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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Quickleaf" data-source="post: 7047377" data-attributes="member: 20323">Here's the intros I have so far, just waiting for you       [MENTION=6814006]Thateous[/MENTION] to figure out how your Jedi PC fits the missing link that leads to the en media res scene...If anyone takes issue with some of my creative assumptions, just let me know and I'll revise it before posting to actual play.<img src="http://i.imgur.com/K3FZBge.png" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " data-size="" style="" />Arsinoë Anjuliz - The IngenueWeeks became months, and the rescue that Arsinoë once believed was being organized by her family was still nowhere in sight. It was a miracle that she and the little R3-X20 unit survived the crash on Kabal. The crash still haunted her dreams sometimes, flashing green thunderclouds and g-forces pressing her back to the wall as the fuselage of the slave-barge made planetfall. If it wasn’t for the R3 unit – who she’d come to dub “Rex” – breaking ranks from the krish pirates and emergency ejecting the last remaining engine to stabilize their descent, her story would have ended crashed on the rainforest shoreline along with dozens of older wrecks.The first human face she saw on the new world was a scrapper named Garrett who helped pull her from the charred metal of the wreckage. He was naive, didn’t realize how imporant her family was, but Garrett helped her get her bearings in the settlement of Spirepoint, taught her not to look a houk in the eye, and found her and her R3 work at Fasteh Winjem cantina. It was supposed to just be serving tables, something to tide her over till she could get help…until she met the mysterious woman. Dark hair, a baby face whose 40-some years were revealed in her wise eyes, and a cybernetic brace around her left leg. The woman never gave her name, only quietly informed Arsinoë that she knew all about the Hutt who was after her and if she wanted to get off this backwater she’d be the woman’s eyes and ears. Blackmail, pure and simple.Despite the jungles they had in common, Kabal was a far cry from Corellia. Countless alien species Arsinoë had never seen much the less knew existed were eager to watch the young human strut about in tawdry outfits, mulling over the pound of flesh or credits “owed” to them over synthahol. Castor Felix, the slick cantina proprietor, was quick to put Arsinoë’s dancing talents to good use entertaining his customers. Each day he promises to help Arsinoë reconnect with her family and each day he manipulates her further. Something had to give.<img src="http://i.imgur.com/K3FZBge.png" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " data-size="" style="" />Garrett Jinsalon - The ScrapperSome of the old-timers still regarded the lightstorms as an omen bringing strange visitors from the skies. Superstitions and taboos ran as deep as the ocean in the blood of the Kabalian people. Garrett knew better. The girl and her astromech he’d pulled from the wreckage captivated his imagination, already overflowing with star system maps and hyperdrive models. Scrappers called it the “Starship Coast”; tide, wind currents, and gravity conspired to lead starships there once the electromagnetic pulses of the lightstorms disabled them. It was his first time seeing a ship crash, an Aurore-class freighter carying slaves, its fuselage shearing away from the cockpit in the upper atmosphere. The cockpit fell out at sea. And the fuselage was picked clean by squibs in the past months. His only tangible evidence that it wasn’t all one of his daydreams was a charred data cylinder Garrett retrieved from the wreckage that resisted all attempts to read it. Still, its unfamiliar markings made it a great source of pride showing off to other scrappers. Even if Garrett didn’t believe in omens, there was a shift that only he could sense. “Don’t be too eager for change, my son,” his ailing mother Afeera would gently tell him.Word was that stormtroopers were searching Spirepoint for a data cylinder. It couldn’t be a coincidence. The Houk Barcad still had his uncle’s old freighter impounded as collateral toward his family’s debt, so he couldn’t get offworld with his mother. His best chance was to slip out of Spirepoint and go after The Big Score, a legend among scrappers, a ruin in the rainforest with vines growing over a Lambda-class shuttle crashed into its walls. All the scrappers who tried were found decomposing in the rainforest weeks later. But the clock was ticking. It was the only way to get enough credits fast to pay off the houks. The stormtroopers would have picked him up were it not for Arsinoë’s quick-thinking pretending to be a noblewoman employing Garrett as her porter; the ruse lasted long enough to get outside the settlement gate. Distracted by arguing houks, by the time the stormtroopers realized what had happened, their speeders wouldn't even start.