Kala Ianauria

Kala found herself in the waiting room of Lady Zinthos’ offices, offered a seat while she waited for her new Master to exit from her conference with the head of the Imperial Remnant. It meant she had more time to reflect, more time to center herself and set her resolve for the journey ahead of her. As she tried to find peace, a stray thought entered her mind and refused to follow the others into nothingness. Her mother would hate this Imperial remnant, call it weak, call it a pale reflection of the true Empire led by fools deceived by Republic agitators who diluted the purity of the Empire with equality for lessor and debased types of inferior sentients. In essence, the same diatribe she’d heard concerning the Gallactic Alliance with the added dimension of this group of worlds calling themselves the Imperial remnant. She was not her mother. At sixteen, she might not be able to verbalize her thoughts or even consciously understand her own motives, but the very existence of this office and her sitting her meant she was attempting to define herself on her own terms. In short, be the person she wanted to be instead of a copy of her hate filled mother. Kala focused and moved past those tirades and truly observed the people around her. What she saw and to some extant felt through her fledgling connect with the Force were people efficiently conducting their various reports, receiving orders and acting upon them. While Imperial protocols were in place, many of the human centric policies seemed to be absent, as well as the oppressive fear and constant faction warring her Shadow had told her existed in the former Empire. Instead, there was sense of both hope and destiny that seemed to guide the actions of the people flowing through the place. She wandered what the meant for her. Her heart raced when she thought on the cause that brought her here, on the sense that bringing the possessed soldier meant more than just saving his life or separating the possessing spirit. Upon landing, she’d caught a glimpse of Knight Eleison, one that conveyed a sense of power, purpose and peace simultaneously and on her command, followed her here where she waited while her new Master conferred with the Lady Zinthos. She felt no slight on being made to wait, having been taught Imperial protocol by an old droid whom claimed he had intact memories from the Old Republic. A claim a young Kala had immediately put to the test upon when her governess introduced her to the droid and told her its purpose. The old droid, complaining bitterly the whole way, followed her to the droid workshop on her parent’s estate where an Iridonian retainer named Saeven greeted her warmly and without hesitation. Shadow, who’d followed her silently, stood guard over her and watched the proceedings. Kala remembered demanding of the old man, “This droid thinks he came from the dirty Old Republic, make him tell the truth.” Shadow’s quiet breathing halted abruptly, causing Kala to turn and look at her. Saeven might have missed it, but the two had been practically raised as sisters. Like sisters, they occasionally had different takes on various subjects. This was one of them and every time it came up in her studies, Kala and Shadow took different sides with the same result. The conversation always ended up in a violent, no holds barred brawl. Only this time, Saeven had been there and interfered. He simply reached out and picked up the two girls by their wastebands and held them up in the air like two quarreling cubs. When they continued to quarrel, to try and reach for each other and one of them accidently hit Saeven, he had simply strode across the workshop to an oil bath and dropped both girls in. Both came up sputtering, soaked in oil and with a new target for their anger. Old Saeven had simply dunked them again. When Kala came up sputtering about going to see her mother, he’d simply dunked them again. The third time got their attention, and both stayed silent, dripping oil all over the floor of the workshop while Saeven glared down at them reproachfully before speaking in heavily accented Basic. “Young ladies do not fight about past. Learn first, then discuss.” She’d looked over at Shadow, who shrugged. Neither knew yet what the Iridonian meant and neither was willing to be dipped in the oil bath again. It was only much later that Kala learned how much the man truly risked by laying hands on her at all. As for the lesson he taught them that day, her mother would have had him summarily executed for it had Kala ever said anything. The thrill of the secrets Saeven and he old protocol droid revealed and the utter defiance they represented to her family’s rules elevated them to an extremely high status in her child’s mind. “Come old friend,” said Saevan to the droid, “let’s let the young ladies have a look.” “I do say, sir, will you be deactivating me?” said the droid with fear evident in its voice. “No,” chuckled the Iridonian, just using this viewer to let the girls see your memories from the Old Republic.” Kala remembered her and Shadow both taking an eager step forward to see whom had been right about the old Republic. When they returned to her quarters several hours later, Kala apologized immediately to Shadow after having apologized to the old Droid and Saevan. She’d eventually learn on her fifteenth birthday that the old protocol droid had a far more interesting history than just that of a fussy old protocol droid. The fussy, whining, and subservient visage of a protocol droid hid all the weapons and programming of an assassin droid who long ago found its way to freedom and crafted a new, secret name for itself in Mando’a, Ast Atiniir, that it never revealed accept to the most trusted of meatbags. It’s words, not hers.

