About Jal RaxisMale Rattataki Jedi 2/Scoundrel 5/Crime Lord 1 ------------------------------------------------------ HP: 67 (20+2d10+4d6+1d8+14)
------------------------------------------------------ Speed: 6 squares
------------------------------------------------------ Str: 10 0
------------------------------------------------------ Feats: Force Sensitivity, Force Training, Friends in Low Places, Improved Defenses, Point-Blank Shot, Precise Shot, Quick Draw, Skill Focus (Use the Force), Unwavering Focus, Weapon Finesse, Weapon Focus (Pistols)
------------------------------------------------------ Talents
------------------------------------------------------ Force Powers (Int-Based)
------------------------------------------------------ Racial Traits: Heightened Awareness, Superior Defenses
------------------------------------------------------ Weapons: Accurate Phrik Alloy Ionite Vibroblade, Scoped Quick Draw Accurate Heavy Blaster Pistol, Quick Draw Accurate Heavy Sonic Pistol, Quick Draw Accurate Ion Pistol, Energy Cell (2), Power Pack (6), Concussion Grenade (3), Frag Grenade (4), Gas Grenade (4), Ion Grenade (4), Smoke Grenade (4)
Progression:
Starting Stat Line:
Str: 10, Dex: 18, Con: 14, Int: 15, Wis: 10, Cha: 13 Level 1: Scoundrel 1
Level 2: Jedi 1
Level 3: Jedi 2
Level 4: Scoundrel 2
Level 5: Scoundrel 3
Level 6: Scoundrel 4
Level 7: Scoundrel 5
Level 8: Crime Lord 1
Backstory:
“My mother always told me that I was born on our homeworld, Rattatak. Not that it means anything to me. By the time I was old enough to walk, we’d been taken off-world by the Hutts. I grew up on Nar Shaddaa, under the thumb of Drooga the Hutt. He was a disgusting piece of slime, even for a Hutt. A hedonist to the core, he wanted the absolute best out of everything he owned: the most extravagant food, the finest wine, and the most exotic entertainment. By the time I was sixteen, I’d killed three men in gladiatorial combat for his amusement. If I ever have the chance, I’m going to slag that Hutt.”
“I was nineteen when it finally ended. Drooga was shipping a group of slaves off to one of his vacation homes when the convoy was suddenly hit by a Republic strike team. Apparently a rival had tipped off the authorities to a large cargo of ‘illegal goods’ that the Hutt was shipping off world, and conveniently away from Nar Shaddaa’s lawlessness. I’ve never been so happy to see a lawman in my entire life. We were taken to a Republic world, I don’t even remember which one, and they tried to find some place to send twenty freed slaves with nothing but the rags on their backs.” “That’s when I got an… interesting offer. One of the leaders of the strike team that freed me was a Jedi Knight named Duras Fain. And he hated the Hutts. I have to admit, he impressed me. Then again, I’d never met a Jedi before, so maybe I was just young and stupid at the time. He said that he could feel the Force in me, and that I had a chance to make something great of myself now that I was free from the Hutts’ clutches. He offered me training, and a place in the Jedi Order. I took his offer.” “In retrospect, I shouldn’t have been surprised that the Jedi and I got along like a starving akk dog and a tasty looking bantha. They didn’t do anything. There’s only so much time you can spend sitting around a temple meditating and doing lightsaber drills before you get sick and tired of it. And if I ever hear anyone tell me to ‘not let my anger control me’ again, I’m going to cut their tongue out. I spent four years fighting to the death for the entertainment of a fat slug. If I want to be mad about it, I will. When I got in to a fight with another Padawan that landed him in the medbay for a week, I decided that this whole Jedi thing wasn’t working out. I skipped out of the temple in the middle of the night and never looked back.” “As it turns out, Jedi combat training makes you a lot better than most street thugs. I was running one of the biggest gangs on the planet within a year. Master Fain would have been furious to see one of his students turning in to a gangster, but it worked out pretty well for me. I had friends, allies, and no one complained if I wanted to behead a Hutt lieutenant and toss his body in an incinerator. And the money was good, which helped. After about two years of that, the Sith came back. You could see the Jedi Temple burning from miles away. At least I got out when I had the chance.” “In the aftermath, a couple of the gangs got the bright idea to band together while Republic Security was completely overwhelmed and missing half their members. I heard about Black Sun when their representative came to offer my gang membership. I took the offer. Picking a fight with a group that size wasn’t going to end well, and they were offering the chance to go beyond just Coruscant, to create a syndicate that stretched across the galaxy.” “Of course, all good things end eventually. And the Republic finally managed to get their hands on me when I was running a little op to bust one of my lieutenants from the clink before he got shipped off world to some super max prison for a life sentence. If they think they’re going to hold me forever, they don’t know who they’re dealing with…” People:
Question 1: Who do you know?
