In Umbris Potestas Est
Yvorre Morcade
NAME: Yvorre Morcade
NAME: Yvorre Morcade
NICKNAME: (highly recommended you don't call her any of these) Orre, Orca
FACTION: Whoever's paying. But not the Mandalorians.
RANK: Bounty Hunter
SPECIES: Firrerreo
AGE: 35
GENDER: Female
HEIGHT: 5' 9"
WEIGHT: 150 lbs
EYES:
Amber
HAIR: Blonde and golden.
SKIN: Fair but lightly tanned
FORCE SENSITIVE: Yes, but she doesn't know it, and not very. More Force-sensitive then Force-user (She'll get a feeling that 'oh, I should probably look in that room over there' but she won't be able to yank the door open without touching it)
LANGUAGES: Basic, Huttese, Mando'a, understands a little bit of Binary (droidspeak)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES (Required: 2 Weaknesses Minimum):
No Morals- Yvorre lives only for the next payday and the thrill of the hunt. She doesn't care who she has to kill or what she has to blow up - orphanage, apartment block, military facility, Senate Tower - if something or someone is in the way, they will be removed coldly. (Strength)
Techie- Gotta keep the Quickshot in shape somehow, right? That learning curve was a bit scary, though…many scars on her hands from cutting herself on sharp parts and getting electrocuted. ZZZZAPP! (Strength)
Experience- When you've been at your job for fourteen years, you're good at it. Especially in Yvorre's line of work. This leads to her being excellent and both hand-to-hand (knives and fists, she's rather horrible with a sword, mostly a defensive style), and sniper rifles, which is her main method for taking people out. No pistols, for some reason. She never took a liking to them, so she'll use a DC-15 if she has to get too close for a rifle to make any sense.(Strength)
Emotionless- Well…almost. Not quite, but pretty darn close. Whenever she has her helmet off, she's always got the same deadpan look in her eyes and on her face, with a voice to match. This makes her almost impossible to anger…or motivate, really. She works for the credits, not satisfaction. So if the credits don't measure up to the difficulty of the job, you can forget it. :| (Both)
Smart Aleck- It makes people mad. When going up against Force-users, this has major potential to end badly.(Weakness)
Single-Mindedness- Yvorre believes in only what is staring her in the face. Coldly analytical, she fixes her mind on the job and nothing else...which leaves her open to attack from third parties. (Weakness)
Techie- Gotta keep the Quickshot in shape somehow, right? That learning curve was a bit scary, though…many scars on her hands from cutting herself on sharp parts and getting electrocuted. ZZZZAPP! (Strength)
Experience- When you've been at your job for fourteen years, you're good at it. Especially in Yvorre's line of work. This leads to her being excellent and both hand-to-hand (knives and fists, she's rather horrible with a sword, mostly a defensive style), and sniper rifles, which is her main method for taking people out. No pistols, for some reason. She never took a liking to them, so she'll use a DC-15 if she has to get too close for a rifle to make any sense.(Strength)
Emotionless- Well…almost. Not quite, but pretty darn close. Whenever she has her helmet off, she's always got the same deadpan look in her eyes and on her face, with a voice to match. This makes her almost impossible to anger…or motivate, really. She works for the credits, not satisfaction. So if the credits don't measure up to the difficulty of the job, you can forget it. :| (Both)
Smart Aleck- It makes people mad. When going up against Force-users, this has major potential to end badly.(Weakness)
Single-Mindedness- Yvorre believes in only what is staring her in the face. Coldly analytical, she fixes her mind on the job and nothing else...which leaves her open to attack from third parties. (Weakness)
SHIP:
BR-0117 Resol'nare, Quickshot
BR-0117 Resol'nare, Quickshot
BIOGRAPHY:
(Yep, again with the sad background. Cliche, but fun to write.)
You say you care? I'll ask you why. You say you'll help? I'll ask you how. I don't trust easy. Never did, really, but especially not anymore. You ask me why? Now that, I'll tell you. One word.
Mandalorians.
They're supposed to have your back. They're supposed to watch out for their vode - their brothers and sisters. Well, I'll tell you - they ain't as great as they're made out to be. Polished armor and rusty ideals. You want to know what happened, I'll tell you.
