The Star Wars Combine Banner Exchange



Height in Feet- 6′
Weight in Pounds- 180
Skin Color- greenish brown
Eye Color- You’ll never know
Hair Color– Spines are greenish brown, greener and darker than skin
M/F? Male
Birthplace- Unknown
Distinctive Traits? (i.e. birthmarks, scars, tattoos, etc) Large scar from between eyes down through left cheek. Many wounds over torso and limbs. Back covered in whip remodeling.
Race: Kubaz


Faction: The Wraith
Avance Coaltion Position/Rank/Title- Tribunus Militum
Other Positions held prior- None
Social Status (poor, middle class, upper middle class, upper class, lordly)- poor
Marital Status (include Spouse’s name, put an asterisk if it is a Combine Player) – single
Hobbies- drinking, sneaking and music
Summarized Character History:

Sold into slavery. Raised by Hutts. Trying to make a name for himself until a name found him: Wraith.

     Rowan has no idea where he was born. His mother had been sold into slavery. Rowan’s mother died at child birth, leaving the chance of finding out any type of family information impossible.  His mother’s contract fell to him, which left him as property of the Hutts. Not known for baby sitting, the Hutts had him and other young slaves run pick-pocket scams and petty thefts.

     On one of those theiving expeditions, Rowan found a small pistol and it changed his life forever. The owner of the house he and his compatriots were rummaging through showed up and appeared to be upset with them. Without even a thought, Rowan took aim and put a round between the owners eyes. Word got back to the Hutt of this, and shifted his responsibilities  more towards these newly discovered gifts.

     The Hutts trained him in projectile and heavy weaponry. They grilled him in skills of the trade, fly/operate anything he might steal. He worked long and hard on computer systems, learning how to over-ride and compromise all the current systems. He quickly got a reputation for being subtle and highly efficient, seeming to excel at contract hits.

Short Stories about the history of Rowan Blaqflame, Kubaz assassin.


Sentient Insects

   Rowan was living the good life. The Hutts took very good care of him. Since becoming one of the more popular Mechanics, the Hutts allowed him to live in relative luxury. He had his own hideout, as many weapons as he wanted, and the women. He had it made. That’s when he decided to try some of the finer things in life.

   He had heard from his other Kubaz aquiantences that there were insects the size of sentients. Some claimed they were sentient, but Rowan knew better. Food did not think, insects only had instinct no matter how complex that seemed. He arranged to aquire some of this exotic fair.

   Bletze knocked on the door and Rowan let him in. Bletze and him had been friends for a long time; as much as anyone could be considered a friend in this cut-throat galaxy. Today, Bletze was carrying an insulated canister with no markings what so ever.

   “I found something for you. I think you are going to like it”, said Bletz with a mischievious grin. “I’m told this stuff is best at body temperature, thats what this thing is”. Bletze hefted the canister a couple of times to make his point. “This is going to cost you, though.”

   “I would expect nothing less”, said Rowan. He had known Bletze for an awful long time. He could get anything, but he knew his skills were that impressive and demanded compensation for his efforts.

   “This time I had to go outside my normal channels. Just to find someone who knew someone took me a week. Even after you pay me, you are going to owe me for this one.”

   “Ok, then. How much are you going to rape me for this time”, Rowan asked, afraid of what the answer was going to be.

   “Oh no. You aren’t getting this for just credits this time. I had to meet some of the seediest scum I never knew existed. No, no. This is special. If you want more I can get you this amount for say 15k. This first one, however is going to cost you your little gizmo over there”. Bletze pointed into the other room where Rowan kept all of his prized possesions.

   “No way. That’s worth so much more than either of us could ever make”, Rowan blurted out. Bletze was of course referring to the small metallic hilt shaped object hanging in a display case in the trophy room. It had been hidden inside a secret room in one of the houses he had hit as a kid. He didn’t know if it worked, he could never get the light-saber to activate since he had found it. “There’s gotta be some other arrangement we can come to.”

   Bletze knew that he wouldn’t be getting it that easy. “To prove to you this is a good deal, here have a sample.” He opened the canister. Rowan immediately started to salivate as the odor hit his sensitive olfactory organs. Bletz reached inside and with a crunching, wrenching motion het pulled out what appeared to be a long insect finger. Rowan couldn’t resist. He reach out and snatched the small limb from Bletze. It tasted so good. The flavours were like nothing he had ever experienced.