Kala felt her her ship respond to her touch, the elegant combination of Mandolorian design and Kuat manufacture creating a work of art as finely tuned to her as she hoped her lightsaber might one day be. Something that seemed to be actively trying to elude her from the very start as problems kept creeping into her life. She'd been told a Jedi did not seek adventure, but several other Hopefuls added their own corollary to that screed. "Adventure always finds Jedi." Take for example a simple trip to the Jedi temple on Coruscant. She went there, using the scant funds given to her by the order and earned after dividing the rewards for the criminals with the other slaves hoping to find a clue as to where Kyrie Eleison might be. Instead she found what appeared to be Imperial soldiers scatted about shattered doors, decimated by internal defenses activated when they breached a lessor portal on a lower level of the temple. Her own ID kept her safe from the few still functioning, but a quick look at some available security footage and made it clear some of the assault force survived and moved to the lower levels of the temple. A hint from somewhere far off told her the infiltrators, despite wearing Imperial uniforms, served someone else. She found the answer to that on the first of the men who avoided being a casualty at the door. With his dying breath, he mentioned a single name, Korthos. A name she wrote down for later examination once she finished pursuing the infiltrators. What she found after finishing her pursuit chilled her to the bone, and drove her to chase Kyrie Eleison to Carida for help. The pursuit itself took her deep into the temple. A trail of bodies led to a level marked 'Secured Vaults, entrance by Council permission only." Along the way, she learned from dying soldiers and dead soldiers P.A.D.D.'s and logs that they came looking for Vladmir Faust's journal. A quick look at the Temple's archive's told her that these men must not get away from the Temple with such an artifact. She had hurried further into the depths of the vault, a sense of urgency making her feet lighter and her senses far more receptive to the world around her. The cultists failed to find the journal. Instead, one of their number attempted to take a forgotten Sith holocron from its secured location and found herself possessed by the spirit of long deceased Sith Lord. When Kala entered the correct vault, she found the final survivors of the team massacred. At the center of the pile of bodies, sat the lone survivor, fighting a war in her own head for possession of her body. Neither side could gain control and Kala did not hesitate, survival instincts and a scrap of Jedi training kicking in. She pulled her hold out blaster, already preset to the maximum stun setting, pointed the weapons, and pulled the trigger four times for good measure. The female cultists immediately fell stunned beyond her own senses with the Sith spirit caught halfway between possession and fleeing from the body. It left the spirt helpless and unable to do anything else but glare impotently at her as she dragged the woman's body to the nearest carbonite chamber and dumped her in after filling the body with enough tranquilizers to down a Wookie. She left the temple immediately, making sure to reset the defenses and drop the emergency door over the forced-open portal before leaving. She found the twins waiting for her in her own ship. Kala felt so grateful she did not ask how the twins managed to get the ship from its landing pad on Tython and bring it to Coruscant. It hardly seemed to matter at all. Now, she flew towards a berth on Carida in a slow, plodding course that needed several hours to get her to the right area. With spare time on her hands she took the time to compose a letter to Kyrie Eleison explaining that she came as a hopeful, hoping to find a Master and that she had a possessed, carbonite frozen cultist in her cargo hold which she transmitted to the Kyrie in the hopes the exorcists might be waiting a the landing pad with an answer to both her questions.

