NAME: Dhakarta, previously Dhakar'ta Kotir
WEIGHT: 144 lbs
FORCE SENSITIVE: Yes - Dathomirian Witch Tradition, Je'daii Alchemy
Double Threat - Dhakarta spent the first fifteen years of her life being trained as a Dathomirian witch, and the next fifteen as a Mandalorian. She is very combat capable in most roles, knows a good bit about healing in several different ways, knows about plants and poisons, and machines, armour and guns.
Thinker - Dhakarta has spent a lot of time alone, with nothing to do but think. She tends to have good insight into things, and rarely acts rashly, though she can be goaded.
Haunted - Her entire family is dead. Her Mother and little sisters murdered by the people she'd dedicated her life to, and her father blew his head off in front of her. She is not okay.
Back-up Character in the Main Characters Chair - Dhakarta worked very well with her father and other Mandalorians, and before that she worked well with her witch sisters. Now suddenly she's alone and everything is up to her. She's used to thinking of how to solve problems or handle situations with allies, suddenly she doesn't have any.
Dhakarta is fairly average in both height and weight. Most humanoids would consider her to be fairly attractive, but no one is recruiting her for holofilms. She almost always exudes an air of tiredness of the soul, the kind sleep can't cure. Her shoulder length chestnut brown hair tends to fall in messy waves, and usually has a few braids in it, to make it easier to get out of her face quickly when necessary. Her tanned, freckled skin has quite a few minor nicks and scars, but none of note that were an obvious threat to her life. She is always armed, and generally wearing clothes or armour that has seen some use but is of sturdy, durable material. It's rarely flashy, she is quite happy to blend into the background.
I was born on Dathomir into two strong traditions and cultures. My mother was a Dathomirian Witch, my father was a Mandalorian. I had the aptitude to be a witch, but when it came down to it, well I had two younger sisters who were both keen to stay with Ma, and I wanted to see the galaxy, and punch a lot of it in the face, so I went with my father. I was proud of who I was. Proud of my witchblood, but maybe prouder to be Mandalorian, because oh I loved how happy it made Da. And I went the whole nine yards. Only spoke Mando'a, basically lived in my armour, I was representing aliit Kotir after all. And I was pretty good at it, especially working with Da, we made a hell of a team. I gave out more keldabe kisses than any other sort.
And then the Mandalorians changed. First they were just generally anti-force. For the most part, they tolerated those who followed the Code and had the blood, though you heard whispers. Then they started using that damn 'Cure'. And eventually they invaded Dathomir. My home. Me being half and half had never been an issue. Mandos and Witches were tight as you like. We've been allies.. all my life. Longer. Then that child decided she was Mandalore, went through the gate she had no right going through and.. something came back. She looked older, so we were supposed to feel better about following someone with no accomplishments, no merit of their own, no worth as far as real Mando thinking went. And she named herself the Infernal. Well now normally I might say titles are meant to be earned and given to you by others, but hers might be right, because I'm not convinced that the girl who went in is what came back out.
What proper raised Mando let alone Mandalore, the one who's responsible for looking out for all of us, would force my mother and sisters to put little bugs into their bodies to destroy everything that made them witches? Destroy their culture and everything they were? After they'd fought and bled countless times at the Mandalores call? Of course my Ma didn't stand for that, no Sir, she was having none of it. She was a Witch and the wife of a Mando, so she fought. And she died. A lot of them did. Me and Da were across the galaxy when it happened. On our way home to heed the call of all things. When we got there and saw the village, burnt, blasted and abandoned, skeletons laying there, the ones that hadn't been torn apart by the beasts, Da put his pistol in his mouth and that was that.
I thought about following them. Whats a Witch or a Mando without their clan? Nothing. No one. I didn't. Then I was mad. Both ways. Angry and crazy. I decided I wasn't going to be Mandalorian anymore if this was what being Mandalorian meant. I thought about waging my own war. One woman army. But even I wasn't quite that crazy. So I left. Now it's just me.
Who knows. Maybe I'll get my chance. Or maybe I'll find something worth living for. Failing that I'm sure eventually I'll find a good way to die.
Light Kavalus Armor
Wrath of the Machine
Freedom for Felacat
Into the Deep
The Harvest Day Race