NAME: Erika Davion
FACTION: None. Formerly of the Dawncrest Brigade
RANK: None. Formerly Captain.
SPECIES: Human (Native of Sern Prime)
AGE: 32 Galactic Standard Years
SEX: Female
HEIGHT: 5'8" (1.73m) unarmoured.
WEIGHT: 149 pounds (67.59kg) unarmoured
EYES: Hazel
HAIR: Dirty blonde
SKIN: Caucasian. Usually tanned.
FORCE SENSITIVE: Not even slightly.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES (Required: 2 Weaknesses Minimum) :
As a veteran soldier and mercenary, Erika has extensive experience in many modern blaster weapons and some close combat weapons, most particularly the blaster rifle and her ancient VX Vibro-greatsword, as well as rudimentary field first aid and armour repair techniques. She is also a tough, strong willed individual whose stubbornness can motivate her to keep going where others might yield.
Erika's weakness are as varied as her strengths. Firstly, her aforementioned stubborness can result in her failing to back down in situations where she has not a hope of success. Secondly, the mistakes of her past haunt Erika, and as a result she has sunk into a melancholic frame of mind that frequently leads to overindulgence in alcohol and other poor decisions, including the acceptance of jobs that can fairly be described as lost causes. These same mistakes have also led to Erika developing a reluctance to place her trust in people in general and officers in particular, which has led to her struggling to find a place for herself in any mercenary company.
Finally, Erika has recently been suffering from severe, almost debilitating pains that strike without warning and seemingly at random. They worry her, although of course she has not admitted this to anyone.
APPEARANCE:
Erika is hardly unique in appearance. In a galaxy of billions of souls, there must surely be millions that match her description of average height, athletic and well toned build, and dirty blonde hair framing a face that is, if perhaps not beautiful, then at least attractive enough to warrant a second glance despite the suggestion of wrinkles at the corner of her hazel eyes. Equally, it seems fair to suggest that more than a few of those souls would have nicely tanned, if generally slightly grubby skin.
However, perhaps not so many of those millions of souls would have a latticework of almost faded scars inlaid into their flesh like a mesh of finest silver. Nor would they, it seems fair to suggest, mostly choose to clad themselves in a particularly battered Corellian Technologies Powersuit, from which old markings of allegiance have only partially been obliterated by the strike of blade and blaster.
BIOGRAPHY:
Erika's tale began, as so many do, on a backwater world - in this case, Sern Prime in the Sern Sector of the Colonies. As worlds go, it wasn't a particularly unpleasant one, for there were no great predators nor fearsome flora. In truth, the greatest danger might well have been boredom, for life upon the backwater was perhaps too idyllic for one of Erika's nature, and after a relatively uneventful youth spent upon a farm on that serene world, the young woman left at the tender age of sixteen in the hopes of discovering that there was more to life than cleaning up after distressed Rontos.
The next two years passed pleasantly enough. Erika explored the sectors around her homeworld, bartering passage aboard one tramp freighter or another, and occasionally returned home to share tales of her adventures with her younger brother. Yet one cannot travel without risk in so dangerous a galaxy, and perhaps it was only a matter of time before the young woman found herself stumbling headlong into danger.
In her case, the danger came in the form of pirates. They struck as the freighter Erika was aboard dropped out of hyperspace, their first shots blasting chunks of the engines into molten slag. Many died instantly, and few were left to fight back when the pirates came about to dock with the freighter, intent on claiming what bounty they could from the stricken ship. But few is not the same as none, and it seemed as though the Universe had chosen to throw a hydrospanner into the pirate's plan on this day, for amongst those left uninjured was a man named Garret Tremaulkin. Garret was a mercenary, a veteran of a hundred petty wars, and he quickly set about organising the few willing volunteers into a defence force, motivating them with words of valour and threats of the fate that awaited at the pirates' hands. Their minds steeled by the knowledge that even death in battle would be preferrable to life as a slave, the motley crew, Erika among them, fell upon the pirates as they came through the airlock. It was brief, bloody and brutal battle. Many died, and almost all were injured. Erika fought as well as she could, eventually ending up back to back with Tremaulkin himself as the melee whirled about them. Together they felled many - with Tremaulkin slaying most, though he would later claim otherwise - before the pirates fled back into their ship. The mercenary followed, calling for aid as he did, and Erika, unthinking and running on purest adrenaline, followed along with the barest handful of others.
