- Joined
- Nov 23, 2019
- Messages
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-TSARA TARR-
FACTION: Independent (presently)
RANK: Lvl 1 (Dancer)
SPECIES: Twi'lek
AGE: 19
GENDER: Female
HEIGHT: 5'5'' (165 cm)
WEIGHT: 120lbs. (54.4kg)
FORCE SENSITIVE: Yes/*Trained
*Limited - Tsara's training in the Force was erratic, incomplete, and largely self developed over three years. Literally learning by doing. Her strength in the Force is not particularly powerful either.
Side Note: Portrayed Vocally By Mona Marshall
APPEARANCE:
Slim, toned, short, and dark green skin. Tsara Tarr is an attractive Twi'lek dancer with a cool, quiet exterior but turbulent interior. She has sad, deep blue eyes and a figurative equatorial line in regards to her thin lips. "Those corners [of her lips] never seem to tilt up or down for grin or frown," a Toydarian club owner once said "unless asked," he promptly adds. She wears (naturally) very little clothing, opting to walk around in her dancing attire of pale gold Lekku bands and white loincloth most of the time as she's often working at some bar or club. She's often barefoot as well. For travel between gigs, or more formal situations where modesty is necessary, she has a simple, brown serape, tan coveralls (formfitting, naturally), and some scuffed old long boots that she dons. The left side of her face has a scar that starts at her jaw and trails up her cheek, ending below the cheekbone. On her right side, trailing left across her waist are two massive scars.
ATTRIBUTES:
Slim and short, Tsara isn't known for brute strength or hitting hard, let alone the ability to lift much, but possesses exceptional alacrity and agility. her stamina is considerable, given she's a dancer by trade. Her instruction in dancing has given her grace and poise, causing her to draw attention to herself (the spare slave dancer outfits help) as she exudes a sense of confidence, energy and raw sexuality. Neither soldier, leader, enforcer, nor mechanical genius, Tsara's intellect is accomplished in reading others, watching them and listening to them, then saying what people want (or don't want) to hear in order to manipulate them and the environment she occupies. She does this with such cold, route execution, she rarely ever speaks at length without the intent of influencing the person(s) opposite of her. That being said, she isn't known for talking very much unless necessary or trying to further some specific end of her own. She's aggressively passive, and notoriously docile to the leader in given situations. She prefers to avoid conflict rather than engage in it, given her physical limitations in close quarters, and her skill with a blaster (while not bad) being nothing inherently special.
PERSONALITY:
Poker faced. Sotto voce. Patient and calm. Yielding to compromise, or just credits. These best describe Tsara Tarr, giving the young Twi'lek dancer an air of peace, and maturity one would not otherwise find in a woman her age. Scars, both physically obvious and emotionally subtle have attributed to this. She rarely takes point or overt initiatives, but tends to take commands from others with a certain expectancy that some have remarked on as uncanny. She talks little, but listens intently. Gentle yet firm in her interactions as well as pursuits. One wouldn't pay much heed to her if not for the exquisite figure she possesses, sparse, gaudy attire, and a sense that there is something turbulent hidden beneath her sybaritic surface. She wears a constant, often unbroken taciturn expression, making her hard to read. She smiles, but usually only when asked to, which can be off putting in certain social situations. Her obedience to whoever appears to be the leader is automatic, if not instinctive at times.
She keeps to herself, but is more than happy (not that one could tell) to hear someone else's life story, opinions, and carrying-ons. She gets to know people, while most people believe they know her quite well in spite of the fact that she hardly speaks of herself, let alone at much at all.