Master Duras Fain - Jedi Master and Jal’s former master, known maverick in the Jedi Order who has a particular dislike of the Hutts. Padawan Laurana Fain - Jedi Padawan and Duras’s daughter, a bit more traditional than her father and one of Jal’s only friends when he was in the order. Cade Wesial - Black market dealer and underworld contact, a known associate of Black Sun who helps them procure weapons and sell illegal goods. Jared Kath - Black Sun lieutenant, Jal’s immediate subordinate and close friend. Question 2: Who knows you?
The Mission:
Jal’s eyes snapped open when he heard the pneumatic hiss of his cell’s door. “You’ve got a visitor.”
“What happened to no one caring about criminal scum like me?” “Shut up and walk,” the guard snapped. “It won’t due to keep him waiting.” “Oh, someone important. Fun.” He takes his time getting out of bed and follows the guard at a leisurely pace. He can see the man’s scowl growing and he smirks cheekily. The guard led him to one of the interrogation rooms and half shoved him inside before sealing the door. Jal’s grin vanishes as he sees his guest. “Master Fain.” “It’s been a long time Jal.” He gestures to the chair opposite him. “Take a seat, we need to talk.” “If this is going to be you attempting to guilt trip me, I’d rather go back to my cell.” “You’re my student. I respect you too much to play mind games like that.” Jal scowls, but drops in to the chair regardless. “I haven’t been your student for four years Duras.” “You’ll always be my student, even if you gave up the Order for…” He gestures vaguely to the air. “This.” “What, you don’t like it? I get a private room, three square meals a day, peace and quiet, it’s almost as nice as the Jedi Temple.” Fain sighs. “You had the potential to be a great Jedi. I still think that you could, but maybe it’s not the right path for you.” He shrugs. “I’ve never been one to toe the line, if this fits you better, then I’m not going to push you to come back.” Jal’s eyes narrow. “If you’re not here to try to drag me back in, what do you want?” Fain pulls out a data pad and starts scrolling through it. “A year. You’ve been part of Black Sun for a year. Violent crimes are down fifteen percent in your territory, murders are at their lowest since the attack.” “And?” “And, despite you not wanting to admit it, you haven’t forgotten your lessons.” Fain chuckles. “It’s ironic. We spent years trying to help you control your temper, and then when you disappear in to the underworld, you end up being a moderating influence. Maybe being a leader helped you learn some self-control.” “Killing people who don’t need to die is bad business. I’m a gangster, not a Sith Lord.” “True. But you could make your life easier if you didn’t keep your men under control. But you choose to restrain yourself.” Jal rolls his eyes. “Are you going somewhere with this?” “I think, I think that there’s still a little of that Padawan who I pulled off a Hutt freighter still buried under all that Black Sun armor.” Jal just scoffs. Fain ignores it and scrolls through the pad again. “Eight prison breaks in twelve months. All Black Sun lieutenants, most of whom knew you personally, all attended by you in person. Six more planned and order by you for other Black Sun members, but not taken care of in person.” “I like to keep reliable men on my side.” “You took the time to rescue your friends from Republic custody, even putting yourself at risk. You broke in to three separate Republic prisons and made it out without losing a man every single time. Analysts are still trying to figure out how to you pulled off a couple of the escapes.” Jal shrugs. “Maybe I’m just talented.” “I think you’re very talented. That’s why I want your help.” Jal sits up straight. “Wait, what?” Fain offers the datapad to him. “Two days ago, a Republic agent named Kaul Wren missed his latest check-in. Another agent confirmed that he’s been captured by Imperial agents on the planet Carratos.” Jal looks over the report. “This has to be classified. How the frak did you get clearance to tell me about this?” “The Jedi Council was asked to provide assistance in a rescue mission, but their dragging their heels a little. Then a report of your arrest crossed my desk while I was doing some work with Coruscant Security.” Jal’s eyes widen in understanding. “This is a recruitment pitch.” “Just not a Jedi one. The Republic needs people with the skills to launch a special operation to rescue Wren. You’ve pulled more successful jail breaks in a year than anyone in the SIS has in five.” “What makes you think I care enough to say yes?” “Because despite what you’ve been doing for the past few years, I can still see the good man I met years ago in you. And the Republic needs your help.” Jal scowls. “I want a pardon out of it. And I’m going to need my gear back.” Fain smiled. Description:
Jal is a large man. He stands a bit over six feet tall, and well-muscled, though he doesn’t quite have the heavy set build of a body builder. Like all Rattataki, he has light grey skin and no hair, though his face is marked with several tribal tattoos that his mother designed for him when he was a child to remind him of their home. They form a vaguely sunburst like shape around his eyes, with a long spike running down his cheeks. His eyes are pale grey, much like his skin.
His equipment is finely made, but clearly meant for function over fashion. He wears a beige shirt and pants with black lightly armored boots, belt, and gloves, along with a black vest with many pockets for weapons and equipment. He keeps a holster under each arm (for his blaster and sonic blaster) as well as one in the small of his back (for his ion blaster). Each of his shoulders is marked with a slightly distorted crimson red sunburst, the symbol of the black sun syndicate. Over the entire ensemble, he wears a black long coat that seems to shift colors slightly and help hide his form when he’s moving through the shadows. |
