Darren and Miran, respectively.
COMPOSITION AND APPEARANCE:
Miran is of average height, standing about 5'3". Her fairly long brown hair is almost a perfect match with her ancient brown eyes. She is fairly slight of build. Darren stands 5'9" with dirty blond hair. In contrast to Miran's slight form, Darren is rather stocky, which had helped him avoid many a fight. Both have a haunted expression in their eyes, giving them an appearance of age beyond their years. They have each been thru some very hard times.
PERSONALITY:
Darren is a bit of a jokester. He's pulled just about every practical joke in the book, and where the book wouldn't work, he made his own. Over the years, his humor has gotten far more morbid, and often people will find his humor more disturbing than funny. Miran is, again, his opposite. Miran is serious, barely putting up with Darren's endless cracks about anything that strikes his fancy. Miran is also quick to take offense, and Darren is by far the thicker skinned of the two. He often acts as Miran's counterbalance, to prevent her from flying off the handle.
LIKES AND DISLIKES:
Miran has acquired a taste for art over the years, often spending thousands of credits on a single piece. Darren, however, spends more time hacking. While miran is often seen managing books (much to her dislike), Darren is usually found upgrading a computer and is quite at home in dirty coveralls and a bandana. Neither of them like people who fling insults, however, and Miran is easily angered.
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES:
Miran and Darren are literally opposites. Darren uses brute force to resolve his problems as much as he uses his quick wit. He's rather strong, keeps in good condition, and is rather charismatic when he's not cracking morbid jokes. Miran prefers dodging attacks, and is far more dexterous than Darren. Needless to say, she can't take near as many hits tho. Miran, because of all her hardships, has spent a long time learning lessons the hard way, this gives her an edge and a strong advantage when wisdom is called for, which usually makes up for Darren's lack thereof. Miran too, tho, is rather charismatic, but her ease of anger dissolves all like for her, and she counters all slights against her or those she loves brutally if not stopped.
HISTORY:
Miran was always an unusual one. Her mother died during childbirth, which is, in and of itself, a rarity these days, and her father spent all of his time working at an interstellar shipping company based out of Coronet to provide for the two of them. He hired a part time nanny to keep an eye on her, but he couldn't afford much. For this reason, Miran learned to be a loner. She learned to read on her own at the age of three, and shortly thereafter began getting her hands on every book she could find. Despite her young age, she was a regular at the local library, where she soon read nearly every book there. When she couldn't figure a word out, or had problems understanding the context of something she read, she would often wait for her father to come home and ask him. Because of her father's lengthy journeys to distant systems, this could often be a week or more.
When she was five, Miran's father had earned enough money to go solo. He bought his own ship and started his own, tho quite small, shipping company in Bela Vistal. By the time Miran was six, her dad was home more often than not. This brought an unimaginable joy to her life, gradually, she wasn't alone anymore. When she was eight, her dad brought her home a datapad and a number of datapacks. After this gift, she spent most of her time learning how to program.
Shortly after she turned fourteen, she was hired on at her father's decently-sized corporation as a trainee computer mechanic. She had extensive access (tho far from unsupervised) to each of her father's two dozen freighters and their computer hardware. Here is where her self-teaching skills began to really shine. Until, that is, she met Darren. Darren was only a few years older than her, eighteen to her nearly fifteen, but, for some inexplicable reason, she liked him from the start.
[Jumping ahead a few years to prevent this from becoming a second rate holodrama :P]
Miran was nineteen. She'd been going steady with Darren for many months when she got the phone call. Her father was dead. A survey team had found his ship, stripped bare then slagged, presumably with all hands lost. A small transponder was dropped and it's short message sent rage thru her veins. "This is what happens to those who intrude on the claims of Jerga the Hutt." The message was repeated several times in different languages before it repeated itself. Miran, deprived of her father, swore that she would have her revenge. With very little effort, she took her father's place in the company. His most recent will, nearly a decade old at this point, left everything to her. She intended to take it farther than her father ever imagined now. His legacy became her tool.
Miran hired several groups of mercenaries, presumably to protect her shipments. One, a wizened old verpine, began teaching her how to manage men and women in naval combat. The tactics she was taught were far from typical. Instead of using a single, massive dreadnaught loaded with thousands upon thousands of guns, She was taught how to manage dozens of smaller units to take down large prey. The smaller units couldn't take nearly as much damage as a single larger unit could, but then, they wouldn't have to. Even the best of gunners cannot coordinate fire against a properly managed swarm.
