| Sera Kaern
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Iridonia
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15 ABY; 22 years old
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Zabrak
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Female
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1.57m/5'2ft
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61.24kg/135llbs
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Shaved; Natural light brown
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Blue
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None
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Sila Mell
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Arkin Kaern
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Clan Arcona, House Qel'Droma, Tribe Lod of Iridonia, Koren Kaern
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None
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Form 0
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DL-44 Blaster Pistol, Zabraki Hunting Dagger
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K'thri with Mandolorian Core incorporation
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"Adventurer"
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Exodus Era, New Order Era
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Arcona
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Voidbreaker
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Tali Sroka
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dossier:9816
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Sera Kaern is a young, zabrak tribal huntress, and fledgling member of House Qel'Droma, and Clan Arcona at large. Born to Tribe Lod in the badlands of Iridonia, she was abandoned by her parents while she was young to be raised by her older brother, Koren Kaern, and her grandmother, Setle, one of her tribe's senior elders. Sera's extreme precociousness and her irascible, stubborn nature led her into a great deal of trouble during her youth; but, it also made her into a great huntress, and a proud warrior. Despite the harshness of Sera's life, she maintains a constantly optimistic, friendly nature; she is naturally suited to being outgoing, and could never imagine any other way of life.
After Koren, having left home to join the republic, went missing following the destruction of the Hosnian System and the Republic Home Fleet, Sera was determined to find her brother. Only the need to pass her tribe's final rite of passage delayed her; and not for very long. Finally prepared -or so she hoped- the young zabrak set off towards parts, and a fate, unknown; all the information was the name of Port Ol'Val. There, she didn't find her brother; but she did find Clan Arcona, and the Brotherhood.
Character History
A Tribal Upbringing
Like most zabraki, Sera was born to a pair of hunters, in the harsh, unforgiving tribal lands of the Iridonian desert. Coming into the world in the midst of one of the hottest summers on record, her midwife -who also happened to be her own grandmother- was sure that the uny infant wouldn’t survive. Yet, against all odds, Sera pulled through. She was an extremely precocious, curious child, a trait that often got her in trouble in the hustle of their hunter community. This was especially true after her parents left her; her father, Arkin, unwilling to settle down to raise a second child, and her mother, in much the same way, was totally unprepared for the responsibility. The former left back to his home tribe; the latter, to one of Iridonia’s market-cities. They each trusted her older brother, Koren, to raise her well; without asking him, of course. With the help of their grandmother, one of the tribe’s senior elders, what could go wrong?
A lot. A lot could go wrong. It was a great burden of responsibility to lay on Koren, hardly eight years old, and her grandmother certainly couldn’t keep up with both of them. But, she managed to survive with only the odd scrape and bruise, and if anything it helped her grow closer to her brother, and to her tribe. Tribe Lod was a close-knit group; just small enough for everyone to know everyone, and while very few approved of the parents for leaving their children behind, every one of them knew their grandmother; they would look after the Kaern children, and make sure they got the upbringing they needed. They were taught everything that they needed to know about surviving the life of a nomadic tribal; fighting and hunting, navigating the wastes, learning to survive in the badlands.
But, more than anything else, as anyone might expect from zabraks, the pair of them loved to fight above all else. They taught each other in tandem: training each other in the proud warrior tradition of Lod whenever there was a free moment, growing and thickening their bond of blood. He taught her the proper form for a K’thri rolling kick, how to put a blaster bolt through the bullseye of a target, and how to stalk a Dune Caulker in the night. They hunted together, the most sacred pact of trust zabraks could give. He was her best friend.
The Coming of Age
But, Koren’s interests didn’t just lay in hunting and fighting. He was also a talented mechanic, and a self taught pilot; whenever the machinery that the tribe relied upon wore out -their forge, their furnace, their net-comms- wore out, he was the one that repaired them, and after fixing up a junker of a skyhopper bought cheap from a market-settlement, he became their courier too. His ambitions, however, lay outside the tribe, outside of Iridonia; he wanted to see the galaxy. To fight for the New Republic that he was proud of. To fight for Iridonia.