What followed was a long, deadly game of cat and mouse that saw the group alternately playing the hunter and the hunted as they sought to eliminate the last of the pirates. Still more of them fell, and all bore the marks of their brutal conflict by the time Tremaulkin cornered the last of the pirates in a cargo hold and spilt his intestines across the cold durasteel deck.
In the aftermath, whilst the freighter's crew set about repairing their ship with spares from the pirate's cutter, the battered group gathered in a hold, sharing a bottle of vintage Johrian Whiskey offered up by the grateful Captain. It was there that Tremaulkin made the offer that would change the course of Erika Davion's life - the offer of a place within his 'regiment' of the Dawncrest Brigade, a mercenary group commanded by a man known as Vandross Dawncrest. Few of them accepted; many had little taste for bloodshed in normal circumstances, and others had committments of their own to keep. But three accepted. Erika was one, though at the time she wouldn't have been able to explain why.
In the years that followed, Erika served faithfully at Tremaulkin's side. She saw more of the galaxy than she ever could have dreamt, although much of it was seen through the scope of a blaster rifle, and the tales she carried back to her younger brother grew ever wilder and more impressive, though her parents listened with mixed disapproval and concern creasing their faces as she spoke. Her skills as a soldier developed quickly under Tremaulkin's guidance, and soon she began to rise through the ranks, stopping only when she stood at Tremaulkin's right hand with the bars of a captain marked on her pauldrons. And then... then came Thela.
It was supposed to be a simple contract; The brigade were to go in in full force, secure an arid expanse of mountains in the northern hemisphere, and hold it whilst a mining corporation pillaged the valuable mineral resources contained within. It was the sort of job they'd done a thousand times before, on worlds far more savage or densely populated than Thela. The brass called it a milk run, a chance for the fresh blood to accustom themselves to the Brigade.
Only this milk turned sour quickly.
The people of Thela didn't appreciate their world's mineral wealth being plundered by group of offworlders, and they made their displeasure known quickly enough. At first their protests were peaceful, but soon they descended into stone throwing and sabotage of the mining equipment. Security was stepped up, and orders went out that anyone found entering the camps without authorisation was to be treated as a hostile combatant. Those orders sat badly with Erika, and with Tremaulkin, but they came from Dawncrest himself. And perhaps he was right, for it did not stop with sabotage; one night, as the senior officers dined in their makeshift mess, an improvised explosive device smuggled into the camp with a food delivery detonated beneath a table, filling the chamber with shrapnel. The officer corps were decimated in an instant, killed or maimed, with only those sitting at the furthest edges of the room escaping relatively unscathed. Erika was one of those, suffering only minor cuts, as was Dawncrest himself. But Tremaulkin, brave Tremaulkin, beloved by his troops, he died in a pool of his own blood.
Some say the attack changed Vandross Dawncrest. Some say that seeing so many of his finest officers cut down by such a cowardly attacked caused something to snap in his mind. Others say that his mind was always broken, and only the careful words of his officers staved off his descent into darkness and hellfire.
Regardless, his response was madness.
Each settlement within a twenty-five kilometres was to be utterly depopulated, the dwellings burnt and the earth itself salted. Each settlement outside that radius but within one hundred kilometres was to suffer decimation, the death of one in ten citizens. And anyone suspected of assisting in the creation or planting of the bomb was to suffer death by public dismemberment.
