Character Eydis Voska

[Eydis Voska]

Eydis Voska

Age	38
Species	Human
Gender	Female
Height	198 CM out of armour 2 CM in armour
Weight	112 kg without armour 142 kg with armour
Force Sensitive	not force sensitive

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

Standing at 198 CM, Brynja Voska is an imposing figure even before she straps on her legendary armor. Her build is powerful and dense with muscle — the kind carved by decades of hammer strikes, anvil work, heavy lifting, and the harsh survival demands of an ice world. Her shoulders are broad, her stance steady and grounded like a glacier's edge. Her muscles are thick and corded, especially across the upper body. arms like tempered durasteel, hands scarred from countless years at the forge. Despite her size, her movements are controlled and precise, shaped by the discipline of a master craftswoman. Her eyes are a cold, vivid storm grey, reflective and steady like someone who has seen centuries slip by in sleep and woken to find everything changed. Her hair is thick and long, a near-black brown that often appears almost blue in the right light. In her forge days she wore it braided tightly down her back in heavy plaits, sometimes wrapped in leather to keep sparks out.

INVENTORY

Forge tools: Hammer, tong, ball hammer, pin driver, wilder. (outdated)
Mellee weapons: Corsec Electrobaton, Vibro blades.
Ranged weapons: B3-K2 blaster rifle (old republic, museum item) R-30017 Aikon Blaster (old republic, museum item)




PERSONALITY AND BELIEFS

General Behavior

Stoic

Her first instinct is always silence.
She speaks only when she has something worth saying — one sentence from her carries the weight of ten from anyone else.

Observant

She watches people the way a smith studies metal:
looking for cracks, flaws, strengths, and hidden potential.

Protective

Despite her stern exterior, she has a primal instinct to guard those under her care.
She would rather be wounded herself than see someone she considers clan-blood harmed.

Traditional

Brynja keeps rituals, honors the dead, and follows the forging rites exactly.
She believes traditions are the spine of her people — without them, the clan collapses.

How She Thinks

Linear, Logical, Practical

She approaches problems like forging:
assess the material, apply heat or pressure, shape the outcome, cool and refine.

Personal Responsibility

If something needs doing, she assumes she must do it as one can never be left to stand and do nothing. If something fails, she assumes it is her failure to repair and will be hard found to stop trying to fix it, wishting to perfect it. This mindset is both her strength and her burden.

Deeply Held Beliefs

"A Forge Master fails only when tradition dies."

Her life revolves around the belief that she must preserve, rebuild, and pass on the craft and legacy of her clan.
Failing that is worse than death.

"People are shaped like metal: by heat and pressure."

She expects hardship to forge better warriors, better smiths, better Mandalorians.
She respects strength not of body, but of will.

"Honor is in action, not words."

Boasting, bragging, excuses, and hollow swearing disgust her.
Simple, direct action equals truth.

"No one stands alone — not truly."

Even after losing her clan, she believes a Mandalorian's strength is in unity.
She longs though silently to rebuild that unity.

Weaknesses and Vulnerabilities

Emotionally Repressed

She feels deeply, but rarely expresses anything beyond stern calm.
Love, grief, hope — they all churn beneath plates of beskar she forged around her heart.

Overburdened by Duty

She believes she alone must fix everything.
This leads to: overwork, self-neglect, isolation, taking unnecessary risks.

Terrible at Asking for Help

She sees it as placing burden on others.
She will bleed in silence before admitting she needs assistance.

Tunnel Vision

Her intense focus can become dangerous, she may ignore threats or opportunities outside her chosen objective.

Phobias / Fears

Brynja would never admit these aloud, but they define her.

Fear of the Clan Truly Dying

Her greatest dread:
that she is the last Voska, and the line will end with her.
This is the fear that wakes her at night.

Fear of failing an apprentice

She has seen apprentices die, leave, or fail before her long sleep.
It haunts her, she worries she will not train the next generation well enough, fast enough, strong enough.

Silence and Emptiness

Frozen stasis left her with a subconscious fear of:
dead halls, empty forges, abandoned homes, places where voices once lived.
When she entered the ruined enclave, this fear hit her hardest.

Being Forgotten

Legends live only as long as someone remembers them.
She fears becoming a relic lost in ice — another name erased from history.

STRENGTHS

Unshakable Discipline

Centuries of ritual, forge work, and Mandalorian tradition have shaped her into someone nearly impossible to sway. Her focus is ironbound.

