Just Passing Through...I Swear
Morwenna Asterielle-Valewyn
| Species | Human |
| Birthplace | Coruscant |
| Age | 19 |
| Gender | Female |
| Height / Weight | 5'10" / 135lbs. |
| Eye Color | Light Grey |
| Hair Color | Black w/ White Streaks |
| Force Sensitive | Yes |
| Force Alignment | Neutral |
| Char. Morality | Reluctant Hero |
| Theme Song | coming soon™ |
| Favorite Food | coming soon™ |
| Favorite Drink | coming soon™ |
| Favorite Planet | coming soon™ |
| Favorite Flower | coming soon™ |
| Favorite Animal | coming soon™ |
Let's Get the Traditional Boring Stuff Out of the WayI was born on Coruscant, which meant my earliest memories involved more traffic than trees and enough airspeeders overhead to convince me the sky had engine trouble. My father, Galen Asterielle, and my mother, Kari Valewyn, loved each other enough to solve the age-old family-name debate by refusing to let either side win.
Instead, they stitched both names together and created Asterielle-Valewyn, ensuring every official document I ever signed took slightly longer than everyone else's. When I was eight, I think?, The Sith Covenant invaded Coruscant, and my parents wisely decided that living on a planet currently being conquered by Sith was a terrible long-term investment.
They had also noticed I was showing unsettling signs of the Force; finding lost tools without looking, knowing dinner was burning before anyone smelled smoke, and occasionally making objects drift across the room whenever I got emotional.
So we packed our lives into a transport and escaped to Naboo, the radiant capital of The High Republic, where my parents reinvented themselves as farmers, merchants, and traders. We became close friends with the local Gungans, who stopped by so often to trade food and supplies that they practically had standing invitations to raid our pantry.
Between my parents' business sense and the Gungans' endless enthusiasm, life settled into something surprisingly peaceful; which, in hindsight, should have made me suspicious.
Then, when I was fourteen, the galaxy reminded me that peace has an awful sense of humor. My parents were returning from a Gungan underwater village when an Opee sea killer decided they looked less like respectable merchants and more like today's special.
Losing them was the hardest thing I had ever endured, but giving up the farm never felt like an option. I stayed, armed with everything they had taught me, a great deal of stubbornness, and enough practical farming knowledge to argue with vegetables professionally.
The Gungans stepped in without hesitation, becoming the adopted family that kept me laughing even on my worst days; usually because one of them had managed to accidentally fall into a feed trough or convince themselves a very angry fambaa was "in a friendly mood."
By the time I turned eighteen, though, I'd flayed enough shaaks, hauled enough crates, and negotiated with enough stubborn traders to last several lifetimes. I sold the family farm, parted with every possession I didn't absolutely need, stuffed my remaining credits into a travel pouch, and left Naboo in search of adventure. After all, if the Force kept insisting I had some grand destiny, the least it could do was make sure it involved fewer sea monsters and significantly less manure.
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