What followed was a time of atrocity. Madenned by desire for vengeance, and freed from the restraining hands of their senior officers, the Dawncrest Brigade slaughtered hundreds, perhaps even thousands of innocent souls. Looting, pillaging and worse were commonplace, and not a measure of punishment was metted out to those found to be indulging their baser instincts upon the innocent population. Erika, to her shame, carried out her orders without hesitation, leading Tremaulkin's old 'regiment' into an action that the old mercenary would surely have decried, and her blade and blaster ended more than one innocent life, although it must at least be admitted that she took not one trinket from those she butchered.
It was only when she stood alone on the ashes of a township of Rhetol, some eight days later, that she came to understand what she had done. What she had become.
A monster.
That was the moment when she turned her back on the Brigade. With not a word to anyone, she bartered passage on an outbound mining freighter, one which eventually transported her to Ghorman. From there she drifted, lost. Alcohol brought some comfort, and she sank into the bottle for a time, rousing herself only occasionally to seek work. Alas, her desertion of the Brigade was well known amongst mercenaries now and few indeed were those willing to offer her a chance. Invariably, those chances didn't work out, for the events of Thela left Erika unwilling to trust anyone, lest they leave her as Tremaulkin did or lead her into madness as Dawncrest did. And so it was that she found herself compelled to be something of a lone wolf, taking the jobs that nobody else wished to take. Somewhere along the way she claimed a ship, a truly ancient Muurian transport as battered as she herself was, and rechristened it Memoria in a fit of maudlin self pity.
And then, that's when the pain started. Sudden, inexpicable, and relentless. It came from nowhere, almost crippling in its intensity, before fading back into nothingness. For a while, Erika drowned it in whiskey, persuading herself that the cure was waiting at the bottom of the next bottle.
But it never was.
SHIP:
Memoria - Muurian transport, registered with an independant IFF and with Ghorman as home port. This vessel, claimed as spoils of war, is hundreds of years old and looks every day of it. Its original armaments are intact, but the laser turrets are prone to jamming and the supplies of proton torpedos are consistently low. Additional armour plating has been installed across the engine housing and around the cockpit, and the engines tweaked to compensate.
KILLS:
None
BOUNTIES COLLECTED:
None
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ROLE-PLAYS:
Marking Time - Ongoing/Open
FACTION: None. Formerly of the Dawncrest Brigade
RANK: None. Formerly Captain.
SPECIES: Human (Native of Sern Prime)
AGE: 32 Galactic Standard Years
SEX: Female
HEIGHT: 5'8" (1.73m) unarmoured.
WEIGHT: 149 pounds (67.59kg) unarmoured
EYES: Hazel
HAIR: Dirty blonde
SKIN: Caucasian. Usually tanned.
FORCE SENSITIVE: Not even slightly.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES (Required: 2 Weaknesses Minimum) :
As a veteran soldier and mercenary, Erika has extensive experience in many modern blaster weapons and some close combat weapons, most particularly the blaster rifle and her ancient VX Vibro-greatsword, as well as rudimentary field first aid and armour repair techniques. She is also a tough, strong willed individual whose stubbornness can motivate her to keep going where others might yield.
Erika's weakness are as varied as her strengths. Firstly, her aforementioned stubborness can result in her failing to back down in situations where she has not a hope of success. Secondly, the mistakes of her past haunt Erika, and as a result she has sunk into a melancholic frame of mind that frequently leads to overindulgence in alcohol and other poor decisions, including the acceptance of jobs that can fairly be described as lost causes. These same mistakes have also led to Erika developing a reluctance to place her trust in people in general and officers in particular, which has led to her struggling to find a place for herself in any mercenary company.
Finally, Erika has recently been suffering from severe, almost debilitating pains that strike without warning and seemingly at random. They worry her, although of course she has not admitted this to anyone.
APPEARANCE:
Erika is hardly unique in appearance. In a galaxy of billions of souls, there must surely be millions that match her description of average height, athletic and well toned build, and dirty blonde hair framing a face that is, if perhaps not beautiful, then at least attractive enough to warrant a second glance despite the suggestion of wrinkles at the corner of her hazel eyes. Equally, it seems fair to suggest that more than a few of those souls would have nicely tanned, if generally slightly grubby skin.