Kala’s holo-communicator buzzed insistently. Forgetting she’d blocked her mother’s incoming calls, she half expected, half dreaded another long harangue from her mother. Still, she looked at the incoming message header and found to her surprise the incoming call came from the Jedi Council. Confused, she took the call and found herself the recipient of orders to join a Jedi Knight by the name of Kyrie Eleison. The orders gave her a briefing on her new master including her last known location. The orders permitted her to take a transport and join her perspective master on Coruscant. Those same orders detailed her clothing, gear, and a limited amount of funds placed into an account under the cover alias of “Cara Maroni” from Taris. That alias came with its own background which she needed to memorize and included a briefing on the particulars of her assumed identity. She immediately cleared and returned the books, tapes and other research materials from the library desk that had become an almost second home to her when not training. A bracer with an embedded computer and comm system held a small library of e-books and her notes and was included in the gear she was allowed to carry with her. Her personal holo-com had been forbidden and would need to stay at the temple. She felt positively elated at that order and left the library to gather the rest of her gear. The orders specified she needed to be on the next transport to depart Tython. A transport that departed in less than hour and would surreptitiously deposit her on Taris where she would then need to find her own way to Coruscant.

Kala felt sadness, joy, and desire as she watched Sandy walk away. She’d needed the interruption and perspective that Sandy brought, needed the cool and wonderful reply the older girl provided. Funny how one of her old governess’s favorite sayings popped into her mind, “When one person is taking, two hearts are listening.” It was nice to be seen and have people be friendly without them wanting something in return. She decided to follow through on Sandy’s advice and accessed the settings on her holo-reciever. A few quick modifications to its programs made sure her mother could not reach her. She left herself available for her father, older sister, and younger brother as they had seemed to understand or at least sympathize with her desire to escape the madness of Kuat’s upper levels of society. That being born as part of the upper crust of Kuat brought advantages too her Kala never doubted. Her governess, Mila, a clone of a senator from Naboo presented to her on her natal day probably the greatest in her mind. A beautiful woman, the governess brought her up to survive Kuat’s society and go beyond them. Kala remembered the lessons about Kuat society and its cost to those not among the privileged. Her governess had taken her on adventures into the lower wards of the city, into those places where light failed to penetrate the streets or the hearts of those that lived there. Most of them had been simple service in food kitchens, schools, and hospitals, but a few had helped give her a taste of something profound and beautiful lacking from her world. As for wanting to be a healer, that came about because of her Shadow. Every girl of her social class had one, a companion raised from both with you to be an incredibly loyal companion and bodyguard. Kala and her Shadow became friends the day Kala saved her from the poison of a rivals blade. Shadow had told her that the poison burned until the moment Kala held her, than something cool, soothing flowed through her and she knew it was going to be okay. Kala failed to understand what that meant until a chance conversation between a Jedi and her mother let her know what she had done. A fortnight later, just before her debutant and engangement ball, Kala joined the Jedi and left Kuat to join the order. Mila and Shadow left too, letting her know that when she needed them, they would be there. Until then though, it was better if they disappeared from Kuat and her life so they could avoid her mother’s clutches.

