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Kalyn Shif

Kalyn Shif


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Adiara Drelas, Cynical Optimist


"Don't pretend you know me, Sweetheart"


  • Name: I was born Adiara Drelas, and no... Adi will not do.
  • Alias: Adiara will do just fine, thank you.
  • Alignment: The human condition is simply too complicated for me to fit into such classifications.
  • Species: If I look to be human then that's what matters, right?
  • Race: I suppose, if human distinctions mattered, you could call me a Morellian.
  • Planet of Birth: If you really must know, I was raised -- and I use that term loosely -- on Morellia.
  • Age: By your standards, 58 might seem... Old, yes...
  • Height: 5'11; I know, I know, compared to the rest of this Galaxy, I'm really quite short...
  • Weight: Do you really expect me to answer that?
  • Eye Color: Are you blind? My eyes are blue, you fool.
  • Hair Color: Originally I was blonde, would you believe? No... Well, it's a reddish brown.
  • Complexion: As you can see, my skin is weather-worn. Who moisturises these days?
  • Force Sensitive: Long ago I may have answered differently, but for contingencies sake... Perhaps.


  • Sweetheart, I assure you that I am one hundred percent dedicated to my own success and well-being.
  • The Miaplacidus: My beloved Freighter, named after the Silent Water. I'll never find a woman quite so loyal as she... No, no, not even you, dear.
  • There is one person, I suppose, who I respect enough to affiliate myself with; he runs this shady place on Nar Shaddaa. Yes, as it so happens it is the exact joint we're sat in now, Sweetheart.
  • Oh... And the foolish little creature that seems to follow me around preaching on about a life debt... Though that's his doing and not my own!


  • + Just look at you, already you're captivated by what I have to say... Even if your queries are severely lacking in substance.
  • If only more people laid down their weapons and thought a little more, perhaps the Galaxy would be less detestable if its inhabitants weren't such thick-headed fools... No offence, Sweetheart.
  • If you think all Morellian are useless with technology, then you're sorely mistaken. I happen to have the aptitude to make up for my kin's shortcomings.
  • I once trained as part of the Republic's Medi-Corps, you know? Luckily I skipped the bacta and went straight for the more useful medical procedures.
  • The Kessel Run? I can make that in fourteen parsecs if I really want to... Just not with this useless heap of metal.
  • ~ Is this what the Galaxy has come to? Believing that to live longer is to have a better standard of life? You experience what you make of it, regardless of the time you're given.
  • ~ Have you ever thought about how nice it is to simply be normal in a Galaxy full of abnormalities? No, Sweetheart, I'm not saying you aren't beautiful..
  • - The rest of the Galaxy might enjoy their petty squabbles, but I assure you, Sweetheart, I won't stand and fight for anyone... Not even you.
  • - Would you believe me if I told you I have the most senseless fear of reptiles..? Or maybe the problem is that I'm afraid to speak the truth. Your call.
  • - You're barking up the wrong tree, Sweetheart. The only forms I know are the ones I need to avoid filling out. And there's definitely no lightsabers involved in those.
  • I am well aware that smoking is bad for my heath, but it's a decision I choose to make for the sake of my mental well being. Get off my case.
  • - The Force? I don't know what you're talking about. I use an ionization reactor for this heap of metal I call a ship.
  • I'm sorry, does my derogatory use of the word 'Sweetheart' offend the feminist in you? You're mistaking me for someone who actually gives a kriff.


  • What part of "I won't stand and fight" don't you understand? Was it the standing part? Because you seem to be doing a very good job of stepping all over my patience, Sweetheart.