However, perhaps not so many of those millions of souls would have a latticework of almost faded scars inlaid into their flesh like a mesh of finest silver. Nor would they, it seems fair to suggest, mostly choose to clad themselves in a particularly battered Corellian Technologies Powersuit, from which old markings of allegiance have only partially been obliterated by the strike of blade and blaster.
BIOGRAPHY:
Erika's tale began, as so many do, on a backwater world - in this case, Sern Prime in the Sern Sector of the Colonies. As worlds go, it wasn't a particularly unpleasant one, for there were no great predators nor fearsome flora. In truth, the greatest danger might well have been boredom, for life upon the backwater was perhaps too idyllic for one of Erika's nature, and after a relatively uneventful youth spent upon a farm on that serene world, the young woman left at the tender age of sixteen in the hopes of discovering that there was more to life than cleaning up after distressed Rontos.
The next two years passed pleasantly enough. Erika explored the sectors around her homeworld, bartering passage aboard one tramp freighter or another, and occasionally returned home to share tales of her adventures with her younger brother. Yet one cannot travel without risk in so dangerous a galaxy, and perhaps it was only a matter of time before the young woman found herself stumbling headlong into danger.
In her case, the danger came in the form of pirates. They struck as the freighter Erika was aboard dropped out of hyperspace, their first shots blasting chunks of the engines into molten slag. Many died instantly, and few were left to fight back when the pirates came about to dock with the freighter, intent on claiming what bounty they could from the stricken ship. But few is not the same as none, and it seemed as though the Universe had chosen to throw a hydrospanner into the pirate's plan on this day, for amongst those left uninjured was a man named Garret Tremaulkin. Garret was a mercenary, a veteran of a hundred petty wars, and he quickly set about organising the few willing volunteers into a defence force, motivating them with words of valour and threats of the fate that awaited at the pirates' hands. Their minds steeled by the knowledge that even death in battle would be preferrable to life as a slave, the motley crew, Erika among them, fell upon the pirates as they came through the airlock. It was brief, bloody and brutal battle. Many died, and almost all were injured. Erika fought as well as she could, eventually ending up back to back with Tremaulkin himself as the melee whirled about them. Together they felled many - with Tremaulkin slaying most, though he would later claim otherwise - before the pirates fled back into their ship. The mercenary followed, calling for aid as he did, and Erika, unthinking and running on purest adrenaline, followed along with the barest handful of others.
What followed was a long, deadly game of cat and mouse that saw the group alternately playing the hunter and the hunted as they sought to eliminate the last of the pirates. Still more of them fell, and all bore the marks of their brutal conflict by the time Tremaulkin cornered the last of the pirates in a cargo hold and spilt his intestines across the cold durasteel deck.
In the aftermath, whilst the freighter's crew set about repairing their ship with spares from the pirate's cutter, the battered group gathered in a hold, sharing a bottle of vintage Johrian Whiskey offered up by the grateful Captain. It was there that Tremaulkin made the offer that would change the course of Erika Davion's life - the offer of a place within his 'regiment' of the Dawncrest Brigade, a mercenary group commanded by a man known as Vandross Dawncrest. Few of them accepted; many had little taste for bloodshed in normal circumstances, and others had committments of their own to keep. But three accepted. Erika was one, though at the time she wouldn't have been able to explain why.
In the years that followed, Erika served faithfully at Tremaulkin's side. She saw more of the galaxy than she ever could have dreamt, although much of it was seen through the scope of a blaster rifle, and the tales she carried back to her younger brother grew ever wilder and more impressive, though her parents listened with mixed disapproval and concern creasing their faces as she spoke. Her skills as a soldier developed quickly under Tremaulkin's guidance, and soon she began to rise through the ranks, stopping only when she stood at Tremaulkin's right hand with the bars of a captain marked on her pauldrons. And then... then came Thela.
It was supposed to be a simple contract; The brigade were to go in in full force, secure an arid expanse of mountains in the northern hemisphere, and hold it whilst a mining corporation pillaged the valuable mineral resources contained within. It was the sort of job they'd done a thousand times before, on worlds far more savage or densely populated than Thela. The brass called it a milk run, a chance for the fresh blood to accustom themselves to the Brigade.