   That was all it took. They made the exchange and Rowan became a regular consumer of Bletze’s new supply chain. This went on for a few month’s. Then suddenly the supply dried up. It hit Rowan hard. He had become so addicted to this delicacy it was all he could think about. Work started to suffer until for the first time ever he messed up a hit.

   The Hutts were not pleased. He was told this was not to happen again, and that put the fear of death into him. He had to get more so he could get his edge back. Rowan began researching what creature these parts could have come from.
After a few days of research he concluded that the creature was Verpine. He found that his race has considered the Verpine food before in the past and he knew why.  

   Rowan began hunting and taking Verpine from all over the planet. He would even specifically look up any Verpine at locations off world when he was sent to do a remote job.  A single beast would take him a couple of weeks to devour. The Hutts were aware that his performance was back up to its normal level again, but that is where their interest ended.

   The news started to pick up on the fact that the Verpine on the planet were dissappearing in alarming numbers. They started tocall it the work of The Exterminator, figuring it had to be a serial killer. This was extremely disturbing economically due to the fact that the Verpine contribute hugely to the development new technologies and the maintenance of some of the most complex systems and technologies on the planet. Now this was starting to effect business, and that interests the Hutts.

   Rowans mistake was the off world collecting he did. It didn’t take long for the Hutts to connect his visits to the off world disapperances. One night, Rowan woke to find around eight Verpine standing over him in his bed. They beat him and beat him until he passedout from the pain.

   He was moved to some abandoned building and the beatings continued. Rowan was made aware that the Hutts were displeased, because they started to show up to watch the torture. This went on past the point that the Verpine were angry, and it takes a lot for a Verpine’s anger to subside once it started. Other races took their place, but the Verpine had all ready broken him.

   This abuse continued for what must have been a year. As soon as he was to far gone and mostly dead, into the Bacta tank toget ready for anothet round. Rowan began to forget why he was there. He had come to realize,with their ingenous tortur techniques, that Verpine were sentient. The thought of consuming their flesh now caused him to experience the pain of torture fresh and as if it was actually happening again.  That didn’t stop the torture though. The Verpine were sated but it seemed the Hutt had started to like watch the pain.

   Then something changed in Rowan. It wasn’t subtle. It didn’t happen slowly. Just one day, calculated later to be two years into the torture, Rowan stopped responding. He would not scream. He would not flinch. He walked himself in and helped with th he restraints. He did not talk, just absorbed whatever was done to him.  This bored the Hutts.

   Soon, no-one came to take him to torture. He checked the doors after waiting and waiting, only to find the whole building open. He gathered all of the restraint and implements of torture that were left behind. He went back to his hide-out to find it un-touched. There was a Darkness message waiting for him when he entered. It was his next job.

   Things went back to a semblence of routine, but Rowan was never quite the same.  Where there used to be enthusiasm for doing a great job, now there was only cold, calculated efficiency. This the Hutts liked even better. They tried to duplicate the process in others, but all that resulted was totally disconected nut-bags. They gave up on recreating what they had done, but not before forty some odd assassins had been totally ruined.

   To this day, Rowan does not outwardly react to even the most serious wound. But inside, he sees those muli-faceted eyes, and that little flame he kept safe and hidden deep inside him glows brighter. That little flame hasa voice: “Someday, someday, I will get to your home world and we will see. We will see.”



The Mechanic

  The holopad lit up, waking the sleeping Kubaz who was spread out across the floor. It had been an incredible night of drunken debauchery, and the result was a Kubaz that could barely see or move.

​   Crawling to the holopad, Rowan activated it. The glowing figure of a regally attired Hutt appeared. Rowan could hardly lift his head to see who was calling.

​   “You look completely useless”, Djago Bradyig exclaimed. “Something needs a Mechanics touch, but I’m not seeing anyone matching that description. You need to pull yourself together. This is Important. If it’s not done perfect I could become embarrassed. You know I hate being embarrassed.”

​   Rowan knew exactly what the Hutt meant. Failure resulted in horrible torture and death. The implied threat fell on deaf ears, though. Torture had lost it’s threat. Rowan’s fears had long since been tortured out of him.

