- Joined
- Dec 25, 2019
- Messages
- 35
- Reaction score
- 17
Biographical Information
Homeworld
Parentage
Age
Coruscant
Unknown
Twenty
Parentage
Age
Coruscant
Unknown
Twenty
Physical Description
Species
Gender
Height
Weight
Hair Color
Eye Color
Skin Color
Human
Female
5'10" (1.778m)
155 lbs (70.307kg)
Silver
Turquoise
Porcelain
Gender
Height
Weight
Hair Color
Eye Color
Skin Color
Human
Female
5'10" (1.778m)
155 lbs (70.307kg)
Silver
Turquoise
Porcelain
Chronological & Political Information
Affiliation(s)
Resides
Status
·Dark Force Cult
__· Dark Side Assassin
Dark Force Cult Temple
Alive
Resides
Status
·Dark Force Cult
__· Dark Side Assassin
Dark Force Cult Temple
Alive
_
Zylah Nightblade
Excerpt · Biography · Personality · Appearance · Skills & Abilities · Equipment
Zylah was born a lowly child in the deepest levels of Coruscant's Undercity, living in absolute destitution and poverty. Her parents were unceremoniously murdered one fateful night by Dark Side cultists, with the infant Zylah carried back to their insidious masters as a trophy due to her Force Sensitivity. Since then she has been raised in a brutal fashion, molded by violence and Dark Side ideology into a deadly assassin with little compassion in her black heart.
_
▵Biography
Zylah was born unknown parents in the lowest levels of Coruscant’s Undercity. A horrid labyrinth of squalor, destitution, and poverty, buried deep far away from even natural sunlight and clean air. Her father, a salvager that made a living slicing apart the upper level’s trash and selling off precious metals, and her mother a serving girl at a bar run by one of the many local gangs. Zylah was born in the year [Year], with great difficulty on her mother’s part, as the family lacked money for medicine or the ability to visit anything resembling a hospital.
The girl was born small and sickly, too frail to even hardly cry. Her father redoubled his efforts at the salvage pits, trying his hardest to create a better life for his family. Zylah’s mother recovered in time, and with that her daughter too began to regain some of the strength an infant her age should possess. For a brief moment, it seemed there was a small spark illuminating a brighter tomorrow. But alas, the galaxy is cruel, and fate is often unkind. These moments of joy would not last.
One day they came, nameless, shapeless, black as midnight and swift as death itself. Assailants of unknown origin, moving through the undercity’s levels with unnatural haste on their dark quest. Dark Force Acolytes, members of the [Cult] searching for force sensitive children to recruit into their order. Sticking to the shadows, none knew of their presence, not even the roving packs of gangers that wandered the streets late into the night. Sensing the familiar sensation of a force sensitive being nearby, the shadow assailants locked onto their destination. They found themselves at Zylah’s parents’ hovel, and not a soul was privy as they made their silent entrance.
Her father barely had time to register, fast asleep in his bed when he heard footsteps. His hands had barely clutched the sides of his blaster pistol when a blade slit his throat. His last dying breaths were spent choking on his own blood as he watched his wife dispatched with the same cold efficiency. Zylah was torn from her mother’s arms, crying as only an infant can as her parents bled out in their bed. Her captors spirited away into the dead of night, none the wiser to their arrival, and none to care about another missing street urchin.
Zylah was taken, along with dozens of other children ranging from only a few weeks old to several years in age, aboard their captors ship as it departed Coruscant for its voyage back to [Planet]. Once there, they were given over in offering to their captor’s superiors. Trophies of a successful mission, mere bargaining chips, much less children. It would be but the first stage of their long, and brutal journey. The captive children had been brought to the [Cult], to be raised as the next generation of Dark Force users and molded into weapons to carry out their masters’ wills.
Zylah had no memory of her parents, a mercy compared to some of the older children torn from their homes. Each child taken had a varying degree of force sensitivity. Some proved too insufficient for their masters. Quickly screened out, they were carted away and disposed of or used for strange, and far crueler experiments. Those that fell within acceptable parameters were moved into a kind of orphanage, overseen by their new masters. Everyday to come would be their struggle, as newer and harsher challenges were levied on top of them.
