Dossier - Designations
Gender: Female :: Species: Human :: Skin: Fair :: Hair: Blonde :: Family: Details as follows
No war without cost.
Under the sway of Mandalore there were those in humbler professions who took up arms and the ways and rules of those who would inspire them to not only fight for themselves, but for a new future.
The training she’d taken on was rudimentary. Relying on your strengths made sense.
“You can punch right?” Her distracted mind had to wander back. The red skinned one, she’d seen them just at a distance, likely going to a starship. It was only a moment but it was hard to forget the presence of one so odd.
The captain directed the woman to strike the makeshift target. There were a lot of other dirt and dust covered faces lining up alongside her. Three brothers, one sister all as well somewhere in the filtering crowds. Taking their oaths, learning all they could, being fitted with armor. It was inspiring.
All in all it wasn’t to say she couldn’t throw a punch, but she herself was much more of a builder. Finding more solace in customizing weapons for individual fit, taking to the stylings and armor with more ease. But they couldn’t leave her to just simply make something all day.
While this would suffice as a beginning, soon they were called to fight. Separated by a single ship they were all family on two seperate cruisers working to repel the Republic’s attempts at reclaiming.
Victory and Vindicator.
While working tirelessly to keep shields functional, there was a moment the scanner flashed. A helmet quickly blocking the view, but given the disruption with the void it was undeniable there was something massive that had transpired. Sirens quickly blaring soon after, her own steps hurried to the secondary engine systems only to briefly pass a sliver of a viewport.
The Victory had already been breached, and now Vindicator was under direct fire. Ultimately their hold wouldn’t last, she couldn’t possibly know about the superior numbers and logistics they were being challenged by, the gravity well trap they’d inadvertently positioned themselves in, that was for the top officers.
All she could do was attempt to keep systems running. With a buck a kinetic force must’ve struck the side, sending her hard against one of the converters, she could only be so lucky that she didn’t accidentally fall into a discharge vent. The strike was enough to have her taste iron at that point, her vision darkening before blacking out all at once to the sounds of hurried boots on durasteel platforms.
Out of it, she was powerless at that point to the machinations of all the forces around her.
Vunne would find herself alone strapped to one of the drop pods.
Someone must’ve grabbed her and launched her.
While it would take time, she found the means to civilization again. How ironic the war would be over by then. The fatalities now all counted, her own blood counted among the lost. It was a bitter time, she wrestled with the reality now. Isolated, destitute. She had what armor was on her back, it would have to suffice for now.
It was to some inglorious,
But she would rebuild.