Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Ophelia DuSang

Ophelia DuSang

Feeling in the Form of a Girl
Ophelia_Profile_D.png

NAME: Countess Ophelia Maurow-DuSang du Coruscant
FACTION: First Order
RANK: Acolyte
SPECIES: Modified Human
AGE: 24
SEX: Female
HEIGHT: 5 ft 6 in or 168 cm
WEIGHT: 57 kg or 126 pounds
EYES: Blue
HAIR: Blonde
SKIN: Fair
FORCE SENSITIVE: Yes

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STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES (Required: 2 Weaknesses Minimum)

[+]Tuesday’s Child: Elegant and refined, Ophelia is the perfectly poised product of her upbringing.

[+]The Loyalist: Ophelia values her relationships with her family members above all else. What’s more, she has always kept the faith of her parents’ Sith religion. Her unwavering connections have provided her with a sense of history, security, and support.

[+]The Idealist: Warm and optimistic, Ophelia’s outlook is bright. She is guided by her devotion to her personal ethics, maintains a holistic view of suffering and misfortune and views life as a journey toward a deeper spiritual knowledge.

[-]What’s A Weekend?: Due to Ophelia’s cloistered upbringing, she has a tendency to feel lost and confused in the vast galaxy beyond her noble towers and conservatories.

[-]Haunted: Flashes of memory invade her perception periodically. Waking dreams that feel familiar but make little sense. They disturb her, consume her and drive her to obsession.

[-]Caster Class: Having below average physical strength, Ophelia’s best bet for survival in any fight would be to keep her distance.


APPEARANCE
Ophelia_Profile_C.jpg

Avatar Credit: Margot Robbie


PERSONALITY
Ophelia is amiable and easy to read. She enjoys conversation and takes particular delight in the unusual. Painstakingly trained in etiquette, she shines when navigating high society. In public, her politeness and optimistic disposition tend to put those around her at ease. When alone, her favorite hobbies include painting, art history and archeology.

As an artist, Ophelia is an unfaltering perfectionist, a trait which bleeds into other areas of her life. The high standards to which she holds herself can push her to excellence, but they can also overwhelm her. Because of her pedigree, she is well aware that she stands on the shoulders of giants. She works diligently to become worthy of her titles.

Raised in the cradle of the Sith religion, Ophelia finds herself attracted to the faith’s elusive mysteries. What was once darkly beautiful but empty ritual has recently become something more. Like a siren’s song, she feels drawn to it, sensing the promise of unveiling life’s deeper meaning. “Is it wicked?” She wonders, “Does it matter?” Her intuition replies.


RELATIONSHIPS

Family
  • Father: [member="Avicus DuSang"]
  • Mother: Sophie Maurow
  • Brother: [member="Viktor DuSang"]
  • Half Sister: [member="Aria DuSang"]
  • Half Brother: [member="Dissero"]

Allies
  • Muse: Benedict Eden (a.k.a. [member="Trenchcoat Man"])

Antagonists


Ophelia_Profile_B.jpg

Chatoyer Tower Interior, Coruscant

The daughter of Sith Lords, Ophelia always idolized her father and revered her mother. They loved her unendingly, cherished her and, even when the skies were crashing down, made her feel safe. Growing up, her brother Viktor was her dearest friend. Living in the shadows of the Sith, the siblings understood one another as no one else could. Her lineage affords her many luxuries, including an estate on Coruscant, Chatoyer Tower, and a noble title which she shares with her brother. A strong Force gift is also her birthright. Like her brother and parents before her, Ophelia is a natural empath.


EDUCATION
Private Tutoring, Korriban
Protocol & Etiquette, History and Religious Studies

PanGalactic Arts Conservatory, Miele Nova
Fine Arts, Painting

University of Coruscant
Independent Studies, Archeology


SHIP
J-type Star Skiff


NOTABLE EQUIPTMENT
An inherited lightsaber featuring an Electrum hilt and an amber-hued crystal.


FORCE POWERS


LIGHTSABER FORMS: TBA


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PROLOGUE

Coruscant: 428 ABY

The entire planet was trembling in a cacophony of silent screams. The souls of millions were reaching out, praying for an end to their suffering. A measure of mercy. Relief. Ophelia had no defenses against their deafening voices. Weakened beyond salvation, there was no psychic shield she could conjure to keep their misery at bay.

Viktor was at her bedside, shuddering with tears. Two of his hands clutching one of hers. She tried to squeeze back and soothe him, but the fever had made her blood boil and her muscles molten. Her limbs were limp and heavy. Life had left them hours ago.

His clothes were disheveled and his hair unkempt. It was very uncharacteristic for the young seigneur de la mode who always took enormous pride in his appearance. It filled her with piercing pain to see him that way. Pale and fading. All along his brow, crimson flecks. They marred his perfect complexion.

Gods, no… no…no…The realization struck her and Ophelia’s worsening heart jumped … Viktor, you’re sick. Please, brother. No! Please, someone. Mère, père. S'il vous plait… Non…

But who would ever hear her pleas in the din of death rattles that had enveloped Coruscant? How could the song of her crumbling spirit ever make to her sires’ loving ears? How could she save him? Her brother. Her blood. Ophelia’s heart lagged and, as her pulse halted, fire scorched her veins. S'il vous plait…Non… Her chest was ridged. Why couldn’t she breathe? …non…

Disintegrating. Dipping below Force tides as the cosmos dissolved her. What was one became a multitude. She was eroding away.

Father’s coat against her cheek as they embraced. The scent of honeyed wine and clove. Mother’s procession through a temple arch. Alabaster and crimson gloss. Viktor's gaze over Korriban’s sandy sea. Amber eyes that rivaled sunlight. Would she ever be so poised? So beautiful? So brave?

Ophelia stepped up beside her brother on the bluff overlooking the arid wilderness. They stood quietly together, shoulder to shoulder, facing adventure in the form of a ruined Sith shine in the east. Her eyes narrowed and her lips curved. She couldn’t help but smile, “Race you.” It wasn’t a question, but an invitation. An orange sun was rising and she felt called to its golden shine.

… je t'aime.

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ROLE-PLAYS

ACT I
And I can't breathe when you cry, but I'll be there to hold you tight...
First Order: A Rose In Her Hand
Shopping is My Cardio

ACT II
Specters at the Starlight Coast
Stars, Hide Your Fires


 

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