"My apologies for not knowing your true rank," said Kala, pausing to catch her breath before adding, "My family has sent every Force User in their history to the Sith starting about the time of Revan with the Family's founder. Well, almost everyone of them. Mother's upset because she arranged a marriage to someone that is supposed to be a devotee to the Dark Side. And if he's not, then, well, he's still a scion of one of the wealthiest and oldest families on Kuat." Kala looked down at the volume opened before her. regretting how her mother interrupted the most interesting session she had been having with the tome. She looked back up at Sandy and said, "He's also bigoted, racist, and arrogant. And if that wasn't bad enough, he's nearly 40 and over 135 kilos. Definately not my type." A laugh escaped her before she could stop it. "And if that wasn't awful enough, someone told my mother that I intend to study the Healing Arts of the Jedi. She hasn't taken any of that well and calls daily to remind me." As she spoke, Kala felt her pain lesson until the last vestiges of it drifted away, leaving her centered as she had been before. She looked up into Sandy's eyes and said, "I actually love your accent. It reminds me of my governess." A single tear formed in her left eye. "She always told the homeliest stories that eased Mother's more difficult tirades. I think my favorite was the tale she called 'The Padawan Menace.' The story inspired me into coming here, I wanted to be like the healer in the story whom always fixed the Padawan's injuries."

“Mother,” said Kala, her voice calm if slightly ragged under Sandy’s influence, “I have to go now. A Jedi Knight is approaching and she seems to want to say something to me. Goodbye.” Kala, not waiting for her mother’s reply, reached forward and shut off the holo-comm. She felt Sandy’s approach and took a breath to calm herself further. A careful glance over at Sandy confirmed Kala’s suspicions about the newcomers origins and brought a smile to her face. Her voice, when spoke, carried the unintentional haughtiness of her upbringing. “Mother would be furious if you spoke in her presence with that accent.” There was no malice behind the words, just a simple acknowledgement of a truth. “Double since you’re a Jedi.” Her heart warmed as she heard the truth behind her own words and she fully felt the effects of Sandy’s sorcery. She realized she felt better than she had in the immediate aftermath of Mother’s call. “My name’s Kala,” she said quietly, “What’s yours?”

Kala stared at the text of Master Meora’s text, “Advanced Foundations of Mental Healing in Conjuction with Jedi Mental Techniques” and felt a surge of exhaustion overcome her. Looking at the setting outside the library windows told her another day had ended at the Jedi Temple on Tython. She sighed, wondering whether the dinner in the cafeteria might be worth forgoing for more study time with Meora’s knowledge. Assistant Archivist and Librarian Jedi Knight Lillian Meora made it clear that her ancestress’s series of tomes should never leave the archive. Not that she could move the thing without assistance anyway. When she began looking for guidance into the ways of the Jedi, she found herself fascinated with the Jedi Healing arts. A trip to the archives and talk with the Assistant Librarian revealed the series of texts, all of which weighed far more than any book should. In addition to the weight, none of the twenty seven texts fit through a normal door, or even the double doors that lead into the archives, yet seemed to fit into her hands just right when she held them. Kala could not make her mind up if it was some property of the books, an unknown aspect of sorcery, or something lacking in her knowledge that made them that way. Every time she reflected on the mystery outside of the archive, it made her head spin. Inside the archive, reflecting on that mystery led her directly to the tomes. Tomes the librarian moved to multiple locations depending on what time of day she visited. When she asked why the librarian kept hiding them, Knight Meora just smiled and left her alone with the tomes. As she had every day for over a month, Kala began experiencing the first exercise in the tome. The exercise always served to calm her mind and spirit, allowed the Force to flow through her, and revealed the deeper meanings of the tome’s knowledge. Funny how long it took her to just master getting this far, to make the breakthrough that allowed her to reach the first Jedi power offered by these tomes. A simple one named Contact, that allowed her to make a deeper connection than most Jedi did when they made mental connect with another mind. She sighed with pleasure at beginning the journey detailed by the ancient master within the tomes. In doing so she became aware of an insistent chiming, one that kept rising in pitch and frequency. Kala attempted to dismiss the