Artemis Vahl'Nyx
I'll Be Your Lionheart
MAYDAY, MAYDAY! THIS SHIP IS SLOWLY SINKING,
THEY THINK I'M CRAZY BUT THEY DON'T KNOW THE FEELING
I CANNOT STOP THIS SICKNESS FROM SLOWLY TAKING OVER,
IT TAKES CONTROL AND DRAGS ME INTO NOWHERE
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INTRODUCTION:
NAME:
Drapeam Sahara Nyx
ALIASES:
Nyxius Stone; Lady Medax
NICKNAMES:
Nyx, The Liar, The Specter of Kaas
"As soon as one promises not to do something, it becomes the thing they want to do most."
CALL-SIGN:
Boomshot queen {Not Used}
HOME PLANET:
Dromund Kaas
OFFICIAL TITLES:
Knight Drapeam, Special Agent Nyx
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CHAPTER 1: THE BASICS
FACTION:
One Sith; Formerly the Protectorate, the Republic, and the Old Empire
RANK:
Knight; Special Agent; Formerly Blackblade Guard
FORCE LEVEL:
Knight {As of 3/22/15}
GENDER:
Cisgendered Female
“And above all else: Watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you, because the greatest of secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely of places. Those who don't believe in magic, those who do not look, will never find it.”
AGE:
Biologically 45 GSY, Appears 26
SPECIES:
100% Zorren, click here, has undergone trial.
HEIGHT:
1.93 Meters, 6 Feet 4 inches
WEIGHT:
182 Pounds, 82.5 Kilograms
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CHAPTER 2: BUILDING IT UP
EYES:
"They used to be blue... now look at them..."
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. Eventually her right eye was poisoned. Sith magic turned the sclera black, the pupil blacker, and the iris almost seemed to actually glow with rage. Nyx mourns the loss of her old self still.
SKIN:
"So many scars... will they ever fade?"
Once upon a time there was a fair-skinned girl free of blemishes. Her skin was a beautiful white. Not quite like snow, but similar in tone. To lively to seem sick, to soft to seem ghostly. Even as the years went by this seemed to go unchanged. Why would it? Our darling Nyx lived on a cloudy world. For her to be tanned... it would be an odd thing. Years of her life were spent on a planet that rarely saw direct sunlight. Of course, the lass eventually left, finding herself in many different habitats, some hostile, others not. Time showed her skin everything. White started to tan. Weapons tore into her, ripping her flesh apart, threatening to pale her again- permanently. But they healed. Every wound closed up. Some left marks. Little ones, big ones, thin ones, fat ones. They seemed to be everywhere. Nyx doesn't go a day without counting every one.
BODY STRUCTURE:
"Not a twig, not quite a branch."
Once upon a time breaks didn't riddle bones. A girl's body was allowed to grow in peace, it's own clumsiness, gaunt nature, and scrawny appearance mattered little. But when this didn't seem to be changing... Others were worried. Why was she so thin? Was she not eating enough? Did she need more exercise? Whatever the cause was, they could not stand it. Our protagonist was sent to several doctors. Most recommended waiting. Some, sensing the family's... desperation, suggested rigorous training, tough diets, or even implants. These, combined with puberty, changed her completely. Oh, she used to be such a skinny girl. Now she's tall, nearly giant, her muscles visible, the build of her body screaming strength. Yet there were still curves, still edges that defined her femininity. Nyx often wonders if it was worth it.
HAIR:
"Some people say it's my best feature. Jerks."
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. Still no one knew of her sensitivity to the force- still some wondered about it. 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 captors. Nyx sometimes stares into the mirror, running a hand through the short locks, reminiscing about a lost time...
“No one fights dirtier or brutally than blood; only family knows it's own weaknesses, where exactly the heart lies. The tragedy is that one can still live with the force of hatred, feel infuriated that once you are born to another, that kinship lasts through life and death, immutable, unchanging, no matter how great the misdeed or betrayal. Blood cannot be denied, and perhaps that is why we fight tooth and claw, because we cannot- being only human- put asunder what God has put together.”
MODIFICATIONS:
"I've always loved decorating myself."
