Ash Verd
Potty Mouth
- Name: Ashlynn Verd
- Alias: N/A
- Force Alignment: Neutral
- Force Rank: Novice
- Species: Near-Human
- Races: Umbaran/Korun
- Age: Twenty
- Sex: Female
- Height: 5'7"
- Weight: ~166 Lbs
- Eye Color: Silver-Ish Blue
- Hair Color: Blonde & Dark Brown
- Skin Pigmentation: Light
- Force Sensitive: Yes
- Mandalorians: Full-Fledged Warrior
- Master(s): ---
- Apprentice(s): ---
- Successful Student(s): ---
- Significant Other: ---
- Siblings: ---
- Offspring: ---
- Extended Family: Isley Verd [ Uncle ]
( + ) Fighter Pilot: Overall, she is an excellent pilot. Mainly with Starfighters & small ships.
( + ) Guns & Gunpowder: She is a whizz with a shotgun. Even more so, she loves explosives.
( + ) Fancied Feet: Having done exotic dancing in her past, she can dance well, to say the least.
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( ~ ) Name Sake: She automatically hates anyone who calls her Ashlynn.
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( - ) Short Temper: She is quick to anger, and her mouth is unsheathed before her blade.
( - ) Abandonment Issues: She has problems trusting others with valuable information / bonds.
- N/A
N/A
Ash stands at the average height of 5'7", her skin complexion easily considered 'white', or 'light'. A non-privileged lifestyle has given her scratches, however faint, across her body. The most notable is the scar that stretches from the top to bottom of her back, embedded into her in a diagonal fashion. Despite this, her face is free of blemishes and dirt. Her eyebrows are naturally arched and brown whilst her eyebrows are thick and dark and give the impression that Ashlynn wears eyeliner. Her eyes, as mentioned before, take on a silver-ish blue hue. Naturally squinted, to add. Her lips are pink, often puckered by natural means giving her a deviant appearance. As for the remainder of her body, her curves are not her most notable assets, however they are there to a certain extent. Her ears normally have claws, her decorative earrings, hanging from them. Her hair is primarily blonde, long and usually tied or worn down. Thick roots of dark brown peek through her stands of blonde, however.
-------// P A S T //
"I don't look like you, Ms.Koldor, you sure you're momma?" A young, innocent and abandoned Ashlynn would question one of the woman that ran the communal care of the clan. The woman stared at Ashlynn, her face torn by distraught. She knew the answer, but how would she tell the child? "I feed you, and clothe you, and nurse you when you're sick, do I not?" Ashlynn was scooped up, the child laughing. "Yeah, Ms.Koldor. I just heard it's people out there. Y'know? The ones that live with something called a 'momma' and 'dad'. What is that, Ms.Koldor?" The questions continued, the care-taker answering her questions with other questions to avoid the child's questions. However, her young mind didn't mind. Ashlynn was placed into the mandalorian's communal care, grown their the majority of her life. Placed before the door-step with nothing but a message of her name. Ashlynn Verd. In short, she was brought into the world by the efforts two, and abandoned by the very two.
By her teens, the child had begun to grow into her womanly body, changes coming about physically, mentally and emotionally for Ashlynn. She, by nature, had a detest for most things considered 'feminine'. Whether it be dresses, make-up or the like. Instead, she took to wear hats to cover her long hair and finding things that went "boom". The rush is what she yearned for. She wanted to be strong, to live by honor and grow strong enough to travel from the planet Mandalore and meet her family. This change in the child grew into fruition after the Ashlynn turned '9', her small face peeking through the cracked door as her care-takers spoke in their room. "That child. Ashlynn. Her name..you kn-" --"How could I not? She could very well be the niece to Isley. I know little of 'em. Only that he is a former Manda'lor." Ashlynn's gasped, her breath hushed before she ran to her room.
She had heard stories of what it meant to be Manda'lor. Never to be afraid of getting dirty, living by horror and the like. He, in just an instant, became what she'd stride to become. Her name was cut from Ashlynn to Ash, and her road to becoming a warrior began. By her mid-teens, the child abandoned the very people who cared for her, aiming to break a piece of life for herself in this universe. However, life was not so linear and easy for the girl. Months on end, she remained poor, too frightened to return to communal care. The girl's innocence was reaped in an instant, however, when she was snagged from the streets by affiliates of the underworld. "This girl's a nice one. She'll rake in heaps of credits in a few years." Simply put, the young Ashlynn spouted words "Being a warrior" and "Honor." However, she was scrawny, poor and small. Most of all, she was vulnerable. The girl was promised strength, credits and honor. All she'd need to do was dance. And dance.....she did.
