Not every colony succeeds, but not all the failures die completely. Kumro grew up in one of the lost colonies that are scattered about the galaxy. Her homeworld, Dalchi, started as a conscript colony—one far too resource-poor for any major industry, and the colony itself too small and new to rely on trade. Within a century, they had regressed to subsistence farming; within another, knowledge of the greater galaxy had faded into legend.

Force-sensitivity, however, can and will spring up anywhere. As the galaxy turned, Dalchi's priesthood grew into a pieced-together Force tradition. At first, the Force-sensitive Dalchi priests were mostly healers, eschewing leadership for religious semi-seclusion. Eventually, however, the planet's lack of technological progress was attributed to some holy command rather than an accident of geology. The Dalchi priesthood decided that it was their duty to guard the sacred order; by the time Kumro was born, the society of Dalchi had become a theocracy with a rigid caste system. One did what their ancestors did, and that was the end of it.


Every caste had a surname attached, once belonging to the first family of that caste—Kumro was born Kumro Natrus, her family name now synonymous with and translating to "adept." The Natrus were the lowest priestly caste, given only the bare minimum of training and used as little more than Force-sensitive breeding stock for the higher castes.

The only way to rise above Natrus was to show a strong aptitude for some Force ability—in theory, at least. In practice, only the most undeniable displays were accepted. Kumro was not one of the lucky ones—despite all her attempts, her abilities remained extremely minor. This was hardly unusual; the Force tradition the Dalchi Priests taught relied on "knowing one's role in things." Kumro, desperate to escape hers, was straight out of luck.

As time went on, she became more and more disillusioned with the Dalchi caste system, and even took to secret exploration, in the hopes that she could find... something. Something that could save her from a life so rigidly dictated. That's what she found, though not in the way she'd meant it.

Not every bit of original technology had been destroyed or locked away. The colony ship still stood, forbidden as an unholy place. It would never fly again, but it was filled with relics of a lost time. Most were hopelessly ruined, but Kumro managed to find perhaps the most dangerous thing she could have: an intact holocommunicator.

It was only luck that she managed to activate it, only luck that it reached friendly ears. The person on the other end listened, perplexed, as Kumro poured her heart out to the "ghost in the disc." Who, as it turned out, was no ghost at all—instead, she was a Twi'lek freedom fighter, waging her own personal war against Hutt slavers. Her name was Na'asen.

They talked. Kumro learned of the galaxy outside. Dalchi had never seemed so limited as then. Millions—millions!—of worlds, and Kumro was stuck here, on this one.

She begged Na'asen to take her. She would help—she'd clean the ship, or make meals, or whatever was needed, just so long as she could escape.

("Slow down, kid," Na'asen said in reply. "If the galaxy drops someone in need into my lap, I'm not going to walk away.")

Na'asen was going to be in that section of the galaxy anyway—in three days. After she fought or lost the slaver ship she and her crew were chasing. She'd already traced the call; Kumro just had to last three more days. ("And get as many of the others as you can," Na'asen added.) They said their goodbyes, and Kumro was left with a holocommunicator, a sense of wonder, and more hope than she'd had in months.

She went back. The second night, she dreamed.

---

For a few moments, all was mist.

From the fog came a Nautolan woman, gray-skinned, tall, strong. She wore a long orange robe that met the mist-floor and did not stop, instead flowing out and staining the mist the color of fading sunset.

Kumro looked up at her. "Who are you?"

The woman smiled, and there was a bittersweet cast to the expression. "A shadow."

"You're the Pariah," Kumro whispered, realization striking her.

"I am mask and memory," said the Pariah. "I am the story she left behind. The symbol she became."

Kumro ached with a strange longing. "But you're the Pariah. And you're here to save me."

"I am every Pariah. And you are here to save yourself."

---

When Kumro awoke, there was a path burned into her mind. She did not begin the day's tasks. She did not even attend prayer at the shrine. She walked out into the forest, following a pull she did not quite understand. It led her, after hours of walking, to a small cave.

Inside was a single makeshift gravestone, worn and cracked and covered with moss. Kumro cleared the moss away, and saw the carving—two words. "Khe Fente."

And Kumro knew, deeply and viscerally, that that was the name of the Pariah.

Before the grave lay a sword, dirty but still somehow in good condition. The blade had a faint orange tint to it, and it was coated with a strange glaze. The pommel held the sigil of one who'd been stripped of their family sigil: a circle, broken in two places.

Kumro took the sword and started on her way to the old ship.

The warrior-priests, enforcers and guardians of Dalchi, found her first. So Kumro ran, and they chased. As the ship was finally in sight, she stumbled and staggered, unable to go any farther... and Na'asen's ship, /Wings of Ryloth,/ came diving down to meet her.

Kumro stayed with Na'asen for three years. The Twi'lek was her mentor in so many ways, showing Kumro how to survive in the wider galaxy. Kumro seemed like a naïve kid for the first few months, but she took to her new situation quite quickly. Her technical skills were still lacking, but Kumro could deal with her fellow sapients quite handily. Eventually she was the ship's negotiator, rather than just Na'asen's pet project. And she wasn't bad to have around in a fight, either, though she was still a better talker than a warrior.

They had some successes, some failures, and one big mess that somehow ended up a victory—that last being when a minor Hutt who they had been interfering with finally managed to capture them. During their breakout, Na'asen killed him herself.

Shortly after, they managed to drain his accounts, and Na'asen offered the crew a choice: stay on, or take their share of the payout and leave.

Kumro wanted to stay, but it was time to leave. She could feel it. She said her goodbyes, and set off to find her new path.

Emotional Strength - Independence:
Kumro's idea of independence isn't about refusal to rely on others—rather, years of struggling against the bonds of her caste have given her an independence of thought that cannot be suppressed. She may have to hide her true ideals, but forcing her to compromise them is a truly difficult task.

Emotional Weakness - Anger:
Defiance of a corrupt system, however, can too easily become anger at those who seem to be upholding it—even when they're its victims as well.