From the moment Zylah could walk, she was expected to fight. Fighting was part of every facet of her life. The bedrooms had limited bunks, and the children had to fight among each other to claim a place to sleep. The losers tended to huddle together in a corner for once, devoid of blankets or pillows. Sharing was discouraged, and acts of kindness were met with swift punishment. Meals were awarded based on combat prowess for the day, with the most promising combatants receiving the highest quality food. The losers received barely edible nutrient paste, at first that is. As the trials became more grueling, lack of food became more commonplace as a punishment for failure. The weak grew weaker, the strong grew stronger. It was the way of the Dark Side, their masters instructed them.
As the abducted children reached the age of five or so, they began formal schooling in addition to their combat lessons. They were taught in core galactic subjects. Reading, writing, language, mathematics, science, history, with more advanced subjects coming as they aged and progressed. Studying was the closest thing they received to leisurely time, outside of sleep that is. Failure to perform in academics was met with severe beatings, which in turn resulted in poorer combat performance, and thus… less food and sleep. This cycle began to take a grim toll on the weakest of the classes. Zylah watched as sleep deprivation and emaciation began ravage the most frail of their ranks.
The weak were encouraged to find their strength. Like how a cornered beast will fight most fiercely, the student with nothing left to lose have the most to gain. For some it worked, tapping into their inner well of anger, fear, hatred, savagery, whatever it was they drew forth to give them strength. Earning them a brief respite and a taste of comforts they’d almost forgotten. Others failed, often miserably. Their last, desperate attempt at salvation snuffed out. Too far gone, too weak, too frail, they were executed by their peers. The first lesson in killing, but one of many. Those with the conviction to slay their friends and companions were richly rewarded with sweets and candies. Those who could not stomach the thought of killing were subjected to forced isolation in a small, dark, claustrophobic room.
At first, Zylah suffered just as the other children did. Middle of the road in strength and ability, she enjoyed only brief tastes of comfort followed by periods of cold hungry nights. But as time passed, and she began to take the lessons to heart she came to the revelation that only the strong were meant to survive. This life, it wasn’t about living, it was about finding. Her masters had been thinning the herd for years, making sure only the most capable, most worthy of their numbers survived. More children always arrived, they came in shipfulls with regular interval. She had watched it countless times from the windows that overlooked the hangar. With seemingly endless recruits, there could only be finite successes.
Grasping this revelation, unsure how many of her peers had or would come to the same conclusion, Zylah steeled herself to her purpose. Not just survive, thrive, take this harsh life and make it her strength. She redoubled her studies, doing her best to absorb every word and every lesson. Classes now included lessons on the nature of the Force, the Dark Side and the Light, and of the ancient Jedi and Sith. Two dynamically opposed forces that had ultimately destroyed one another in their quest for superiority. Zylah embraced her combat training, which had long since escalated from martial arts and bare hands fighting to incorporate weapons training. Most spars still employed less lethal options, though bumps and bruises were being replaced with scars and scratches by the day.
Years passed, and with her conviction Zylah rose to the top of the pack among her peers. Only the strong deserved to survive in this world. Only the powerful were rewarded, and the weak existed only to perish. That was the way. Blade in hand, she eagerly dispatched dozens of her fallen classmates, too frail to continue their tortured existence any longer. She had come to relish the joy in watching another’s final moments. That last dying gasp, the light fading from their eyes. Their journey coming to an end, while she continued hers onwards. Now a teenager little more than a half dozen remained of what had originally been close a hundred members of Zylah’s class.
Until one fateful day, it happened. Their long trial came to a close, the leader of their order arriving in person to tell them the first phase of their journey was over. They had survived, proven themselves with blood and steel. They had the wit, cunning, strength, and talent to survive where so many others had not. It was a brief but invigorating moment of happiness for Zylah, one of the few memories she genuinely cherished. Their days within the cruel gauntlet was over, and the young disciples had earned the rank of Acolyte. The teens were spirited away, divided up and given over to other sects within the order based on their abilities and their examinations.