I was a pretty average Mando kid - which is to say, a good deal better fighter then any other culture's kids in the galaxy. Parents are still around, not that I care. Sister's dead, younger then me by a year. No brother, thank the Manda.
Oh, so you're interested in what happened? Well…I'm in between jobs right now, so fine. But listen up, 'cause I'm not saying this twice.
So, the two of us were close. We were sisters, we grew up together, of course we were. So we go to a few battles, there's one or two I could tell stories about, but not now. Last one I went to…well, I don't remember the planet, but our ship got shot down. My sister was piloting it, and got hurt in the crash. We were the only ones who survived that crash. I called for a medic evac to get her out of there. And you know what they said?
MRU.
M-R-kriffing-U. They were fifteen minutes away, but she was hurt too bad to travel, or I could've gotten there. Myself, I had a busted ankle, so I wasn't going anywhere carrying my little sister. So I listen to the comm chatter. They're sending medics into combat zones thirty minutes farther then we were, and they've got enough people to pick us up. But no.
You can probably guess the rest by now. I was with my sister when she died. By that point, it was probably a mercy. She'd lost so much blood - blood she wouldn't have lost if those freaking medics had gotten off their lazy shebs and helped.
I dunno, maybe I'm being petty and vindictive. Maybe I'm missing something, something that'd explain why they didn't help us. But really? I don't care anymore. Because loosing my sister used up every emotional bone in my body. I live for the credits, because it's the only thing in existence that doesn't lie. Anything else? You can't trust them. Or it. So, now you know. It's been fourteen years.
The only things I can say for the Mandos is this - they know how to make armor. Not to mention that they have great dental plans.
And yes. I kept the armor. It ties me to the Mandos, but it's good armor. Saved my life a few times. Black and gold. Justice and vengeance. That, and I like the color scheme.
Best of luck in the galaxy, listener. It's a harsh place.
(Yep, again with the sad background. Cliche, but fun to write.)
You say you care? I'll ask you why. You say you'll help? I'll ask you how. I don't trust easy. Never did, really, but especially not anymore. You ask me why? Now that, I'll tell you. One word.
Mandalorians.
They're supposed to have your back. They're supposed to watch out for their vode - their brothers and sisters. Well, I'll tell you - they ain't as great as they're made out to be. Polished armor and rusty ideals. You want to know what happened, I'll tell you.
I was a pretty average Mando kid - which is to say, a good deal better fighter then any other culture's kids in the galaxy. Parents are still around, not that I care. Sister's dead, younger then me by a year. No brother, thank the Manda.
Oh, so you're interested in what happened? Well…I'm in between jobs right now, so fine. But listen up, 'cause I'm not saying this twice.
So, the two of us were close. We were sisters, we grew up together, of course we were. So we go to a few battles, there's one or two I could tell stories about, but not now. Last one I went to…well, I don't remember the planet, but our ship got shot down. My sister was piloting it, and got hurt in the crash. We were the only ones who survived that crash. I called for a medic evac to get her out of there. And you know what they said?
MRU.
M-R-kriffing-U. They were fifteen minutes away, but she was hurt too bad to travel, or I could've gotten there. Myself, I had a busted ankle, so I wasn't going anywhere carrying my little sister. So I listen to the comm chatter. They're sending medics into combat zones thirty minutes farther then we were, and they've got enough people to pick us up. But no.
You can probably guess the rest by now. I was with my sister when she died. By that point, it was probably a mercy. She'd lost so much blood - blood she wouldn't have lost if those freaking medics had gotten off their lazy shebs and helped.
I dunno, maybe I'm being petty and vindictive. Maybe I'm missing something, something that'd explain why they didn't help us. But really? I don't care anymore. Because loosing my sister used up every emotional bone in my body. I live for the credits, because it's the only thing in existence that doesn't lie. Anything else? You can't trust them. Or it. So, now you know. It's been fourteen years.
The only things I can say for the Mandos is this - they know how to make armor. Not to mention that they have great dental plans.
And yes. I kept the armor. It ties me to the Mandos, but it's good armor. Saved my life a few times. Black and gold. Justice and vengeance. That, and I like the color scheme.
Best of luck in the galaxy, listener. It's a harsh place.
KILLS:
Haven't kept count. But none were actually role-played characters.
BOUNTIES COLLECTED:
Haven't kept count. But none were role-played.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ROLE-PLAYS:
-