Lazara Lange [Character]

[Deleted]

Lazara Lange




"If someone thinks they have the upper hand, break it."

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Full Name - Lazara Lange
Nicknames/Alias - Laz, Iktomi
Age - 27
Date of Birth - February 1
Gender - Female
Sexual Orientation -Heterosexual
Affiliation - Neutral
Occupation - Pilot

Play-By - Michelle Rodriguez
Build - Compact, fit
Height & Weight - 5’4, 130 lbs
Hair - Black, shoulder-length , wavy
Eyes - Brown
Unique Features - A series of thin scars from her right temple that cut into her ear, the edge of which is torn through in some places.
Dressing Style - Practical clothing that allows for easy movement; no open-toed shoes. Aside from that, she’s not terribly picky, though she favors shades of brown, dark green, and black.
Other - Goes by the alias ‘Iktomi’, in situations where she’d rather not give her real name; it’s borrowed from a story her grandmother used to tell, a legend supposedly preserved from Earth-That-Was.

Likes - Speed, Card Games, Animals, Knives, Peaches
Dislikes - Feeling unqualified or unprepared, Inaction/Indecision, Politics, Forests/Dense trees
Quirks/Habits - Will gamble if the opportunity presents itself, though can exercise enough self-control that it hasn’t yet been a problem.
Fears - The woods unnerve her.
Secrets - She doesn’t tend to advertise that she can dance.
Strengths - Frugal, Loyal, Quick Reflexes, Good Instincts, Observant, Physically very capable
Weaknesses - Stubborn, Reckless, Blunt, Picky, Impatient, Independent to a fault, Can’t cook worth a damn
Talents/Special Abilities - Physically very capable – practiced at hand-to-hand and capable of parkour-like shenanigans to effect an escape; Capable pilot, especially in a (physically) tight spot – maneuvers well with minimal space, good for a quick getaway.
Aspirations - To keep flying; she’s also in want of someone to whom she can give her loyalty, though she’s less conscious of this/less likely to advertise it.
Overall Personality -
Laz knows what she knows, knows what she doesn’t, and is comfortable in that knowledge; from this springs a laid-back, easy confidence and wealth of nigh-unshakeable calm. She’ll keep her head and her focus in an emergency, and is difficult to rile up, though for the same reasons it’s also rare to see her looking outwardly particularly excited or enthusiastic about anything. This presents its own problems in social settings, but her typically steady, easy-going demeanor sometimes goes at least a little way in making up for it.

Though the ability to keep calm in a tough situation is one she relies on often enough, Lazara’s true strength lies in her instincts; she may not be the most eloquent conversationalist, but she understands people well enough. Observant and perceptive, she’s prone to gut feelings that she trusts implicitly, and they very rarely lead her astray. Though she may not be able to see whatever it is you’re hiding, it’s difficult to lie to her – though, if she feels the matter is worth pursuing, she may well let you get away with it. Laz has a fondness for gambling and a penchant for playing cards, and her poker face extends beyond the game table; she tends to hang onto whatever information she comes by, whether by happenstance or by design, and she very rarely shows her hand. She’s the sort that’ll hang onto someone else’s secret forever, just in case it affords her an advantage someday.

Laz isn’t an extravagant sort; she’s a gal of simple tastes and simple pleasures. Her most expensive pastime is the afore-mentioned gambling, but given that she doesn’t have other extravagant expenses, there’s typically plenty of cash squirreled away that she can afford to lose if the cards don’t fall in her favor. She loves a good puzzle, and admires wit and subtle trickery; she’s also something of a closet adrenaline junkie, although given the company she tends to keep that’s not likely to stay closeted for long. She’s stubborn as a mule, to boot, and picky - provided she’s comfortable in a situation. If she’s working or otherwise occupied, she won’t have a particularly great amount of patience to spare, either.

She’s happiest when there’s some respected and worthy (by her standards) individual or structure with which she can ally herself; she’s an unreservedly loyal, fiercely protective woman, and without someone to command that loyalty she’s like to feel adrift and guarded. Consequently, she’s well-accustomed to looking out for herself, and as a result tends to be independent to a fault; she doesn’t want your help, damn it, even if she needs it, and she’ll likely snap at you for offering. She’s not terribly good at forging connections with people, for this reason and others - she may be capable of offering loyalty unreservedly, but she does not do so easily. She tends to be an all-or-nothing sort. Additionally, though it’ll take the guise of something else, she’s also truly a bit shy, and she’s extra-terrible at romantic relationships, though she tells herself that her independence is a fair tradeoff. Finally, she’s actually something of an optimist, though you wouldn’t know it; she tries to do right by people, generally, though maybe her ‘right’ doesn’t necessarily coincide with convention.