This training, combined with her deep-felt need to have her crews come home, combined in an offensive strategy with defensive tactics. Her ships had shielding and armor befit for vessels twice their size, but their weapons were light, usually holding fewer than the fairly lax laws of Corellia allowed. By this time she had nearly 50 small vessels at her disposal, easily enough to start her private war. Taking out a fair-sized loan, she began her retrofits.
By the time she turned twenty, everything was in order. Darren, however, was still in shock. He tried to talk with her. He tried to help her let go of her grief. He failed utterly and he left to wander the galaxy on his own. At any other time, with nearly any other mindset, that alone would have hit her hard enough to shake her out of her thirst for blood. Now, however, she simply had no more distractions.
Her first 'shipment' was a startling success. The small frigate that was planning on raiding her convoy was utterly decimated, it's hulk was chopped up and melted down, creating a large supply of ore she could sell. After continuing this for a while, she grew impatient, and began targeting Jerga's shipping lanes. Her crews grew into the practice of disabling the freighters with a few well-place ion cannon rounds, spacing their crews, and using their enemy's own freighters to hall this plundered loot. She would then sell it and use the money to further both 'her' company's front and fuel her private war.
Every now and then, Jerga hit pretty hard. She lost several good people that way. But all in all, she was winning. By the time she was twenty four, she had stolen nearly 200 million credits from Jerga. Her company had expanded more than a hundred fold. She began outfitting several large freighters, distant precursors to the AA-9 "Coruscant" freighter for the shipping runs, while keeping the rest of her smaller vessels for combat. Wisely, however, she armed these large freighters similarly to how she'd equipped the small ones: lots of armor and shields, few guns. This proved to be her smartest decision in her war.
Before long, Jerga caught on to the change in her company's tactics. He sent several ships to decimate her shipping lanes. Ironically, due to how she rigged up her vessels, his attack gave her company even more of a reputation among her clients. The sight of two large freighters duking it out with the still larger vessels attacking them while powering planet-side became iconic of her corporation, and soon she changed the logo to represent that. She did, however, recognize her mistake, and began ensuring her freighters were always heavily escorted from then on.
Miran turned twenty-seven. She owned and ran a company that ran nearly three million credits worth of goods on a daily basis. And her life had fallen apart. She heard the reports thru some fairly covert sources, but it was later confirmed by the holonet: Jerga Was dead. A pair of Jedi knights, along with their padawans, had tracked a spice smuggling ring back to Jerga. They had, of course, been diplomatic about their request to cease such activities before they destroyed the lives of many, many people. Jerga, true to his self-absorbed and arrogant nature, declined less than politely. He didn't survive the encounter.
For the next several days, Miran sat in her office brooding. She could realized that, tho she could tell you the names of every one of the 463 people who had died for her vengeance, she couldn't remember anything more than what they did. She didn't know their family, she didn't know what they liked or didn't like, she didn't even know how much their salary was tho this last part was quickly rectified. The grief burst, and after nearly eight years, she finally mourned the father whom she could barely now remember.
It didn't take long for her to leave. She left the company in the capable hands of her chief of staff and took the first vacation she'd had in... years... in fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd taken a vacation. Taking a small pittance from the company account, amounting to about three million credits, she bought herself a small ship. It wasn't fancy, but it was fast. Most important to her tho, it was perfect for just getting away. She took two days and had it updated. New shields, better armor, and a triple blaster in the nose, along with a tuning for the engines and stores for two weeks of travel, and she was off. She didn't take much with her, a pair of loading droids, a small carbine, and a heavy pistol and the clothes on her back was about it. She memorized her account numbers, which would give her access to the remaining money she had accrued if she needed anything.
She wandered the galaxy for several months before she headed back to Corellia. Finally, she was comfortable with who she was. Under her renewed leadership, Miran joined the republic as a privateer shipping and transport company. Her pilots' eager willingness to strafe enemy positions eventually lead to a near-infamy among the republic soldiers stationed on worlds her company shipped to. Finally having been able to let go, she started enjoying herself more. Taking the occasional day off had become an easy way to deal with the stress placed on her in such a position. It used to be she could care less about what people thought about her, but she found that she became a far more open ear. For the families of those who had died while working for her, she gave them each more than enough credits to live off for several years, and a similar offer was made to all those in her service.
A while later, just before her twenty-ninth birthday, Miran met Darren once more. It was little more than a chance encounter, but it quickly became more. While originally their relationship had largely been one of convenience, their age had tempered them. Their relationship deepened again, and in surprisingly little time they were dating. She often says that Darren is "my favorite birthday present".