tome, but a hand on her shoulder interrupted her thoughts, her meditation, and brought her awareness rushing back into the mundane world. Knight Meora looked kindly at her, clearly not wanting to interrupt even when she spoke to Kala. “My dear, your holocom seems to be getting the attention of everyone in the archive.” Looking at the holo-com’s small screen involuntarily, Kala silently screamed. Too well bred to actually do that, she instead looked to the archivist and said rather quietly, “I had better take this call. This could take a while, so go ahead and hide the tome.” The archivist smiled before replying, “Seems we have the archives to ourselves and I have a tome I need to study myself.” She smiled and walked away with a faraway look in her eyes. Reluctantly, Kala set the holo-comm on the table in front of her and pressed the receive button. Immediately, a half sized version of her mother materialized in front of her on top of the table somehow managing to tower over her. Without preamble, her mother’s harsh tomes shrieked in her ears, “So dear, have you decided to give up this ridiculous quest to become a Jedi?” Kala seethed inside, but kept her voice calm and level as Kuati ettiquete demanded. “No mother, I have not. How are you?” “I’d be better if you were home and dressed appropriately instead of wearing those Jedi rags. Fancy a daughter of Kuati’s greatest house giving up everything that was hers for this life. After all your father went through to get you a favorable match you just ran away.” “Mother,” said Kala, “I did not run away. I accepted an invitation to become a Jedi.” She could hear the exasperation starting to build over an argument they had had daily since she left. “And Bronan Dairos of all people,” said her mother, “just think what a match he would have made. Our two families, the oldest and wealthiest houses on Kuat, linked through matrimony with your father leading them both.” The holo-comm did not depict the flash of greed and desire that Kala knew ignited in her mother’s eyes. “Oh mother,” sighed Kala, “I am sixteen! . Bronan Dairos is thirty six, fat, and devoted to the Sith. I’d be his third wife after the first two disappeared under ‘mysterious’ circumstances.” “So what?” said her mother, “the Sith always wield power. Being wedded to one me you could have access to all that power after you make him ‘disappear’” “Mother!”, shouted a horrified Kala, “I will not marry him nor will I become a Sith so you and father can have any more power!”

Kala Ianauria possessed the single commodity she’d desired without knowing what she desired in the first place. In the middle of Tython’s busy Jedi temple, she found that commodity in this small meditation room known as the Roaring Lion. A strange name for an odd room most of her fellow hopefuls avoided. Here she found peace and quiet. Here she found the Force flowed easiest for her. She sat cross legged, dressed in pale green robes with tan borders, among a room with white marble walls shot through with silver. Amber colored trim bordered those walls with the same white marble on the floor. The circular room sat under a dome that consisted of panels of the same white marble as the floor, alternated with amber panels that captured Tython’s sunlight and bathed the room in a warm glow. Four of the five amber panels contained a bas-relief portrait of a Jedi from the first few centuries after Revan. Inscribed at the base were the dates of their lives, otherwise no information existed concerning their deeds or contributions to the order. The fifth panel brought her the most comfort despite the image engraved there resembling an older her. Eyes lined with too many suns stared out from a face molded by experiences she could only guess at. A single scar marred the features, dropping in an angry line from the woman’s left eye to her jaw line. A person that could not be her, for the dates came from the Jedi Order just three centuries after Revan’s time and indicated a time of service even shorter than her seventeen years. While the room did not sit upon the temple’s tallest tower, the view outside still managed to take her breath whenever she looked. Tython’s snowcapped mountains lay in the distance, while the temple and its grounds sat within a small, tree filled valley. She knew parts of those mountains intimately, having spent the last three months helping to build and maintain a small settlement there for the support of training Jedi Padawans and Hopefuls. Weeks of outdoor living and hard work left her with light, golden tan and experience in treating various injuries. Kala watched as a old scount landed at the nearby spaceport where the fighters and freighters belonging to individual Jedi rested. The motley group of craft lay in neat lines, being maintained and guarded by droids and sentients. Out there, at the farthest point from the temple lay her personnel transport. Its pristine