- Joined
- Dec 22, 2016
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Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful
[fancybox4=http://i65.tinypic.com/fu17k0.jpg]
Jenova Savas [/fancybox4]
NAME: Jenova Savas
AGE: 29
SPECIES: Falleen/Miraluka Hybrid
HOMEWORLD: Honoghr
FACTION: Sith Empire
FORCE SENSTIVE: Confirmed, untrained
BUILD: Alethically slender
HEIGHT: 5’9
THEMES: Indestructible, The Warrior Song, We Are Soldiers, Warriors, Iron, Paint It Black, Rule The World, Survivor
NAME: Jenova Savas
AGE: 29
SPECIES: Falleen/Miraluka Hybrid
HOMEWORLD: Honoghr
FACTION: Sith Empire
FORCE SENSTIVE: Confirmed, untrained
BUILD: Alethically slender
HEIGHT: 5’9
THEMES: Indestructible, The Warrior Song, We Are Soldiers, Warriors, Iron, Paint It Black, Rule The World, Survivor
Character Information
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An unwanted daughter birthed from a fleeting union; her mother, nothing more than a salacious concubine. The father, on the other hand, was something more. Vixont Savas, once a puppet emissary of the Falleen underworld’s inner circle, quickly rose to a much higher position of power; his cutthroat politics paved the way for a tyrannical and debauched dictatorship; those who opposed his expansion of territories were quickly…silenced.
It was only natural for a male of such power to seek equally earthly comforts; his nights were frequently filled with the pleasures of flesh and vice. For a short time, he entertained the affections of humanoid lover, a Miraluka whose name was of no real importance. She was, however, an exotic rarity in the Outer Rim, given her people’s insular nature amongst the known galaxy. Somehow, she had found herself far from home, though this did little to hinder her from worming her way into Vixont’s bed. Short-lived as it was. All pleasantries ended with Jenova’s birth. Though Vixont had father numerous children, he was utterly appalled with the notion of siring a ‘blind’ progeny. He only had to take but one look at Jenova before banishing her from his sight, deeming her a genetic blight.
As expected, Vixont soon grew bored with his Miraluka bed mate, and as a consequence, cast her and their offspring out of his favour and into the fighting pits, leaving them ultimately to their miserable fate.
From riches to ruin, the Miraluka scorned her daughter; her Falleen green skin forever a reminder of the lover that cast her aside. Daily beatings and venomous rants quickly hardened the hybrid to pain. The raving zealots within the pits praised her for it, cited it was the will of ‘Bogan’, the dark one. A mysterious entity worshipped by the growing dregs of slum society. Pain and suffering were its virtue, whilst power and domination its rewards. Jenova would later come to realise that the Bogan and dark side were philosophically the same thing. And in order to gain favour, all one had to do was embrace the very baseline instinct within every sentient being: fight.
And how Jenova loved to fight. The elation of battle. The ecstasy of combat. As she grew older, taller, and stronger, she encompassed herself with all the glories of conflict. The slums began to chant her name, championing her as a vengeful, remorseless gladiatrix. Nothing short of a God. Fight after fight, duel after duel, her infamy only grew. As did her ambition. Embittered slaves and wavering opponents no longer sated her hostile appetites. Instead, her metaphorical gaze set its sights above, to the higher planes of Honoghr’s territories. Her father’s territories. The Bogan had promised her power, now she decided to take it. With little more than deviant fancy, Jenova ignited a civil war.
It was a bloody campaign; slaves, gladiators and others rallied under her marvellous banner. She had promised them whatever their hearts desired, so long as they honoured her call to service: kill, keep killing, then kill some more. It was the only way to assure an unquestionable victory. And none were spared; not the old, not the sick, nor women or children. Jenova’s message was a simple one, war equalled survival, if you did not fight, you did not deserve to live. She had come this realisation whilst still in her youth, watching her own mother’s demise; a rancor had made a meal of her, tearing her supple body to pieces before her daughter’s golden hued eyes. Yet all Jenova felt was disappointment. Her mother hadn’t even put up a fight; she simply cowered and squealed, like some cumbersome sow. Good thing the hyrbid didn’t waste her credits, she had bet on the rancor without hesitation; Jenova remembered eating well that night, toasting to the memory of the Miraluka she had grown to despise.