KILLS:
None
DUELING RING MATCHES:
None
GRAND TOURNAMENT MATCHES:
None
ROLE-PLAYS:
None
COMPOSITION AND APPEARANCE:
Miran is of average height, standing about 5'3". Her fairly long brown hair is almost a perfect match with her ancient brown eyes. She is fairly slight of build. Darren stands 5'9" with dirty blond hair. In contrast to Miran's slight form, Darren is rather stocky, which had helped him avoid many a fight. Both have a haunted expression in their eyes, giving them an appearance of age beyond their years. They have each been thru some very hard times.
PERSONALITY:
Darren is a bit of a jokester. He's pulled just about every practical joke in the book, and where the book wouldn't work, he made his own. Over the years, his humor has gotten far more morbid, and often people will find his humor more disturbing than funny. Miran is, again, his opposite. Miran is serious, barely putting up with Darren's endless cracks about anything that strikes his fancy. Miran is also quick to take offense, and Darren is by far the thicker skinned of the two. He often acts as Miran's counterbalance, to prevent her from flying off the handle.
LIKES AND DISLIKES:
Miran has acquired a taste for art over the years, often spending thousands of credits on a single piece. Darren, however, spends more time hacking. While miran is often seen managing books (much to her dislike), Darren is usually found upgrading a computer and is quite at home in dirty coveralls and a bandana. Neither of them like people who fling insults, however, and Miran is easily angered.
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES:
Miran and Darren are literally opposites. Darren uses brute force to resolve his problems as much as he uses his quick wit. He's rather strong, keeps in good condition, and is rather charismatic when he's not cracking morbid jokes. Miran prefers dodging attacks, and is far more dexterous than Darren. Needless to say, she can't take near as many hits tho. Miran, because of all her hardships, has spent a long time learning lessons the hard way, this gives her an edge and a strong advantage when wisdom is called for, which usually makes up for Darren's lack thereof. Miran too, tho, is rather charismatic, but her ease of anger dissolves all like for her, and she counters all slights against her or those she loves brutally if not stopped.
HISTORY:
Miran was always an unusual one. Her mother died during childbirth, which is, in and of itself, a rarity these days, and her father spent all of his time working at an interstellar shipping company based out of Coronet to provide for the two of them. He hired a part time nanny to keep an eye on her, but he couldn't afford much. For this reason, Miran learned to be a loner. She learned to read on her own at the age of three, and shortly thereafter began getting her hands on every book she could find. Despite her young age, she was a regular at the local library, where she soon read nearly every book there. When she couldn't figure a word out, or had problems understanding the context of something she read, she would often wait for her father to come home and ask him. Because of her father's lengthy journeys to distant systems, this could often be a week or more.
When she was five, Miran's father had earned enough money to go solo. He bought his own ship and started his own, tho quite small, shipping company in Bela Vistal. By the time Miran was six, her dad was home more often than not. This brought an unimaginable joy to her life, gradually, she wasn't alone anymore. When she was eight, her dad brought her home a datapad and a number of datapacks. After this gift, she spent most of her time learning how to program.
Shortly after she turned fourteen, she was hired on at her father's decently-sized corporation as a trainee computer mechanic. She had extensive access (tho far from unsupervised) to each of her father's two dozen freighters and their computer hardware. Here is where her self-teaching skills began to really shine. Until, that is, she met Darren. Darren was only a few years older than her, eighteen to her nearly fifteen, but, for some inexplicable reason, she liked him from the start.
[Jumping ahead a few years to prevent this from becoming a second rate holodrama :P]
Miran was nineteen. She'd been going steady with Darren for many months when she got the phone call. Her father was dead. A survey team had found his ship, stripped bare then slagged, presumably with all hands lost. A small transponder was dropped and it's short message sent rage thru her veins. "This is what happens to those who intrude on the claims of Jerga the Hutt." The message was repeated several times in different languages before it repeated itself. Miran, deprived of her father, swore that she would have her revenge. With very little effort, she took her father's place in the company. His most recent will, nearly a decade old at this point, left everything to her. She intended to take it farther than her father ever imagined now. His legacy became her tool.
Miran hired several groups of mercenaries, presumably to protect her shipments. One, a wizened old verpine, began teaching her how to manage men and women in naval combat. The tactics she was taught were far from typical. Instead of using a single, massive dreadnaught loaded with thousands upon thousands of guns, She was taught how to manage dozens of smaller units to take down large prey. The smaller units couldn't take nearly as much damage as a single larger unit could, but then, they wouldn't have to. Even the best of gunners cannot coordinate fire against a properly managed swarm.