silver, blue and green paint meant her craft stood out as a swan among ducks, grounded until as such time as gained a Master who gave her permission to fly her freighter. Closer in, the courtyard of the temple with its pale gray stones reflected the day’s light. Small figures moved about, scarce when they should have been plentiful, just now beginning to be replenished by the massive effort of the surviving Jedi and their supporters in the galaxy. More numerous were the non-Force sensitive staff that greatly outnumbered all the Jedi combined. Amazement still flooded her thoughts every time she thought about many of the people who served the Jedi of their own free will and accord. The came from all over the galaxy, were of all age groups and all strata of life, and served without thought of recompense. If the Jedi were the face of the order than the support staff were the beating heart. They did everything the Jedi did not, often giving orders to Padawans and Knights serving punishments or training at the behest their master or at the behest of the much reduced Council. She knew all too well how severe those punishments could feel. One of those below and whom she did not see was a creature named Rose. Ostensibly human, the massive woman continuously sweat from between multiple rolls of fat and came from a culture that abhorred personal hygiene as vanity. The result was a gap toothed walking cloud of stench that turned her stomach whenever she got to close. Yet she served the Jedi and served the Jedi well. Kala shook her head at the arrogance that had landed her a month of service with the woman and the hell she went through because of it. She remembered finishing her punishment and vowing to never get within arm’s reach of such a foul and disgusting member of the lower classes ever again. A flash of yellow hair far below caught her attention. She recognized Master Illioni’s droid, one that wore a face like hers but resembled a slightly softer version of the one in the bas-relief. They had not been in the temple long but somehow managed to avoid her whenever she tried for an audience with them. The droid, however, had sought her out just a few nights ago. She remembered the night well, waking to the droids barely illuminated face hovering just above hers. A small secretive smile twisted the droids lips upward but did not wrinkle the dead flat eyes that barely reflected the room’s scant light. When the droid spoke, she had recognized her own voice far matured. “Why hello there,” the droid had said, “I find this amusing even if you predicted it would happen. I hope Dash lets us have some time to talk when you get back. There are a few things we definitely need to talk about.” The droid shut off the small illuminator she’d been using. She turned in silhouette to add one last thing before she left, “Say hello to Bao Dur for me and don’t piss off Mandalore.” After the alarm woke the next morning, she took a moment to figure out whether or not the visit had been real. She learned it had been when she found a small box resting on her small desk, locked and with a timer counting down to a point in time years from now. Dutifully, she notified temple security whom inspected the package for harmful or explosive substances. Heavy scanning indicated it was her and indicated she should keep it as her name was predominately etched on its exterior. Try as she might, she never found a way to ask the droid or Master Illioni about the gift. Her persistence in the matter eventually earned her an order delivered by a young Padawan that told her to leave the Triani master and his associates alone. Sighing, she closed her eyes and began eliminating the extraneous thoughts one by one. She found herself calming, drifting to that central place that lay within the flow of the Force. Under orders to not access the Force without someone present she was acting under orders to meditate and observe the flow of the Force around her. She failed to comprehend the difference, but she tried to follow the orders as best as she could after researching, studying and attempting to define exactly what the order meant. Simply put, she needed to fill herself with the Force without tapping it for knowledge or using any of the powers she knew or might have seen. It was an odd order, but she supposed it had a purpose and decided to continue to keep following it. Easy enough in thought, harder in practice. Sitting there in the meditation room, with the Force in its glory and power flowing through and not doing anything often became maddening. She sensed a whole new understanding of the galaxy lay just beyond her consciousness, lay waiting for her to take and use as she saw fit. That thought stopped her every time she reached it. The power of the Force always gave her pause. She might not be a practiced Knight or Master of awesome powers, but the Force’s potential always awed her. There