The next two years, she spent erotic dancing and performing payed favors for the clients given to her. In a sense, she was a slave. Her body had continued to mature, which didn't necessarily help her this time around. It was only until a uniformed figure kicked down the door of the secret and underworld-haven bar did her life alter dramatically once again. Names with high bounties, criminals with numerous felonies and exiled misfits littered these bars, and it was only a matter of time until someone came looking for them. A grenade rolled into the middle of the room, and explosion setting off before smoke clawed at her lungs. She hit the ground, blaster shots thumping in her ears and cries heard about. She was told to be strong, she once had hopes of becoming a warrior but now..Ashlynn curled herself and whispered prayers of her freedom. Suddenly, however, she opened her eyes to a rifle being positioned at her forehead.
The uniformed figure confirmed Ashlynn to being a civilian, offering her a hand and taking her out of the bar along the others. A month would pass, Ashlynn personally taken in by the uniformed officer. "What is it you live for?" -- "...." The growing teen thought she knew the answer, but every day of the past two years had proven her wrong. "I'll tell you this, Ash. If a person is to ever sell their services, it'd atleast better well karking be for money. Beyond that, it should be for a cause. The greater good, you understand? That is why I've enlisted you to join the Mandalorian forces. You'll be trained, taught discipline and better yet, you'll be given a second chance at whatever you want your life to be."
Within a year, Ashlynn had endured rigorous training, her scrawny figure, her shattered mental state restored and improved upon tremendously. She had made emends with whatever god she knew. More importantly, she had forgiven herself for allowing herself to stoop so low. She was taught the live by a code, to never abandon honor and even more so, how to handle herself in combat. Through her tests, it seemed she possessed a natural knack for flying. After her training was complete, she spent a year developing her skills whilst amongst the Mandalorian forces. Day by day, becoming stronger, becoming faster and more intelligent. It was seem her natural liking for things that went "boom" carried over with her, the woman often found with a strap of various grenades and explosives at her disposal.
Though she had escaped the most troubling state of her life, she could never escape one aspect of it.
"Who is mom? What is Dad?"
These thoughts haunted her, even after training, even after forgiveness, even after the fits of rage and streams of tears. She had no one to call her own. No man, no woman, no beast alike. She had pledged herself a Full-Fledged Manda'lor, however, the life she knew had once again took a turn for the worst. Numbers began to diminish, people by the trillions suddenly vanishing. Saying things were no longer the say would prove to be an understatement. Her faith in Order began to waver, her trust in honor suddenly questionable. However, the words of the uniformed man rang in her ear even after so many years. "If you are to provide your services, let it be for the greater good. Let it be for credits." And thus, she found herself becoming a mercenary, a 'work for fire', in terms. She scrapped what money she had earned from her time with the Mandalorian forces to purchase a personal ship. One she'd use to explore the galaxy, providing her services for the right amount of credits. One she'd use to find her family. Questions still remained, after all.
-------// P R E S E N T //
Her life as a mercenary continued for a year or two, temporary by even sense of the word. However, it had provided her with a stable flow of credits. Ends were met. Her debts were repayed. With the same ship, she returned to the planet Mandalore at the age of twenty. She, with hesitation, opened the door to the communal care facility she abandoned long ago. Things were silent, the room void of any presence other than her own. She walked in, slowly, her mandalorian armor clicking against the ground in heavy thumps. Ash found herself inside her own room, peering at the folded clothes, the beds too small for her that lined against the walls. This remembered the child she shared this very room with. She remembered Ms.Koldor. The brief rush of jubilation and joy was crushed, however. Her helmet was taken off, held beside her as she picked up a picture. It was herself, young, innocent, beautiful. The fact someone could and had abandoned her irked her to the core, her teeth clinched and fists tightened as she flung the picture across the room, the frame shattering in pieces as she picture lowered in wavering motion before her. "Damn you."
"Damn You," She repeated, picking up the entire desk and hauling it. Beds were kicked, walls punched into, and the picture stomped until it was too wrinkled and disfigured to make out.
"DAMN YOU" -- "DAMN YOU.." -- "DAAAMN YOU!" She continued to scream aloud, her face flushed with red and her eyes burning as tears dripped from them. She fell to her knees, gripping at the carpet. After coming to her senses, she looked around herself, nothing but destruction and debris around her. It was at the moment she didn't know whether she was angry at her parents, or herself. Who was to blame? Perhaps she had never truly forgiven herself. Ash would receive a notification on her commlink that a client had wished to meet her, the coordinates given. She, in distress, used every amount of willpower to not crack the very device that had aided her through the years. She was a warrior, a Manda'lor, afterall. It was time to act like it. For her sake, if anyone's. Thus, she rose to her feet, wiped her tears and was seen moments later walking out the facility with her helmet placed on firmly. She had a mission to attend to.