This training, combined with her deep-felt need to have her crews come home, combined in an offensive strategy with defensive tactics. Her ships had shielding and armor befit for vessels twice their size, but their weapons were light, usually holding fewer than the fairly lax laws of Corellia allowed. By this time she had nearly 50 small vessels at her disposal, easily enough to start her private war. Taking out a fair-sized loan, she began her retrofits.
By the time she turned twenty, everything was in order. Darren, however, was still in shock. He tried to talk with her. He tried to help her let go of her grief. He failed utterly and he left to wander the galaxy on his own. At any other time, with nearly any other mindset, that alone would have hit her hard enough to shake her out of her thirst for blood. Now, however, she simply had no more distractions.
Her first 'shipment' was a startling success. The small frigate that was planning on raiding her convoy was utterly decimated, it's hulk was chopped up and melted down, creating a large supply of ore she could sell. After continuing this for a while, she grew impatient, and began targeting Jerga's shipping lanes. Her crews grew into the practice of disabling the freighters with a few well-place ion cannon rounds, spacing their crews, and using their enemy's own freighters to hall this plundered loot. She would then sell it and use the money to further both 'her' company's front and fuel her private war.
Every now and then, Jerga hit pretty hard. She lost several good people that way. But all in all, she was winning. By the time she was twenty four, she had stolen nearly 200 million credits from Jerga. Her company had expanded more than a hundred fold. She began outfitting several large freighters, distant precursors to the AA-9 "Coruscant" freighter for the shipping runs, while keeping the rest of her smaller vessels for combat. Wisely, however, she armed these large freighters similarly to how she'd equipped the small ones: lots of armor and shields, few guns. This proved to be her smartest decision in her war.
Before long, Jerga caught on to the change in her company's tactics. He sent several ships to decimate her shipping lanes. Ironically, due to how she rigged up her vessels, his attack gave her company even more of a reputation among her clients. The sight of two large freighters duking it out with the still larger vessels attacking them while powering planet-side became iconic of her corporation, and soon she changed the logo to represent that. She did, however, recognize her mistake, and began ensuring her freighters were always heavily escorted from then on.
Miran turned twenty-seven. She owned and ran a company that ran nearly three million credits worth of goods on a daily basis. And her life had fallen apart. She heard the reports thru some fairly covert sources, but it was later confirmed by the holonet: Jerga Was dead. A pair of Jedi knights, along with their padawans, had tracked a spice smuggling ring back to Jerga. They had, of course, been diplomatic about their request to cease such activities before they destroyed the lives of many, many people. Jerga, true to his self-absorbed and arrogant nature, declined less than politely. He didn't survive the encounter.
For the next several days, Miran sat in her office brooding. She could realized that, tho she could tell you the names of every one of the 463 people who had died for her vengeance, she couldn't remember anything more than what they did. She didn't know their family, she didn't know what they liked or didn't like, she didn't even know how much their salary was tho this last part was quickly rectified. The grief burst, and after nearly eight years, she finally mourned the father whom she could barely now remember.
It didn't take long for her to leave. She left the company in the capable hands of her chief of staff and took the first vacation she'd had in... years... in fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd taken a vacation. Taking a small pittance from the company account, amounting to about three million credits, she bought herself a small ship. It wasn't fancy, but it was fast. Most important to her tho, it was perfect for just getting away. She took two days and had it updated. New shields, better armor, and a triple blaster in the nose, along with a tuning for the engines and stores for two weeks of travel, and she was off. She didn't take much with her, a pair of loading droids, a small carbine, and a heavy pistol and the clothes on her back was about it. She memorized her account numbers, which would give her access to the remaining money she had accrued if she needed anything.
She wandered the galaxy for several months before she headed back to Corellia. Finally, she was comfortable with who she was. Under her renewed leadership, Miran joined the republic as a privateer shipping and transport company. Her pilots' eager willingness to strafe enemy positions eventually lead to a near-infamy among the republic soldiers stationed on worlds her company shipped to. Finally having been able to let go, she started enjoying herself more. Taking the occasional day off had become an easy way to deal with the stress placed on her in such a position. It used to be she could care less about what people thought about her, but she found that she became a far more open ear. For the families of those who had died while working for her, she gave them each more than enough credits to live off for several years, and a similar offer was made to all those in her service.
A while later, just before her twenty-ninth birthday, Miran met Darren once more. It was little more than a chance encounter, but it quickly became more. While originally their relationship had largely been one of convenience, their age had tempered them. Their relationship deepened again, and in surprisingly little time they were dating. She often says that Darren is "my favorite birthday present".
KILLS:
None
DUELING RING MATCHES:
None
GRAND TOURNAMENT MATCHES:
None
ROLE-PLAYS:
None
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