Have you run out of meaningless questions? That's no fun, Sweetheart, expecting me to suddenly do all of the work... Tssk. As you wish, but don't expect a tale fit for space-bards.
As you already know, I was unceremoniously born on Morellia. My Father was an Enforcer, my Mother a whore, of course he covered up any part he had to play in the whole sordid affair like the coward he was, a trait he no doubt passed on. Anyway, my upbringing was as remarkably dull as my birth -- for the first few years, at least. Unknowingly coerced into being societies ideal little boy, I played my youthful role well enough, I excelled when they thrust me into further indoctrination -- I mean, schooling -- though only academically of course. Of friends I had but one, of course she proved to be as shallow as the rest of them in the end.
Things remained this dull until I was nearing my tenth year of existence. That was when Recruiters from the Republic's borders swept in - as if they owned Morellia, no less - and began rounding up children from across the planet. By whatever cruel being twists fate, I was of course amongst the unlucky few who were carted off-world without so much as an explanation. Although, I do suspect my Father had a hand in it given the way they already had the majority of my things packed. I know, I know, how dreadful... Now hush, or I shan't continue. Where was I? Oh yes...
This was a time when the Republic still held Coruscant, so naturally it was our destination being that it was the political heart of the Galaxy and all. There we were haphazardly split into groups -- they called them clans, but that would be suggesting they actually meant anything -- and informed of our so-called gift. You asked earlier of my Sensitivity to the Force... Technically I have the midi-chlorian count for it but... Well, we'll get to that in a moment.
The Jedi, for that was the name of the barbaric organization who stole me away from Morellia, began what they called the Initiate Training Program which was designed to put us through our paces. While the other students did as they were bid, I instead decided to question and oppose my teachers at every turn. After all, why did they have the answers all of a sudden? Such egotistical nonsense... Anyway... When they realised that I would not play ball and roll over like some mindless kath hound, they instead informed me of my failure and sent me away.
Of course, it was not to a place of my own choosing that these Jedi Preachers sent me. Instead they seemed to think I was indebted to their cause and their Republic, and so I was sent to learn amongst the Jedi Medi-Corps. In case you didn't know, they're the people who patch up the foolish Jedi when their egos inflate and they try to take on too many of the Galaxy's lawless inhabitants. It was actually during this pivotal period of my life that I took to smoking gabaki, and if you'd seen even half the things I saw you'd be doing the same. Damn Jedi never knew when enough was enough. There's no shame in retreating.
I lasted a decade, either way, before I realised that nothing was actually keeping me in the Medi-Corps save for the orders of a dogmatic religious sect. And they meant nothing to me. By this time I had seen twenty four years; to many in the Galaxy, I was regarded as a man. But to the Morellian I was still little more than a child. Perhaps the Medi-Corps had hardened me in a way my earlier schooling could not, but either way I chose not to return to Morellia and instead sought the respect I'd surely earned through my service.
It was a fools errand, to think that age or experience mattered in a world where successful Force Sensitives ran freely without restraint. Tell me, do you think it's right that those with such power should be given free reign of the Galaxy? Everywhere I turned more of those fools appeared until I did the only sensible thing. I retreated to the endless void of space beyond the people and the planets and the civilisations. Buying an old hunk of space-metal with what little credits I had left I ventured into the stars, picking up random shipments as I went.
I didn't, and don't, ask questions concerning the cargo I deliver. The only information I require is the destination and my payment, the less I know the better right? If it disengages me from this sorry excuse of an existence we call planet-life for even a few days, any shipment is worth the risk of a customs officer's wrath. Especially considering how easy they are to persuade...
You may say that thirty years on the same job is a long time, but honestly? I've barely cracked the surface on what life could offer. I have no doubt that I shall see many beings pass from this life into the next, -- if you believe such things -- you'll be dead long before I reach my prime, Sweetheart, but that does not daunt me. I'm well aware of my own mortality, and honestly? Who would choose to live this existence any longer than they must?
There, now you have it... Get out of my lap and go scavenge for drinks elsewhere. You've wasted enough of my time already.

Font Colour: #3A3D53

Edited by Adiara Drelas, 02 April 2018 - 04:32 PM.


Vyra Silara

Vyra Silara
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Brilliant bio, Adiara Drelas, I love the flavor you're selling. 

|| X3BxrJC.png ||

|| Lady of Lore ||


|| "She was powerful, not because she wasn't scared, but because she went on so strongly despite the fear." ||

Kalyn Shif

Kalyn Shif


  • Writers
    • Character Bio
  • 11,461 posts

Vyra Silara


Why thank you, my dear, your own looks fantastic