Once upon a time tattoos were used solely to tell stories. People would get them so that anyone could simply look at them and know who they were, what they had done, and what they dreamed of. Nowadays they come in all sorts of forms to fill all sorts of purposes. Some people have none. Others have a couple and there are some who sport a dozen pieces of art on their bodies. Nyx has found a balance, sitting quietly in between. Along both of her shoulders two wings used to lie. They have since been obscured by scars and skin grafts. A bird in flight covers the left portion. Her lower legs are lined with traditional Nyx family designs. Most assume they're just another 'lame' tribal design. She's been mocked for them more times than she's bothered to count. One small heart can still be found behind her right ear. Sometime ago she was bashed aside the head, broken glass cutting into the skin... the heart now looks broken, a scar running right through the middle. Nyx pretends it isn't there.
CLOTHING:
"Pops of color make everything better..."
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 we always hoped she'd be... Even if she's no longer a soldier. Nyx finds her current garment choices pleasing- if it a bit rougher than they used to be.
PERSONALITY:
"None of your business, bub."
Once upon a time, long before the wars of our galaxy reached us, there was a young girl with an imagination like that of no other. Her optimism was unrivaled. Even in the aftermaths of her parent's fights she could not be swayed. There is always hope! She would say, smiling 'til the bitter end. In dark times she would find the light. Always. Cheering people up was what she loved. Keeping them happy was all she ever cared for. Sometimes she would ignore her own health in order to care for that of others. It hurt her- quite literally- to do so. Her own problems were rarely addressed, sometimes forgotten until they were to much too handle. Did she care?... Perhaps. But she'd never let you know. Nyx tries not to think much of her childhood self.
Once upon a time, when family started to long for more, there was a teenager with high hopes for herself. But her goals rarely intertwined with those of the rest of the galaxy. Government officials would often visit her, seeking to influence her decisions. They wanted her to join them. Some thought she was suited for politics- especially with that sweet smile of hers- while others thought she would excel in combat. A leadership role is what many desired for her. Her kindness and merciful nature, however, worried her parents. Could she learn to be the soldier so many wanted her to be?... They pressured her to abandon her old ways, to become what 'the galaxy needed her to be'. Nyx dreams of this time often... she wonders if her family did the right thing.
Once upon a time a family won their war. A beautiful soul became a nightmare dressed like a daydream. Or perhaps she was a love dressed like a hate?... Drapeam Nyx is not what she used to be. She is a flame- a fury. Anger fills her to the brim, partnered only with a rare drip of affection or amusement. Snark and rage have become her first line of defense. Only a few seem to be able to get her to push away her frustrations. No longer is she what she once was. She wonders what she is now... and if she'll ever know.
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CHAPTER 3: FILLING IN THE GAPS
BIOGRAPHY:
PRE-ARC 1: CHILDHOOD:
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 millions. 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. Some were hit harder than others. Such as the Zorrens- and by extension the Nyx family. They went from proud, hardy souls to a scattered broken mess. Rising back up has become their number one goal. Everything is riding on the lives of their few remaining children. The adults who weren't killed ended up infertile. It was up to those they left behind to rebuild their legacy.
One child did especially well. He helped reforge the Sith Empire, quickly ending up in a position of power. That was not enough for him. He rushed into relationships in an attempt to get a woman to settle down and have his kid. Eventually he managed. The romance started out as a spark, something seemingly beautiful. Together they had four spawnlings. Three died within a few weeks of birth defects. Only the fourth lived. That one was named Drapeam Sahara Nyx. Around the time of her birth her parents realized that their 'love' wasn't terribly great after all. If their daughter hadn't survived... they would have been divorced very quickly. But 'for her sake' they stayed together. Some levels of normalcy were faked while she 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.
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. Just enough to resent her dad for tossing her away so quickly. But for a long time she focused on other things. 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, however, displease her guardians. Already they thought she would amount to nothing or shame the family name. Once she turned thirteen they became extra hard on her... things started to change.
PRE-ARC 2: TEENAGE YEARS
Ah, that 'magical' time in everyone's life where they learn who they are, and who they like to frak. People often look back upon this period quite often. Sometimes they look at it with a smile. Other times they can't think of anything they hated more. But whether or not they like it... it's a time that helped shape them forever. Things were a 'little' different than normal for Drapeam. Those seven years were when her family shaped her into a splendid killing machine. Of course they had some help from fate... and a few well-placed bullets. For a few years (13-15) she was given extra classes, along with being expected to spend twice as much time on the shooting range. In addition her guardians attempts to speed up the process of puberty. 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 officer had come to the Nyx household with a forced smile. Most kids from this family had shown great potential, he had been told, and the newest ones should be evaluated. That task had fallen to him. Why? Because an even higher-ranking individual hadn't wanted to do it. Pretty typical. He held back a groan of annoyance as he was ushered into the dining room. Was it already dinner time?... Apparently so. It was always quite hard to tell on Dromand Kaas. Though it did still feel pretty early for a meal. Perhaps they were trying to 'butter him up'. That was quite possible. The man decided that his theory was correct when he first saw 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 did think she was cute.