Father -
Charles Finley (unknown to her), conman, not know whether living or deceased, would be 49.
Mother -
Miriam Lange, performer/acrobat, living, 52.
Siblings -
None that she knows of.
Other Significant People -
Alta Lange, grandmother, fortune teller, deceased, 78.
Alvin Firth, childhood best friend, (former?) performer/conman, status unknown, would be 29 if living.
Sterling Davis, mentor and former employer, living, 67.
Pets - Often tended to the animals that belonged to the caravan, but she’s never had a pet herself.
Your History -
Lazara Lange was born on Verbena, daughter of circus performer Miriam Lange; her father was never known to her. She spent her earliest years travelling with her mother’s circus, which itself travelled the planet, never passing more than a handful of weeks in a single place. It was a decently-sized, tight-knit group of con artists, misfits, gypsies and ragamuffins, and from the moment she could walk she was expected to pull her weight; all the children learned early to pickpocket and carry out some petty thievery, and from time to time relied on such tactics to feed themselves, and she was no exception. But Miriam was both a dancer and an acrobat, and responsible for that group of performers - Laz was taught to dance early, and was soon started on tricks and gymnastics besides. Her mother saw to it that she trained well and diligently, and thanks in part to her youth and size she was very successful – she was but four years of age the first time she performed as part of the act, before an audience.

Her childhood was a relatively happy one, though that happiness was tempered some by the training – she liked the dancing and the tricks well enough, but she was never comfortable as a performer, and it was not something she would have chosen for herself. Even so, the lifestyle afforded her by the caravan was a remarkably self-directed one, for a child; she made mischief and played war games and got dirty and climbed trees, and what more can any child ask for? The gang was her family, and she was close with many of them, if not with her mother. Miriam’s own mother, Alta, had been with the troupe from its inception, and Laz had the benefit of a closer relationship with her, though not an easy one. Alta had made her money as a fortune teller; she was a perplexing, guarded, and sometimes cruel woman, but she and her granddaughter shared a kinship that the other Lange had long relinquished. Family stories and legends, some supposedly passed down from their ancestors on Earth-That-Was, came to Laz via this route. In the meantime, a boy by the name of Alvin was her best mate – two years her senior but ever her right-hand man, she was the happy boss of both of them.

By the age of eleven, things had changed; she and her mother fought frequently and bitterly. She was cultivating a rebellious streak, and Miriam was determined that the status quo go unchanged – she’d always been a possessive and controlling woman, and regarded Laz’s success as an extension of her own. There had never been much in the way of affection between them, and Laz was no longer content to be a pawn. Lazara’s grandmother, previously an ally, had died a year prior. That same year, a cousin of a member of the troupe – one Sterling Davis – had joined up, and was working as something of a guard/watchman. The story was that he was in a spot of trouble, needed someplace to lay low for a while, and because he was family (albeit extended family), he was let into the gang. Now, Sterling had spent most of his life traveling between worlds, and he soon became a favorite among the troupe’s youngest members, for whom he would recount countless stories of space travel and (mis)adventure. Laz had a particular fondness for those tales, and they didn’t mind each other’s company much – eventually, they grew to be friends. He came to be a mentor – a parental figure, even, given that she’d always lacked a strong one – and when the time came for him to ship out, Laz went with him. She was twelve years old, but thirsty for travel and adventure, and Sterling didn’t have the heart to leave her trapped on Verbena, playing a role she was increasingly uncomfortable with. They stole away one night, and though she asked Alvin to come with her, he was reluctant to leave behind the life they’d always known. In the end, it was just her and Sterling.

What she didn’t know is that Sterling had spent the months prior to their departure getting in touch with old contacts – he’d had some money saved up, and a friend willing to sell him a decent ship at a bargain, so by the time they made it off-world it was with their own crew and vessel. Theirs’ was an old Dragonfly model, and they quickly got to hauling cargo and smuggling; him as the Captain, her as a deck-hand to start with, and six others – a pilot, a pair of engineers, and three gunhands. The ship they named the Kraken. Their pilot was the oldest among them, however, and it wasn’t long before he was showing Laz the ropes – he’d had designs on retirement, and so Laz agreed to be prepared to take over for him. Six years later, he stayed planetside when they docked at New Melbourne, and the now 18-year-old Lazara became the sole pilot of the Kraken.

Those six years, and then through the eight that followed, Laz learned to use her physical abilities for self-defense instead of entertainment; given that much of what the Kraken did was less than strictly-legal, the gunslingers and Sterling saw to it that she’d be able to hold her own in a fight. Though they taught her the ins-and-outs of firearms, and even instructed her on how not to cut yourself up if all you had was a knife, what she excelled at was the physical. Given her history, it’s no surprise she’s far better at hand-to-hand combat than other sorts; though she doesn’t dance much anymore, she keeps in fit shape.