​   “Whatever, Djago”, Rowan replied. “How soon do you need this nonevent to occur? I can be active in a few. What’s the job?”

​   “Not this way. I need you here now to discuss this. Right NOW!!!”, the Hutt bellowed. “Get yourself back together and return to me. I am not known for my patience. I am waiting.”

​   The holopad went dark. Djago was worried. Rowan could tell there was more going on than just a job. He knew that he was expected to immediately rush out, but in his present condition he would get lost or pass out in some random doorway. There was only one way he had going to do what was expected.

​   His condition was not unusual. Rowan enjoyed the night life and immersed himself in it often. There had been many times where Rowan had been required to sober up in a hurry. He picked himself up and changed his clothes. Deep in the back of his wardrobe was a large sealed case. He retrieved it and moved back into the living area.

​   Upon opening the case, Rowan began pulling out wires and electrode that he then attached to his nerve clusters. After much assembly, he finally looked like a nightmarish marionette. Then came the stimulant. The injector was archaic, actually designed to be painful. He jammed it into his midsection, not even wincing at the horrific state of the procedure.

​   Once he could feel his energy begin to rise, he turned a knob, slid a control and activated the internal workings of the case. His body went rigid, shaking with the electric current that coursed through him. He stretched out across the couch jerking, jumping and shaking all over it.

​   This continued for a few minutes. Then the device shut itself off. He layed there, sweating and with laboured breath. He removed all of the wires, putting them back inside the case with precision. It was almost ritualistic, like field stripping a weapon by Mandolorian. It was obvious this procedure occurred frequently. But it did work. Rowan was moving at full speed again. His mind and body racing and ready.

​   He put a cloak on, strapped his dual DY-225’s to his legs and stowed one PrG-7 inside his cloak. You never know when an explosion will be needed. Besides, he just really liked blowing things up. Rowan hit the street, sliding in and out through the crowds.

​   The mass of people moving about, each on their own hurried path, masked his movements. He avoided any place where the crowd dispearsed, sticking with the heavily packed main streets. Sometimes he would wind down roads that led in the opposite direction he wanted to go. This was totally unintentional. Rowan was just trained to hide his destinations in this way. It had become habit, not being needed at all today as his meeting place was not a secret.

​   Djago Bradyig’s main business front was a speeder dealership. This allowed his high end clients an alibi for their visits. Rowan was not allowed to enter the business proper, that would look to suspicious. About a block away, Rowan descended into the sewers in an alleyway just off the main thoroughfair. Even in a sewer his instincts forced him to weave around through various tunnels, giving him one last chance to check if he was being followed.

​   Finally coming to a huge blast door, something one would not expect in a sewer, he pounded on it with the butt of his blaster.  The whirr of electronics and robotic systems spinning up filled the enclosed space with a small roar.  Sensors were recording everything about him. Satisfied, the systems opened the blast door for him to enter.

​   Inside were lockers, some with electronic keys still sticking out of them and some locked up tight.  It was common to find this type of setup when a nefarious crowd needed to have their weapons stowed before entering an establishment. Rowan ignored them. Djago allowed him to remain armed, as he was one of his more trusted mechanics.

​   Rowan entered the sub-sub-basement of the dealership. This was where Djago conducted his less than above board business. After moving through a dimly lit bar and through a few other rooms he made it to Djago’s receiving chamber.

​   “It’s about time you graced us with your prescence”, the Hutt roared in displeasure. “When I call for you I expect you to make haste.”

​   “Sincerest appologies, oh great one”, Rowan cowtowed. “I came as quickly as possible.  You have need of me?”

​   “To business then”, the repugnent slug began. “There is a sentient who has become a problem to a friend of mine. I require this creature to cease breathing without suspicions being raised. It will be entering the city courthouse today in five hours. Take care of this for me.”

​   An Arconan brought over a holopad. It would contain the details of the assignment. “This is not enough time to ensure a natural cause event. May I have some leeway in how I proceed?” Five hours was just not long enough to even come up with a good plan. Rowan suspected that maybe he had fallen in Djago’s bad graces and he was being setup for failure.

​   “You will do as I ask. This is not negotiable. Leave me, and I expect to hear of a tragic accident tonight on the news holo’s.”

​   Rowan bowed and backed out of the room.  At least Djago had said ‘accident’. That opened up a lot of alternatives. No need to make it look like natural causes.

