comradeMoose
Ancient Megafauna
KELL MASAARA
| Age | 22 |
| Species | Human |
| Gender | She/They |
| Height | 5'7" / 170 cm |
| Weight | 130 lbs / 59 kg |
| Force Sensitive | Yes |
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION
Kell can typically be found with neutral tones on her wiry, light-skinned frame. Well-loved pants, dirty and comfortable boots, a pullover shirt, a cropped utility vest, and a belt thick enough to carry every pouch and doohickey necessary for the job ahead. Find just about any scoundrel on Nar Shaddaa, and she blends right in. Wavy, dark brown hair is kept in check with a headband, especially when working, to keep stray strands out of her blue eyes that twinkle above freckled cheeks.
INVENTORY
TBD
PERSONALITY AND BELIEFS
Kell has always been a friendly sort, a bit of a people pleaser, believing you attract more flies with honey than vinegar. Easy-going and slow to anger, anything that doesn't roll off your back will just weigh you down, and being weighed down costs you too much. She's optimistic, and while she's still working on truly accepting this whole Force thing - surely EVERYTHING isn't ACTUALLY possible with the Force, right? - it'd be worse to simply never give it a fair shot at changing her mind. Especially since it's working.
STRENGTHS
Never met a speeder she couldn't pilot - or steal.
Scrappy, cheatsy, dirty fighter.
Psychometry, for better and worse.
Quick learner, for better and worse.
Determined - I'm movin' the needle!
WEAKNESSES
When they all say you won't amount to nothin', you start to believe it.
Former criminal. Someone(s?) probably gonna remember what she came to regret.
Skittish - when the going gets scary as hell, we get out of Dodge.
Latent abandonment issues.
HISTORY
Kell Masaara was one of who knows how many wannabe gangsters at the bottom rungs of Nar Shaddaa's streets, and one of the best boosters the Tunnel Krayts ever brought on, on account of none of them knew how to pilot a speeder - land or air - to save their souls. Daughter of Tara and Bask, the former left the latter, and the latter took out the impotent rage on her. The more nights she could stay out of the house, the better, and when you've got a few shipping containers bolted together with a handful of the best scumbags a girl could ask for, a cot for everybody, and enough stolen literature to learn Galactic Basic what else do you really need?
Well, as it happens, better scumbags. On a routine mark, like any other, under the dreary skies and neon-soaked mist, Kell was off her game. Tools kept dropping, wires kept fumbling, distractions kept running out. So did the gang - better her hide than all of theirs, surely. What she hadn't accounted for, however, was who exactly their target was. What he was.
Upon discovery, the best she could hope for was to grab something and run. Something, sometimes, buys food, even if the chop shops pay better for vehicles. What she grabbed, however, was a lightsaber. Instantly, the world went white before her senses were flooded with muddy glimpses into the life of the man and the weapon both - nothing like this had happened before. Whispers, hints, inklings about things she'd touch would trickle in like a half-remembered friend appearing from the blue, but this was a coursing river that left her dazed and confused.
It also left her thoroughly caught. Red handed, you might say. For a mercy, the older man, a certain Jerem Natris, was in the mood for an apprentice - the force sensitivity thing was a third shock that night - rather than retributive justice on a common thief, and shortly thereafter began some of the strangest years of her life. From crook to... Padawan? How do you like that one, dad? She picked up theory quick enough, but putting the faith into practice was a struggle. Still, determined, she tried. If Jerem wanted to teach her the space magic so badly, it was the least she could do to pay him back for affording her a way off that rock. So she tried. It wasn't meant to last.
Jerem never told her much about his history as a Jedi, what his super secret mission was, why he never went back to the temple, or even why he didn't like gambling games, but Kell had spent enough of her life dodging consequences to get a read on someone running from some of their own, even without knowledge of the black-clad figures revealed in the psychometry, all those years ago. Like, three years. Jerem wouldn't talk about those, either, save that they were Sith, which was like a Jedi but bad, and he had to keep moving, keep one step ahead.
Well, as it happens, Jedi aren't always the better scumbags. Fate had returned them to Nar Shaddaa nearly to the day that they had left together several years prior, and Kell was alone. Like a ghost in the night, Jerem Natris was gone, leaving her with a green rock, some credits, a letter apologizing for his hasty exit, and directions to the Jedi temple on Tython. With no desire to return to the life she left behind, and precious few options to select from, she gathered her pseudo-inherited treasures, skipped her room payment, and boarded the first ship to what would hopefully be home, with ever more questions than answers.
What the kark, dude.
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