Some people seemed <i>born</i> to the nomadic life of trouble and violence, purpose-built to roam the Rim and scrape out a living wherever they could find it, galaxy and Empire be damned. In a way, Rosena Mortimer could be said to have been one of those people, for Rosena Mortimer was, in fact, born with no real family, no real home, and what seemed only a future of struggle and strife before her. The problem was, she wasn't <i>born</i> Rosena at all - the woman who would later become her was, in fact, born Riyu Senada.

Riyu Senada was born to a life of privilege and love - as much as either of those things can be said to be found in the Rim - on the world of Unagin. Adjacent to Hutt Space, Unagin was a trade world of minor importance, and a branch of Pantoran Senada family enjoyed a comfortable life facilitating business on the planet's arid surface. A third child and a daughter to boot, Riyu's days were filled with education on etiquette and pleasantries (the finer points of building bridges and opening doors) while her older brothers were raised in the vicious world of business and negotiation.

Although she shouldered many expectations, Riyu more or less floated through what was an easy life relative to those she knew. After all, what appears a difficult, rigid lifestyle to those looking in is, for the socialite that lives it, simply <i>life</i> and, with little else of import to occupy her time, the rigors of manners and proper behavior were perfected until they became routine. For a time - for about 18 years -, Riyu's only real job was perfecting her social graces, acquiring the accompanying culture, and staying out of trouble, tasks that, for the most part, she excelled at, and in her formative years she acquired an enduring love of poetry and trouble-making lovers. Thankfully for Riyu, as a gateway between Hutt Space and the rest of Rim space, Unagin had plenty of both.

The Pantoran's youth passed, then, as a blur of contemplation and plastered smiles punctuated by brief periods of mild excitement, and in that way was to anyone not in the Senada family's immediate social circles. She proved a mostly exemplary daughter, and thus quite a boring one, save for her minor indiscretions, and even those made relatively little waves. Unagin was, after all, on the Rim, and her imprudent dalliances and resulting foolhardy adventures, such that they were, were even in themselves relatively tame and seemed to satisfy Riyu's appetite for rebellion, a careless assumption that, perhaps, marked the start of a need for Rosena Mortimer.

Four months before her eighteenth birthday - an affair that would mark a gathering of all of Unagin's social elite and, quite a few hour later, quite a vew vagabonds and ended up involving fine Hutt brandy, lovely dresses and, less talked about but much more remembered, less fine liquor and a string of trespassing on new construction sites -, a great deal changed on Unagin. In a bold and ambitious move, the Imperial Mining Corporation (a conglomeration of what had been the then-Republic's premier mining firms that hadn't defected with the Trade Federation) negotiated a deal with the Hutts and Unagin's ruling bodies, earning themselves a hefty labor claim and carving out a large swatch of land in their name. Riyu's parents mediated the deal that saw Imperial Mining's new branch being headquartered in her district's most prestigious building for a fraction of the cost they would have paid otherwise, and it was the site of new labor housing and materials storage that, in a move that Riyu's parents might have looked back on as "telling" had they known, the eighteen year old had broken into, getting drunk atop large mounds of dirt and finding herself regaled by all manner of tall tales.

Over the next four years, Imperial Mining proved itself to be the worst thing that had happened to Unagin in recent memory. Like most malignancies, however, the poison of Imperial industry took time to reveal itself. Unagin's citizens were all much too busy to really pay attention, but it did not wholly escape their notice that all of the new presence executives were Human, all their labor non-Human, nor was anyone truly, consciously aware that, while the Human leaders of Imperial Mining attended the finest gatherings and imported the nicest luxuries, their workers lived in homes that rivaled Unagin's poorest slums. No one talked of these things; they simply became facts. Within a year, Humans began to think themselves better than their alien counterparts without really knowing why; after a year and half, most higher officials in the districts immediately surrounding Riyu's were Human. Two years in, and high-paying, high-prestige work was almost entirely available to aliens, and non-humanoids - despite making up a sizable chunk of Unagin's population - were virtually unrepresented in such fields.