The fourteen years aboard the Kraken, eight of which she served as pilot, were good ones; the crew had a good captain in Sterling, and they became a family of a sort - but the Captain was getting up in years, too. They’d made decent money at it, but eventually Sterling decided it was about time he sold the ship and retired; he settled on New Melbourne himself, and the crew dispersed. Having no place to go, Laz stuck with him planetside at first, but it was only a month before she realized that, though he might have had done with traveling, she wasn’t nearly ready to settle down. It’s been a year since she returned to the black; she’s been doing freelance work, planet-hopping and looking for some place to settle, though she hasn’t had much luck of it yet.

What should we call you? - Tesla
Roleplaying Experience - Oh, years and years. 14 of them, I think?
Where did you find us? - I did see an ad… someplace. On one of those ‘forum directory’ sites.
Prove Yourself - I have, it was shiny.
Post Script - Feedback welcome!
Other characters - None just yet
How we should contact you - PM or Email
Roleplay Example -
"She's lyin."
"She ent."
"Come on, Alv, she makes it up as she goes.”
“She don’t. How come you never believe her? She’s yer own gran.”
Laz puffed out a noisy sigh and rolled her eyes, but did not take her gaze away from the line of saplings a few dozen yards ahead; crouched bare-foot on gangly limbs atop a damp tree stump, concealed behind the bushy arms of an adjacent conifer, she half expected the smugglers to come charging out at any minute. They looked to be scheming, though, cooking up some sort of clever plan; they were going to need it, too. They had the advantage in numbers, but that wasn’t going to be enough on its own. This round it was just her and Alvin playing the Alliance, but that meant they got sticks for weapons what could beat the scoundrels back, while the other kids had naught. Those were the rules, and she and Alvin made a fearsome pair, even all by their lonesome.

“What if she’s got this right, though?”
Well, when he wasn’t being an addled-brain simpleton couldn’t focus on the task at hand, that is. She’d had her hands up around her eyes, binocular-like, but now she brought them down to her knees, the better to throw a contemptuous glare over her shoulder at him. She was eight years old, two years his junior, and even she knew better than that; but then, there were lots in the gang who hung on Alta’s every word like she was some sorta witch. It boggled the mind.

“Would you shut it? Them rimworld scum are gonna sneak up on us, we’re not careful.”
But Alvin couldn’t seem to focus, not after Laz’s illustrious grandmother had gone and spoiled their breakfast – freshly-looted, too – with her talk of doom and gloom and that stupid black bird sitting up on her shoulder like some kind of gargoyle. And now they were gonna lose this dumb game because her partner-in-crime was conned as easy as the rest of them.

“Laz, she’s got the Sight.”
“Oh, she do not. You really gonna let her make a mark out of you?”
Her glare was less dismissive and more challenging, this time, but she soon turned her gaze forward - back to the task at hand, keeping an eye out for those pesky thieves and looters. Just ‘cause Alv didn’t want to play along didn’t mean she couldn’t still come out on top.

“I don’t mean that! But when she’s talkin’ people getting hurt, you can’t be too careful.”
“She said you’re gonna get in a spot of trouble next town over. Didn’t say you’re gonna die there. Now come on, I think I see Pete.”
She heard him grumbling mutinously behind her, from his hiding place behind the stump, but a moment later: “Fine, but if I start bleeding, I’m comin’ straight to you. Ruin whatever you’re wearing, I will.”
“Sure. Then you can explain it to me mother an-”

Whatever it was she meant to say, she’d never get around to it – the conversation was forgotten in a heartbeat as, just then, Pete and his ilk charged out of the brush hooting and hollering for all they were worth. They were coming from two directions, which wasn’t really that inspired, but if Alvin didn’t quit being useless it might be enough. Roaring back, she raised up her ‘rifle’ – a stick nearly as tall as she was – and leapt from the tree stump, whacking her partner over the back of his head as she went. Rushing forward into the fray, she swatted Pete’s legs out from under him and tackled his second, a boy twice as tall as she was and heavier than that besides. The two of them tumbled ass-over-tea-kettle into the dirt and foliage, all dirty gangly limbs and breathless curses, and she only just caught sight of Alvin tearing into the other group like he’d been waiting to do it all day. Maybe they stood a chance this round, after all.

It was only hours later, after the sun had set and Nancy had cooked up a fine-smelling stew, that the adults were able to lure the children back into camp with a promise of full bellies and light and warmth. The smugglers had won out, by the end of the day, but the Alliance swore it would have its revenge, and that they’d get started in on it first thing in the morning.

SYR INTEGRA of CAUTION 2.0 created this and she will happily hunt you down, rip out your spinal cord, and beat you to death with it if you steal her hard work and claim it as your own. especially since she will gladly share it with any and all who wish to use it, provided they leave her nice, little credit attached.

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[Yautja]

Welcome to the Dream Tesla and enjoy your new character!



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