Basic Information:

• Name:  Raeya Tille

• Alias:  None

• Species:  Human

• Gender:  Female

• Age:  32

Affiliation & Status:

• Affiliation:  Eternal Alliance (formerly Eternal Empire) 

• Title:  Alliance Emissary

• Rank:  Field Command Strategist

• Force Sensitive:  No

Origin & Residence:

• Homeworld:  Zakuul

• Current Residence:  Odessen

Physical Stats:

• Height:  1.73 meters (5'8")

• Weight:  62 kg (137 lbs)

• Build/Body Type:  Slender, graceful, lightly muscled

• Eye Color: Steel blue

• Hair Color:  Ash blonde, worn in a neat braid or pinned twist

• Skin Color:  Pale with a faint golden undertone
  
  

Distinctive Features:

• Distinctive Characteristics:  Calm, level gaze; poised posture; quiet authority

• Scars/Tattoos/Markings:  Faint scar on left eyebrow (training accident); no tattoos

• Other Notable Features:  Hands always steady; keeps a discreet House Tille signet ring on a chain; uniforms always pressed and immaculate

Personality Profile:

• Openness to Experience:  High (intuitive, bold, tries new approaches)

• Conscientiousness:  Moderate (reliable, but prefers action over strict plans)

• Extroversion:  High (outgoing, communicative, easily makes allies)

• Agreeableness:  High (friendly, diplomatic, mediates conflict)

• Neuroticism:  Moderate (sometimes anxious, uses it as motivation)

Additional Traits:

• Strengths:  Quick thinking, persuasion, courage, sense of justice

• Flaws: Impulsive, sometimes takes unnecessary risks, easily discouraged by setbacks

• Likes:  Social gatherings, public speaking, festivals, helping the vulnerable

• Dislikes:  Deception, bureaucracy, being ignored, cynicism

• Disposition:  Outgoing, sincere, inspiring 

Command Structure:

• Superior:  Eternal Alliance Field Council

• Subordinates:  Mixed patrol teams, refugee coordination units
  
  

Personal Connections:

• Significant Other:  None

• Notable Friends:  Raeya Tille (cousin, closest confidant and operational partner), Indo Zal (Alliance intel, trusted ally)

• Pets/Companions:  None
  
  

Family:

• Mother:  Alia Tille (Knight-Captain, deceased in service)

• Father:  Unknown or not present

• Siblings:  None (Kylia Tille; cousin - like a sister)

Skills & Abilities:

• Signature Abilities/Force Powers:  Expert in field mediation, frontline morale management, and situational de-escalation 

• Combat Specialties:  Defensive stances, shield tactics, rapid civilian extraction under duress 

• Languages Spoken:  Galactic Basic, Zakuulan, conversational Huttese 

• Notable Achievements:  Prevented detonation in Lower Sectors (3638 BBY), led coordinated evac during purge, facilitated Corellian convoy recovery 

• Other Skills:  Crowd psychology, procedural ethics, diplomatic presence, field-unit training 

Equipment & Gear:

• Primary Weapon(s):  Standard-issue blaster sidearm, retractable shield bracer 

• Notable Equipment/Gear:  Mediator’s interface pad, secure comm relay, multi-environment field kit 

• Armor/Outfit:  Light Overwatch-derived armor (modified for mobility and visibility), Alliance diplomatic vest (formal occasions) 

• Personal Items:  Mother's ring, encrypted mission logs, worn field journal 

• Mount/Vehicle:  Alliance-patched hoverbike for city deployments 

Roleplay Hooks:

• Quirks & Habits:  Keeps physical field notes; often walks perimeter lines before sleeping, taps her ring during moral quandaries, sometimes quotes her mother in private reflection

• Rumors & Reputation:  Known as "the voice that calms the flame", said to have turned down multiple promotions to stay groundside, trusted by ex-Imperials and Republic field captains alike

• Open Connections:  Former cadets from Sentinel Academy, survivors of the Festival Purge, Alliance diplomats who’ve seen her defuse near-disasters

Story Seeds:

• Current Goals:  Preserve fragile peace, rebuild trust, protect civilians. 

• Hidden Agendas or Secrets:  Monitors Zakuulan factions; doubts Kylia’s methods. 

• Fears/Weaknesses:  Losing Kylia, betraying ideals, rigid under pressure. 

• Story Arcs:  Tested loyalty, moral compromise, fallout with Kylia. 

• Background: 

Raeya Tille was forged in the aftermath of loss, shaped by the death of her mother, Knight-Captain Alia Tille, during a protest intervention gone wrong—a moment that revealed to her how power without accountability becomes a weapon. Choosing clarity over ambition, Raeya entered the Sentinel Academy with a focus on civilian protection, dispute resolution, and quiet integrity, forming a formidable operational bond with her cousin Kylia that blended analysis and empathy. As Zakuul decayed from within, she remained principled, even when the system turned on those trying to save it. When the time came, she walked away—not in defeat, but to protect what mattered. On Odessen, Raeya rebuilt her role not through command but through trust, and now, as one-half of the Eternal Alliance’s emissary core, she holds the line between divided factions with calm presence, honest leadership, and unwavering resolve. 

• Timeline/Chronology:

  • 3658 BBY | 5 BTC | Age 0 | Born on Zakuul 

  • 3640 BBY | 13 ATC | Age 18 | Enters Sentinel Academy; forms dual patrol thread with Kylia 

  • 3638 BBY | 15 ATC | Age 20 | Responds to Spire bombings; prevents secondary explosion 

  • 3632 BBY | 21 ATC | Age 26 | Promoted to Field Officer; rescues civilians during fire incident 

  • 3630 BBY | 23 ATC | Age 28 | Becomes Overwatch Supervisor; maintains order during Sith inspection

  • 3629 BBY | 24 ATC | Age 29 | Escapes Zakuul with Kylia during Festival purge 

  • 3627 BBY | 26 ATC | Age 31 | Joins Alliance formally; leads field coordination on Dantooine 

  • 3626 BBY | 27 ATC | Age 32 | Appointed Alliance Emissary; helps hold Odessen Summit together 

Roleplayer Info:

• Contact Preference:  In-game (Raeya Tille - Imp Side)

• Timezone:  EST (UTC-5)

• Activity & Availability:  Weekdays (afternoon) & weekends (during day)
  
  

Roleplay Preference & Boundaries:

• Roleplay Style:  Prefer 1:1 or small group roleplay, mostly in-game.

• Triggers & Boundaries:  No god mode.

• Plotting & Collaboration:  Open to long-term plots but prefer things to develop more on the fly/spontaneously. 

• Other Notes:  Preferred session length: 1–3 hours.

🟥 Episode I – Presence Matters
3643 BBY | Age 10 | Galactic Cold War | Zakuul, Mid-Tier Civic Ward | Civilian

🪐 Galactic Context:

The Treaty of Coruscant has silenced the galaxy—temporarily. The Republic and Sith Empire posture behind fragile diplomacy, but beyond the stars, Zakuul advances unnoticed, self-contained and untouched. Here, strength isn’t forged in war—it’s shaped by discipline, posture, and presence. And for Raeya Tille, understanding power begins long before it earns a name. 

📘 Narrative:

✧ Raeya Tille lived where expectations hung heavier than words. Her mother, Knight-Captain Alia Tille, radiated precision—her armor always immaculate, her directives never questioned. Her father, Tharin, weighed policy outcomes like equations—an ethicist by title, a jurist by temperament. Their home did not echo with laughter; it resonated with clarity and thresholds. Love came in the form of sharpened insights and meals plated like assessments—measured, correct, never warm. Raeya learned early that silence wasn’t absence—it was authority held still. She watched her mother scan a room without blinking, saw how her father’s pauses spoke more than his verdicts. Emotion was not forbidden—but it was rarely functional. Her voice remained small, but not uncertain. Even as a child, she understood: in a room full of noise, stillness commands. And presence, when held properly, becomes unspoken power.

✧ While Kylia mapped failures in infrastructure, Raeya mapped the fault lines of people. She watched where crowds hesitated, how posture changed near surveillance pylons, how tension lived in hands more than faces. On their civic walks, she’d point out subtleties: a man shifting weight before entering a checkpoint, a child clutching their guardian tighter near guard posts. “They don’t feel safe,” she murmured once. “They look compliant, but their feet are trying to leave.” Kylia logged the time. Raeya logged the fear. The data became dual-entry: numbers and nuance. Their bond didn’t seek dominance. It sought calibration—two minds converging on the truth Zakuul refused to say aloud. Raeya never challenged the system openly. But she followed its absences with unnerving clarity. And some part of her already knew: watching people wasn’t enough. Someone had to be seen.

