Sathona
The Untamed
In Plain Sight.
NAME: Sathona
FACTION: Sith Order
RANK: Mercenary
SPECIES: Dazouri/Human (Spliced)
AGE: 22
SEX: Female
HEIGHT: 5'4"
WEIGHT: 101 lbs
EYES: Hazel
HAIR: Blonde
SKIN: Fair
FORCE SENSITIVE: Dead
While transformed, Sathona's strength is on par with the average Wookie.
ApeX Faithful.
While transformed, Sathona's claws are capable of piercing flesh, clothing, and some light armor.
As a result of experimentation, Sathona is effectively dead to the Force.
A shaper of sufficient skill can trigger Sathona's transformation and override all personal control.
In combat, Sathona primarily relies upon her transformation and is otherwise a poor close-quarters combatant.
Outside of her transformation, Sathona's physical strength is below average for a Human female.
Quiet Ferocity.
AT REST
At a first glance Sathona is a dainty woman, one of delicate nature.
Sporting war paint on the left side of her face. It compliments both her pale complexion and Hazel eyes that are glacially clear in their icy stare. Not often does she blink or close these eyes without reason, so her stare often causes people to grow uncomfortable or even threatened when not used to that sort of thing.
ENRAGED
When enraged, wounded, frightened, or otherwise threatened her form doubles in size.
Her skin becomes a far cry from a Dazouri's, almost resembling something reptilian. Her Hazel stare glazes over into pure white. Her face contorts, producing elongated fangs and a lengthy tongue. Her fingernails extend and sharpen, becoming deadly against flesh. The ability to speak Basic is lost and her voice is replaced by shrieks and guttural noises.
RETURN TO SANITY
Feral ferocity simmered significantly into a manageable ratio; what lain within the beast's wake was the abundance of carcasses found deceased. Death being an entree' served piping hot, much like the fresh liquid of bodily life fluids splattered about a defined mandible and chest region. Structural development occurred once again, the gargantuan canine took another inter-species transmutation. Daunting layers of seemingly impenetrable fur receded into the decadent exuberance of a pale alabaster, epidermis. Skeletal and muscular structures capsizing whilst carving themselves again to form the physique of an lithe warrior priestess ,Forever burned into chiseled perfection, a crouched figure now rose from shifted paws into hands and feet, erecting immaculate posture and lifting an pale blonde crown of billowing tresses gracefully cascading down her exposed backside.
The beast has lain dormant, the woman rises once more.
The Lost Child.
Oftentimes we call Life bitter names, but only when we ourselves are bitter and dark. And we deem her empty and unprofitable, but only when the soul goes wandering in desolate places, and the heart is drunken with overmindfulness of self.
Life is deep and high and distant; and though only your vast vision can reach even her feet, yet she is near; and though only the breath of your breath reaches her heart, the shadow of your shadow crosses her face, and the echo of your faintest cry becomes a spring and an autumn in her breast.
Deep wisdom aside, it's time to tell you my story. It isn't a story of greatness. In my opinion, it's kind of bleak and boring. Well, maybe more bleak than anything. I am a weapon, a wild card; crafted and hidden in plain sight. I mean come on who would a dainty girl like me to be hiding a monster inside her?I was creased by man. I was tormented by Vong. My 'creation' was but a consequence of a schism within the One Sith Empire. My masters sought a way to cripple their enemy from within... By striking their very worlds.
It began with the raids. They came quickly and quietly taking various children along with myself. A world ship was our destination. I wasn't prepared for the pain. The torture afterwards was child's play compared to the beginning of my downfall. The goal was something like Voxyn... They spliced our very being with others. Those of us who died during the process had it good. Those who remained wished they had met the sweet embrace of death. Control was the next item to be installed, and that alone killed even more of us.
I remember when the implants went wrong. Several of us had lost control. They couldn't stop us from tearing up our cages, so they looked to those who were "successful." The stole my body from me, forced me to become an animal, and set me on my cell mates. We were all that we had, we cried together and survived together. Now, we were tearing each other apart. When it was all said and done, I wanted to die. I wanted to be one of them lying on the floor, free from the experiments. But I lived. We lived.
Then came the field test. I was unaware and unprepared.. They told me I was free. It was a lie. I should of known better. I mean why would they let go of a perfect specimen.. I don't remember the name of the world or how so got there. What I do remember were the books. Oh how I loved the books. I should of known this peace would be fleeting. I was naive. I got comfortable so comfortable in fact that I didn't even realize what was happening until I came to. My precious books were painted in red.. Th of women , children and men alike littered the floor. I didn't have time to process it before I was once again collected.
The next few tests they didn't bother with manipulation. They dropped my off and in minutes the rampage began. I tried to warn them. I told them to run but it didn't work, it didn't matter. In the end I thought only dying could stop me. Fortunately, it was the Sith who saved me. Figuratively of course. Their vendetta against the Vong turned a field test into my escape. Perhaps I was far enough away or the Hunt had distracts them enough, but I didn't not transform that day. I came up with a sob story and cried my way off world.
The rest was history, until I met the Ape. It was a bar sometime later. My looks had landed me a crummy job passing drinks. One man got handsy, I got mad. It took the Ape to keep me from killing him. After that I was unemployed and [member=Malok] offered me a new source of income. Put the rage to work or he puts me down. I chose money... I chose life.
TEMPLATE CREDIT: [member="Ra Vizsla"]
