A 'No' uttered from the deepest conviction is better and greater than a 'Yes' merely uttered to please, or what is worse, to avoid trouble."
Alem'anilim has the patience that comes of riding out adversity until time or fate can help her change it. She's also unfailingly polite, but especially when she's angry. Even her enemies generally receive a please or thank you depending on how she feels about their behavior.
The well-being of other free creatures isn't something Alema usually feels is her concern, believing that slaves are a more worthy object of her time and effort. While she never goes out of her way to harm people (and as a result doesn't take a lot of bounty work), the life of a slave is worth more to her than the life of a self-governing man or woman.
The exception to this rule comes when Alem'anilim is dealing with Force users. She understands that Jedi, as a rule, mean well. However, she feels that Jedi just plain miss the point. Their idealism and dogma separate them from normal people, but at least they're trying. Can't ask much more than that. She also has equal affection for the Sith, and will occasionally defend them in conversation for Theogen's sake. Whatever their reputation, they're still people.
She has few specific long-term goals, and is generally content to merely do what seems like a good idea at any given time as long as no obvious obstacles present themselves.
She keeps freeze-dried munchfungus around on her ship.
Alem'anilim stands at just under five and a half feet tall, with cerulean skin that's hard to miss. Equally obvious are the lekku that mark her as a Twi'lek. Reaching from the top of her head down to the small of her back, her head-tails are worn bare as a mark of pride. Now and again she'll wear the traditional headdress of Twi'lek women.
On a good day Alema treats herself to a little bit of minimal makeup, most notably dark green lipstick to set off the curves of her lips against the vivid hue of her skin. Several years ago her master had eyebrows tattooed onto her so that her face wouldn't look quite so odd. Alema favors sleeveless shirts and flowing diaphanous fabrics, but unfortunately she generally needs to settle for more practical attire when she's working.
She also wears dark-colored slacks tucked into a pair of comfortable knee-high boots. There was a day when heels would have been her preference, but there's something gratifyingly authoritative about boots.
Basic piloting, but nothing extraordinary. There's a good reason she avoids risky smuggling or piracy when she's on her own. Her real specialty is in communications and surveillance technology, an expertise that usually keeps her away from a fight. She's a decent shot with her blaster, but her preferred weapon isn't a standard gun. She keeps a melee weapon disguised in one of the bracelets she wears.
Somewhat related to the Hapan Gun of Command, this weapon uses an electrical discharge that alters the function of the target's brain. However, rather than being a mind control device, the gun is an ecstasy weapon. It's not normally capable of doing more than stunning (or even rewarding) a living creature at low settings, but on its highest settings can cause temporarily neurological malfunctioning, usually resulting in a tonic-clonic seizure.
Minimal. She can generally sense a Force user if she's in a room with one, but the real manifestation of the Force in her is substantially more annoying. She's connected to the living Force, which means that she has something of an affinity for plants and animals. Plants she likes. Animals... not so much. She has a particular distaste for housepets and unfortunately for her they're the ones most likely to obsess over her until she gives them a satisfactory amount of attention. She hates it, but without a better understanding of the Force there's nothing she can do to stop it.
The firstborn daughter of her family, Alem'anilim was sold offworld to secure her family's survival. She was bought from Ryloth by a widower looking to bring a governess back for his daughter on Coruscant. She would attend to the child's needs, and his. After some discussion with other well-positioned slaves, Alema realized that she was in a relatively privileged position in her master's affections. Using the charms and talents that had initially gotten his attention, she convinced him to free her and keep her as his personal companion. After some persuasion, he agreed.
She and the child got along fairly well, and by the time she was in her early twenties Alema was the mistress of the house. She and her master were still not married, leaving her somewhere between a lover and a wife. Outwardly she managed herself and her family's affairs well, but inwardly she was seething. She was still owned by another creature. She was still property, and so were many of her friends. However, it wasn't the right time. When the time came to escape, she would know.
One day, when her adopted daughter was about eight, she took the child to visit relatives, claiming that she and the girl's father had plans offworld and promising to return for her in a couple of days.
That was the last any of them saw of Alema. Days passed, and then a week. When no one came for the child, Alema's in-laws came to investigate. What they found was a scene of such carnage that the only identifiable body was Alema's master.
Assuming Alema dead or abducted, the family kept their orphaned granddaughter and mourned the death of their son and daughter in law.
Alema found her way down into the middle strata of Coruscant. Hoping to find employment as a waitress or dancer, the only openings she found were in the brothels. Alema felt strongly that being rented was no better than being owned, and turned them down. It took her a while to find "legitimate" work, but eventually a small cantina hired her as a waitress and for about a month she made just enough to live on.
One night as she was walking home, she was abducted by the proprietor of one of the brothels she had turned down. she was kept on heavy doses of glitterstim, costing the brothel a good deal of money to hold her. In the meantime, the brothel got their money's worth from the malleable new employee. By the time they weaned her off of glitterstim and onto ryll, a weaker but related form of spice, she'd been there for a month.
After that, her addiction kept her there. It helped her forget herself and where she was. Her captivity ended the night a Force-user came to collect a debt from the proprietor. Alema watched him talk to her new owner in a daze, waiting to be called upon. The conversation turned hostile, and the owner grew more defensive. Something about the man held her attention. His anger seemed so thick in the air that she could taste it. If only she could follow the conversation...
The owner rushed to her and pulled her up by the arm. She dimly realized that she was being offered as payment and wondered if her new owner would have any drugs. At a disgusted wave from the intimidating visitor, the owner threw her away from him in frustration. She hit the wall and the table against it, unable to catch herself. That was the beginning of the fight.
It didn't last long. A small-time pimp didn't stand a chance against even the lowliest Sith, and when he left he carried Alema out with him.
He said his name was Theogen. He said he was a Sith, and that she would never see the inside of another brothel again. His reasons were his own, and he never shared them with her. He kept her by his side for two years. It was hard at first, with Theogen staying up at night to sit with her through her withdrawal and keeping her from escaping to seek out whatever variant of spice she could find.
Eventually when she was in her right mind, she told him how she had come to meet him. He still wouldn't tell her anything about himself, but his past wasn't important. She willingly shared his ship and his bed until Theogen left to settle an old score with a Jedi on Corellia. She waited for him to return. And waited. Eventually she had to leave the ship to seek out rations and supplies, and after another week... there was still no sign of him.
She placed an "alive and unharmed" bounty on Theogen to ensure that he or anyone with information could find her, and left Corellia with his ship. She renamed it the "Koahiko" and did legitimate shipping jobs for a few years to pay for the ship's upkeep. After four years she received word that Theogen was dead. The deeply-apologetic letter was signed by the Jedi who had killed him.
After that, she turned to shipping questionably-legal cargo, avoiding risky jobs even though they would be more lucrative. Slowly she began to put money away. She wasn't investing in corporations or organized crime. She was investing in slaves. So far she's managed to buy one slave away from his masters, and as far as she knows he's still working as a mechanic on Mygeeto. With any luck, more will follow him.