- Joined
- Sep 24, 2017
- Messages
- 55
- Reaction score
- 21
Finest (Fin) Roas
AGE: 17 SPECIES: Kiffar HEIGHT: 5'4" WEIGHT:118lb HAIR: Black EYES: Brown FACTION: Jedi RANK: 1 (Knight)
"Oh come off it! What's the worst that could happen?"
AGE: 17 SPECIES: Kiffar HEIGHT: 5'4" WEIGHT:118lb HAIR: Black EYES: Brown FACTION: Jedi RANK: 1 (Knight)
"Oh come off it! What's the worst that could happen?"
Background
Born to the rolling savannas and tropical vistas of Kiffu, Finest was expected to be just that, the “Finest”. The product of nearly 2000 years of pure blood, a history of strong warriors and stronger minds, she was heir to the title of Clan Lord of Clan Roas. She was to be, as her father told her when she was young “My star that will shine over all of Kiffu."
Though some may have grumbled at their infant perspective Clan Lord’s sex, there was no denying her lineage, nor the laws of inheritance. If they needed a leader, it would have to be her. Plus, surely with such breeding, even a -daughter- of the general of The Silver Morning and the lady of the Rulken Islands couldn’t help but be a figure of legend? Right?
She was tested for the sight at the age of five. The disappointment on her father and mother’s face when she returned was answer enough.
At the age of seven she began training with her father in the arts of swordplay. Even without counting her diminutive stature, she failed miserably.
At the age of ten she began her hand at the art of public speaking. She froze up during her first outing.
She was normal. She was ordinary.
Her brother Ezan, her junior by a year and a half, on the other hand, was anything but. Even when he was young he had a natural charm about him, a voice that could captivate crowds and swoon perspective hearts. As if to make matters worse, he had the form and stature to back it up, especially compared to his scrawny twig of an older sis.
As she had her face shoved into Eopie dung by the stable master's son, Ezan showed his first abilities in psychometry. When she managed to nearly faint during a public reception, her brother gained a grudging compliment from her father for a good hit during a practice duel (a not insignificant feat).
Compared to her, Ezan was the perfect heir.
Was she jealous? Of course she was! She was twelve and her parents doted over Ezan like a prized Puerma calf. So she acted out. It wasn’t anything big, just sneaking out after curfew and bumming some Sunfruit liqueur with a few friends. Regardless, when she was dragged back home, well past midnight by house guards, her parents were livid. Her father especially.
Is it any wonder that her parents threw her out the first chance they got? Of course they wouldn't call it that “Throwing her out”, they would say something about their duty to the Republic, or digress about it being for her own good. But Finest couldn't help but have the sneaking suspicion that if it had been Ezan who ended up tossing his dueling partner across the gardens with the force, her parents would have had a much harder time recalling all those archaic legal treatise from over four hundred years ago.
So it was that on her fifteenth name day, instead of celebrating with her family and being given the first marks of a future clan lord, she stood before the council of elders and was read the scrolls of disownment as her parents stood quietly off to the side.
No matter how much they apologized afterwards, or insisted that it had simply been legal formality, the one thing that stuck in her mind was how, when midway through the proceedings she begged her parents to reconsider, they refused to even meet her eyes; to even acknowledge her existence. Indeed the only sign they gave that they had heard her at all, was her father giving the slightest of nods for the reader to continue.
That stung a bit.
But even if there had been some magic words that could make her forget everything about that night, there was one fact that there was no getting around: In her parent’s eyes there was no point in even giving her a chance. They didn't bother to let her try and prove herself, to show that she was more than just a series of unfortunate events. No, first chance they got she was shuffled quietly out the door. To them there was simply no possibility that this disappointment of a daughter could ever amount to anything more then one more mistake.
That stung a lot.
Two days later and she was on a transport shuttle to Jedha. To the Jedi guardians.
That was a long flight.
The next month was longer still.
On the first day a man a scar on his cheek, twice her years, and four times her size held her face into the ground with his boot until one of the masters forced him to let her up. On the second it was a twelve year old. Say what she would about her father, at least he held some of his punches. Her fellow initiates weren’t nearly as well inclined,nor were most of the masters for that matter. If she didn't stumble back to the initiate dorms with black and purple bruises covering her from foot to forehead it was a good day.
Where her family had pushed her to be everything, now it seemed every voice, word, and gloved fist slamming into her sternum were telling her that she was nothing. It was the same thing her family had thought every day of her life, but none had dared speak: She was a failure.
And if there was one motivation in the galaxy, it was that there was no way in hell she was going to actually prove her parent’s right.
A month later she won her first duel. Three months and she was the one to hold the scar faced man's head into the dirt. Five months and she was, by most accounts, near the top of her initiate clan.
She met people, laughed, got her face beaten in at least thrice, made friends. The Jedi gave her a family which she had never truly had. She grew out a bit, not a lot, she was still the same human stick as before, but now there was muscle over those bones, perhaps a branch instead of a twig. She devoted herself completely to her two years of training; and when, four weeks after her seventeenth name day, she was knighted in the grand hall of the temple of Jedha, it was the proudest day of her life.
Now Finest (or Fin as she shortened her name too) believes that she is ready to face the galaxy. Still riding the high of her knighting, she is like a puffed up temmer bird, strutting over it’s tiny nest of sticks and old paper clippings and thinking it a kingdom. She masks her seeping insecurities and lingering doubts at her own capability with over inflated self confidence and a youthful cockiness that borders on stupidity. As the conclave of the Jedi sects comes to a head, she is anxious to prove herself and silence her clinging misgivings.
Equipment
Lightsaber
Scratched up a bit on one side, this small saber blade is by far Fin's most valued possession. When lit, it's crystal blue edge burns steady and true, its sapphire heart roaring with a dull hum.
Jedi Vestmants
A light tunic, wool trousers and a heavy pair of boots, what the Jedi lack in style they make up for in complete and utter disregard for human comfort. After two years Fin has mostly gotten used to the itchy cloth and uncomfortable robes, but still sometimes she longs for simple shirt and pants (preferably ones that don't smell like a wampa's backside).
Skills and Abilities
Though indeed Fin’s abilities in combat (and the force to a far lesser extent) are admirable for her comparably short span of training, those abilities are nowhere near the level she presumes them to be. Against a real opponent, trained in the ways of the force, she is like a child waving a stick. The protective wall of the temple of Jedha has left her (and likely many of her classmates) largely ignorant of the true rigors of combat; and no matter how many forms she learns (or thinks she learns), or codes she memorizes, the teacher of experience is still absent. This combined with her own innate bravery/stupidity (depending on the perspective) makes for a young knight far too confident in her own abilities, and not nearly knowledgeable enough of the opposition to show adequate caution.
List of Threads
-
-
-
-
-
Last edited:
