Applications (2012)

Please post your applications here. Each application should contain at least name, sex, species, class, and brief background. The mechanics will be dealt with after the characters are selected.

Designation: Cyren Arm Manufactuering: Model# ADAN-15
Species: 4th Degree Droid
Class: Scoundrel/Pilot


"Welcome Client #346586-H, to Cyren Arms Manufacturing's Defense Support Showcase, I am ADAN-15, Advanced Defense and Navigation Droid. My make and model was designed by a team of C.A.M's top stellar-engineers, to be used in conjunction, with 4,852 classifications of transports and vehicles. My direct interlinking with a vehicles onboard computer eliminates the .75ths of a seconds delay from competing manual operation Navigation Droids, and an improved 200% over biological pilots. Your credits will be wisely invested in the purchases and integration of my systems into your personal transportation. In addition to my supreme operating antilogarithms, Cyren Arms as seen fit to provide me with several personal defense programs, should an unfortunate event befall the client outside of protection I offer inside of your star ship."

The ADAN model droid was created in the wake of the collapse of the Trade Federation. Allegedly stolen technology from the ruins of the Droid fleet around Naboo, enabled the Star ship Engineers of the Stellar Wing to create a smaller, more adaptable, and advanced chassis of of the Vulture-class Droid.Using the Vulture's inherent guidance and response systems, along with its autonomous airfoil directing for atmospheric flight, allowed the engineers to supplant a portion of the Vultures programming temporarily into a star ship via the ADAN. Each ADAN is equipped with a Heuristic processor so that improvised maneuvers, and decisions can be enacted in the heat of battle without error or cross-reference. Great expense went into designing the droids processor, adding in a semblance of cunning, and pride.The creation of the ADAN-series had proved to be an integral part in the planetary defense forces of Kariadahe, the planet where Cyren Arms houses its largest manufacturing plant, as well as security for countless diplomats, and nobles throughout the stars.
The high cost of the overall product, is only seconded by its quality and reliability, shown in real world examples around the
galaxy.

This particular model was bought through anonymous sources for Molla Viiric Tzan, of the Hutt. During its employ in Molla's service, it was accredited for 13 foiled assassination attempts, and 2 failed hostile take overs. Taking great pride in the repeated defense of its Owner, lead to Molla's downfall at the hands of a common thug armed with a lone blaster pistol. ADAN-15 failed to stop the assassin from firing on ADAN-15's owner, its intention was to subsequently disarm the assassin, then disable it using its own Blaster, instead of using the numerous point defense systems, and weapons on its body that where much more accessible to its enhanced reflexes. Never indicated in Molla's death, ADAN-15 was shutdown and sold to Jawa's. who in turn found a buyer on the planet Tierfon, members of the Rebel Alliance found good use for the droid, adding it to their retinue of pilots and star fighters. Although missing several of its 'luxury suite' accessory's and stripped of its built-in armor, it is still a highly capable replacement for a living pilot.

A rare sight in the galaxy, the ADAN series droids are arrogant, programmed to be certain of success, no matter the odds.ADAN-15 poises an air of synthetic supremacy above organics. Still retaining its hard-wired duty to obey its owner's commands, it has a greater area left for interpretation and derivatives, often doing things 'its own way'. The cold calculating processor, presents an aloof air, when unengaged in its chosen designations, as if longing to re-connect with the circuitry of a Corellian Frigate, to ascend its tiny metal body and become part of a space faring titan once more. Several duplicate files exist in the 1's ans 0's of ADAN-15's memory bank's, each a different re-enactment and analysis of his most recent failing, to protect Molla the Hutt. Deep within the positronic heuristic processor, behind its cold unmoving eye sockets, a shred of doubt eats away at the core of its logic processors "What if my model is obsolete and flawed?", perhaps that's what drives all ADAN's to their cocky arrogance.

Image courtesy of SpudaFett @ deviantart.
Name: Xaion
Sex: Male
Species: Mon Calamari
Class: Soldier/Scout combination of some kind.
"You could hire a cheaper mercenary if you want some poor bastard to find you dead with a knife in your back. Then the little git makes off with your credits, and the credits of who paid him for the hit. I know the best way to succeed in this cutthroat career is to do my job, and keep your wits. I'm the man for the job, but no stupid heroics unless I get hazard pay.

History:
Xaion is a ferocious warrior from a wandering tribe of Mon Calamari, native to the seventh sphere of the deep core settlements. His tribe never gave up their nomadic and tribal way of life, they were forced deep under the oceans to live their lives away from modern society so they wouldn't give Mon Calamari a bad name. Now that the Empire has arisen though, the tables have turned. They were the first tribe to offer their assistance in helping the Mon Calamari gear up for battle and war. Their ancient techniques far surpassing the more lax modern training methods.

Xaion was foretold to be that of a mighty warrior who would strike terror into the hearts of those who would have to fight him. He received his basic training in the way of combat in the deepest and darkest depths of the planet where the light doesn't shine, and the only heat is the volcanic vents. Here deep sea creatures of myth challenge the ruler ship of the wandering Mon Calamari clans. The wisdom of the entire village was at his disposal, and he learned well. Once he came of age it was time to prove himself worthy of his name. There were a lot of people out there in need of a good soldier. He set out into the galaxy to offer his services to the highest bidder.

Don't mistake tribal life for primitive, his people trained him to be a fully capable field doctor as well as many other advanced skills he would need in the modern galaxy. It was this combination of high tech training, intelligence, and tribal warfare that seen him through the early years of his career. In no time at all he proved himself to be quite a formidable foe, easily working his way up in underworld ladder of fame. No one expects the peaceful fish people to be so adept in war, these simple and stupid assumptions cost many people their lives.

His most famous mission thus far is upon completion of the contract and delivery of his very wounded and injured bounty he was paid. His boss was reluctant to hire a bounty hunter from the start, it was painfully clear he didn't trust Xaion. The captive offered him a lot of money if he broke him out. Way more than his former employer could offer. Sure enough his former employee refused to offer him money out of spite and he was about to gun him down. Unfortunately he underestimated the foresight of his species. Earlier at their first meeting he planted some insurance explosives at their meeting spot. flashbang grenades. He patched up his former bounty good and dropped him off back home. Future employers soon learned to offer him more than their bounties could.

Personality: A cunning bounty hunter who hasn't neglected his mind. He realizes it's often a better thing to have than a quick trigger finger or big gun. Loves to curse when he can, otherwise stays out of things unless he is paid to. He is often referred to as the only hero you can hire for enough money. He is a simple man with simple goals in life. He is very implacable once on the job.

Can I create a character sheet so that I know what my character is like.

Name: Ellor
Sex: Male
Species: Duros
Class: Tech Specialist

Background: WTB

Name: Castle Price

Sex: Male

Species: Human

Class: Soldier

"They asked me why I let my unit go into battle without helmets, well, it was basic psychology. You see, the higher-ups like to believe that one big faceless mass sweeping over defenders is demoralising. What it actually does is take away your enemy's hesitation. He feels nothing gunning down wave after wave of the same exact thing. But you show him a face, a pair of eyes glinting with life and you give him pause. You make him think for a split-second that you're someone's father, someone's brother, someone's husband. And that split-second...Heh, that's all the time you need."

-Lieutenant Castle Price. Void Hand squad.

Description: People have often (behind his back) speculated that some ancestor of Price had to have done the deed with a Wookie, given the ex-Stormtrooper stood at well over six and a half feet built up with two hundred and eighty pounds of well-toned muscle. His thick brown hair, once cut short to regulation standards was now a bit messier, curling in a clump at the back of his neck and a fringe hanging low over a set of glinting blue eyes. His face is lightly-tanned and quite handsome, the only mark a large scar diagonally across the bridge of his nose.

When expecting combat, Price tends to wear his old Void Squad armour, which resembles the usual Stormtrooper armour on the outside only with a dark-grey colour instead of white and a heavy blaster rifle slung across his back. Relaxing, he's usually found in a pair of black pants and a blue shirt, rounded off with a set of well-worn and scuffed black boots.

Personality: Price tends to play the part that his looks make others expect of him - he's loud and boisterous and enjoys a good scrap as much as anyone does. He has a very active sense of humour and tends to snark at whatever situation he finds him in, whether it warrants it or not. However, it's all part of a well-calculated ruse as, in his own words "Being thought of as dumb muscle gives me an advantage, and you can never have too many of those.". Underneath it all is a rather cold, calculating man who seems to miss very little going on around him and is both ruthless enough and willing to grab onto any weakness an opponent shows, be it physical or mental, and squeeze an advantage out of it. Despite having been drummed out of the Imperial military, he has no love for the Rebel Alliance and tends to consider them part of why the Empire he joined up to serve has become such a dark place.

Background:When asked about his past before joining the Imperial military, Price would say it wasn't worth mentioning. He was born to a middle-class family on Coruscant in what would be the dying years of the Republic. He was six years old when the Emperor announced the formation of the Galactic Empire and reacted to the momentous occasion as any six-year-old would have: by shrugging his shoulders and going back to playing with his toys. The decision that would send ripples through the galaxy passed over him like it was nothing, though he'd look back on it later as the moment when his entire life's course would be changed.

School came and gone for Price and he went to university determined to study psychology, having decided to work as a trauma councillor. Graduating with honors, Price accepted an internship on Vnas, an orbiting station of Duros. The Empire had proclaimed it part of the Corellian sctor and was conducting mining operations on the surface. Life in the mines were stressful and his services were often sought by the miners. Things went smoothly until the Battle of Vnas about six months into his stay there. Until that point, Price had only a cursory knowledge of the Rebel Alliance and no real opinion on them. Afterwards, when a stray blaster bolt from a Rebel Y-wing had struck the section where the medical section, including his offices, were located and vented one of his patients into the black of space before emergency seals were put into place, he despised them.

After recovering from his own injuries sustained in the attack, Price enlisted into the Imperial Stormtroopers and was assigned to a detachment on Nar Shaddaa. He should have been just another piece of meat for the grinder, more cannon fodder for the Empire, but Price managed to prove himself in a skirmish with several smugglers attempting to rob an Imperial weapons depot. With every commanding officer killed or incapacitated, Price took over command of what remained of his unit and using both guerilla tactics and elements of psychological warfare to both stop the assault and ultimately kill the attacking smugglers. Price could tell that the human wave tactics the Empire used in ground assaults were ineffective and antiquated, and ultimately unsuited to urban battlegrounds such as Nar Shaddaa. His performance in the battle gave him the opportunity to suggest an squad specifically trained in psy-ops, enemy demoralisation and harassment. He was given a trial run, and thus Void Hand was born. Void Hand operated for the next year with great success, fighting smaller-scale battles against Rebels, dislodging them from cities where the populace were sympathetic. Soon the dark-grey armour of Void Hand was feared as much as those of the elite Stormtroopers.

However, things weren't all perfect for Price. He'd seen other squads operating with Void Hand attack civilians without provocation, something that didn't sit well with him - he avoided civilian casualties as far as possible, as he was a soldier, there to take out the enemy. Also, since he understood human nature so well, he knew that retribution against those helping the Rebels would only strengthen support for them. Fear only went so far in quashing resistance.

It all came to a head when a Moff ordered the execution of a group of women who had been ferrying supplies to the Rebels in the mountains of Tierfon. Price refused the order, before clubbing the Moff in the face with the stock of his rifle. When the rest of his squad arrived, the women were gone, as was Price himself. He knew that despite his rank, his accomplishments, if he was caught he was going to be executed. He went to ground for a day or two to let the heat die down, before hiding his Void Hand gear in a spot in the wilderness and headed back to the main city to attempt to get off-world. Things didn't go as planned, and he was picked-up, only this wasn't by an Imperial patrol. It was a group of the local Rebel base who had heard of the founder of Void Hand being declared a traitor and thought they had found a new ally.

Oh, they were in for a surprise...

Name: Silas Drexan
Sex: Male
Species: Human
Class: Scout/Scoundrel

"I ain't in this fer money. I ain't in this fer power. I ain't in this fer fame, or fer glory. I'm in this because I've seen lives destroyed by those seeking those things, an' they've got ta be stopped."

Appearance:
Silas is a physically unremarkable specimen, being of average height, weight, and build for a middle-aged Human, which the galactic community at large has an ample supply of. While in civilization, he keeps his black hair cropped short, but when "roughing it", he tends to let personal grooming fall by the wayside, leading to it becoming long and unkempt. The same reason explains his perma-stubble. His hair and stubble frame a pair of piercing green eyes that seem to miss nothing. His skin is rough and hardened by exposure to the elements. He prefers wearing durable, comfortable clothes that match the current terrain, and tends to accessorize with a camo cloak and a long gun.

Personality:
"Fanatic" is a good word to describe Silas's attitude towards the cause. So is "zealot". Silas channels his rage at a system that destroyed his life before it began into an iron will that drives him towards his ultimate goal of tearing the Empire to the ground, setting the rubble alight, and scattering the ashes to the solar winds.

These traits, unsurprisingly, do not make for the most personable of individuals. He has been variously called bitter, distant, dour, cold, and scarily single-minded.

Silas was born on a family owned and operated nerf ranch on an outer-rim world, and despite never being rich, he had a happy childhood. He particularly enjoyed weekend hunting and fishing expeditions with his father.

But trouble lay ahead. The Drexan family ranch lay over some rich mineral deposits of interest to several mining concerns. For many years, Silas's father refused to sell. Then corrupt local politicians trying to finance their re-election campaigns got involved, eminent domaining the ranch for a fraction of its actual value and turning over to to one of the mining corporations. Silas's father, unsurprisingly became absolutely livid and took the issue to the press and the courts.

Big business fired right back, bringing far more money and connections to bear. The end result was sad but fairly predictable-law enforcement showing up to forcibly evict the Drexan family when they failed to remove themselves. Silas's father tried his best, but he turned to the bottle as a coping mechanism and drank himself to death before Silas turned 13, and his mother overdosed on sleeping pills a few months later.

The two orphans were placed into foster care. Unfortunately, the foster parents in question were more interested in tax breaks than raising kids-the foster father, in particular, was quite abusive. The overworked case worker assigned to the two never got around to following up on the abuse reports until too late-in the face of repeated, unwanted intimate advances from their foster father, his sister hanged herself. Silas got himself out of that house the day he reached the age of majority-all on his own, his family destroyed by the Republic. The Republic, and its greed, corruption, ineptitude, and uncaring.

If The System was not going to stand up for the little guy, then Silas reasoned the little guy would have to stand for himself. A week after he left, he paid a midnight visit to his foster parents and shot both of them to death, then skipped the planet by signing as a deckhand on a Trade Federation freighter. It was through the Federation he found the Separatist movement, which he joined and started carrying several covert missions for. After Geonosis, he joined the CIS's military proper.

Students of history know what happened next-the Confederacy's leadership was killed, its droid armies deactivated, and the Clone Wars were over. Silas would not give up on the cause so easily-instead of turning himself in, he simply shed his uniform and melted into the general populace. For the next twenty years, he drifted from world to world, helping victims of the new Empire's expansion from corruption and injustice to outright oppression where he could, and continuing his campaign single-handed in other places. The whole while, he was waiting, for although the Confederacy had been defeated, he knew the war was far from over...

Name: Garl Tobin
Sex: Male
Species: Human
Class: Soldier

“Just keep them dancing long enough for Harper to set up enfilade fire, then fall back and I’ll keep them pinned!”
-- Corporal Garl Tobin
*Note: background is (very) open to suggestion to make it fit with the group or where the game will go. Any feedback is welcome!

Garl Tobin is an average height and has an athletic build. His dark hair is worn cropped, typical of military professionals; his eyes are another matter. Around friends and comrades-in-arms, Garl is constantly smiling and is beginning to get permanent creases around his eyes from it. Around those with whom he isn’t close, he is friendly but always wary. He typically wears a grey military uniform with cap, even when on leave, which is not often.

“About me? Well, where to start? I think most who are close to me would peg me as an extrovert, but that doesn’t make me a touchy-feely kind of guy. I like people, and I know how to work with them. In the Guard, we’re all in it together. My section respects me because I respect them, and I put everything into keeping us safe while getting the mission done. When the bureaucracy from on high is working, my section trains hard and gets better. When the system breaks down, I fight for my unit. When it comes to a fight or challenge, I understand that them at the top are the ones with the grand plan, but whatever they leave to me to figure out, I come up with the best plan under the constraints given and I put it together quickly. I trust my men to carry it out, and they know that whatever the large-scale goal, we’ll do it with honor.”

“I figured you’d want to go into that pretty deep. Let’s start with the basics. Male, 33 years old, born to Gareth and Bori Tobin of Piltar VI. My father is dead, and my mother alive, but she suffers dementia. Completed basic schooling, top 5%, and went to Piltar Technical with assistance from the Planetary Guard, under oath to enlist upon graduation. I did. I was placed in Poole’s Infantry regiment, 1st auxiliary company. After a year of service I was raised to corporal and led an E-web team. It was after about three years in that role we were called out. We were used to drills, but this was real. One of the neighboring planets had a major rebellion against imperial control, and it wreaked havoc on Piltar, too. It wasn’t why we’d joined up, but the mobs were going to destroy the cities and kill the innocent … and they somehow got their hands on some heavy equipment.
“Now, don’t get me wrong, I didn’t take an E-web to peaceful masses of civilians. That’s not human. And I gather the Alliance wouldn’t want a man willing to do that. Anyway, the Brass wasn’t prepared for artillery and heavy tanks; they pulled back, and my squad was part of the rear guard. We held our own as much as we could, and there’s nothing in any course that teaches rear-guard tactics like being in the real thing. The goal was clear: protect the main force; buy them time to fall back. It wasn’t too long after that they made me sergeant, and I had a whole section of E-webs. They gave me plenty of training, and it’s training I’d be able to pass on to any of yours with whom I work.

“I was in my element in that role, and it lasted a while, but not long enough. Recently, the Piltar system came under direct Imperial Military control. At first we thought they were just going to work with us more closely, but they muscled in and took complete control. Most of the men, myself included, were waiting for the order to suit up and set up a defensive position, but the order never came. The government just turned itself over to a moff, and that was that. After that we didn’t have much of a place. Life in the Empire wasn’t bad, but life under the Imperial Military was another story. I couldn’t do anything from where I was, so I decided to leave. I might have said it was against my ‘code of ethics,’ if I have one, to leave; it wasn’t as wrong as standing by and letting that happen though. My CO, Lieutenant Darrin – he was a part of the ‘unthinking bureaucracy,’ as I call it. He hunted down the first private from his command that went AWOL, and he tried to stop me. First by talking, then with a blaster. I got away, but there’s no telling when he’ll show up again.

“There aren’t many options for employment given my skill-set, so here I am. I thought the Alliance could use me more than anyone else, and it’s a good cause. If it helps to right what happened at home, so much the better. If you need a character reference, I believe Private Engel enlisted with you. He served with me and I’m sure he’d give a positive assessment – both of my competence and that I am a forthright, honest man. I also have a number of contacts still in the Planetary Guard; they could be useful for your purposes, either as recruits or inside information. I’m happy to serve in any capacity I can – though long term, I’d love to command a section again. Anything I can elaborate on for you?”

33yr old veteran of Piltar Planetary Defense. Specialized in squad-based heavy weapons (i.e., e-web) and raised to sergeant. Training in tactics, medicine, leadership, heavy weapons, etc. Left Piltar VI after Imperial military took direct control of planet. Joining up with the Alliance to put his skills to use and hopefully right the wrongs on his homeworld.

Tough soldier with heavy weapons training (including vehicle weapons), stealth, medical, and tactical training, and a wonderful personality ;-). I have a mechanical build in mind, but if there are other particular gaps, I can try to fill them.

Mother is on Piltar VI and suffering dementia. Wants to see Piltar liberated. Contacts in the Alliance with whom he’d like to meet up. Friends on Piltar who could be used for intelligence, recruitment, or GM plot tools. Lieutenant Darrin may want revenge for the “slight” of leaving his command.

Hi there! My name is Andy, nice to meet you. If you care to know, I am very character-driven gamer; I play for the story telling, not the 'winning'. It can drive some game-smart players crazy, although I find that that is less an issue in PbP communities like this.

My first application is for Ve'caraven (Vekcara Ven), a Twi'lek pilot. I had originally designed her for a different game, but it fell apart before it had even properly started, so I have been dying for a chance to play her properly. I have reworked her background significantly to better fit this time period and story.

Name: Ve'caraven "Vek" Species: Twi'lek Gender: Female Class/Roll: Scoundrel, Pilot Basic Personality: Nerves of steel are required for any pilot; at least, any pilot who hopes to get away with the kind of stuff Vekcara does. Even staring down the business end of a blaster rifle, she'll have a grin and a sarcastic comment. She is friendly and outgoing, but in a superficial way. When it comes down a crunch, its every girl for herself. Combat Style: The best kind of combat is the kind you don't get into in the first place. If someone starts firing at Vek, the first thing she is going to do is look for the fastest way out possible. Failing that -- and only failing that -- she can always rely on her trusty blaster pistol, Vana.

Vek grew up on a tiny little planet in the middle rim. Technically it was controlled by the empire, but they had no real presence there. It was a quiet, boring place, where people went when they wanted to disappear. The day she turned sixteen she got on a transport and never looked back.

The first place she came to was Sullust. It was busy, and loud, and nothing like the place she left behind. She spent a few years there, working in a shop, and came to call the planet home. There she met the human pilot Jeth, who became her best friend and closest confidant. When his cargo ship was attacked by raiders, and he and the rest of his crew were declared dead, Vek decided it was time to move on.

She flew transports for a while, hopping planets and crews quicker than she could keep track. Her next stop was Coruscant -- or rather, The Imperial Centre -- which she discovered was something like a scurrier trap; easy to get on, hard to get off. Her homeworld, being more or less free of the empire's influence, was happily xeno-friendly. The segregated and xenophobic policies of the Imperial Centre socked her. She lived in Invisec, where she got involved with Alien Combine and began her carrier pissing off the empire.

Vek left Coruscant about a year later, and joined the Rebel Alliance.

Vek would be my first choice of character to play, however, if you were greater need of a healer I do have a Kaminoan Noble (Healer) idea I have been kicking around for a while. Quiet, sneaky, kind of heartless... fun!

Name: Sula Re Species: Kaminoan Gender: Female Class/Roll: Noble, Healer Basic Personality: Sula does not mince words, and she does not waste time. She is thoughtful and patient, and rarely acts before thinking through every option. She does not care about your story, or your problems, and she won't tell you about hers. She does not share information that she does not need to, nor does she particularly feel the need to correct someone if they are wrong. Personal relationships are unnecessary, in her mind, people fall into one of two categories; Useful or Not Useful. Her actions and words often come off as callous or mean, and although she may say them with a smile, she intends them exactly the way they sound. To say that Sula hasn't made a lot of friends in the Rebellion would be a lie. She hasn't made any. Combat Style: Sula is the type of person to take down her opponents quietly. She utilizes neural inhibitor darts and poisons to stop her enemies without them even realizing they are under attack.