That didn't exactly count for anything.
Just a few minutes into the meeting it was cut rather short. Three bullets hurtled into the room. One broke the window, one slammed into the wall, and the third hit him right in the center of his head. Most of the people present went into a panic. Some went to get guns while others barked out orders. 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 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, earning an utterance of 'boomshot' from one of the soldiers. Instead of worrying about the Imperial her dad simply started to praise her. Because of that day a lot of people call her 'Boomshot queen' or 'Boom-queen Nyx'. She hates 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 Drapeam's father himself. He was punished severely. Drapeam would have no siblings.
PRE-ARC 3: JOINING THE MILITARY
Eighteen years can feel like a lot of time. At the same time they can pass by before you even know it. When Drapeam officially became an adult... well, she didn't really feel any change. The differences weren't even noticeable until she found out she could do more things. Being 18 gave her a chance at partial freedom. 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!... Wait, what? Don't worry, she didn't actually do that last one. But I just had to make sure you were still paying attention! There's a lot here to read. I can understand if you need a break or something. This will still be here when you come back. Just... do come back, okay? There's still so much for you to learn about Drapeam! For example:...
After several months 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. Two days later she left again- with over a dozen new scars and 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, attractive young woman. Not that she hadn't been before! Now she was simply more to her career's liking. 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. Despite being an experienced sniper, the government put her in a generic position, starting her off (understandably) as a Private. This was partially due to her 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. But they guarded it anyway. Most of her time there was spent thinking. Simply musing about her life. The galaxy. The countless wars going on... Sometimes she'd force herself to go to the shooting range to keep her mind off of things. At one point a local man caught her attention. A romance formed between them- however brief- and it kept her busy. But as with all things... it ended. Mercenaries raided the base the day after she left for a different position. Only a few people survived. No one informed her of the attack though. 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.
PRE-ARC 4: GOING COMMANDO
Eventually her skill in combat was noted. Again. All of her family's hard work paid off quite well. Though she wasn't rising the ranks as they had expected, Drapeam was qualifying for a large list of 'special programs'. For a while she was the test gerbil for the Empire's newest 'toys'. Even got herself a very nice sniper rifle. One she'd use up 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. Probably a good thing, considering neither social skills nor leadership ones were her strong point. Racking 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 lost on her.
Time passed. Drapeam became used to being referred to by her last name only. That was fine with her. After all, her family was what defined her, no matter what those inspirational holo-vids told her. Everyone called her Nyx. Some added a title in there somewhere. What that was changed every once in awhile. Private. Corporeal. Boomshot queen. Most days she didn't respond to anyone who used her first name. Well, at least when someone did call her that. Almost no one did. Except for her Aunt. Yes, the one who had arranged for her to meet someone very special: Kaine Zambrano. Why? Because the Blackblade Guard was always looking for top-notch warriors to recruit. Nyx never spoke to their leader though. Only ever to a few captains.
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 5: FALL OF THE SITH
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.
PRE-ARC 6: VENGEANCE AND ESCAPISM
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.
ARC 1: ERASING THE DAMAGE
With nowhere to turn, Nyx finds herself broken, unable to trust anyone, and in desperate need of medical attention. How does she manage to survive? Is the poison removed?... Will she ever realize her potential?
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: [member="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 had crashed onto Alderaan permacrete.
ARC 2: RISING FROM HELL
Now back from Chaos, the Zorren finds herself teetering on the edge, balanced between the light and the dark. As the galaxy struggles to recover she struggles to find a place to rest her head. A place to call home.
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 her 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 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- [member="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 [member=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, slas-... slash... oh god... 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?
ARC 3: WHAT IS DEAD CANNOT DIE
Drapeam Sahara Nyx has died. Her body has been disposed of, her possessions put in story should any family appear, and her room on Ossus emptied. But is this really the end?... No. For there are others still dealing with her early death...