Zylah found herself in company among the Assassins. Precise, deadly, cunning, and merciless killers. The silent hand at the throat, shadows in the night. It was her calling, and she embraced it with a zealous fervor only a decade and a half of brutal upbringing could foster. Life was paradise compared to her formative years. Her own bed, her own room, fresh clothes and hot food. No more fighting just for a chance at a good night’s sleep. This change in setting did wonders for her morale, and she took to her new teachers’ lessons with great zeal. In only a few short years Zylah was a master assassin, with hundreds of kills and scores of successful missions under her belt. Time had blown by, her life a dream compared to the Hell her youth had been. Killing was her great pleasure in life, and there were few better at it.
Zylah had come to master the vibroblades as her weapon of choice. A half dozen double edged daggers, honed to a monomolecular edge and guided around her in a macabre dance by her mastery of the force. Her blade dance was a sight to behold, a shame few lived through a performance. Six weapons moving in perfect sync, tearing apart her foes in whatever number they came. With such mastery of her craft came greater and greater freedom, as her dark masters loosened the leash on their mad dogs. All a part of integrating them fully into the order, disciples, acolytes, pupils, all titles of the past. Now they were Brothers and Sisters, flesh made whole by its dark purpose.
In present times Zylah remains a master of her craft. Now [Age] years old, she has great autonomy within the ranks of her order. She kills without question on her master’s whims, their enemies are her enemies, and her enemies meet a timely demise. But beyond this, Zylah and her peers have been encouraged to truly embrace the Dark Side and what that means to them. Whatever negative emotion drives them, and whatever sin they feel obligated to pursue. Not content with only killing in her masters’ name, Zylah now also yearns to kill in her own. Exhibiting a greed only an orphaned street urchin could know, she had taken up work as a contract killer in her spare time. She aims to amass a fortune, live in wealth and opulence, and be feared and respected by her peers.
▵Personality
Zylah is at her core a very proud, malicious, sadistic, and vane being. She is short tempered, and takes slights personally. Quick witted with a sense of humor as black her heart, she finds great amusement in the suffering of others. Greed was a concept bred into Zylah by the very nature of her cruel upbringing, and she hungers for more of virtually every material possession. Her avarice is unlikely to be sated, given she came from nothing and longs for everything. Highly capricious, the woman is known to change her whims on a knife’s edge. Just as easily as her good graces can be earned they can be torn away.
Exceedingly vane, Zylah places considerable emphasis on her own beauty, and is shamelessly unafraid to flirt, seduce, and tug at heartstrings to achieve her goals. She responds well to both flattery and compliments, though she knows well enough most do so only to gain paltry favor with her. Studious and diligent, Zylah is a voracious learner, quick to absorb knowledge so it may be used against her enemies one day. She practices rigorously in a multitude of forms of combat, and frequently consults her masters’ many dark teachings and scriptures.
Zylah has great and terrible hatred in her heart, most directed at those with better lives than herself. She silently laments not having a ‘normal’ upbringing, both wishing she had known her parents and resenting her captors for killing them when she was but an infant. While she enjoys her current lifestyle as a Dark Side Assassin, it was a road she did not choose for herself beyond the will to live and thrive. Zylah envies those born with the freedom to live a life of their choosing, and she despises those born into comfortable lives of wealth and comfort. The thought of it alone makes her hands tremble with rage, as her childhood was spent fighting for every scrap of food unable to even fantasize about how much better off other’s lives were.
Because of this, Zylah finds some empathy with the downtrodden of the galaxy. Slaves, street urchins, beggars, and invalides all tug slightly at her heartstrings. Though she is quick to push aside these foolish notions, reminding herself only through strength can anyone hope to attain anything in life. The galaxy’s forgotten masses forget their own strength, or have given in to self pity and despair. Only those with the will to claim their own destiny are worthy of acknowledgement in her eyes. For that reason Zylah often finds common cause with mercenaries, thieves, bounty hunters, pirates, and other martial professions where an individual can eke out a living with little more than a blaster and a look of grim determination. She admires anyone self made, though ironically despises the concept of charity.
