Name: Tristan Ortega
Nickname: Tris
Species: Human - Mandalorian
Age: 32
Gender: Female
Eye color: Brown
Hair: Medium length, straight, and dark
Force Sensitive: No
Faction:
Appearance:
Tristan is most definitely built like a fighter. While her muscle definition isn’t grotesque by any means, it is most certainly visible. Her hair is medium length and dark, somewhere between brunette and ravenette, and the straight locks are usually always kept braided or pulled at least to the side to keep them from becoming something someone can grab a hold of and use to their advantage. Her eyes are brown, flecked with bits of gold or honey depending on the light.
Strengths:
- Tristan is a fighter, both emotionally and physically.
- She’s pretty good at sizing people up and figuring them out within moments of meeting them
- She’s confident
- Tris can roll with the punches, literally and figuratively, but she doesn’t put up with just anyone’s bull
- She has no problems adjusting when things don’t go according to plan
Weaknesses:
- There are times she made seem a little too confident
- She is beyond stubborn
- She has a bit of a bad temper
- Tris has a couple of serious triggers from her past, and they tend to crop up at the worst of times
Personality:
Tris would say that being a fighter hasn’t made her cocky, it’s made her “incomparably sassy”, and it’s true. The woman is walking sass, but unlike a good portion of women who run their mouth? Tristan can back up her words with actions. She’s (mostly) fearless, perhaps stupidly so, and while it hadn’t always been that way she’ll stand toe to toe with anyone and not blink. She has a bit of a foul mouth on her, but at least has the decency to know when and where such things are inappropriate. After all, she had good manners quite literally beaten into her, so she knows how to behave, she just doesn’t like to anymore.
Bio:
Tristan was a mere five years old when her father had gotten into the worst debt of his life. It was bad enough that his life was on the line, but being the coward that he was? He offered the life of his child to serve forever instead to pay off his debt. And this child, who had no idea who these strangers in her home were, had looked up with such a fire in her dark gaze that the deal was struck and she was taken away. It didn’t take long for the slavers who had taken her to figure out what Tris was good for. She was a feisty thing, and by the time they had found a place to sell her she had already broken three noses and knocked a few of someone’s teeth out.
She was sold, and by the age of six she was put into a formal means of training. Hand to hand was her forte, but she was taught to use weapons as well. There was no fear of the girl turning those weapons on her owners, not with the way she had been beaten into submission before she could even try. She was taught to fear the cane, taught to fear the idea of missing meals, of going without water, and she was taught to irrationally fear the dark.
And as she got older, and became a seasoned fighter? Tristan learned to mistrust. She learned to hate, to be spiteful, to be angry, and she learned to use those things as she was forced into underground fights and made to earn credits, property, and other prizes for her Mistress. Tris learned to very much so dislike women, especially wealthy, pretty blonde ones. She spent her years seething, growing more and more volatile the older she became. And when she had become old enough her Mistress found other ways for Tris to earn her keep. At least until the fighter in her took over, and Tristan snapped. She had nearly pummeled a man to death by the time her Mistress’ goons got her off of him, and as fitting punishment? Tristan got much of the same treatment.
It was a life on a loop, a replaying of events that seemed as if they would never end – until they finally did. People who wanted to rescue slaves, to take out the slavers. People who wanted to help not only her, but others like her - Mandalorians. At first it seemed too good to be true, that these people Tris had only ever heard stories about, mercenary tales, would want to step in and free a bunch of slaves, but it all happened. She was taken from the only life she really knew – and then backlash. Tristan had spent so long living one way, that it had taken its toll on her. She had lashed out, was rendered unconscious on more than one occasion to keep from hurting herself as well as others, and this went on for months. She was understandably slow to trust anyone or anything, but eventually a fair few got through to her. Rehabilitation was a slow process, but within another year she was as normal as could be expected, all things considered, and given the chance to live among those who had saved her.
Training hadn't been difficult, she had trained all her life after all, and had always been quick to learn. Following a Code was a bit more difficult, but having a place to belong, people to belong with was worth it - even if they weren't a clan. As time continued, Tris got her first real taste of freedom...And the very first thing she did with her normalcy and freedom? She tracked down her lousy, no good father. When she found him, she didn’t even bother to introduce herself. Tris marched right up to him, and when he looked up to address her, she punched him square in the face, not once, not even twice, but three solid blows. Once he hit the ground, she turned around and left, never once saying a word or looking back.
Since then, Tris has spent her time making a name for herself in the unspoken rings – of her own accord. Having spent her whole life fighting, she couldn’t very well just walk away from it. She's still always listening, keeping tabs on jobs she may be needed for, bounties that may crop up, or if those who had saved her need her. And if both lives give her a chance to make some credits for herself along the way? She's for it. It’s been four years since she was freed, and she still unfortunately has her triggers. But for the most part, she’s just living the day to day – and kicking some tail in the process.
Extras:
Armor