✧ The first time Raeya entered the Tribunal Hall, her throat went tight and her breath slowed. She wasn’t there to speak—just to observe. Her father presided over a civic inquiry involving a noncompliant citizen: a mother who had bypassed a travel restriction to care for her ill parent. The law was absolute. The consequence, predetermined. But Raeya watched what the panel missed—the crack in the woman’s voice, the way none of the magistrates met her eyes. Tharin paused before delivering judgment—just a breath longer than protocol required. That pause mattered. It was the only thing in the room that felt human. Later that night, she asked him: “Is law about results, or reasons?” He didn’t look up. “Ideally both,” he said. “But under pressure? Only one survives.” His hands trembled when he thought she wasn’t looking.

✧ Her clarity sharpened in the spaces protocol didn’t touch. While Kylia flagged variance across data grids, Raeya traced where policy bled into bias. Patrols moved differently in residential versus merchant zones. Tribunal leniency wavered depending on how well someone spoke. She didn’t accuse—she recorded. She watched how her own instructors shifted tone with different families, how assignments rotated in patterns that felt too convenient to be chance. “Bias is quiet,” she whispered once to Kylia, “but it leaves fingerprints.” Her cousin nodded and entered a new field in her tracker: Perceptual Skew Index. Raeya’s strength wasn’t confrontation—it was endurance. She stood in flawed systems long enough to learn where they cracked. She almost filed a complaint once. Instead, she held it—waiting for a moment that mattered. Not because she feared the cost. But because timing was the only power the powerless could still own.

✧ By ten, Raeya knew that presence was its own form of resistance. She didn’t seek command. She didn’t crave correction. She wanted to bear witness—to be the still point others rotated around when everything else began to break. She tracked who was silenced, who was heard, and who learned to stop asking. Where Kylia logged logic trees, Raeya logged lived consequence. They never competed. They completed. When a civic drone rerouted unexpectedly and delayed a mid-sector ward, Raeya didn’t ask what failed. She asked, “Who paid for that delay?” The silence that followed told her everything. She knew what side of the machine she stood on. Not its voice. Not its blade. Its memory. And that would be enough—until it wasn’t.

📓 Personal Log: “The Quiet Between Words” | Zakuul, 3643 BBY

"I’m learning how decisions land—how the shape of silence changes in a room once justice is done. Mother held the line. Father drew it. I stand where it bends. Kylia says systems are neutral until used. I think they’re always leaning—sometimes gently, sometimes dangerously. Today, I watched a rule hold firm while a person broke under it. No one questioned the rule. Just the result. So I will keep asking questions. Even if no one answers—because silence is an answer too."

🟥 Episode II – Sparks in the Spire
3636 BBY | Age 17 | Fall of Ziost Era | Zakuul, The Spire, Academy District | Spire Sentinel Cadet

🪐 Galactic Context
In the wake of Ziost’s cataclysm, whispers of annihilation ripple through the Outer Rim—but Zakuul continues in polished stillness. The Spire Sentinel Academy prepares its cadets not for war, but for internal certainty. In a city that believes perfection is self-sustaining, young officers are trained to ensure silence stays unbroken. Raeya Tille enters this academy not to obey—but to understand why obedience became necessary in the first place.

📘 Narrative

✧ Raeya Tille stepped into the Spire Sentinel Academy without ceremony. Her mother’s legacy loomed over her—Knight-Captain Alia Tille, killed during a containment operation that mistook a protest for a threat. No one spoke of it directly. But every corridor, every look, every expectation reminded Raeya who she was supposed to become. She met those stares with quiet posture and clipped affirmatives, never defensive, always composed. Her instructors noted her command presence—too measured for her age, too controlled for most. She chose electives others avoided: dispute mediation theory, cross-tier empathy mapping, civic friction case reviews. “You should specialize in security enforcement,” one advisor said. “Empathy doesn’t scale.” Raeya nodded and changed nothing. But in the quiet of her dorm, her fingers clenched hard enough around her stylus to crack its shell.

✧ The Academy emphasized rank, not resonance. Raeya understood why. In unstable times, visible control felt safer than actual comprehension. But she watched how fear curdled beneath ceremony—how cadets with high posture scores flinched during simulations, how instructors praised compliance louder than clarity. She memorized every threshold for force authorization but always asked what came before escalation. Most didn’t answer. Some told her not to ask again. Her silence was not surrender—it was study. She cataloged hesitation patterns during drills, identified when enforcement posture veiled anxiety rather than discipline. Her restraint wasn’t a lack of action—it was tactical empathy. One instructor called her “nonreactive.” She almost responded. Instead, she watched how his voice wavered when someone challenged his metrics. And she added his profile to her “unspoken tension” log.