Yet there was another she had come to loathe. One who’s transgressions could never be forgiven. Vixont. Her long absent father.
The abandonment, she could pardon. The ridiculous array of siblings was tolerable, yes. But truly his greatest crime? His lack of vision. He had wealth, power, and men at his disposal, yet still he played amongst the petty squabbles of hierarchal domain. Mere child’s play compared to Jenova’s ultimate target; the galaxy. The whole, entire galaxy. Sporadic battles, isolated conflicts, it simply wasn’t enough. The stars, the planets themselves simply needed to be burnt away. And Jenova would be the one to set that flame ablaze.
Now rid of her father (his execution was absolutely exquisite), Jenova easily solidified her place of power amongst the Honoghr territories. Vessels and crime bosses paid homage to her and her alone; a small cluster of native Noghri even came to worship her as an embodiment of their warrior ways. Utterly flattered, in return, Jenova drafted them into her personal army, having them serve as faithful generals for what was fated to come.
But much to the hybrid’s chagrin, battles on Honoghr were quickly fading into obscurity. There was simply no one left to oppose her, no one foolish enough to raise a weapon against her will. And Jenova was fast becoming bored with it all. And a bored war lord is a very dangerous thing; luckily for her, a new opponent revealed themselves, bearing a rather intriguing offer: War. Not a simple war, or even a planetary war. No, this was something far greater, something Jenova felt she had been bred for.
Full. Intergalactic. War
Oh, yes. There would be slaughter of epic portions.
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A warmonger. An utter warmonger. Nothing gives Jenova greater satisfaction nor pleasure than the call to arms. It quickens her heart, boils her blood, and rejuvenates her deprave spirit. Though some may dismiss her as 'crazed' or ‘rabid’, Jenova is more intelligent than others give her credit for. She is a killer, but she is not a mindless killer. She is quite the able tactician, with a purchase for strategy games; on truly large operations, she is meticulous just as she is ruthless. Though war is her ultimate desire, it isn’t a bloody conflict she seeks, it’s a well-rounded, thoroughly orchestrated purge of the galaxy. Only through blood and fire can the cosmos be cleansed of its shortcomings; the weak, the vulnerable, and especially the passive. This is Jenova’s greatest wish.
For the hybrid, war is almost a religious practice; growing up in Honoghr’s pits, fighting was simply way of life, an assurance of survival. Jenova learnt from a very young age not to question why things were they were, instead she focused on how she could utilise it to her own advantage; the world would keep turning so long as there was war, so long as there were people being killed. To Jenova, that was the only possible reason for existing. She was a tool, a vital component in that universal mechanism. Above all else, Jenvoa takes the greatest pleasure in killing those who arrogantly believe themselves invincible or otherwise 'safe', not even considering the possibility that they might die until she reminds them of their mortality. Nevertheless, she either respects or appreciates those who fight fearlessly and is not above recognising a worthy opponent when one presents itself.
Despite her ravenous combative nature, Jenova has a surprising degree of loyalty, possibly fostered from the Noghri influence she grew up among. She commands the respect of her soldiers and to a certain degree, she reciprocates their feelings, knowing full well she is not an easy woman to serve under. Because of this, Jenova values the lives of her personal soldiers and feels any waste of man power is a personal offense. She will happily -and brutally- remove someone from their position if she thinks their command it substandard. That being said, the hybrid is partially willing to succumb to another’s orders, so long as the person commanding her is up to the task at hand; if there is a common goal, then she will be moderately cooperative. However, at the first sign of weakness, Jenova will not hesitate to purge that liability in leadership herself. And she will ensure the next contender knows this as well. Another surprising aspect of her personality is her insatiable nocturnal habits; much like her father, Jenova has not reservations with taking lovers -fleeting and temporary as they may be-. This may stem from the constant presence of war and death surrounding her; conquest in the bedroom is a method of reaffirming life for her as well celebrating another day of survival. It's also a way Jenova expresses her admiration as she will often invite a noteworthy warrior to her chambers following a successful battle or campaign. As of yet, none of these couplings have resulted in any lasting relationships, nor has Jenova expressed any wishes for them to be anything otherwise. -
Though not formally trained as of yet, Jenova has a surprising affinity with the force; this is possibly due to her Miraluka heritage and her near constant use of force sight. Like the Miraluka. Jenova relies on this power constantly to compensate for her physical blindness. Though she cannot perceive colours, she can distinguish organics (even dead) and their alignment from the surrounding environment by their characteristic aura. This also gives her some limited insight into their personalities and intentions, though not always. Most objects, including doors and walls, appeared translucent, allowing Jenova to see through them (unless, of course, they are shielded by another using the force). Regardless, thanks to this ability, the hybrid’s reflexes are enormously strengthened. Her Falleen heritage also makes her immune to mind tricks.