Check back later, yes?

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Name: Vita Hitori
Sex: Female
Species: Near-Human
Class: Noble/Soldier/Non-Force Jedi
"Medic/Combatant"

Daughter of Thaniel Hitori, a petty knight in House Pelagia, Vita grew up in the chaotic shell of Pelagia Province that was left over following the Mecetti Purge after the Clone Wars. Her father had attained his rank as an operative for the Intelligence division of the House's military. Though his rank is not passed on to his daughter, he made sure that his skills and knowledge were. He trained her to be ready for the day they would be needed.

When news of a growing resistance movement reached them, they knew it was time to act. Howerver, Thaniel has passed his prime, and is now more capable as a recruiter and leader on Pelagon rather than a operative in the field. In his stead, he has sent Vita to investigate and assist the movement as needed.

Well heeeeere we go! I definitely went a bit overboard with this one, but it may be some of the most fun i've had since that time I had some fun. Anyway it's unlike any app I've done before and I'm sorry it's so long, but I hope you guys like it and get where I'm going here.


Name: Rovacca (Ro- the Romantic Eviscerator)
Sex: Male
Species: Wookiee
Class: Soldier

Massive even for a wookiee, it's surprising he could be missed in the dark with his almost-black fur. His solid self is somehow still complemented by the punk rock spiked arm bracer and the epically awesome bandolier tags he's slung over himself. Over the years of death inducing, he's kept his traditional ryyk blade and switched his bowcaster for the much cooler and knee shredding rotary battle cannon. Typically mounted for the pleasure of common species, he can crank it out while walking or occasionally skipping.

A vaguely complicated example of his species, Ro could live up to the moniker meathead. He's a wall of destructive muscle and sinew, yet very little reaches that brain of his. Although when he's not making widows on the battlefield, he's wooing many women. He longs for cuddling and happens to be very furry. His online dating profile states that enjoys moonlight strolls through bone strewn beaches, dancing in the rain over the corpses of his enemies, and banana pudding.

When Rovacca was very fresh in the soldiering lifestyle, he let a burglar rush past, doing nothing to stop him. That burglar killed his Uncle Ven and would never happened had he intervened. So he learned that with great power, comes great responsibility. The power of a beautiful cannon whirring away into flesh and being responsible enough to know how to hold it properly and keep your hand from vibrating like the dickens. WAIT! Wrong story! Sorry!

What happened was Ro was walking home with his parents from the opera as a young boy. They were rich and decked out all pretty and fancy so they got robbed in a dark knight alley. After he took their things the robber shot both parents dead in front of him leaving him young and scared and vulnerable. But he blew all that money on training his mind and body with SLURPEES (TM). HUH! STILL something off here... try again!

Oh. Well the truth is that Rovacca lived a relatively boring life of subjection and slavery by the Evil Umpire, like all of his Kasyyyk-y brethren in those days. After some bribes, lots of force and planning-done mainly by his much better at that kind of thing sister Accavor- they managed to escape. And they would have gotten away with it too, if not for those danged blasted meddling trandoshans. They turned her into what looked most like a blackened smores marshmallow, but smelled more like an entire body's worth of burnt arm hair. He finished them off, mourned his sister and moved on, not skipping this time but more of a meander. He eventually made a Rainbow Connection (you know, "the lovers, the killers, and MEEEEE!!!") and joined the Ragnarok Army out of the Yggdrasil Sector. He trained and honed skills and even though some days it felt like the end of the world, he was a much better wook for it. Sadly and to move our plot forward, those zany trandoshan hunters caught up with our hero! What could he do?! Where could he go?! In the end he chose the vaguely pansy way. Hoping to remain unseen and with no invisibility cloak to make that certain, he slipped away on a freighter called Destiny's Child. When they asked him to Say His Name, Say His Name he told them he was an Independent Woman and a Bootylicious Survivor. This thrilled them because that was the name on his illegal passport and he was the last to board. They were running late for Tierfon.