​   He didn’t have time to go home first, so Rowan moved back into the private bar and found a drape covered alcove where he could review the details of the job. The holopad started with the image of a Falleen named Kirz Aldeko. Apparently this individual was going to testify against some Hutt operations. Obviously this was going to be an important job. It appeared that Kirz’ appointment with the court had been kept secret until just a little while ago.

​   Particulars of who and why out of the way, Rowan logged into the Hutts local network through the holopad.  He started with the courthouse, checking blueprints, employee rosters, maintenance logs. Anything that he might need to know. One thing popped out at him. Maintenance logs showed repairs to the outside of the building being a common ongoing effort. The building was very old and apparently needed some touch ups from time to time.  There wasn’t anything scheduled for today. Unfortunate, but not unworkable.

​   Checking logistical data for the dealership front found him exactly what he needed. Rowan started a program he kept on the Hutt network and it began erasing his tracks on the network.  It would finish by wiping the holopad and resetting it to a factory fresh install. He left it in the alcove and walked away, all traces of his use of it gone.  Someone would find it and put it back into stock.

​   Rowan went to a robotics bay inside Djago’s many rooms under the dealership.  He looked around, finally finding the standing wave generator he was looking for. These were usually used before demolitions to soften up the structure of a building.  He had long since stopped wondering why Djago had some of the things he had, it was better not to know. He put the small device in his cloak and continued his search.

​  In one of Djago’s many collection display rooms, Rowan found the other piece to his plan.  It was a very old firearm. A projectile weapon that used compressed gas to hurl a heavy weight at killing velocity across a respectfull distance. Nothing special compared to todays technology, but it would hurl just about anything. It’s accuracy was horrible, but Rowan could compensate for some of that.

​   Stowing the weapon, Rowan left Djago’s place and after reaching street level again he headed downtown. He covered his face so that any random camera would not record his image entering downtown.

​   He waited next to a food vendor outside the courthouse. The smell of burnt mamallian flesh making him queasy. It didn’t take long till the mid-shift of office workers started to arrive.  He slipped in with the crews, using a knife he had as a distraction by hiding it in the pocket of one of the workers. The guards, finally having something to do, were to busy with the irrate lawyer to notice on extra entrant.

​   Taking the lift to it’s highest point, Rowan exited the building via some stairs and an access panel.  Finding the side facing the underground garage entrance, he did some last minute calculations and placed the wave generator onto the side of the building, below the ornate outcroppings.

​   He needed to wait an hour for the low power he had set the device for to work.  It couldn’t look like the stone had been forced. In that time, he had found another section that already had some crumbling masonry. He found a chunk bigger than he needed and began scraping it down to the exact dimensions he needed.

​   The wait was finally over. He removed the device from the side of the building and made his way back to the street.  Moving across to a building directly in front of the entrance to the garage, he made his way to it’s roof.  He had already scoped out his perch and had left his weapons here in case he had been searched inside the courthouse.  He gathered up all of his belongings and turned the cloak inside out. It was a wonderful piece of tech he had won in a card game. The camoflage tech would display an image of whatever was behind it, at all angles. Not exactly invisibility, but highly affective at keeing it’s owner unnoticed.

​   Now to wait. He had already used up most of his time so he didn’t have to wait long. The piece of masonry fit almost perfectly down the barrel of the ancient gun. A crumpled piece of paper from the alleyway completed the seal on his makeshift projectile.  He waited under his cloak, watching the traffic below.

​   Finally he saw what he was waiting for. Two security force speeders surrounding a civilian land transport. A real nice luxury model, probably modified with bullet proof glass. No matter, it wouldn’t help.

​Rowan took aim, but not down at the approaching vehicles. No, he aimed across to the roof of the other building. Carefully targeting below where he had placed the generator previously, he aimed at the newly formed cracks the. He waited for the vehicles to be at the proper distance.

​   Time seemed to slow. Rowan was calculating the speed of the vehicles, air speed, figuring how much they would slow to make the corner into the garage. All of these things ran through his head until finally…


​   The gun lobbed it’s payload across to the other buildind. Rowan immediatly packed everything up and headed downstairs. He did not wait to see the flying rock disentegrate as it hit the wall across the street. He did not need to see the newly disturbed stone collapse under it’s own weght.  By the time he arrived at street level, the security forces were out in full force. They mulled around the crushed luxury car, not knowing what to do.  Emergency vehicles started to appear, not that they could help.

