Character Franceline Dawer [3rd draft]

[Franceline Dawer]

Credentials // Open Intergalactic Identification Network Limited Leave to Remain Indefinite Leave to Remain Open Software License Proprietary Licenses

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  O.I.I.N. Details
  Name Franceline
  Surname Dawer
  Mother's name Anlya
  Citizenship(s) Galactic - Imperial, Galactic Planetary - Balmorran
  Gender Female
  Age 25
  Eye colour Brown
  Hair colour Brown
  Current height 180 CM
  Current build Mesomorphic
  Force positive? N/A, pending examination

• Mandalorian Empire
  6 non-consecutive months per annum, mercantile
  
  Galactic Empire
  6 non-consecutive months per annum, mercantile - Civilian worlds only
  
• Planetary, Coruscant
  Indefinite, bureaucratic
  
  Planetary, Balmorra
  Indefinite, Jus Soli
  
• O.I.I.N.
  The Open Intergalactic Identification Network is entirely dedicated to the public domain, waiving software ownership rights entirely to the Galaxy as a whole, independent of justrictriction or other criteria.
  
  End users may attach proprietary supplements to their O.I.I.N. profile as they wish, including contracts, authorizations, special rights and signatures, whose editability and expirability depends on the issuing authority and the proprietary software thereof.
  
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  Medical Exemption Notice

  Dr. Themblo Glax 1963 Loyalty Way The Works, Imperial Capital Coruscant To Whom it May Concern Citizen Franceline Dawer is verfiably suffering from Primary Autoimmmune Hemolytic Anemia of the warm variety. As a result, she is not fit for a C.R.I. graft, or any other type of invasive prosthetic surgery for that matter due to the nature of her illness. Any type of surgery or injury which may cause inflammation places her at risk of remission, or even worse, death. She it to remain on a strict regiment of immunosuppressant medication for the rest of her life through a rolling prescription which you can view here. I have written a special dossier regarding her condition, which you may read here, and I have also attached a gateway to her medical records, which you may read here. This letter may be used as evidence to prove the aforementioned. This letter is part of her Appeal for Alternative Means of Identification as elaborated upon by Imperial Legal Code a415-b. Sincerely, Imperial N. Themblo Glax Practising Immunologist at the Imperial Medical Academy of Coruscant

  
  

  AMI Appeal Reply - Reference N. 12512392139191

  Ms. Dawer Your appeal for Alternative Means of Identification has been Approved. It is necesarry that you have all of your associated paperwork, documents, AMI Appeal Results and the evidence submitted for the process on your person at all times, even while residing within private property. You may aggregate them together digitally or physically through any means you may deem appropriate for your condition, as long as they can be inspected by Imperial Authorities. Failure to produce the above to the respective inspecting authority may be prosecuted as a crime. Signed, Imperial N. Agent Thrireme Ley Commission for Logistics, Industry and Transportation of Coruscant

  
  

  GENERAL QM QUALIFICATION

  THIS WARTIME CERTIFICATE, VALID AND RECOGNISED IN ALL LEVELS OF IMPERIAL EDUCATION CERTIFIES THAT IMPERIAL CITIZEN FRANCELINE DAWER HAS SATISFACTORILY COMPLETED ALL REQUIRED COURSES AND APPRENTICESHIPS IN ORDER TO WORK AS AN INDEPENDENT CONTRACTOR IN THE FOLLOWING SECTORS AND ASSOCIATED MINISTRIES: 1. Wartime rationing and production 2. Planetary-wide industrial manufacturing 3. Equipment recovery and recycling 4. Supply and Logistics WITH A SCORE OF: 15000/15000 IN EVERY METRIC, SIMULATED AND REAL, EQUATING TO A LEVEL 7 DEGREE DATE OF ISSUE, VERIFICATION & DB. ID BALMORRAN INSTITUTE OF VOCATIONAL EDUCATION​

Out of Character Information Childhood Education Present Time

• STRENGTHS
  Franceline is a hardy woman who had to overcome a lot of hardships because of her social class. For all intents and purposes, she is a highly educated galactic peasant. Alas, growing up within and around Imperial territory has taught her valueable life lessons, all of which she is more than willing to employ in everyday life.
  
  Inspired by the themes present around her society, the woman developed an apathetic but ultimately optimistic outlook on life, walking a tightrope between survivalist absurdism and Imperial Social Dwarwinism. Cruel, but understanding. Toxic, but steadfast. Completely able to empathize with others, but refusing to do so on purpose. She is a walking contradiction, mirroring her over-industrialized home.
  
  Speaking of, owning to her upbringing in one of the Empire's biggest manufactory worlds, she is an astute logistician, excellent machinist and an overwhelmingly competent scavenger. She has an eye for value and a penchant for seeking to make everything efficient.
  
  BLATANT WEAKNESSES
  And yet, she is a sickly visage. Sometimes pale, with darkened skin and unending headaches. Without her medication, she is a dead woman walking, and she knows it. No matter how toned her body becames through labour, deep within her exists a cavernous inadequacy, which she believes that she will never be able to overcome.
  
  So? She is quick to anger and antagonism, lashing out predictably whenever challenged, and overthinking constantly to maintain a fleetingly manageable cold and calculating facade. Projecting her fears and anxieties onto others as negative traits is her most commonly used fallback.
  