SKILLS:
She dances, freelance, often for Hutts and Toydarians, with considerable skill, going from establishment to establishment (or sometimes cartel to cartel) plying her trade for credits. Tsara Tarr was a failed (as well as unwilling) Sith apprentice, but techniques poorly taught by her mother, a curious Force Adept who studied the Jedi legends, and skills instructed by her short lived Sith masters Tsara has maintained, and explored, allowing her a rudimentary command of The Force by applying it in various situations, namely self defense, and wage negotiations. She has (for her age) rather accomplished combat proficiency from what she's learned from her parents, the Sith, and on the Spaceport streets of various worlds. These combat proficiencies include - drawing and firing a blaster quickly with decent accuracy, deceptive dance influenced hand to hand combat, tumbling, and vibro-blade fighting.
Force abilities are limited largely to enhancing her reactions in combat scenarios, vaulting, sprinting, and very subtle execution of the Mind Trick technique. Her grasp on both interpersonal influence as well as Force related influence is notable, and are easily her strongest assets out in the proverbial trenches of the Galaxy. She has experience with a Lightsaber, but doesn't possess one, and thus, that skill set is largely oxidized and feeble at best.
She commands a rather nuanced body of knowledge in regards to the dark and light sides of the Force, given what she was taught by both her mother and the Sith, as well as a "worldly" knowledge of the Galaxy gleaned from unsavory establishments and pervert scoundrels. It allows her to approach situations with unique perspective and wisdom oft beyond her years.
BIOGRAPHY:
-Fate and Folly-
A Star Wars: Fires Of Rebellion Story
A Star Wars: Fires Of Rebellion Story
Tygial sat with threaded fingers, listening to a Holocron drone on empirical data in a static monotone.
"...born approximately 15 galactic years ago on Ryloth to father Reak-Ce Tarr, a Force Sensitive Twi'lek smuggler, and mother Uzima Tarr, a Force Sensitive who pursued Jedi knowledge, Tsara Tarr was acquired by The Sith when Lord Ko'Varna slew her parents on a smuggling endeavor at-"
If Tygial had physical eyes to rub, she would have. The tedium of this investigation was bringing her to the brink of her patience, and interest. The Miraluka Sith opted to exhale a long sigh as Ko'varna's burly, Zabrak form flickered in over semi transparent, blue images of the aforementioned parents of the Sith apprentice mentioned. "Reak-Ce, and Uzima will no longer complicate our efforts to push Toydarian interests out of the-" Another sigh, and Tygial rested her chin on the backs of her folded hands. She continued to listen to Ko'Varna's image relaying, with great enthusiasm, his accomplishments.
"...slaying them was a personal pleasure and stroke of genius on my part. It was beautifully convenient; serving to remove them from our list of troubles and planting seeds of fear and hatred in their surviving, Force sensitive 15 year old daughter, Tsara. As I've established a satellite installation in system on the orbiting asteroid Odzerah by secret means, I will see to cultivating the Darkside in the Tarr offspring. These undertakings with Atrox should prove to be both rewarding and highly fulfilling as we branch out our own establishment, an order free of the failings of the present Sith Empire."
The holocron had come to its end, Ko'Varna's image winking out. Tygial's accompanying acolyte, Bulse Dara, a burly Nikto in billowing black garments, exchanged one holocron out for another, and activated the viewer wordlessly. The slender form of a Mirialan Sith (the aforementioned Atrox) materialized from the waist up. Her expression was a scowl, her voice filled with anger and uncertainty. The recording appeared to have been taken on a whim, amidst a battle, given the din of cries and violence in the background. In fact, it appeared to be somewhat corrupted as the image was mid-sentence, Atrox repeatedly checked over her shoulder as she moved through her words with a frenetic pace.
“...Tsara Tarr’s abilities were thought marginal, proven meager at best, but her yielding...her seemingly blind obedience, and unguarded disposition; those aspects of her nature set in motion what I face at this very moment. Her open ears coupled with soft spoken guile disarmed better than any technique that Ko'Varna or I could have instructed. The war among the apprentices and acolytes here on Odzerah, an imminent fate threatening to consume us now, was...!"
Atrox' image turned away to look behind her as an explosion sounded. She turned her face back to the intended viewer she hoped to reach, shrieks filling the speakers before she continued.