​   That night the news reports stated a continued decline in the stability of the building had not been taken seriously enough. The image of the head of maintenance for the building was shown.  The news caster claimed this person was being held responsible for not taking a more pro-active schedule in building repair. The case that was being heard had been called off due to the unfortunate accident taking the life of the only witness. 

​It was time to go get drunk again.




    Another late night. It was extremely difficult for Rowan Blaqflame to get moving. He went through his normal exercise routine, but it just didn’t put him in the right frame of mind. Maybe a little of what ails him would help. 

    Rowan gathered up his normal town gear and headed back into the throng of sentients bustling outside. The obligatory vibro blade slid into the top of his boot. He always carried a PrG-7 explosive in his cloak; even though it was bulky it never hurt to have that extra oomph if you needed it. Of course the twins were always under his cloak waiting for action. He had named his dual DY-225s Thunder and Lightning. Simple and corny, but that’s just how he was sometimes. Deadly serious one second and impishly jovial the next. He always took time to arrange his Zenji needles into his cloak. They’ve saved his life many a time.

    Fully geared up for what lived out there in the city, Rowan left his apartment. He went out the back of the building to avoid attention. Winding his way through back alleys and little used thorough fairs he made his way to his favorite haunt. The Drex was out of the way, had tables hidden into corners and of course dark lighting. Perfect for the paranoid type.

    Finding a open table hidden behind partitions, Rowan sat down, adjusting Thunder and Lightning and he sat.  A sexy Twi’Lek came over, already carrying a drink.  “You don’t look so swift this morning. I told you not to drink with those Trandoshan, they process the alcohol different. You can’t beat them.” 

    “I know”, responded Rowan. “It’s always fun while you’re doing it, but you have to pay for it sometime.” He drank half of the glass right away, and then set the glass down.  “Why don’t you come sit down over here with me?”

    “Honey, you don’t get any better looking the night after. You’ll get same answer I gave you last night. I don’t have relations with killers.” The Twi’Lek left him with his fantasies. He sat their day dreaming about what could never be.

    A buzzing and some tones came from under his cloak. Rowan brought out his holopad and activated it.  A familiar slug appeared and began yelling at him. “You worthless pile of scat. Get your long face over here right now. None of your excuses, get moving.” Rowan downed the rest of his glass and left a few credits for the sex kitten.

    Getting back out into the populace, Rowan moved much quicker now.  Djago had been in an especially foul mood these last couple of weeks. Business seemed to be fine, but he was just angrier than normal. Moving quickly down into the sewers Rowan entered Djago’s lair, moved through the various rooms and entered his business chamber.

    Djago was shaking with anger, his rolls undulating like ocean waves in a tsunami. He saw Rowan enter and calmed himself. “Scum, you have been with us your whole life.  In that time you have messed up so many contracts that I can’t count the money you’ve lost me anymore. It has come to my attention that the contracts you’ve succeeded at actually outweigh the losses. I’m told by The Family that you are due much more compensation, and that just won’t due.  I’m on a very tight margin and can’t afford changes in expenses.  So I have a decision to make.  I either pay you more, or I release you from your contract and hire two new acolytes.”

    Rowan didn’t quite understand what was being said.  Did he just say I was free? That can’t be right. What would that mean He actually moved closer to the Hutt. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, maybe he just didn’t understand.

    “I can’t just release a contract without some sort of financial exchange.  I’ve been looking for just the right job for this and it has finally presented itself.  Something to get you off of my ledger and make sure no other Hutt picks up your services.  I can’t have my competition getting my WORST asset. Take the holopad and leave.  I hope I never see your ugly face again.”

    A Gamorrean moved closer and handed him a holopad.  “I’ve put some extra info on there of a personal nature.  It won’t become available until you complete your mission.  This pad is specially designed to remotely update and report your status.  You will need to report intelligence as you gather it, so I’ll know when you finish and I’ll send a special code to unlock your data.”

    Rowan was still numb. He didn’t understand any of this.  What would freedom mean; he hadn’t even considered that since he was a tiny Kubaz. Whatever it was that Djago wanted him to do; this was going to be interesting. Not being a braggart he still knew he was the best hitter that the Hutt had.

