AriaDran
SWRP Writer
- Joined
- Feb 12, 2011
- Messages
- 262
- Reaction score
- 0
Mirci't
Mirci't cursed her human heritage. Why did those fowl creatures even have to exist, and curse her with being born one of them? Not for the first - nor the last - time, she wished she had been born a Taung, the only true humanoid prime species in the galaxy. Noone could stand before their might, nor match their ferocity in battle. Thus had she been taught, and therefore she believed with all her being.
She had been captured by Taung pirates at an early age, their cruiser attacked as it got too close to Taung space. Everyone had been slain except the children. The children were not so lucky. These Taung were the type to do experiments. They had rounded up all the alien children they encountered and brought them to their remote base, to see if they were raised as Taung if they would grow to be as strong or as feirce as one - or nearly so, as noone could be as strong as a Taung.
She had been too young to remember her name, but she did at least speak some common - over the years as they grew older, the alien children taught each other it. Because she didn't have a name, and the Taung were not the type to go out of their way, she was called only Mirci't by the Taung - Prisoner or Slave in Mando'a - and so that became her name, there was nothing she could do to protest it.
Life was hard on the children, as Taung were not known for their kindness or gentleness. Only the strong survived, of both heart and body. Many children were beaten to death in the first few weeks, only a handful had made it until the teenage years. Mirci't didn't know how old she was, but she had counted eighteen winters since she had been taken by the Taung, so she guessed her age to be twenty or so Mandalorian years.
She had endured this long only by an ironclad determination to survive which had kept her alive many times when she should have died, when she was left lieing in a puddle of her own blood. The beatings were at least somewhat fair - they were never without reason, and always served to teach a lesson. Most of them had come in teaching her how to fight, because the Taung were not going to hold back when she couldn't defend herself.
At the age of twenty two she had finally earned the right to be admitted into the Taung - or perhaps something had changed, she wasn't sure. She was going to be given the chance to fight and prove herself. She would always be a slave, but if she could earn even a bit of respect from the Taung, she would fight with everything she had.
Gear - Slave collar, Nodachi (Mandalorian Iron)
Force Sensitive - No
Mirci't cursed her human heritage. Why did those fowl creatures even have to exist, and curse her with being born one of them? Not for the first - nor the last - time, she wished she had been born a Taung, the only true humanoid prime species in the galaxy. Noone could stand before their might, nor match their ferocity in battle. Thus had she been taught, and therefore she believed with all her being.
She had been captured by Taung pirates at an early age, their cruiser attacked as it got too close to Taung space. Everyone had been slain except the children. The children were not so lucky. These Taung were the type to do experiments. They had rounded up all the alien children they encountered and brought them to their remote base, to see if they were raised as Taung if they would grow to be as strong or as feirce as one - or nearly so, as noone could be as strong as a Taung.
She had been too young to remember her name, but she did at least speak some common - over the years as they grew older, the alien children taught each other it. Because she didn't have a name, and the Taung were not the type to go out of their way, she was called only Mirci't by the Taung - Prisoner or Slave in Mando'a - and so that became her name, there was nothing she could do to protest it.
Life was hard on the children, as Taung were not known for their kindness or gentleness. Only the strong survived, of both heart and body. Many children were beaten to death in the first few weeks, only a handful had made it until the teenage years. Mirci't didn't know how old she was, but she had counted eighteen winters since she had been taken by the Taung, so she guessed her age to be twenty or so Mandalorian years.
She had endured this long only by an ironclad determination to survive which had kept her alive many times when she should have died, when she was left lieing in a puddle of her own blood. The beatings were at least somewhat fair - they were never without reason, and always served to teach a lesson. Most of them had come in teaching her how to fight, because the Taung were not going to hold back when she couldn't defend herself.
At the age of twenty two she had finally earned the right to be admitted into the Taung - or perhaps something had changed, she wasn't sure. She was going to be given the chance to fight and prove herself. She would always be a slave, but if she could earn even a bit of respect from the Taung, she would fight with everything she had.
Gear - Slave collar, Nodachi (Mandalorian Iron)
Force Sensitive - No