"We all trusted her integrity, in spite of our dogma warning us against such improprieties...Tarr’s weapon, her power, was never the Lightsaber, no. I realize now; she has undone us all with her rumors and gossip that played upon our insecurities, every whisper having enough truth and probability to put fire into our suspicions, stoking rage and distrust. How many ears did she convey her lies too? How many filleted truths did she craft and disseminate among us? To whoever finds this holocron, know that our chapter was brought down, that the least threatening neophyte of this cloister wrought our doom!”
A snap-hiss sounded, and Atrox' lightsaber blade appeared as she turned to confront a growing multitude of voices yelling from behind her. Her upper body retreated from sight and a scream and clash issued before the holocron ended, leaving the chamber in feint light and deep shadow. Dara turned to his master, a stoic expression on his face. Tygial groaned and untangled her fingers as she stood from the seat before the viewer, kicking aside Atrox' severed, decomposing head into a mass of dead Sith apprentices piled in the corner.
"They were undone by mere words." Dara stated flatly in a forceful baritone. Tygial waved his words off like smoke as she meandered about the chamber, stepping over and around sundered bodies.
“This chain reaction of death must be laid squarely at the feet of Ko'Varna and Atrox for their lack of foresight, not a girl’s poison tongued whispers. Such indecorum is testament to their impetuous ambitions outweighing practical execution of their intended enterprise on this asteroid.” Tygial replied, exiting the chamber.
Dara followed quickly, holocrons in hand, sidling up next to his master.
"Perhaps this Tsara Tarr's parentage, and training here, made her a more powerful Sith than expected in short time?"
Tygial shook her head at this as they went, passing fellow Sith planting thermal detonators at various points in the hallway.
“A wannabe Padawan does not a Jedi make, nor an incomplete turn a Sith.” Tygial started as they turned a corner into another hallway. Empty, and laced with blinking detonators. Several other Sith fell in behind them with hurried paces.
"Nine months, Dara, and they had concluded she was a weak user of the Force. No, Tsara Tarr is neither a Sith, nor Jedi, but her words stirred up a potent tempest here at this clandestine installation, and it devolved into violence because the leadership was feeble; this would not have happened anywhere else under a tighter grip." Tygial explained as more Sith flanked her and Dara. They all started up a spiral staircase carved from the asteroid rock itself.
"Should we hunt her down? The freighter that left must be this one unaccounted for apprentice." Dara asked, holding the viewed holocrons from the chamber out to his master. Tygial dismissively swept them out of his hand, the two storage devices plummeting down below, reporting their destruction with an echoing shatter.
"Why? To congratulate her for helping to instigate a purge of heretics and renegades? No, I think running her down is unnecessary, wasteful." Tygial stated, picking up the speed of her steps as Dara glanced down below.
"Won't our lords have searching questions?" he asked. "Won't we have complimentary answers?" Tygial replied as they reached the top of the stairs.
"Are you familiar with the game of Dejarik, Dara?" Tygial inquired as they filed into a close chamber and through an airlock that comported them into their vessel.
"I am, master." Dara answered.
"Excellent, then you know that some pawns leave the front and range far to the other side of the board, where, they are promoted; we must take a page from our Jedi adversaries, and allow fate and folly to produce favorable events." At these words from his master, Dara raised a brow.
"What do you mean?".
The hatch sealed behind them and the hum of the ship pulling away from Odzerah could be heard, as well as the craggy explosion of numerous thermal detonators going off that followed, causing the asteroid installation to blow apart and be pulverized into a cloud of rocky powder and super heated chunks of orange glowing stone that quickly cooled in the unforgiving vacuum of space.
"What I mean is let the course of consequences, unintended or otherwise, bring her back to us as an opponent, or to heel..." and she turned to Dara, the ebony ribbon across her 'eyes' not changing the impression that she was boring into him with a piercing gaze. "...until then, we know little to nothing, and can convey even less to our betters..."