Only this milk turned sour quickly.
The people of Thela didn't appreciate their world's mineral wealth being plundered by group of offworlders, and they made their displeasure known quickly enough. At first their protests were peaceful, but soon they descended into stone throwing and sabotage of the mining equipment. Security was stepped up, and orders went out that anyone found entering the camps without authorisation was to be treated as a hostile combatant. Those orders sat badly with Erika, and with Tremaulkin, but they came from Dawncrest himself. And perhaps he was right, for it did not stop with sabotage; one night, as the senior officers dined in their makeshift mess, an improvised explosive device smuggled into the camp with a food delivery detonated beneath a table, filling the chamber with shrapnel. The officer corps were decimated in an instant, killed or maimed, with only those sitting at the furthest edges of the room escaping relatively unscathed. Erika was one of those, suffering only minor cuts, as was Dawncrest himself. But Tremaulkin, brave Tremaulkin, beloved by his troops, he died in a pool of his own blood.
Some say the attack changed Vandross Dawncrest. Some say that seeing so many of his finest officers cut down by such a cowardly attacked caused something to snap in his mind. Others say that his mind was always broken, and only the careful words of his officers staved off his descent into darkness and hellfire.
Regardless, his response was madness.
Each settlement within a twenty-five kilometres was to be utterly depopulated, the dwellings burnt and the earth itself salted. Each settlement outside that radius but within one hundred kilometres was to suffer decimation, the death of one in ten citizens. And anyone suspected of assisting in the creation or planting of the bomb was to suffer death by public dismemberment.
What followed was a time of atrocity. Madenned by desire for vengeance, and freed from the restraining hands of their senior officers, the Dawncrest Brigade slaughtered hundreds, perhaps even thousands of innocent souls. Looting, pillaging and worse were commonplace, and not a measure of punishment was metted out to those found to be indulging their baser instincts upon the innocent population. Erika, to her shame, carried out her orders without hesitation, leading Tremaulkin's old 'regiment' into an action that the old mercenary would surely have decried, and her blade and blaster ended more than one innocent life, although it must at least be admitted that she took not one trinket from those she butchered.
It was only when she stood alone on the ashes of a township of Rhetol, some eight days later, that she came to understand what she had done. What she had become.
A monster.
That was the moment when she turned her back on the Brigade. With not a word to anyone, she bartered passage on an outbound mining freighter, one which eventually transported her to Ghorman. From there she drifted, lost. Alcohol brought some comfort, and she sank into the bottle for a time, rousing herself only occasionally to seek work. Alas, her desertion of the Brigade was well known amongst mercenaries now and few indeed were those willing to offer her a chance. Invariably, those chances didn't work out, for the events of Thela left Erika unwilling to trust anyone, lest they leave her as Tremaulkin did or lead her into madness as Dawncrest did. And so it was that she found herself compelled to be something of a lone wolf, taking the jobs that nobody else wished to take. Somewhere along the way she claimed a ship, a truly ancient Muurian transport as battered as she herself was, and rechristened it Memoria in a fit of maudlin self pity.
And then, that's when the pain started. Sudden, inexpicable, and relentless. It came from nowhere, almost crippling in its intensity, before fading back into nothingness. For a while, Erika drowned it in whiskey, persuading herself that the cure was waiting at the bottom of the next bottle.
But it never was.
SHIP:
Memoria - Muurian transport, registered with an independant IFF and with Ghorman as home port. This vessel, claimed as spoils of war, is hundreds of years old and looks every day of it. Its original armaments are intact, but the laser turrets are prone to jamming and the supplies of proton torpedos are consistently low. Additional armour plating has been installed across the engine housing and around the cockpit, and the engines tweaked to compensate.
KILLS:
None
BOUNTIES COLLECTED:
None
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ROLE-PLAYS:
Marking Time - Ongoing/Open