"Specieism", "elitism", "discrimination" - these words began to be common among Unagin's lower and middle classes, while words like "inferior" and "better stock" began to circulate higher circles. However, even two years into Imperial Mining's operations on Unagin, awareness of such important issues had barely penetrated the isolated upper strata of Unagin's rare, wealthy aliens. Among the Senada children, only a vague sense of <i>pressure</i> weighed on them, as if every move was important and at any moment their standing could be jeopardized. This mounting pressure kept Riyu firmly placed at home, doing her level best to forge connections with the new Human elite, making and keeping good impressions. While her brothers' overt deals and tense negotiations were obviously instrumental in preserving the Senadas' status, Riyu's subtle social manipulation and maneuvering was just as necessary, earning her a great deal of respect in her parents' eyes and a good deal of pride and confidence as a role for her finally solidified.

Riyu might even have, perhaps, been comfortable in her precariously maintained life, at least for another few years, but she refused to give up her connection with Unagin's smugglers and thieves and, with them, those worse off than herself. Through their eyes, she started to come to the realization that aliens across her district were being mistreated, whether they be employees of Imperial Mining or natives of Unagin. As the second year progressed, Riyu shared these feelings with her family; at first, they brushed off her concerns as "silly", then as "not affecting them", and finally "more than they could worry about", until, after another few months, those same words - "specieism", "elitism", "discrimination" - were whispered in the halls of the Senada estate. As these old words newly reached the lips of her family, Riyu followed suit, adding fresh terms to her hushed-tones vocabulary: "dismissive", "snide", "toying". Riyu was well-equipped to understand the power of these words - mirroring her role in the Senada family's public face, they were less obviously destructive but no less insidious.

Nearly three years after their arrival, Imperial Mining's damning influence was felt by every non-Human and even some Humans, after its progress was far too late to easily stymie. Quiet rebellion and subtle guidance of the social current, her family's tools of choice, stood no chance of changing things, and so, even while seditious words were spoken in private, the Senadas' public response was docile acceptance of the new way of things - the motto seemed now to be "make the right friends and least waves, and we can keep what we have", even though it was obvious to everyone even that tactic was ultimately bound to fail. With every passing week, the Senadas' holdings and influence shrunk noticeably, dragging their wealth and prestige with them. Worse still, Riyu began to see that her family - that <i>she</i> - was essentially singing and dancing for the amusement of the district's true elite in order to hold even what they had… that she and every other "high-ranking" alien was a puppet on the Empire's string, that everything they were letting them keep was more or less an amusement to keep the once-important families and organizations begging at their boots.

The Humans were <i>laughing</i> at them.

It was a dark realization, and one that would have broken the Riyo of even four years before. At nearly twenty-two, after having deftly played the social game and carved out a place and a sense of self assurance with her skill at doing so, only her humor was darkened; her optimism, for now, remained. Over the next few months, she gathered what allies she could in the higher circles to help her challenge the Imperial Mining Corporation's overreach of power, even while she encouraged her less scrupulous contacts to do what they could to destabilize their powerful industrial machine. For weeks, Riyu Senada planned as best she could; when the time came to strike, she was confident and ruthless.

She was practically the only one. Either gripped by fear of losing what they had left or deluding themselves into being comfortable with the status quo, almost all of her political and social allies backed out. Worse, she realized that someone must have <i>sold her out</i>; the Imperial Mining Corporation had prevented the worst of her planned sabotage while at the same time side-stepping her legal claims and favor-pulling.

Instead of a accusations of a company pretending to be stronger than it was who was proven to be out stepping their bounds falling on sympathetic ears, Riyu Senada found a much different picture painted: a jealous, bitter terrorist attempting to defame an innocent corporation to steal back some of her lost luxury. It was a perspective the officials were very willing to buy; in the end, money was worth more than charm. Desperate to deflect responsibility, the Senada family disavowed Riyu, spinning a story that she had become possessed of slanderous stories her low-born friends were telling of discrimination and mistreatment and, with their help, planned to bring Imperial Mining down. With only those same criminals and rebels actually implicated with her, it was an easy story to believe, and Riyu - and <i>only</i> Riyu - was branded a criminal.

It was at the moment, little more than month after her twenty second birthday, that Riyu came to understand that it wasn't just the social climate created by the anti-alien Humans that was nothing but a sham - it was <i>all of it</i>. The carefully cultured elitism of social capital and elevated status was nothing but a game, and her whole life she had been nothing but its pawn… and, in the end, was just as disposable. That realization was the one that broke Riyu Senada.

Unable to tell whether she wasn't thinking clearly or was for the first time doing so, she fled. Some of her underworld contacts were furious with her, but a few old flames and close friends understood. She found her ally in Arik Starjack, a dashingly unprincipled arms smuggler four years her senior. He had supplied some blasters to her band of miscreants and, ever the professional, his hands were found nowhere near the resultant mess and he had no particular stake in its outcome. Arik had already been planning to lift off and was more than happy to have a desperate Riyu along for the ride; for her part, Riyu was simply glad that she their destination, Rorak IV, would provide plenty of opportunities to shed her past.

It wasn't until she had been in hyperspace for a few days that she realized just what she'd done and what "shedding her past" really meant. Having fled "Imperial justice", Riyu would be a wanted criminal well outside Unagin and its local system. Worse, she'd have no family to rely on, and almost every social connection she had made in her past life would reject her outright, unable to be associated with either a criminal or a disgraced socialite. Alone and with no aptitude for skilled trade or the means to learn one, she had no idea what to do. Arik was elated to help - in fact, Riyu was surprised and relieved to find he expected little in return for his services, especially after realizing just what a predicament she was in. "Turning such a respectable creature to crime," he claimed, "was reward enough."

Corrupt her he did. With no idea how to survive, Arik stuck with her those first few weeks on Rorak IV, and between them they came up with everything she needed to leave who she had been behind. More than anything, Riyu had immediate need of one thing: money. Even on Rorak IV, a criminal could only survive so long as they had either funds or a patron, and Riyu would need to make serious changes - the sort that needed serious cash - if she ever wanted to go near more civilized parts of the Rim again. Arik took her to his employer, a middleman for the Hutts that was in charge of moving weapons and small vehicles throughout the Rim, mostly in support of shadow wars against rival Hutt clans to help business in other areas Riyu preferred to know little about. Arik begged off a temporary leave of absence and helped Riyu secure a hefty sum of money - money, she was promptly informed, she was expected to repay.

Burying her misgivings underneath need and pain, Riyu accepted the money and, for the next week, she followed Arik on the path to change her life. There was a great deal she needed: new clothes, a reliably blaster, a place to sleep, and a new identity were at the top of the list. Arik introduced her to the surprisingly varied world of simple, practical clothing, the first dip into the new waters she'd have to swim in. Seeing the slaves paraded in the markets only stalls away from where she'd purchased her clothes, it wasn't hard for Arik to convince her of the need to dive in head first. People would take advantage of Riyu Senada. People would use her, people would try to hurt her - it wasn't enough to get rid of Riyu's <i>past</i>, or even take a new name. She had to be someone else moving forward, someone much harder to target.

In truth, it wouldn't have taken much effort to persuade Riyu, the sobering sight of slaves or no. She was sick of being at the mercy of others. Within the week, most of Riyu's wardrobe had unassuming armored plates sown place, and a blaster that game with a gun-runner's express recommendation sat uncomfortably at her hip. There was only one thing left: to truly become someone else. Arik availed to his network of coworkers and contacts, finally finding someone capable of forging her flawless credentials. It was the last real step to escaping her past, but it was also who she was going to be for what was likely the rest of her life.

Riyu chose the name <i>Rosena Mortimer</i> - Rosena as a quiet nod to her heritage as Riyu Senada, and Mortimer for its poetic lilt. However, Rosena Mortimer wasn't <i>born</i> in the days of waiting for her new identity to solidify legally. Riyu Senada wasn't <i>truly</i> Rosena until she came to terms with a last, unthinkable truth:

Pantorans, as a general rule, had always had a passion for ancestry. The Senada family, as far-flung from Pantora as they were, had been no different, and <i>identity</i> had been the most important thing to Riyu growing up. Like most Pantorans, the brilliant blue skin of her face was tattooed in a striking yellow, the pattern adorning her face the same as her brothers', the same as her mother's, the same as her father's - it identified her as a Senada, and were as much who she was as her face itself. She had thought that her family's betrayal had hurt more than anything could possibly hurt, but she was to be proven wrong one more time. Her family forsaking her was something she had no choice about; now, she would have to make the choice to forsake her family.

