Daal
Member
NAME: Daal
FACTION: None
RANK: None
SPECIES: Human
AGE: Exact age unknown, young adult in appearance.
SEX: Female
HEIGHT: 1.8m
WEIGHT: 72kg
EYES: Green
HAIR: Black
SKIN: Fair
FORCE SENSITIVE: Yes
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES :
(-) She is prone to violent manic episodes and outbursts, and will always try to respond to force with more force. In high-stress situations she gets intense tunnel vision and may become impossible to control in a combat environment. Conversely, she may cease fighting altogether and need reminding of why she's there. She may lose her memory of and violence or combat after the fact, or the facts may be altered in her mind.
(-) She has no regard for her own safety as long as the basic requirements of self-preservation are met.
(-) She should never be trusted to attempt to pilot anything.
(-) She cannot at this time comprehend organized power structures, and has an intense distrust of males.
(-) She frequently finds herself unable to vocally communicate coherently. She has the ability to do so, if she is in an environment where she feels safe.
(-) She has not yet received formal training in the ways of the force, as such she cannot effectively use powers that require a great deal of control or concentration. Certain abilities such as lightning may manifest themselves in unpredictable ways during times of duress. Complex actions involving the force may only occur reflexively, such as movement, at times against her will.
(-) She will often feel exposed and seek to partially or fully cover her face or other parts of her body, during times where this action feels imperative she will drop everything else for the sake of that goal. Other times, the opposite may occur where she feels constricted.
(+) She does possess a significant amount of strength in the force, but is not the least bit graceful about it. Rather, her usage is rather primal in nature and as such tends to manifest itself in simplistic ways, such as using it to throw objects.
(-)(+) She does not currently possess a light weapon, however she is efficient with blades and most sharp objects and has an intimate understanding of what parts of most bodies to target in order to inflict the most damage. Short blades, whip-like weapons and polearms are her strong suit. She cannot effectively wield traditional-length swords, having had few opportunities to so much as hold one. She can aim a blaster, but does not like how they draw attention to her and thus does not possess one at this time.
APPEARANCE:
She is said to be relatively tall for a human female, with a slender, athletic build. She has also been described as having "a pretty face." These things are difficult to verify, however, as she is normally seen clad in multiple layers of tattered, dark clothing, occasionally with face coverings. These layers frequently conceal a multitude of sharp objects, at times heavily improvised.
BIOGRAPHY:
She's not sure where her name came from, only that she remembers being called "Daal" at a young age, often by curious strangers. It was upsetting that they never seemed to regard that as her name, but instead remarking that "she looks just like a Daal." Were there really so many of them? She wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but she was certain to respond to it. It wasn't that she wanted to respond to it, of course, but she learned there would be less pain as long as she did so. Her earliest memories of dirt, trash, and grime were overwritten with memories of blood, tears, and screams. There was no way for her to know just how long this went on, only that over time she became aware that as long as the blood, tears, and screams came from someone else, they didn't have to come from her. In her memories, as fragmented as they are, the last time she had to scream was the first time she made someone else do so. A low rumbling, in her head, in her skin, coursing through her veins, her ears began to ring, and then her pain had stopped. It was her tormenter's screams, now, that flooded the darkened chamber of her existence, pressed against the farthest wall by an unseen presence, as bones cracked and breath escaped his vessel, never to return. It was some time before she regained her self-awareness after the silence, she covered herself with whatever she could find to stave off the coldness. It wasn't that she was actually cold, but for reasons unknown to her, she couldn't stop shivering. With that, she made her way out into the world.
Nothing made sense. She found herself at odds with many beings, when she sought to sate her hunger and thirst. They had what she needed, why couldn't she have it? And then it happened. A disgruntled vendor grabbed her wrist, and as he yelled at her for stealing, the low rumbling found its way into her body again, and then the ringing in her ears started. She tried to scream, but the voice she heard was not her own, as the street vendor's body was suddenly scattered in pieces before her, next to his crushed food cart, surrounded by onlookers gasping in horror. She reached for the one of the nearby cooking utensils spilled onto the ground before her, and it seemingly pulled itself into her hand as she pointed it at the pedestrians around her to threaten them. Backing into an alley behind her, she ran. It seemed as though she ran for an eternity, just to survive. It became a familiar habit, but over time she managed to refine the process and not get caught. Sometimes men would come looking for her, but she learned that if she held back the awful presence inside of her, they would do whatever she said, or whatever she felt on the days when words escaped her. Occasionally, someone had to die, but it was a small price to pay to not starve. For years, this continued, until she noticed fewer people looking down at her, instead looking up in order to meet her gaze. It made her uncomfortable, of course, any time that eyes were upon her. There was something unsettling about it. Why were they looking? What did they see? It was okay on the good days, she didn't care so much. It was an interaction her mind could afford to enjoy, if just for a moment. On bad days, it was upsetting to her, and she found that the less of her they could see, the less upset she felt. When she felt upset, she would lose control, and whatever that low rumbling in her body was would take over. It was easy to silence the screams once they started, but she could feel them resonating in her ears long after the ringing had stopped. Her nights were often filled with restlessness, and she would push herself as long as possible to stave off the nightmares. She found herself waking up afterward in unfamiliar locations, unsure of what she actually did to get there. Wherever she ended up, it seemed she was capable of getting there without anyone having to die, or worse, scream. This lifestyle seemed to repeat itself for quite some time, not that she had any way of knowing what "time" was, until the present where she accidentally passed out in the cargo hold of a large freighter bound for an unknown destination. She could no longer feel the minds of civilization around her, and for the first time in a long time she felt a sense of peace in the silence.
SHIP: None
KILLS: None.
BOUNTIES COLLECTED: None
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