Qyreia Arronen

Qyreia Arronen
Biographical Information
Homeworld:	Zeltros
Date of Birth:	12 ABY
Physical Description
Species:	Zeltron
Gender:	Female
Height:	1.7 meters
Weight:	63.5 kilograms
Hair:	Dark blue with cobalt highlights
Eyes:	Gray, steel blue fades to black around pupil
Personal Information
Allies:	None
Enemies:	None
Chronology & Political Information
Profession:	Smuggler/Mercenary
Affiliation:	Clan Naga Sadow, House Shar Dakhan, Battleteam Devil's Shroud
Known masters:	Armad Werde
Dossier:	#14369
[ Source ]

"I ain't your daddy's kind of Zeltron."

―Qyreia Arronen

Qyreia Arronen was born and raised on Zeltros to an average Zeltron family. By her teenage years, she had grown dissatisfied with the Zeltrons' hedonistic way of life. When she reached maturity, she packed her bags and shipped herself off-world, hoping to get as far away from the Zeltron stigma as she could; a venture that she would find very difficult to accomplish. After working odd-jobs on various worlds and run-down space stations, she found her niche amongst the scum of the galaxy: smugglers and mercenaries. She spent years working on various crews and contracts, eventually going solo and finding her way to the Dark Jedi Brotherhood. She is currently under contract for Clan Naga Sadow, House Shar Dakhan, and despite her short tenure, is making a few waves.

Biography

Life on Zeltros

"Just because every Zeltron you know likes to party doesn't mean I do."

―Qyreia

Being born on Zeltros, Qyreia was exposed to the Zeltrons’ decadent lifestyle from birth. Her family was kind and brought her up well by comparable standards to that of other Zeltrons and the rest of the galaxy; in short, she was a good kid. However, when it came to embracing her people’s culture, her upbringing fell short. Where others her age would go out to vibrant social gatherings, she would invite a couple close friends over; when a festival was on, she would withdraw to the woods around her town. That her people continued to try to welcome her into the fold speaks to the simple fact that this disaffection was purely hers and hers alone.

By her teen years, when social gatherings became more intimate, she had become a closeted introvert, attending public affairs only to appease her worrying parents. The casual approach to sexuality was the most irksome thing for her, and more than a few would-be lovers walked away with bruises or broken bones. In her limited experimentations, she also made the self-discovery that she was distinctly more attracted to the female sex than the male, which only complicated matters with her few short-lived boyfriends. By eighteen years of age, she had grown so agitated by the constant, well-meaning pressure of her people that she packed her things and left home on the first available transport, her only money being the handful of credits she had saved up and a few hundred more from her parents.

Mercenary in the Making

"You can buy my contract; not my loyalty or my body."

―Qyreia

Off-world, hoping to find a less passionately-charged atmosphere, Qyreia was quick to learn that her people’s reputation preceded her. Everywhere she went, she was propositioned for “work” or “a good time,” and more than a few cantina job prospects when the manager said they only wanted her as a dancer – even if she was applying as a bartender. Due to these preconceived notions, she would at times find herself caught against a wall by an overzealous pursuant, which cemented her already strong belief in self-defense and the use of a swift kick to the groin. No intelligent sentient ever tried a second attempt with her after such a refusal.

In the two years since her leaving home, she scraped by as everything from bartender, construction worker, waitress, and even one position as a tutor. However, many of these jobs ended when her fist found an overly-affectionate patron’s face. Soon enough, she could only find work in outback stations serving the dregs of society, and it was this position that exposed her to the life of smugglers and mercenaries. While they were crude, these folk also gave her the most respect that she had received since leaving home. A knocked-out patron at her bar would result in praise for Qyreia rather than dismissal, and she quickly found herself with job offers working in occupations she had never even considered. Starting out as a crewmember aboard a small-time trading operation, she learned the ways of commerce beyond simply the consumer level. She was taught how to fly a starship, fire a blaster, and fight more effectively with her fists as well as with a knife. Trading would eventually turn to smuggling, and while the illegal aspect did not sit well with her, she kept to the mantra, “If it isn’t hurting anyone, then let the credits flow.”

She had never considered mercenary work until her first kill: a pirate that had stormed her employer’s ship and thought the crew weak and harmless. When Qyreia shot him in the back, watching him fall limp to the floor, she found that she didn’t mind it as much as she thought. True, it still affected her for some time afterward, as the idea of taking a life up to that point had been restricted to those that had tried to force themselves upon her. Yet her roles in employment began to change. She went from crew hand to security, to contracted personal guard, to eventually running her own smuggling operations after she had saved enough credits to rent a small freighter and a hold full of cargo.