So it was that, late one evening, the woman now known as Rosena picked her way through the streets of Rorak IV towards the artist she had spent days choosing, both for her skill and her reputation for asking no questions of her clients. Over the course of two hours, Rosena left the last piece of Riyu Senada behind, adding to her face a new collection of markings until no single family's history could be definitely singled out of the meaningless pattern of yellow. In the end, Rosena had chosen well; her identity had been entirely obscured, and even as fresh tears melted into sore, damp skin, the artist pried no further. It was odd to Rosena that she felt such cold indifference so comforting.

By this time, Arik had left to deliver crates of rifles and grenades to a worker uprising on engineered against one his employer's many enemies, leaving the nascent Rosena behind. To be honest, Rosena was glad to be away from his influence; Arik was a good friend, but his brand of work was unsavory enough that she wasn't sure she really wanted to be involved. Still, it was true she needed <i>something</i> to do, a thought that pressed in on her constantly as her supply of borrowed funds dwindled. Rosena wasted away for days, ready to find herself but unsure what direction to look in. Her mind was made up in her fourth week when she nearly came face to face with Buntan Cerlas walking in the shadows at the edge of the market - she knew who he was immediately, as she had taken up the nervous habit of memorizing the bounty boards for dangerous criminals. The Rodian was dangerous even by Rorak standards; that much was obvious from the wide berth those around him provided, but the young Pantoran saw was also unfortunately equipped with a dizzying list of brutal crimes.

Rosena tried to swerve, to avoid eye contact, to do all those things she knew to do, repurposing her skill at discouraging social contact with those deemed a waste of time. Whether or not it would have worked, she had no idea; while she was terrified it wouldn't have, the point became moot with a single blaster shot disrupted the entire market. Wiser citizens than her ducked for cover or scrambled away, but all she could do was stand, dumbfounded, and stare at the black bark on the wall between her and Buntan. The Rodian turned and drew his own weapon; some foolhardy instinct in Rosena told her to dive for his arm and knock the blaster away, but there was no need - before she could act, it was shot out of his hand.

The Pantoran bystander finally turned to regard the assailant, a stoic woman in body armor and flowing coat. She seemed calm, almost casual, as she adjusted her stance to meet Buntan's running charge, sweeping him aside with hardly a grimace. The Rodian lunged for her face, thin fingers balled into a fist, but the attacker again deftly pushed his arm aside without stopping him at all; his movement carried his body forward, but his hand stayed in place, guided behind his back and twisted by the confident grip of the woman's gauntleted hand, her other arm darting out to deliver one quick strike to the back of the Rodians head with the butt of her blaster pistol.

She reached for cuffs just as three hulking, armed aliens burst into the market - Buntan's enforcers, Rosena realized, marveling at how easily her ability to learn faces and names could be turned from social climbing to avoiding criminals - and Rosena felt her lips part in warning. It was almost as if someone else shouted, the warning from that woman's throat clumsy and unclear: <b><font color=#A41D79>"Hey! Hey, look out!"</font></b> Rosena doesn't even know if the armored woman hears her; she certainly doesn't look her way as she brings her right hand level and fires off a quick series of shots.

Whether it is because the armored woman keeps Buntan pressed against her and between herself and the oncoming enforcers or because her own shots are just too quick and too effective, Buntan's lackeys don't even get a shot off between them before they fall. Rosena is stunned, an expression mirrored completely by the Rodian; the woman, however, doesn't seem to share their surprise. She seems entirely unphased, in fact, as she holsters her blaster pistol and finishes handcuffing the concussed Rodian. She barely even acknowledged that a civilian had witnessed the entire exchange, short as it was, let alone spoke to her. Not, at least, until she was about to pass Rosena. When she drew up beside the Pantoran she stopped, almost as if surprised to see her. Buntan bucked weakly, trying to shake her grasp, and the woman kicked him in the back of the knee almost as if it had been an afterthought. She was still looking at Rosena. <b><font color=#1d9fa4>"You stayed."</font></b> A statement, not a question. Rosena nodded weakly. <b><font color=#1d9fa4>"Well, I don't know whether you're brave or scared shitless. Good eyes, though. What if they'd shot you instead?"</font></b>

