Private Rehn
Livia Rehn
| Age | 22 |
| Species | Human |
| Gender | Female |
| Height | 1.72 meters |
| Weight | 64 kilograms |
| Force Sensitive | ??? |
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION
Livia Rehn is a fit, well-disciplined soldier with sharp, angular features and piercing gray eyes that always seem to be scanning, analyzing. Her short, regulation-length black hair is neatly combed back, always within standard compliance. There's a precision to her movements, a sharpness to her posture that suggests rigid discipline, but also an edge of unease—like she's trying to settle into a role she hasn't quite mastered yet.
Her standard-issue Galactic Alliance infantry armor is immaculately maintained, its plating showing little sign of wear despite her reassignment from a backline post. On the right vambrace, she has a small, almost imperceptible scratch—barely noticeable, yet her fingers occasionally trace over it, as if reminding herself of something lost.
She wears her equipment well, her gear adjusted with an efficiency that suggests she is accustomed to adapting quickly. There's no personalization, no insignia beyond the standard issue, as though she prefers not to leave too many traces of herself.
However, if one were to look closely, they might notice the small, ornate dagger strapped to her belt, concealed beneath her gear. Unlike her standard-issue weapons, this one does not belong. The craftsmanship is far too intricate, the blade too refined—yet she never draws attention to it, nor does she ever let it out of her possession.
INVENTORY
PERSONALITY AND BELIEFS
Private Livia Rehn is disciplined, methodical, and quietly observant. She follows orders without hesitation, yet there's something unsettlingly practiced about the way she does it, as though she's navigating a script rather than acting on instinct.
She doesn't speak much about her past assignments—only vague mentions of serving at a remote listening post before being suddenly transferred to an infantry unit. When pressed, she is evasive but calm, answering with carefully measured words that reveal little.
There's a sharpness to her intellect, an uncanny ability to read people and situations with unsettling accuracy. She has a quiet confidence, but at times, she seems almost... rehearsed, as though she's trying to fit into a mold that wasn't originally hers. Her sense of humor is dry, laced with irony, yet oddly charming when she chooses to engage.
Beliefs:
- Strength is the only thing that truly matters, whether in battle or in control.
- Fate is nothing but a series of choices—some made for you, some made by you.
- The past is irrelevant; only what you become now holds weight.
- Deep down, she has an unspoken dread of losing control, though she would never admit it.
- The idea of being exposed, truly seen for what she is, unsettles her in a way she does not understand.
Surgical Precision – Every movement Livia makes in combat is deliberate, efficient, and precise. Whether it's the way she wields a blade, executes a takedown, or adjusts her stance in a firefight, she operates with an almost mechanical refinement. While relatively new to front-line combat, her ability to quickly analyze and replicate effective techniques gives her an edge beyond her experience.
Effortless Adaptation – Whether it's adjusting to a new squad, handling unfamiliar weaponry, or navigating battlefield conditions, Livia seamlessly integrates into any situation. She picks up new skills quickly, mimicking tactics and behaviors with an instinctive ease. Officers have noted that she rarely requires extensive briefing—she listens, watches, and executes as if she's always known how.
Razor-Sharp Awareness – Livia's perception is unnervingly sharp. She notices patterns, picks up on small tells in body language, and can anticipate movements in close-quarters combat. This awareness extends beyond combat; she retains details about people, conversations, and environments with near-perfect clarity, making her an invaluable asset in both squad cohesion and tactical planning.
Instinctive Combatant – Despite her recent reassignment, Livia fights with unexpected proficiency in close-quarters engagements. Her ability to counter, reposition, and disarm opponents with unerring efficiency suggests a natural talent honed far beyond standard training. Whether with a knife or bare hands, she reacts with precision, as if the motions have been ingrained in her muscle memory for far longer than records would suggest.
Nerves of Steel – Where other soldiers flinch under fire or hesitate in high-pressure scenarios, Livia remains disturbingly composed. Fear does not seem to cloud her judgment, and she makes decisions with calculated confidence even in chaotic skirmishes. This level-headedness has led to her excelling in unpredictable battlefield conditions, proving herself to be unshaken where others falter.
Adaptive Intelligence – Livia absorbs and processes information at an alarming rate, particularly in combat or social dynamics. She can switch between formal protocol and casual squad interactions seamlessly, mirroring the speech patterns and behaviors of those around her. She has a knack for understanding people, predicting their responses, and adjusting her own demeanor accordingly—whether to build rapport or manipulate a situation to her advantage.