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.
ARC 4: GHOSTS OF YOU {CURRENT}
As the galaxy crumbles in a time of war, a ghostly figure sets out to prove her loyalties, get revenge for her death, and ensure the victory of her people. But her thoughts keep going back to the ghosts of her past...
"And at last when you find someone to whom you feel like you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter- they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept inside you for so long.”
POTENTIAL LIFESPAN:
1000-5000 Years {DEAD AS A DOORKNOB}
VOICE SAMPLE:
THEME SONGS:
Battle: Day by Day by Miss May I
End of an Empire by Celldweller
Hail To The King by Avenged Sevenfold
Sorrow/Sadness: Black Sky by Thrawsunbla
Wrong Side of Heaven by Five Finger Death Punch
The Day The World Died by Miracle of Sound
Memories: Freedom by Anthony Hamilton and Elayna Boynton
Shine from RWBY
Last Light by Metro
Happy: Oceans by Hillsong United
Sovereign by Just a Gent
First Day Of My Life by Bright Eyes
Love: I Will Follow You Into the Dark by Death Cab for Cutie; Cover
Wicked Game by Adam Gontier
Au Revoir cover by Allison Weiss
General: Heaven Knows by The Pretty Reckless.
Follow Me by The Pretty Reckless.
Vindicated by Dashboard Confessional
War by Poets of the Fall
MAIN THEME: Handcuffs by Brand New
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CHAPTER 4: FINISHING TOUCHES
STRENGTHS:
Hiding in Plain Sight:
Stealth is one of the two things Nyx specializes in. Becoming one with the shadows- even without the force- is what she's best at. Walking past you without you ever noticing, blending into a crowd to escape pursuers, acting like she's just another face on the train. You'll never see her coming. All you'll see is a single flash of light before a blaster bolt slams into your chest... You won't even recall seeing her until she stands above you, a sad smile on her face. If only you had realized that she was your enemy all along...
Boomshot queen: {Void by Death}
From many, many meters away she takes out enemy after enemy. Quick glances through a scope lead her to racking up almost as many kills as [member="Darth Vornskr"] on Togorian genocide day. Almost. Whether she's in the middle of a firefight, sitting somewhere up high, or camping outside a target's camp for days on end, she'll get her target. Always. Every time they'll end up with a big red hole in their chest... or head. Sometimes the head.
Heritage Isn't Always Bad: {Void by Death}
Drapeam Nyx is a Zorren. They're a partially human-esque, partially canine species known for being nearly extinct. Her family is one of the last major groups of their kind left. Not many people have dealt with people like her before. Zorren's start out just like humans. But after an important trial they undergo various changes. Their nails get longer, hardening into claws, their legs change, allowing for running on all four limbs, their reflexes get faster, and they get a fair bit stronger. Nyx has gone through her trial. There's not much else to say.
I Know A Guy Who Knows A Guy
When you live for a few dozen years and spend half of that time in the military you get to know some people. If you happen to be from a notable family with ties to Imperial Intelligence... well, then you get a bit of a bonus. Whether you need a smuggler, an assassin, or a locksmith, chances are Drapeam knows someone who can help you out. And even if she doesn't, she knows someone who does. Just another perk of working with a bunch of spies. The only issue is that she's not very likely to help others with her information. For the most part she keeps her contacts to herself, only handing them out to closely trusted allies.
WEAKNESSES:
3D is Overrated: {Void by Death}
Ever since she was a kid, Nyx has struggled with navigating in space. The whole concept of no up or down really messes with her head. Flying a ship (in space or not) is not something she can do. More than that, simply being in a 'three-dimensional' environment causes her to feel sick, get headaches, or break down. This is partially her brain's minor lack of depth perception, and partially her apparent astrophobia and baraphobia (fear of space; fear of no gravity). Spending too much time underwater also seems to bring up these symptoms.
Trust is an Issue I Have/People Skills In General:
Being social is not Nyx's forte. Nor is knowing how to be social. Years spent inside a cramped lab has left her constantly nervous, wary, unable to relax. She seems almost incapable of trust. No matter how hard you try, she'll always be ready to shoot you in the back. Opening up is something she's no longer willing to do- not ever fully. To break past her shell is to break all of her. The woman comes off as cold, uncaring, and hateful. She does not play well with others. This covers not only her inability to trust, but her general lack of social skills, and her overall abrasive, belligerent nature.
Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder:
There's only so much you can take. There are so many things that can break you without trying. Even if you can get back up, even if you can manage to fix some of the damage... you're left with scars. You're torn up in places that you just can't reach. And there's only so much other people can do. Nyx suffers from severe PTSD that often results in hallucinations, loud outbursts, and deep feelings of misery, helplessness, and depression. She's retreated even further into her shell because of this. Going to the Doctor is something she fears. Currently she's on no meds for her PTSD and she's not seeing a therapist. Her condition is affecting the majority of her life.
WHAT HELPS BUT HARMS:
Advanced Senses: {Void by Death}
Being a Zorren comes with another little thing: Increased ability to smell, hear, feel, taste, and see. Along with those other senses people don't usually talk about because they aren't as prominent in our lives. What does this mean? It means that Nyx can see you from farther away, in less light, she can hear your every breath, she can smell the scent of your lover's perfume (to a degree), and she can tell that you added nutmeg before you realized you were supposed to add cinnamon. Or maybe that last part was just because she was there when you cooked it. Who knows? Now, how is all of this bad?... Well, she's more likely to experience sensory overload. Loud noises, bad smells, and bright lights do far more to her than they do to others.
We Get the Job Done, No Matter What:
Nyx has an intense desire to do what she's being paid for. Or just whatever she's wanting at the time. Need someone dead? She'll hike twelve miles through rough terrain, get shot in the foot, kill the target, then fall twenty feet in an escape. But they'll be dead. She'll get the job done- always. The only way to stop her is to kill her. Knocking her out only means she'll try even harder when she wakes up. Most of her scars were earned by her sheer stubbornness and refusal to give up. She's lost a few comrades because she didn't turn back when ordered. Despite the fact that this haunts her, she refuses to change.
Quite Definitely Dead:
How exactly, you may be wondering, is being deceased a good thing? For one, Nyx no longer has to deal with the poison in her now empty veins. More importantly... the woman has become a Force Ghost. While she can no longer interact with people physically (at least not without intense focus), she can't be harmed (further), can 'teleport' across large distances instantly, and can sneak around easier. How she appears to people varies by her strength/energy level at the time. She can look like anything from a bright shimmer to a blue-tinted version of her original self. It should be noted that she can't choose who sees her. Either nobody does or they all do. If they're paying any attention, that is.
“I know breaking promises is bad. But I think, now, that letting a promise break you is worse.”
FIVE THINGS YOU DON'T NEED TO KNOW ABOUT NYX:
- Drapeam Nyx was one of the first characters RAN created on SW:RP. However, the original character launch failed. Muse dropped and she was pushed aside. More recently talks of anti-force-user extremists brought back the urge to write her. Her new bio was posted on 1/13/15. She died IC on 3/28/15. The most recent update to her bio was made on 10/30/15.
- In the original concept, Nyx was a straight redhead. This was a sort-of In Universe joke. Many redheads on the site are female, and most of the well-known ones are lesbian. Our friend here was also actually the first completely straight character that Van-Daalen ever RPed. However, after her revamping, Nyx is no longer considered heterosexual. Oops.
- Despite hating force users... Nyx herself is one. The original character, however, wasn't. At first the plan was for her to not use her 'gift' at all, except accidentally. For example she's lit her cigarettes three times now without clicking her lighter. After finding out about her powers she was angry, but eventually started to accept it, using her 'gifts' as tools of war.
- Currently Nyx has several different playbys. Four are for adult to present her, and one is for young her. The latter is Ebba Zingmark, a Swedish model, blogger, and graphic artist. Older Nyx is Alex Brand from Gears of War (she appeared more in the comics then the actual games), the female version of Shepard from Mass Effect, Ruby Rose, or Antje Traue.
- Inspirations for Nyx include, but are not limited to: Commander Shepard (ME), Alex Brand (GoW), Ellen and Amanda Ripley (ALIEN franchise), and Kadala Nephora. That last one is a character from a friend's book she never finished or published. They were, by far, one of the greatest, well thought out, most fun to read about people I've ever had the pleasure to know about. The story is one of the things I wished had been finished most.
SEXUAL ORIENTATION:
Pansexual. Romantic preferences unknown.
LANGUAGES SPOKEN:
Basic; Fluent
Epicant: Fluent
Vong: Near-Fluent
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<THIS CHARACTER IS DEAD>