Whilst the mental aspects of Jenova’s force abilities are lacking, she is learning to apply them more practically to physical aspects, and often to a devastating degree. Often in combat she will use the force to amplify her speed and agility, guiding her impressive acrobatics and reflexes. She also uses the force to magnify her physical strength, especially when engaging in hand to hand combat. Still, Jenova is insatiable. She has heard the tales of exiles and their destructive power; she both envies and emulates them and strives to one day also be able bend the force to her will. There is something within her, something dormant, a power that has yet to mature. But it’s only a matter of time till its explosive development erupts forth in a most cataclysmic fashion. -
Due to her hybridised heritage, Jenova has several distinctive features; perhaps her most striking is her rich, emerald skin and towering height. This is because her father belonged to the exotic, cold-blooded reptomammalian species known as Falleen. Jenova inherited the sleek symmetry of features but not the ability to alter her skin pigmentation; nevertheless, many would consider the warlord to be quite striking in appearance, lacking the prominent facial and spinal ridges that often are associated with the semi aquatic species. Her dusky stained lips and equally dark hair create an unusual yet exotic visage. Along with her green coloured blood, Jenova also inherited the Falleen ability to create pheromones, however the hybrid despises having to use it as she would much rather use force than chemical persuasion.
Another otherworldly feature is Jenova’s pupil-less eyes. Yellow in colouration, some would find such a gaze disconcerting, especially when accentuated with golden hued war paint. Lithe in figure and serpentine in her grace, Jenova is mistaken underestimated at first glance. A foolish and fatal error to make. True to her war like manner, Jenova almost constantly wears a light armoured body suit, ensuring she is ready for battle at any time. Very rarely will she be seen in anything else, and if she is, she will complain like Hoth about it. -
In order to embody the very concept of war, Jenova has devoted much of her study and training to combat. Her most proficient form is that of Stava: a martial art developed by the Noghri assassins of Honoghr. Named after a predator native to the Noghri home planet of Honoghr, Stava incorporated joint-locks, pressure points, nerve pinches, takedowns, and quick and deadly strikes with the hands, arms, feet, and legs. Like the animal it was named for, Stava strongly emphasized speed and endurance, with practitioners being able to dodge blaster bolts with acrobatics, rolls, and sheer offensive prowess. In addition to unarmed combat techniques, Stava encompassed the art of throwing and wielding the traditional fighting sickle of the Noghri, as well as other weapons adopted by the assassins, such as quarterstaffs, vibroblades, and Vrakolian Spin-blades. Stava is not currently a well-known martial art and is relatively unheard throughout the rest of the known galaxy; this often gives Jenova a devastating advantage over her opponents. The hybrid utterly enjoys taking her enemies by surprise, utterly overwhelming them with sheer ferocity and force.
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The New God Of War
And now, at long last, our time has dawned. I bring all that I am to this fight, body and soul. For your safe, do not disappoint.
-
Due to Jenova's lack of physical sight, she instead relies heavily on her other senses. Whilst her force sight can mostly compensate for her limited visibility, the hybrid has started to develop a form of acousticophilia; an instinctual response to particular sounds. Certain sounds can inspire various emotions within her; for example, she associated the sound of drums with the Noghri war songs. This inspires excitement and adrenaline, as if she is once again being goaded into war. Jenova can also respond to individuals and their voices, if given enough exposure and experience. On some rare occasions, the warrior will instead rely more on her hearing and vocal analysis than her natural force sight. One type of sound that utterly repulses Jenova is the speech of the Hutts; it is the depths of their stentorian voices that irritate her the most, especially as it conjures forth memories of being in the fighting pits. Hutts were notorious for their visits and gambling; more than likely Jenova would have heard their bleating laughter as she was forced to fight for her life.
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