✧ Her link with Kylia became more structured—official now, sanctioned by joint analysis protocols. They weren’t in the same squad, but their field logs synchronized in real time. Kylia flagged variances; Raeya assigned context weights and emotional drift coefficients. During a training exercise in the Lower Ring, a simulation went off-script—an artificial protest turned unexpectedly volatile when a system lag created a false aggression flag. The other cadets froze, unsure whether to wait for command input. Raeya stepped forward. She removed her helmet, approached the lead “agitator,” and issued a de-escalation clause from civic protocol 4.6b—one rarely used, but fully binding. The simulation shut down. Her pulse slowed only after the crowd dispersed. She received no commendation. Only a private note: “You disrupted the exercise’s purpose. Control should never yield to dialogue.” She didn’t reply. She just sent the message to Kylia. Neither spoke of it again—but they both logged the warning.

✧ They met late that night in the public records annex, under the pretext of reviewing incident clearance data. The annex was cold and lit too brightly, a place designed to remind cadets of their position in the hierarchy. Kylia handed her a datapad with policy trends; Raeya handed back annotations on recent suppression justifications. “They’re reinforcing compliance through fear of confusion,” Raeya said. “They’re labeling confusion as disloyalty,” Kylia corrected. The difference mattered. It was the space Raeya lived in—where being thoughtful looked too much like dissent. Her jaw clenched as she read a tribunal case where a citizen was reprimanded for “interference,” even though they’d only asked a question. Raeya didn’t want to dismantle systems. She wanted to make them answer for the gaps they labeled inconvenient. Later that week, a revised clause for escalation review procedures appeared in the simulation archive—more lenient wording, quietly adopted. Raeya recognized the phrasing. It was hers. She never submitted it officially. But the file Kylia had uploaded had included her margin notes.

✧ By the end of her first year, Raeya’s name had surfaced twice in cadet forums—once for quiet commendation, once for “hesitation under duress.” Neither entry matched what actually happened. She didn’t correct the record. She logged the variance. Her strength wasn’t in protest—it was in presence, held calmly when the system twisted under its own weight. She started training junior cadets on pattern recognition—emotional, not procedural. Kylia reviewed their analytics; Raeya translated the behaviors that data couldn’t explain. One joint report—mapping delay response to public voice stress—was quietly embedded into the city’s crowd calibration module. No credits listed. But the cadence was unmistakable. Raeya didn’t crave visibility. But she wanted her calibration of people to shape the system—whether or not it bore her name. And with Kylia beside her, it already had.

📓 Personal Log: “Sparks in the Spire” | Zakuul, 3636 BBY

"I’m not here to defy orders. I’m here to understand what they protect—and who they forget. Every time I act too slowly, someone watches. Every time I act too quickly, someone warns. Kylia trusts logic. I trust what people don’t say. Today, a simulation failed because we acted with clarity, not force. They called it interference. I called it precision. I’m not here to provoke change through noise. I’m here to make sure no one forgets what silence costs—and ensure the system no longer forgets who it forgets."

🟥 Episode III – Flames Over the Spire
3635 BBY | Age 18 | Rise of the Eternal Empire | Zakuul, The Spire, Academy District | Overwatch Junior Officer

🪐 Galactic Context
Arcann’s Eternal Fleet scorches through Korriban, claiming Sith territory with surgical precision and igniting galactic terror. The Republic reels. The Empire stumbles. But Zakuul keeps its optics polished, its Spire quiet. Inside the academy walls, cadets are taught adjustment, not acknowledgment. For Raeya Tille, the war doesn’t arrive with orders—it arrives with silence stretching too long between them.

📘 Narrative

✧ Raeya Tille notices it first in the eyes of her squadmates—too alert during drills, breaths clipped too short. The exercises haven’t changed. But the stakes have. Her pulse slows as she leads the route, adjusting posture with forced control. She almost halts the run to ask if they’re ready. Instead, she files a report on "emergent hesitancy under duress." Her fingers tremble when she logs it. But later that evening, a new modifier appears in the simulation templates: Response Latency Flag, tiered by posture feedback. No announcement is made. But she recognizes the phrasing. It’s hers—pulled from an observation packet she’d sent Kylia three nights prior. That’s how the system adapts: not through credit, but through quiet absorption.

✧ A merchant in the mid-tier district speaks of off-world whispers—Korriban fallen, the Sith in retreat. Raeya logs the conversation but keeps her face neutral. Inside, her chest tightens. She almost calls her father for confirmation. Instead, she reviews fleet path data from Kylia, where the timing already told the story. She speaks to no one. But she begins shifting her patrol posture—two steps behind formation now, ready for collapse instead of protest. She logs the pattern to their shared thread under the tag: "Posture Drift – Anticipatory Collapse." Kylia responds with a variance overlay of civilian density clusters. The map updates within the hour. Raeya doesn’t need to speak the fear aloud. Kylia already mapped it.