    “Why are you standing there like you’re in Carbonite.  Get out of here, NOW!” Rowan hadn’t realized he was zoned out.  This must be what shock feels like.  This physiological response had been beaten out of him long ago, but it fit the current events.

    Rowan slowing walked out of the Hutt’s office, through the various bars and storerooms. He made his way into the sewer, but instead of heading to the surface he just kept walking through the damp environment.  Would this mean they would take everything he had?  It was all given to him for the job. Where would he live? Would he still do wet work?

    But wait!  There was still a job to do.  This was probably going to be hide and watch then hit when the unknown mark showed up. What was Djago talking about ‘personal nature’? Was it personal to Djago or personal to him? Well, it isn’t safe to absorb the info here. He’ll have to go to his safe room and find out what this is all about. He continued using the sewers to travel through the city, soon coming to his apartment building.  There was a hidden entrance into a sub-basement so he went in without anyone seeing him.  Up to his room and into the safe room.

    Djago’s voice started and the image of another Hutt was being displayed.  “This one has been making life for the families difficult.  This one has been an embarrassment for years, but recently he has had sentients retired that were important to others. This cannot continue, but the families do not retire other family members.  This is just not done.  You will need to find a way to make this happen which does not point back to the families in any way.  Then you will disappear.  All connections must be severed.”

    Now it made sense.  It wasn’t that he was being freed from his servitude.  Djago just liked him too much to have Rowan retired after the hit to clean up all the loose ends. It had been a rewarding career, in most aspects. All that he had been through had shaped him and made him much better at what he did. In thanks, Rowan was going to make sure that this went off perfectly.

   That old Hutt was getting soft, giving Rowan a way out of this. He would return that sentiment and pull this job off without a hitch. To do that, he needed as much information as he could get.  For the month and a half, Rowan spent all of his waking hours researching and strategizing how to pull this off without the Hutt’s losing face. After that he intended to travel to his races home world, something he had dreamt about as a child.

   The Hutt’s name was Bal Fein, a young up and coming thug who had gathered quite the following of villains. He would come into an area that wasn’t worth anything to the other Hutts and start running protection scams and distributing drugs.  Soon the neighborhood was a full fledged Hutt protectorate.  This simple formula worked for a long time, but there was only so much room available and that room ran out. 

   Bal ran out of un-owned neighborhoods and had to start moving into others territories. There were procedures for these kinds of things, but Bal was not one to follow the rules even if they were Hutt rules.  He would eliminate the underlings of the Hutt in control until they had no forces to protect what was there’s. This was not the way the Hutt’s ran their business, and that’s where Rowan came in.

   During his investigations, Rowan had come up with a few individuals high up in Bal’s hierarchy that might fit the need. Any time an organization depended on muscle, the muscle always thought it had better ideas than the brains.  Bal’s organization was no different. He had a lot of capable muscle and that left him much opportunity.

   Rowan began hacking into Bal’s systems.  It took another month just to sneak into the systems without raising any alarms. Once he had control of the system his plan started to fall into place. Holo messages would come from outside the system to those inside looking like a conspiracy was brewing.  The messages would only be around long enough for some admin to pick up on them and then they would disappear. This went on for a few weeks.

   “Sir,” said the timid computer jockey.  “There seems to be some strange activity on our networks.” The admin had finally gotten the nerve to bring up these anomalies to Bal. Bal was one known for killing the messenger so this was a risky move, but Bal needed to know this.

   “What are you talking about, idiot?” Bal berated the small man. He liked to keep them all in fear, it kept them compliant.

   “We’ve been noticing communications that appear and then seem to be scrubbed from our system,” the admin said. “They seem to be of a disturbing nature.”

   “Disturbing,” the Hutt asked? “What are you trying to say?”

   “The communications are with outworld interests.  They concern bringing in drugs and weapons and selling them in our territories.  We can’t seem to figure out who they are intending to reach in our network, but whoever it is has great skill.  The messages are removed from our network almost immediately and all incoming and outgoing logs are cleansed.  I’ve never seen this level of skill.”

   Bal trusted this little man, and if he said this was a problem then it must be.  “Continue to monitor the communications. See if you can make copies of these messages. I want to know what is doing this.”