<img src="http://i.imgur.com/K3FZBge.png" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " data-size="" style="" />Rex (R3-x20) - The AstromechLife as a cantina server droid wasn’t the first time Rex had to adopt a cover. Sarn Doree once had the R3 painted with an Imperial color scheme down to the hologram decals. Used to being around smugglers and scoundrels, Rex’s computational protocols estimates there was a 67.8% chance that someone would betray him or Arsinoë. Looking out for the young ingenue was almost a full-time job in and of itself! Though the crash and his friendship with Arsinoë were unexpected, it was no accident Rex had been aboard the krish pirate vessel. The krish had captured an old shuttle belonging to the First Order, and the shuttle’s data cylinder could be invaluable to the Resistance. Transponder codes, hyperspace coordinates, pilot protocols. Rex had been so close when everything went sideways or, more precisely, down. Native lifeforms made short work of stripping the wreck; if the cylinder survived the crash it was likely trading hands in the markets of Kabal.Where Arsinoë went, Rex followed, even sneaking past the First Order patrol. They weren’t looking for the droid, not yet at least, so he could still blend into the tangle of old battered droids on the streets of Spirepoint. With Arsinoë’s debt to her scrapper friend paid off, the ingenue had no reason to stay out in the rainforest…until Rex received the Resistance signal. It was faint and distant, but it was unmistakable. Someone was broadcasting on the epsilon subspace transceiver frequency. Only a few key individuals in the Resistance knew that frequency, including Lieutenant Mason. Irresistibly it called to Rex, drawing the curious droid deeper into the rainforest, and where Rex went Arsinoë was sure to follow.<img src="http://i.imgur.com/K3FZBge.png" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " data-size="" style="" />Kospirian - The Resistance AgentTrust no one. It was a spy’s byline, and doubly true in the so-called “Smuggler’s Cross” that included the constellation of outworlds forming a rough cross on astrogation maps. Slave-trading, spice-dealing, arms-running, nova crystal-smuggling. The “Smuggler’s Cross” had it all, and Kabal was at the center. Chartering passage on the freighter Jaat III packed with alien refugees, outcasts, and criminals, Kospirian could easily be mistaken for one of that desperate lot trickling into Kabal from outlying systems at a steady rate. As much as it left a bitter taste in his mouth – a criminal culture was exactly why he left Chryya – Kospirian was the best mirialan for the job. While he’d never spoken with General Leia, his handler Lieutenant Mason told him this mission came from the top. Bring the informant codenamed SKYLARK to Spirepoint and await extraction by Resistance pilots. Where the limited datafile he’d been given left off, it was up to Kospirian to fill in the details. The First Order already had boots on the ground. Ferukh Qann was detained by stormtroopers shortly after divulging what he knew about SKYLARK to Kospirian in backalley whispers. Ferukh owed Kospirian a debt for saving the quarren from a life of slavery, true, but in the years they’d remained in contact Ferukh had proven himself a kindred spirit. The quarren saw a dark-haired human woman with a cybernetic leg brace showing tell-tale craftsmanship from the Anoat Sector; she was communicating with several others including a young dancer at Fasteh Winjem cantina before she leased a speeder and went into the rainforest west of Spirepoint. There were too many stormtroopers to help Ferukh now, but without a First Order base on Kabal and popular sentiment against both the old Empire and the New Republic, it was unlikely they’d seriously harm or imprison him. For now, the mission came first.That’s when Kospirian saw them. The nephew of Sarn Doree – Garrett – along with the droid Rex and a young woman slipping past the gate patrol. A cohort of houks harassed the stormtroopers doing a cursory scan, the distraction enough for the unlikely trio to be waved past. It wouldn’t last for long, however. A sergeant – identified by his shoulder pip – was coming over to the gate patrol. Soon enough their cover would be blown, and then they’d be overtaken by speeders. A few judicious slices to the fuel lines of the speeders with his vibroknife, however, and by the time the stormtroopers realized they’d been duped, the trio (and Kospirian) would be lost in the rainforest. Sometimes guardian angels were green.<img src="http://i.imgur.com/K3FZBge.png" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " data-size="" style="" /></blockquote>

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