Enormous Physical Strength

A lifetime (and several lifetimes) of forging beskar, hauling ore, and surviving on an ice world has made her incredibly strong, with a blacksmith's power and endurance.

Emotional Fortitude

Loneliness, exile, and the fall of her clan did not break her. She carries grief like she carries heat: contained, channeled, turned into strength.

Survivor's Resolve

She endured cryo-stasis, the death of her enclave, and a world of ice that wanted her dead. She adapts, endures, and continues forward with quiet determination.

Unbreakable Moral Anchor

Her core belief: "The forge remembers."
She holds deeply to honor, tradition, and the idea that scars — including her clan's — must be worn, not hidden.

WEAKNESSES

Force Intrusion Vulnerability (Major Flaw)

When anyone uses the Force to speak into her mind, sense her thoughts, or impose influence, she suffers blinding migraines — sharp, stabbing pain behind the eyes, nausea, vertigo.
Caused by centuries of cryosleep neural degradation and the deep-set trauma of awakening alone. She can resist influence, but the mental pain can drop her to a knee. Jedi or Sith instantly notice the "static fracture" in her mental presence. Making her easily distrust any one who uses the force for their own gains be they jedi or sith.

Temporal Displacement Trauma

Awakening centuries after her era deeply scarred her sense of belonging.
She feels like a foreigner in her own culture. Old customs are gone, allies dead, the galaxy changed. Sometimes freezes when confronted with new technologies or social norms. Often referse to groups and places by older names, or confuses them with something that was.

Survivor's Guilt

She was awakened because no apprentice was found, which to her means:
"I failed Clan Voska. There were none worthy to follow me."
Burdened by the belief she is the last link in a chain that should not end.

HISTORY

The Frozen Forge had grown silent long ago.
Where once generations of Clan Voska had tended the sacred chambers—checking stasis seals, cataloging ore reserves, maintaining the aging systems—now only dust kept vigil. The consoles, once bright with clan glyphs, lay buried beneath centuries of disuse. The air smelled of metal, frost, and abandonment. Somewhere deep in the darkness, a single pod pulsed faintly. The last Forge Master slept within it, locked away by tradition… and by hope. But hope had thinned. And the machine had reached its limit. A dull alarm whispered through the room, weak from age, almost apologetic.

LIFE SUPPORT CRITICAL
STASIS FAILURE IMMINENT

No apprentice hurried to answer.
No clan elder stirred.
No footsteps echoed in the halls.
The pod shuddered as frost cracked across its surface.


With a strained hiss, the cryo-pod attempted its activation cycle. Lights flickered along the floor, some failing to ignite. A power conduit sparked, showering a cascade of dying blue light. Inside, the Forge Master remained motionless. Then—her fingers twitched. The pod released a rush of cold vapor, struggling to perform a task it was no longer fit to do. Locks disengaged unevenly, clunking open with metallic coughs instead of the ceremonial chimes she once remembered. The doors creaked outward.The Forge Master inhaled sharply as the cold air hit her lungs—a breath centuries overdue. She pushed against the sides of the pod, joints stiff, muscles slow to remember life. Frost crumbled from her armor, falling like brittle ash on the floor.
She stepped onto the stone, unsteady, her cape stiff with ice.

Silence greeted her.
Silence… and emptiness.

Her eyes scanned the dark forge.

No torches.
No sparks.

No flicker of the firefly sigil that should have glowed on the walls. She reached for the pedestal where the ancestral helm should have waited—where every apprentice had once placed it as a symbol of succession. But the pedestal was cold. empty. Slowly, she lifted her hand and wiped a layer of dust from its surface. A thin line of bare metal glinted up at her. Her heart sank.
"We were not found," she whispered to the quiet forge. Her voice echoed through her helmet speaker—old, weary, hollow. "No one came."
She moved deeper into the chamber, boots stirring centuries of dust. Her gauntlet brushed across a fallen banner of her clan—black cloth, embroidered with gold and purple thread. The firefly sigil was faded, its wings dulled. She knelt and lifted it, her hand trembling. For the first time in centuries, she felt truly cold.
A console nearby sputtered to life as she approached it, reacting to her armor ID.Broken data flashed across the screen:

CLAN VOSKA POPULATION: UNKNOWN
APPRENTICE STATUS: NONE FOUND
FORGE LINEAGE: INTERRUPTED