  Lastly, the midi-chlorian saturation of her blood is astronomically high for a person of her stature and livelihood, without her knowledge. In fact, she doesn't even believe in the force, considering it superstition and religious zealotry. As a result, she unknowingly is a beacon for trouble and danger to herself and others around her; unquestionably visible to force-sensitive individuals and creatures, even if she's trying to hide from them. Sometimes, she feels; it's as if the entire universe is out to get her. If only she knew.
  
• BALMORRAN BORN AND RAISED
  From womb to bacta-tank, there wasn't a single moment in Franceline's life in which she could catch a break. Coming into the world early because of a medical accident, the girl had to spend many of her formative years being rehabilitated by her parents and various physicians, while other children of her generation were busy learning how to walk and talk. The environment around her wasn't exactly permissive of healing and restoration either – for destiny had firmly planted her in an industrial planet, considered by many to be the busiest of the core.
  
  Balmorra the war-forge,
  Balmorra the foundry,
  Balmorra the melting pot.
  
  That was her home, and in due time not only did she catch up to those her age, but she even grew to outclass some in her hurry. An animating spirit seemed to be possessing her, an undying and self-renewing flame. Guided by the call of its heat, she would sneak into workshops and assembly lines, taking notes of the work going on within, which to her felt like sacred ceremony, much more crucial to observe than normal education. And of course, forbidden in a sense, as she wasn't supposed to be present in there in the first place. She couldn't help but admit that what her planet was being used for was extremely alluring to her. The transformative nature of the work taking place on the planet raw resources arriving and being converted into various items, each with their own uses. Thinking that her own people had a greater purpose through serving the galaxy scratched an itch deep within her soul, whose true form was always just out of her grasp.
  
  To those who had grown up without the funnels darkening the sky, it felt as if they were trapped in a vast and celestial jail cell, whose bars reached all the way up to the atmosphere. To her, they were merely the bases of tendrils, which, in reaching out to the world - coiling around other systems and the very fabric of commerce itself, served only to cement Balmorra's timeless importance. For centuries the planet had been tossed back and forth between hundreds of factions, but never once had the seas of oil been tamed, nor the fires put out, nor the furnaces shuttered.
  
  In stark contrast with her own self image, which felt like an unneeded genetic mistake. An error, waiting to be corrected by the Universe should she ever run out of medicine. Dependant. She was dependant, and she hated it. Her home was immortal, forever a piece in the cosmic game of chess that the galaxy had become, and she was expendable. Not even on the board. Not even near the board, or the table for that matter.
  
  And that had to change. For the good of the Empire,
  and for the good of Balmorra.
  
• ALL ORDERS AHEAD OF SCHEDULE
  Many of her peers sought salvation in scholarly pursuits. An ever-possible escape, through a cushy bureaucratic job away from the planet which they so despised. Not her. No, not by a long shot. While the cultural zeitgeist of her people was claimed by long-brewing conditional resementment, she doubled down as the outsider that she was, always seeking to stand out from the rest and gleefully allowing her fanaticism to grow unchecked. If not anything, out of pure and antagonistic refusal to conform with changing social norms.
  
  Where others sought Academia, she took apprenticeships. Where others received diplomas, she collected certificates; keeping them soundly nailed to her heart as if they were badges of honour. Others learned to lie, and she learned to live. Logistics, engineering, robotics and the arithmetic instruments needed to perfect them – not in their theoretical abstract form, but exactly as they expressed themselves in cold, hard reality. She wrestled with workers, butted heads with managers, and outmanoeuvred overseers, until finally, she had all of the tools needed in her disposal to carve out a little piece of existence for herself, from where upon she could indefinitely grind herself down to the bone in service of something greater of her own choice.
  
  She never pursued a rank, nor did she join the military proper. She kept it simple, and genuine and grounded. An independent contractor with a long and historied streak of successful cooperation with Imperial Authorities – a partisan, fanatically loyal, but unbound by petty interservice rivalries and power grabs. An active supporter of the system, not just in words, but in works too. And she loved every single minute of it.
  
  Watching Imperial Quartermasters squirm, rushing to fulfil unrealistic and improbable quotas, only to for her to swoop in and save the day; unbothered by the labyrinthian depths of Imperial collectivist inadequacy. She lived for it. She lived for the honour she brought to Balmorra, she lived for the honour she brought to the common labourer, and she lived for the honour she brought to the Emperor.
  
• THE MONSTER THAT DRINKS BENZENE
  That is who she is. And she is immensely proud of it. Whether she is working as a manager or a resource director, a city sweeper or a battle-carnage-recycler. The actual post does not concern her, as long as falls within her domain of self-imposed slavery, smelting ore just as easily as coordinating a construction site. And she will continue, until every star in the Galaxy is either dead or wrapped in energy-siphoning chains. Until the day every frontier has been pacified, every rebellious thought has been sentenced to extinction, and any and all threats to the system and her planet have been exterminated.
  
  Maybe then, when everything has been sorted out, at the end of history - she'll allow her prescription to unrenew, and accept her own brain's betrayal to her certain death. Rest.
  
  Now, that would be nice.
  

All documents attached to this character post are accurate, legal & genuine, at the time of writing on 19/09/2025
Image Accreditation:
1) https://www.wikiwand.com/en/articles/Turret_lathe#/media/File:WomanFactory1940s.jpg
2) https://lauerlearning.com/wp-content/uploads/Freedom-Fighter-IRC.jpg
3) Photoshop (editing)