▵Appearance
Zylah is a young human woman, standing at above average height five foot ten and weighing roughly one hundred and fifty five pounds without her equipment. She has piercing turquoise eyes that betray a sadistic kind of cunning, and long silver hair that flows down past her knees. She tends to her mane of hair meticulously, taking great pride in both its immense length and its luscious sheen. The fact it has never been cut since she was first brought to the order is a point of personal pride for the woman, and those that grab at it or attempt to slice it are quick to feel the bite of her blade at their throat.
Though scrawny as a child, Zylah quickly came to realize combat prowess meant food, and food was one of the few comforts in her life. Upon reaching adolescence, and now a more than capable duelist, she blossomed into a voluptuous woman that turns heads and incites sinful thoughts in many people she meets both friend and foe. Zylah has a toned, athletic body that combines a gymnast’s flexibility, a runner’s stamina, and a fighter’s brawn. She possesses wide, childbearing hips, supporting thick thighs and a considerable derriere. Though the woman is most proud of her immense bust, which she flaunts prominently with the design of her armor. Combined with a thin waist and slender shoulders, it gives Zylah a feminine visage few could compare.
Zylah is most commonly seen in her Dark Side Assassin’s armor. The outfit is composed of a flexible [Material] catsuit, lavender in color and designed to maximize functionality without sacrificing form. Violet reflective [Material] is molded around her arms, legs, thighs, and back to help minimize the potential damage of blaster fire. Over top of this ensemble is worn a series of extremely durable [Material] armor. Including a breastplate, cuirass, pauldrons, gloves, faulds, greaves, and boots. Zylah’s armor is meant to intimidate as much as function in a practical manner. Flowing violet sleeves hang from the wrists, to distract opponents and mask hand movements in the thick of combat. Armored spikes also grace the pauldrons and greaves of the armor to both intimidate and function as crude weaponry should it come to that. Zylah has been known to on occasion disable a combatant with a well placed shoulder tackle.
The armor itself is a deep grey color, owing to its [Material] composition. It sports clawed fingertips that double as both improvised weapons but also are useful for cutting through glass and other weak materials. Though hardly standard, Zylah does flaunt some golden accents in her armor, to the chagrin of her masters. The bracelets on her wrists were heirlooms of a wealthy duchess that was the most prominent person to meet her blade in Zylah’s first year as an assassin. Lastly, Zylah’s armor sports a removable mask that covers her face from the nose down. Two grim horn-like blades project from the edges meant to invoke imagery of demonic creatures in her victims.
▵Skills & Abilities
Assassination - Zylah has been, first and foremost, trained as a Dark Side Assassin. It is her birth rite, the culmination of a decade and a half of brutal training at her masters' hands. She has been instilled with lessons and training in a myriad of assassination techniques, from the mundane to the macabre.
Espionage - Zylah has received extensive training on the use of her Dark Side gifts and natural abilities for the purposes of espionage and reconnaissance. Her infiltration techniques are peerless, and her stealth is second to none. She is adept at scouting buildings for exploitable design flaws, as well as using her feminine wiles to gain access where more covert methods would fail.
Piloting - Zylah has been trained to fly a myriad of craft, from nimble fighters to lumbering bulk freighters. Her experience with flying is mostly simulations and training drills, and she has only limited practical experience flying larger vessels. She also has minimal experience with real world dogfights, and much prefers a hasty retreat to a prolonged fight.
Subterfuge - Zylah has been trained to achieve her tasks by whatever means necessary. This brutal pragmatism has naturally made her a master of subterfuge. Lying is second nature, deception is her default state, and she is wholly unopposed to using violence, torture, threats, or whatever other insidious means necessary to advance her own goals.
Swordsmanship - Zylah has been trained in mastery of both traditional sword fighting, and has come to develop her own intricate technique to set herself apart from her peers. Known simply as the Blade Dance, she wields a myriad of double edged daggers which she manipulates via the Force. These weapons orbit around her is a defensive stance, ready to intercept incoming attacks or projectiles. Offensively they strike out like an intelligent swarm of insects, seeking to overpower their opponent's guard or attack numerous foes simultaneously.
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Possessions include;
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