He wanted to fly.
Around the village, they were seen as nigh-on inseparable, rushing into their problems headlong as one… until he left her behind, finally off to join the Republicans. Many of his friends followed in his tracks to join him; a proud zabraki expedition, off to see the galaxy. Off to serve the Republic. The elders all knew what was coming. Strife, of the kind that their culture had always embraced, regardless of the tragic consequences: the empty beds, and quiet spaces that would inevitably be left unfilled after the ones who had once occupied them were gone, killed in a far-off war. Even if the Empire was long dead, they could sense it coming.
Sera paid no attention to them. Koren kept in constant contact through the net, and even if it wasn’t quite the same, it was enough to satisfy her. She continued to train, to hone her skills, to mature and grow into her own person. For four years, she lived in that way; hunting for the tribe, making her own name. But, the good times didn’t last. In 34 ABY, the Hosnian System was destroyed, the Republican Homefleet, annihilated. Sera’s world seemed to collapsed; every family knew what it meant for their son or daughter that had gone to fight for the Republic. The home fleet was the base of all their power; now, it was a mass grave, for all their children. Young warriors who had never been given a chance.
But Koren wasn’t among them. Even as Sera and her grandmother began to mourn, he sent them a video call, grainy, blurry, and indistinct, but most definitely him. He was at a place called Port Ol’Val, far from where they had thought...and he was being hunted. Before he could say by who, or how he had ended up halfway across the galaxy, blasterfire flashed, and he cut off the feed. But, again, he hadn’t been killed; a few days after his message, he sent a link, displaying coordinates, and an image of a building; a pub, by the name of Monka Brews. He wanted them to track him down.
Of course, Sera’s first thought was to go after him. He was her brother; how could she not? But, the elders forbade her. She hadn’t come of age yet, hadn’t even gotten her markings; the tattoos that symbolized the core of a zabrak’s soul, their rite of passage into becoming a true member of the tribe, a true warrior. They forced her to wait; to have patience. To prepare herself before rushing off into the galaxy, as her brother and so many others in the tribe had not.
So, she did; she continued to train, in even more earnest. She fought, and hunted, and drove on with unending, unquenchable drive. When the time finally came to receive her markings -the culmination of all her efforts- they reflected her determination, her stubbornness; the defining characteristic of her life. The maroon coloring was solid, dark, and stable, the swirling pattern vibrant and energetic...but consistent, unswerving. They stood for her loyalty, her devotion...and above all, her resolve.
Into the Unknown
Now, with the blessing of her elders, Sera journeyed, for the first time in her life, forth from Iridonia. Her first stop was Coruscant; gathering supplies for the journey ahead. Then, she made her way to Port Ol’Val. Without a plan, without even idea of where to start, she plunged into a dangerous, lawless portion of the galaxy, on the two year old trail of a brother that was, realistically, dead.
But Sera had faith. She barely knew what the force was, or what it meant to her...but she was sure that it did not intend to let her die, alone in space far from her home. She had left to find her brother… and perhaps just as much as that, she had come to explore the galaxy; to grow out of his shadow, into a light of her own. Fate had plans for her; she was sure of it.
But, what exactly those plans were, no one knew. She would have to find out on her own.
Physical Description
Sera’s build can easily be described as compact. She is short, but boasts the high-tensile muscularity of a huntress, factors which lead to a small, slim frame. She grooms herself neatly, completely shaving her hair (normally a very-light brown), with the exception of her eyebrows, and trimming her vestigial horns to needle-like points. Even more noticeable are her race's tribal tattoos, unique between each zabrak which she displays with the utmost pride. Hers are deep maroon swirls and stripes, curving around her body in symmetrical, almost hypnotic patterns, which stand out against her fair skin, something uncharacteristic for her desert-dwelling race. Her youth is readily seen, in the light and airy tinge to her accent, and her grin; wide, bright, and gleaming with perfectly white, pointy teeth.