Baby Sister in the Brotherhood

"Chuff-sucking, Hutt-humping, choobies-licking, mother-borking piece of Sithspit!"

―Qyreia, putting her profanity to good use

Near the end of 38 ABY, Qyreia’s travels took her across the territory of the Brotherhood, a group which she had heard of but never been directly exposed to. On one stopover, she met Marcus Kiriyu, who managed to convince her that the Brotherhood could provide a more steady supply of credits if she would contract with them for mercenary work. After laying out the details of her contract, she was given a space with House Shar Dakhan of Clan Naga Sadow. While the Sith-like appearances of the people and operations centers were somewhat disconcerting, she maintained that, so long as her contract conditions weren’t violated, she would carry on as normal.

While she was still getting situated, Naga Sadow underwent a difficult trial that would be called Ashes Fall, which resulted in the death of the current Quaestor of her House, Atra Ventus. While much of the veterans of the Clan felt a loss, the newly appointed mercenary could only shrug when asked anything about Ventus, giving the others a very aloof impression of her. While she quickly worked her way up the proscribed ranks, reaching Yeoman within a month of her recruitment, the subtle shifts and weaves of the House and Clan moved around her.

Most recently, Shar Dakhan appointed a new Quaestor, a completely unknown member to the Brotherhood and one who seemed to have no personal memories to speak of: Keira Viru. Qyreia, on seeing the new leader, was smitten by her beauty, and had full intentions of pursuing more than a mere professional relationship.

Physical Description

Qyreia is not a very large person, standing at only 1.7 meters tall (or 6' 7" in the old Republican system). Weighing in a 63.5 kilograms (140 pounds), she maintains a thin frame with a dense, lean musculature maintained by exercise and her natural Zeltron metabolism. Her skin, a darker sort of sunburn-red, shows off her contours nicely, and while she does not flaunt her physique like others of her race might, she is very aware that she is good looking. She has no piercings or tattoos, and no major scars to speak of thanks in equal parts to careful living and the magic of bacta. Her hair is cropped short along the sides, fading upward to a long (up to 10 cm) crop of hair on top of her head, which tends to partly hang over her face along a natural split just off-center to the left. The hair itself is a dark, smoky blue that reflects a much lighter cobalt color in the light.

Her attire is generally utilitarian, usually consisting of a simple white shirt, khaki pants, red-brown leather boots, and brown leather jacket. To her own chagrin, she owns no dresses or feminine attire, thanks in large part to her life as an independent spacer. Her clothes are designed for maximum movement as, she has often found, armor does not always work very well, and the best defense is not getting hit in the first place. She also likes the simple earthy colors of her attire because they are easy to coordinate, especially with a vibrant skin tone such as hers.

Personality and traits

On her own, Qyreia is very cheerful and happy, and often looks on the bright side of life, hoping for the best. She is a self-professed “master of sass,” constantly coming up with witty or sarcastic remarks to say – even if she does not always say them. When the chips are down, this can be as much of a blessing as a burden, as sometimes her witticisms can turn inward toward herself, though she will always do her utmost to contain any negative emotional displays – aside from annoyance or anger – in front of others. When her anger ‘’does’’ show through, her travels and attentive ear have given her a very colorful vocabulary, allowing her to swear harder than a drunken Huttese sailor. A stint on Kashyyyk during her private contractor days has also earned her a degree of skill in Shyriiwook, resulting in a fair amount of respect when speaking with the furry beings.

In the company of others, while she enjoys laughing, smiling, dancing or singing, she sees this as more of a personal affair than one for public consumption. This stems from her disdain for the stigmatized heritage she shares with the Zeltron people, and shows in her mild dislike of parties and utter revulsion of persons who make assumptions about her sex life. Her dismissal of these values is so overt that she can be nervous at social gatherings, if she attends at all, thinking that people expect her to be some great party animal. Open comparison to other Zeltrons can likewise make her moody and morose, as she feels that people cannot accept her as an individual. As such, forming intimate relationships is also a difficult feat, and can equally be disconcerting when her own rare advances are declined.

In combat, she has one rule: fight to win. If her moral compass is not at stake, then Qyreia has no problem with beating a hasty retreat. “Live to fight another day,” as the saying goes. However, that does not mean she is prone to cowardice. More often than not, she will make a quick assessment of the situation and try to be first to act: strike first and last. She finds that the best way to do this is often not the most accepted way; fighting dirty with eye-pokes, ambushing with her blaster, or her infamous kicks to the groin. Still, when the situation requires, she will not balk in the face of difficult odds, though she may complain using some choice vocabulary from her repertoire.