...Three years later
Dur Ther'Dol couldn't keep his eyes off her. The young freighter pilot had never seen a woman of any race move quite the same as this woman under the glare and glow of neon did. Her dark green skin seemed to capture the light and refuse to give it back as she moved in provocative banks and twists, twirls and arabesques. Shaky hands full of credits, Ther'Dol tossed them intermittently, and deftly onto his end of the stage, trying to entice the barely dressed Twi'lek over to where he was seated. It worked. She luridly wiggled and spun his direction.
Solid sticks of currency went further than bad pickup lines and drunken come-ons.
On all fours, and leaning in close, Tsara Tarr drew a blush from Ther'Dol when she touched nose to nose with him. A ghost of an upward tug of her lips proceed, but a smile never formed on her virid face. Her blue eyes, unflinching, stared into his.
"Would you like a personal dance?" Tsara asked, her voice soft, enticing but not sweet. Gentle but all business. She wondered how much redder the man could get before gouts of steam shot from his ears. Ther'Dol stammered a couple of jibberish, half formed words before he found some composure, and control of his tongue.
"H-how much?" he asked eventually, causing Tsara to lean in, her scarred cheek to his unshaven one, lips brushing his ear purposely as she spoke of costs and the corresponding benefits. Ther'Dol's eyes widened, and he stiffened up like a droid shot with an ion canon.
"That's pretty naughty, and pretty expensive," he managed. Tsara leaned a away, locking her blue eyes on his again, writhing suggestively to the synths and repetitive beat of the music, then coming in close again, she slowly waved a hand, palm out, across her face. Her azure wells peeked between her fingers as she spoke deliberately.
"You want a personal dance?"
And Ther'Dol...
"I sure do!"
And she waved her opposite hand the same way, speaking as before.
"Take me with you when you leave Taris?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
Now, Tsara allowed a shallow, satisfied grin to appear.
"Good question, but one that doesn't need answering..."
~End~
Everything below this sentence is for character development to be listed in regards to role play threads played in:
CHARACTER DEVELOPMENTS:
GENERIC/GENERAL GEAR:
-1 Rhajur Muur 16-16K Hold-out Blaster (Pictured in her right hand in the pic above)
Link: http://www.thestarwarsrp.com/forum/index.php?threads/guardian-hold-out-blaster.84653/
-1 Qutt & R'hun T-H33 Model 6'' Vibroblade (Also pictured above in her offhand)
Link: http://www.thestarwarsrp.com/forum/index.php?threads/vibroblade.84644/
-1 Training Saber
http://www.thestarwarsrp.com/forum/index.php?threads/tsara-tarrs-training-saber.91627/
-1 travel bag containing 3 different dance attires, underwear (at times dance attire) and her coveralls
-1 Worn out, ugly brown Serape - used as a blanket and a shawl (she cherishes the dreadful thing)
-1 pair of scuffed up knee high boots (made for walkin')
-1 Belt with holster and pouches (not many credits in the right hand pouch at the moment)
-1 Knapsack full of edibles and potables that will (hopefully) hold
Pleas note: The above picture shows Tsara wielding weapons she would have no place to conceal or carry given her state of obvious undress. They are merely in the picture above for dramatic effect. She would have to be in her coveralls and wearing her belt to realistically be carrying these weapons around, and would be in these articles of clothing during role play threads in order to have them handy, otherwise, if she's in her dance attire (or less) in RP threads, then she does not possess her weaponry and has to rely on whatever she can get her hands on as well as her wits.
ROLE-PLAYS:
Forthcoming.
RELATIONSHIPS:
Atraxis Aubury
Alema Torr
SHIP:
None.
Tsara sold the vessel she escaped Odzerah in and used the credits to survive on for awhile before she found herself employed in the dancer vocation she presently enjoys.
DROID(S):
None. The pilot droid that flew her from Odzerah was sold with the ship.
PETS:
None.
KILLS:
None (presently).
COMBAT:
None here (yet).
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