nyx: Cousin. One Sith Intelligence Agent.
Altercus Mercai Nyx: Cousin. Rogue Sith Lord.
Drapeam Sahara Nyx: Half-sister. Soul-bound to Art's body.
Instructors:
Circe Savan: Enigma once trained Art's soul-share in the art of stealth.
Apprentices:
[member="Enoch Zambrano"]: In a different body, she tried to teach him something.
[member="Gherron Vael"]: He wasn't good with blasters. She did her best to remedy that.
Allies:
[member="Keira Ticon"]: Art respects the woman for reasons she isn't aware of.
Nyxai Family: Despite some conflict of interests, Art remains close with her kin.
Enemies:
@Vrag: The soul stuck in her body hates this dead Sith with a passion.
The One Sith: She doesn't know why she despises them so much.
The Republic: Art was raised to hate everything about them.
Friends:
Unknown: None are currently known about.
Lovers:
Lydia Stone: Art didn't love her- but Drapeam did, more than she loved anything.
Cutharis Telmarr: They dated, once. It was never meant to work out.
- "What is dead cannot die, for with the spirits they do lie. From sheltered dawn to filtered dusk, once-body naught but a husk, ghosts may wander, ghosts may fly, but never believe that a soul may die."
- "What little life we live between our dreams so sweet is nothing in comparison to this existence. There is nothing we can't do- but nothing we can do that lives on for all eternity. Our lives, our reality, is nothing more than a footnote, if even that. A speck of nothingness within an universe of infinities. So why? Why all of this? Look in the mirror. Close your eyes. Think of everything you've ever experienced. Would you throw it away simply because it means nothing to the rest of the worlds? Even though it meant something to you? To those who shared those moments with you?... The answer is no. What little life we live between our dreams is so sweet. It's our own personal set of infinities, and we should not give them up, ever."
- "I came her willingly. 'Spent a dozen years working to protect the Imperial people, and now that they're all ash and dust, I've been 'serving' the Protectorate. Gotta help people somehow..."
- "Twas my first battle- though many came after. I was a Private in the army, fresh out of the academy, and this was the place I was sent to die. I didn't die here, though. My kinsmen did, along with those we foolishly called our enemies. We weren't foes, not really, just kids dressed in suits, playing a game of war that got out of hand. Fighting for people who didn't want to get their hands dirty themselves."
- "I want you to look me in the eyes when you kill me."
- "When you killed me, you opened up doors I didn't know existed. You'd think I'd stop hating you then, right?... That would make the most sense. But power is one thing, drive, motivation, is another. I'll keep hating you until I find something else to push me forward. I'll keep clawing my way through the afterlife until I get what I want: The safety of my people or your head on a frakking stick. When I get that?... Heh, hell if I know."
- Lasting a whole thirty seconds in a fight against Fabula Caromed.
- Swearing nearly a dozen times within one (somewhat coherent) sentence.
- Managing to be even more annoying in death than in life.
- The original version of Drapeam Nyx was created as a joke. She was never meant to come as far as she did. Oops.
- In mythology, Nyx is the Greek embodiment of night, as well as a very maternal figure. However, Drapeam fitting this is somewhat of a coincidence, as her last name was originally thought to be a random mashing of letters.
- Date of Creation: Posted on 12/29/16, at 10:18 PM
- Playby/Face Claim: Alex Brand, FemShep, Antje Traue, and Ruby Rose.
- Inspirations: Commander Shepard (ME), Alex Brand (GoW), and Kadala Nymphora.
A lot better looking than mine, that's for sure.