   “That’s what I’m trying to say,” the exasperated admin explained. “I cannot get a copy of these messages. I’ve seen some of the text, and I told you what I know about it. I’ve tried everything and I can’t get anything more.  I’ve brought in hired programmers trying to setup anything to get more information. There’s nothing more I can do, that’s why I’ve come to you.  I don’t know what else to do.”

   The Hutt contemplated this for a few quite minutes.  The admin shifted his weight nervously around, trying not to look like a bull’s-eye. Bal began to sweat a little, his anger beginning to get the better of him. “Shut it down. Disconnect us from the outside. I will find this traitor and deal with him.”

   The next few days were filled with yelling, questioning, and inevitably beatings. As Bal hit dead end after dead end his frustration grew. His search for this elusive traitor began to get more violent.  At one point he sent one of his more trusted men to the infirmary with a skull injury. There comes a point when fear will always turn to indignant anger, and that time had come.

   Rowan knew things should be ripe so began the second part of his plan. He began following some of the more hot headed underlings around and whenever the opportunities presented themselves he would engage in a little social engineering. One such case was Nikto named Mardos Sinan. He had a quick temper, but more importantly he was very well liked by his comrades.

   Rowan had followed Mardos from his abode back to work, but before he could get even half way there he approached him. “Hey, you,” Rowan whispered. “I need to hire a few good sentients.  There’s a Hutt who needs some scum eliminated.  He’s paying really well for discretion. Are you available?”

   “NO,” Mardos stated. “I already have a job. Go way.”

   This type of seed planting continued for only another three days. On the morning of the third day, after a night of spreading dissent, Rowan awoke to a banging on the door.  Rowan hadn’t had a good night sleep in a long time, but hadn’t had any time to get drunk so he woke up pretty easily.  He got to the door and used his holopad to see who was outside. It was one of Djago’s men.

   Rowan opened the door and the Abyssin came in.  “You have done well. I’m surprised you are still here, as the holopad that Djago gave you has been updated and the information you were promised has been unlocked. Here.” The representative handed him some paperwork. “This is an open ticket anywhere in the Galaxy.  You need to leave now; your face was seen talking to the men of a Hutt who was recently overthrown by those same men.  It’s been good working with you. Goodbye.” He then left.

   It had taken less time then he would have thought. It was over, more than just this job but his previous existence. Having no clue where to go from here, he would start by traveling to his race’s home planet of Kubindi.  But first, what was this information that Djago was providing him? What could it be?

   For whatever reason, he just couldn’t force himself to look at it.  It wasn’t until he was on Kubindi and had become thoroughly under impressed by his fellow Kubaz that he finally looked. He started with reading the textual information.  It appeared he had a sister, a twin sister. His mother had twins, and the strain of child birth was what did her in. The files said that she was sold off as a slave at the age of two. 

   What was really interesting was some holo files of the actual sale. There wasn’t much information about who she had been sold too, except for the holograms. Rowan didn’t think he had feeling like this anymore, but he wanted to make a connection with his past.  This was his first chance to do that. It wasn’t much information but it was a start. He would look for his sister, wherever that led to.

   But now what?  He was an assassin. Rowan figured he could freelance but it would take a really long time to build up a reputation outside of the Djago’s organization.  He was sure Djago wouldn’t admit to even knowing him anymore.  He could become a bounty hunter, he had all the skills.  Maybe the Guild or the Granse Confederacy? He could become a smuggler, pirate or mercenary. There were a lot of organizations to join there.  Maybe security; his skills could be put to good use. Maybe he could join the Empire, they always need to have people removed.

   It seemed that going pirate could be bad for your health, even from your comrades. Security was just too white collar. The Empire might work, but he really didn’t like their morals.  He may kill people for a living but not children or the innocent.  He only removed those that needed it.  After much deliberation he came to the decision that The Wraiths would be a good fit if he could get in.  They were mercenaries who could kill without remorse, but would only work for those who they deemed deserved their assistance. This combination seemed to be perfect.

   He sent off the appropriate holo-messages and waited.  It didn’t take long.  Apparently, even though no-one should have known of him, his reputation had preceded him.  They accepted him and invited him to their academy. After buying a ticket to the academy he left Kubindi for his new life as a Mercenary.


3 Responses to History

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