Andy is, to put it simply, a rich-kid-drop-out punk that fled her home system, got arrested, escaped on accident, changed her name, and has a thing for ancient history.
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- Vested Interest: Andy is a sucker for information, shiny objects, cults, shadow organizations, and ancient places. Wanna trade?
- Noble Upbringing: While she has a different name and a few more tattoos, it's always possible that someone from those high-class circles recognizes the lost daughter of Daal.
- Opportunist: Need someone to do your dirty work?
Following a fateful encounter in an unexpected place, Andy has found herself in the lucrative, but dangerous, employ of the Knights of Ren. Her research and expeditions now well funded, she scours the galaxy for relics of the past.
And sometimes gets shot at.
Not to be taken as I.C. knowledge. Periods of her history are left intentionally vague to allow for collaborations with other characters - if you think you fit in somewhere, or think Andy fits somewhere into your past, shoot me an @mail
Her name was Doma Daal.
It started as an accident, at first, and a drunken one at that, following another embarrassment at the hands of her brother. Her perfect brother - the heir to the Daal name and upstanding status. Where she was lazy, he was ambitions. Where she struggled, he thrived. Where she was cunning, he was brilliant; and everyone could see it. Why could Doma not be more like him? Why did they continue to waste their time with her, when she could not put the time into herself? It was constant, and she was close to giving up entirely; unable to reach the impossibly high standards set for her, she continued to shut down.
There had almost been relief on the night that it happened, that she had wandered, gotten lost, and then fallen. There had been a moment - just a moment - as Doma fell, that she closed her eyes and felt the fear leave her. It had been a moment - just a moment - of relief.
But she woke again. It felt like she had been trampled by a rancor, and her injuries likely were consistent with that. Her elbow was broken, shoulder dislocated, back bruised and blooded - but she was, remarkably, alive. She had tumbled through a crack in the rocks of the scrubs outside her hometown, and it had deposited her in a strange place - but one with a sense of familiarity. There were pillars, rooms, furniture; it was like she had stumbled (quite literally) back in time. She limped through the maze of ruins for days before she found a way out and back home for medical attention - but something about the experience stuck with her. She was hooked.
Doma no longer cared for the scorn of her family, because she found a genuine joy in the search, exploration, and unraveling of time's mysteries. She found that she was good at it, finally good at something without really having to try - she never seemed to find herself too injured to not continue, never seemed to find herself in a fight where the hits would land against her. She always seemed to know just where to look, just who to ask... She was slowly starting to feel that in finding her calling, she had become invincible.
Which is a dangerous ideal to hold.
The years passed. She had fallen entirely out of touch with her family, but failure caught up to her once more, in the end. She had become obsessed with a slab of text that she had found in an ancient ruin, and traced the drawings and text to an artifact - a missing one - and her research led her deeper, led her further. It wasn't missing, it was being held at a museum... Mislabeled. No one knew the true meaning of the artifact, or even what it could possibly do - so she went searching for it, and found that the skills honed over her years of delving into ruins did not translate well to theft.
Doma was caught. She was incarcerated. She had not spoken with her family in years, for she had not felt that they deserved to see her success - it was not their to take credit for, after all - but it was, of course, her brother who came to see her in that cell. She was to be transferred, he told her. Something about what she had tried to steal made them think that she was more dangerous than a petty thief. She was being sent away to spend her years in a prison camp - maybe it would be good for her. Maybe it would drill some discipline and accountability into her, he said.
And he left her there. He left her- his little sister - to be taken away, because he was sick of her smearing his good name. He was ashamed of her, and he was relieved that this had happened, because now he could pretend like Doma didn't exist. They all could.
"Rough." Someone in the cell next to her had said, their dark grin making her deeply uncomfortable - but there was something powerful to them. Something intriguing. They stood - and all at once, the cell exploded around her, bars twisting away in a scream of metal - or was she the one screaming? Whatever had happened, it threw the guards against the wall and they crumpled to the ground, still. The other prisoner was gone, but she could see her brother in the hallway; he had fallen over, his hands outstretched, and was staring at her with nothing but terror in his eyes. He was pleading with her, but she couldn't quite understand what he was saying, her ears still ringing with whatever the other prisoner had done.
It didn't matter. It didn't save him.
Her escape was a clumsy but successful one; she stole a ship and made a hasty escape to Y'toub. It wasn't hard to meet the right people there - the ones that could help her cover her identity. She went by Andro Tain after that, and found gainful employment with the Hutts. While she never could find the stranger that had helped free her, Andy did find that she was a decent gangster, and things went well for awhile. She finally earned her tattoos, and was using her position with the Huts to gather information and fund her research. She still sought out ancient ruins and artifacts; she could kill people, sure, but she better at finding things.
She was always better at finding things.