✧ When the Eternal Fleet clips the outer systems, emergency drills are upgraded to full simulations. Raeya stands before her unit, explaining fallback positions in a voice more composed than she feels. Her hands clench behind her back. She almost tells them the truth: that the enemy isn’t coming—it’s already here. Instead, she drills formation dispersal until the floor patterns etch into her memory. She leads from center. Because it’s the only place where collapse slows. And she knows that if fear takes root, even perfect posture can’t hold the wall. The next morning, a revised fallback guide appears in the junior cadet repository. It mirrors her squad’s structure—distributed, balanced, center-led. No one mentions it. But she sees the change. It holds.

✧ Late at night, she and Kylia overlay two civic evacuation paths—one official, one adaptive. Raeya watches the strain markers pulse red across the mid-sector. She exhales slowly. "These people don’t know what’s coming," she says. Kylia doesn’t answer—just reroutes a corridor node silently. Raeya almost breaks then. Almost says, "We’re not ready." But she swallows it. Instead, she marks the reroute with a timestamp and logs it as: "Discreet resilience, phase one." Two days later, a new corridor designation appears in the Overwatch contingency node—an exact match. The signature is scrubbed. But they both know who wrote it.

✧ The week ends with a warning memo: "Cadet posture must reflect Spire continuity." Raeya reads it once, jaw tight. She almost tears it in half. Instead, she posts it on her dorm wall and underlines the word "continuity." Because for her, the only continuity worth preserving is survival. She begins drafting a resilience metric that combines posture fidelity with ambient stress markers. Kylia offers baseline data drawn from crowd churn overlays. Together, they test it against three archived panic events. The result: a 13% improvement in coordinated civilian flow. They don’t submit it officially. But days later, the Overwatch updates their early-response drills—new parameter tags embedded within. Raeya doesn’t need the Spire’s approval. She needs its fractures mapped. And she’ll keep standing until the system stops pretending there are none.

📓 Personal Log: "Flames Over the Spire" | Zakuul, 3635 BBY

"There was no explosion. No fire. But today I watched the first citizen flinch at the word ‘Fleet.’ That’s how it begins. Not in blast radius—but in breath patterns. I don’t need to see the war to feel it pressing in. I’ve changed our fallback plans. I’ve updated my squad’s posture. And I’ve prepared for a kind of silence that sounds too much like warning. I won’t panic. But I won’t pretend either. If posture is all I have, then I’ll use it to hold the line—until someone else finally says what we both already know. Kylia and I already have."

🟥 Episode IV – Coming Soon
3632 BBY | Age 21 | Coming Soon | Coming Soon | Coming Soon

🪐 Galactic Context:

Coming Soon

📘 Narrative:

✧ Coming Soon

📓 Personal Log: “Coming Soon” | Coming Soon, 3632 BBY

Coming Soon 

🟥 Episode V – Coming Soon
3630 BBY | Age 23 | Coming Soon | Coming Soon | Coming Soon

🪐 Galactic Context:

Coming Soon

📘 Narrative:

✧ Coming Soon

📓 Personal Log: "Coming Soon” | Coming Soon, 3630 BBY

Coming Soon

🟥 Episode VI – Coming Soon
3629 BBY | Age 24 | Coming Soon | Coming Soon | Coming Soon

🪐 Galactic Context:

Coming Soon

📘 Narrative:

✧ Coming Soon

📓 Personal Log: "Coming Soon” | Coming Soon, 3629 BBY

Coming Soon

🟥 Episode VII – Coming Soon
3627 BBY | Age 26 | Coming Soon | Coming Soon | Coming Soon

🪐 Galactic Context:

Coming Soon

📘 Narrative:

✧ Coming Soon

📓 Personal Log: “Coming Soon” | Coming Soon, 3627 BBY

Coming Soon

🟥 Episode VIII – Coming Soon
3624 BBY | Age 29 | Coming Soon | Coming Soon | Coming Soon

🪐 Galactic Context:

Coming Soon

📘 Narrative:

✧ Coming Soon

📓 Personal Log: “Coming Soon” | Coming Soon, 3624 BBY

Coming Soon

🟥 Episode IX – Coming Soon
3621 BBY | Age 32 | Coming Soon | Coming Soon | Coming Soon

🪐 Galactic Context:

Coming Soon

📘 Narrative:

✧ Coming Soon

📓 Personal Log: “Coming Soon” | Coming Soon, 3621 BBY

Coming Soon