was so much there, so much waiting yet she was not allowed and the Jedi always spoke of serving the Force. She wandered which path was the right one. The Jedi seemed sure that all paths except service represented something wrong and corrupted. Kala reserved judgement on that issue, until as the Jedi code dictated she had the knowledge to understand the ramifications of her choices. That felt contrary to her own desires, her own youthful impetuousness dictating she plunge in, damn the consequences. She resisted that impulse, feeling to do so otherwise would be an irrevocable decision. Eventually, she ended her meditation because of a growling stomach. Opening her eyes she found the room bathed in moonlight. She knew from her research that powerful Jedi often lost track of time while meditating. A few Padawans throughout history had done so, but usually of external circumstances. She wondered a moment before attempting to rise. Legs, numbed with sitting for so long threatened to collapse from under her as she attempted to leave the Roaring Lion. Stumbling, Kala reached out to find the wall to prevent herself from falling. Her hand missed and she fell to the cool marble floor. Kala layed there, sprawled and twisted as the blood returned to her legs. A tingling sensation announced the progress of its return. Once her strength returned, she rose and left the room suddenly exhausted and needed her quarters. Kala never reached them. As she walked towards her quarters, she found herself taking a half dozen turns following an intuition she never knew she possessed. After a few turns, she found herself in an empty quarter of the temple. Following the intuition, she continued along her path searching for what called her. Eventually, her wanderings took her to a blank wall at the end of barely illuminated hallway. That same intuition guided her hand to some faint markings on the wall. Her fingers found grooves that fit her hand like a glove. Her hand glowed, illuminated by a light that shone from symbols. A rumbling announced some mechanism coming to life and the panel before her moved upward revealing a small room beyond what was once a blank wall. A glance inside show several doorways leading from that room. A hologram of a blue skinned Zabrak immediately activated in front of the door. “Hello Lady Kala. Here is the suite of rooms you ordered built. If you are seeing this, then you should return to your rooms this night, knowing this suit will be here for when you need them.” After having said that, the hologram vanished and the doorway closed. Kala turned, confused and tired, and stumbled back to her quarters. When she awoke the next morning, she wandered if the whole thing had been a dream. During a break in the training schedule, she attempted to find her way back to that particular hallway, but none of the security systems recorded her nightly foray nor did she remember any landmarks from her walk. In the end, she decided this time it had been a dream. Had she been more experienced with the Force, she might have found her way back to the truth.

KALA IANAURIA’S CHARACTER SHEET Identity Real Name: Kala Ianauria A.K.A: Homeworld:Kuat Species:Human (Kuati) Physical Description Age: 16 Height: 1.56 meters Weight: 45 kg Hair: blonde Eyes: green Sex: female Equipment Clothing or Armor: Jedi Apprentice Robes, street clothes Weapon: hold out blastr, vibrosword Common Inventory: street clothes, hold out blastr, V.I.S.O.R. Faction Information Force User Alignment: Neutral Good Current Faction Affiliation:Jedi Current Faction Rank: Hopeful History: Force Side:Light Trained by: Sandy Sarna Trained who: Known Skills: Electrial Engineering, Starship Pilot, Robotics, CI/AI Background: Born to an ancient, wealthy, and decadent Kuati family, Kala came to the attention of the Jedi during a gala celebrating the launch of her family’s newest shipyard. She evidenced none of the decadence of the rest of her family, projecting a cool, reserved and sober demeanour that made her stand out among the revellers because of the setting and her young age. A simple reaction test in the middle of a waltz soon had the young woman whisked off to the Jedi temple on Tython for training where she trained with a penchant for healing and furthered a savant level of interest in droids. Ship Registration Name: Ice Queen Class: fighter/transport Model: Kom'rk Manufacturer:licensed through Mandal Motors. Length:52.3 meters Width: 52.4 meters Armaments: 8x laser cannons, 2x ion cannons, 2x torpedo launchers, 6x unused hardpoints Armor: light with medium shielding Anti-Personnel Defenses: 2x anti-personnel auto-blasters, 2x anti-personal laser targeted auto slugthrowers Appearance: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Kom%27rk-class_fighter/transport Modifications: 2x laser cannon / 2x torpedo launcher in turret mount Light saber forge, droid workshop, passenger quarters.