WEAKNESSES
Compartmentalized Memories – Livia occasionally hesitates when recalling details of her past, as if her own history feels fragmented. While she can recall mission details and procedures flawlessly, personal anecdotes seem distant, almost rehearsed. If pressed on specifics—family, childhood, past assignments—she sometimes gives answers that feel too calculated, as if pieced together from secondhand accounts.
Adaptably Conspicuous – While adaptability is often a strength, Livia learns at an unnatural pace. Whether it's absorbing squad tactics, mimicking speech patterns, or executing battlefield manoeuvres she should not yet know, her progress is too seamless for someone of her background. Officers have taken notice—her records indicate far less field experience than her skills suggest, and though no one has confronted her directly, some have begun to watch more closely.
Lingering Detachment – Though she integrates well into squads, Livia remains emotionally distant. She engages in conversation when necessary, mirrors camaraderie effortlessly, but rarely forms true connections. This subtle detachment makes her difficult to fully trust—there is always a sense that she is adopting the role of a soldier rather than being one.
Instinct Over Analysis – While Livia processes and adapts quickly, she sometimes acts on instinct without fully realizing why. In combat, she executes maneuvers that she should not have learned yet, responding too perfectly to threats she has never faced before. While beneficial in combat, it occasionally leads to moments of uncharacteristic stillness, as if she is trying to reconcile her own actions.
Singular Attachment – Though she carries standard-issue equipment, her unmarked dagger never leaves her possession. She does not discuss its origin, nor does she allow others to inspect it closely. Those who have seen it up close note its intricate, almost ceremonial craftsmanship, far too elaborate for an ordinary combat knife. Livia will go to great lengths to ensure it remains with her, though she offers no explanation for why.
HISTORY
Private Livia Rehn's official records indicate that she previously served at a classified Galactic Alliance listening post—a remote outpost buried deep within the ruins of a long-forgotten world. Its purpose, like many such installations, was intelligence gathering: monitoring encrypted transmissions, intercepting Sith movements, and maintaining silent watch over the shifting tides of war.
The post was small—no more than a dozen personnel, mostly analysts and security detail. It was an assignment meant for those who would never see the front lines, a quiet and uneventful station where the greatest threats were long hours and the slow decay of isolation.
Then, something happened.
Official reports on the incident are sealed, but whispered rumors among personnel who knew of the station speak of a sudden failure in communications, an emergency distress signal that was activated—and then abruptly cut off. A response team was dispatched, arriving within hours to investigate.
What they found was silence.
The post was abandoned, its systems intact but eerily lifeless. The facility's security logs had been wiped clean, leaving only traces of fragmented data, corrupted beyond retrieval. No bodies were ever recovered. No signs of forced entry, no struggle, nothing to indicate what had transpired. The only thing the response team found was her.
Private Livia Rehn.
Alone.
She was discovered in one of the inner corridors, standing amidst the cold glow of flickering terminals. When questioned, she gave only vague answers—her voice steady, her expression unreadable. She remembered an attack, but not who or what had come. She recalled fighting, but not how she survived. She spoke of others, but could not remember their names.
Medics examined her, finding no injuries, no physical trauma—only an odd sense of detachment, as if she were struggling to recall something just beyond reach. Protocol dictated a full psychological evaluation, but before such measures could be taken, orders arrived: Private Rehn was to be reassigned.
No explanation was given. No further inquiries were permitted.
Her transfer to active infantry duty was swift and unquestioned, filed under the pretense of "operational necessity." Some whispered that the Alliance wanted to distance itself from the incident, that whatever had happened at the listening post was better left unexamined. Others believed that Livia had survived something unnatural, something that had erased not just her squad, but the memory of how it had happened.
She has never spoken of that night.
What is known is that she adapted quickly to her new role, demonstrating efficiency and competence despite her limited prior field experience. Officers have noted her uncanny ability to blend in, her near-instantaneous assimilation into new squads, and her ability to mimic command structures and personalities with ease.
Her combat reports suggest a preference for close-quarters engagements, with multiple recorded instances of taking down opponents silently rather than engaging in prolonged firefights. Some in her squad joke that she "fights like she's been doing this a long time," though none can say where she would have gained that experience.
She keeps to herself, rarely forming attachments, but those who interact with her often leave feeling that they've met her before—though none can quite recall when or where.
And always, beneath the surface, there lingers a quiet sense of something missing.
Of someone else's shadow just beneath her skin.
Of a past rewritten, a story retold—one that does not truly belong to her.
Yet no one questions it.
She is Livia Rehn.