Rosena didn't know how to answer that. What if they'd had? She shrugged. The woman looked more shocked by Rosena's response than she had the violence that she'd just taken partin. <b><font color=#1d9fa4>"Huh."</font></b> That one syllable hung in the air for a minute as Buntan struggled to stand, a still moment broken only when the Rodian finally reached his feet. It seemed to re-start the woman, who blinked for what might have been the first time and turned her head a degree to regard Buntan and still address Rosena. <b><font color=#1d9fa4>"Well, I've gotta get this sleemo turned in before he makes me kill him. Try not to stand in the middle of firefights next time, 'kay?"</font></b>

Rosena couldn't let the woman leave, but she didn't know <i>why</i>. All she could do was stammer quickly at her back, hoping her question would stop her. <b><font color=#A41D79>"Wha- I mean, <i>who are you</i>?"

The woman didn't stop walking, didn't turn around, when she answered. <b><font color=#1d9fa4>"Kylus Bralor."</font></b> It was the only answer Rosena got, but it wasn't the one the was looking for. In frustration, she decided her original question had been correct: "what".

Then it hit her. <i><font color=#A41D79>A bounty hunter,</font></i> Rosena realized - realized both what the woman was and what she wanted to be. She thought about it all the way home, second guessing herself again and again even as the thought sent a tingle up her spine. She pondered it as she fell asleep, and she was not possessed of an answer even when she woke. It took the rest of the next day, quietly processing what she was yet unable to understand, for her to decide why she wanted to be a bounty hunter.

First, it was the only job she could think to get involved in that didn't have to be immoral. She wasn't sure she was above crime - actually, Rosena knew she had never <i>really</i> been above at least petty crime - but she didn't want to contribute to the oppression or the exploitation of any sentients, and, if she were being honest with herself, she realized that a job like Arik's quickly made her just another piece in someone else's game.

No, most importantly, bounty hunting was so outside the realm of normal galactic life that she imagined half the hunters in the galaxy started just like her, with nothing but determination and not a single thing to lose but their life. While that gave her the opportunity to get her start, it also afforded her the freedom to move about on her own whims and, for the most part, not be beholden to any single employer. Being a bounty hunter, to her, represented the ability to choose her own path - a novel concept to the young high-born.

That was only the most logical answer, though, and immediately upon consciously arriving at that concept of "freedom", she realized there was a deeper level. It wasn't just the freedom of having no ties that spoke to her… looking back at that woman in the marketplace, Rosena couldn't for the life of her fathom a single sentient holding power over her. Four men tried to combat her, four large, <i>dangerous</i> men, and they fell without even being able to act against her. In her mind, that same immunity carried over to all things - to Rosena, it was unthinkable that such a woman could be forced into a disadvantageous position she couldn't get out of. She would never be kidnapped, beaten, made a pawn, never had her options stripped away. Rosena desperately wanted to <i>be</i> that woman.

Unfortunately, Rosena didn't know the first thing about becoming a bounty hunter, and checking the local records revealed the only one she knew had already left the planet. Overwhelmed but not defeated, Rosena began asking around. Answers came slowly and sparingly; the only lead she could get was a bounty hunter named Travis who was hiring muscle for some big hunt, but he'd already hired everyone he was looking to take on.

To anyone else, that would perhaps be discouraging, but Rosena was used to getting what she wanted with words alone. She was passionate, she was determined, she was charming, and, even more disheveled than she was ever used to being, she knew she could command attention. So resolved, Rosena gathered all her meager belongings and set out for the spaceport, knowing only that she couldn't stay; if she couldn't get Travis to take her on, she'd have to leave and find bounty hunters elsewhere.

In truth, Rosena had no plan and no idea what she would find. What she eventually encountered was far from her expectations: a bloodbath in the spaceport hallway. Even on Rorak IV, someone would have to have a serious grudge to commit that much violence so publicly, and that meant one of two things: Travis was dead, or he was long gone. Unsure what to do next, she played with the credit chip on her pocket, the last of its kind, and, making up her mind, began to push her way to the booking counter.

She was going to leave. She was second in line, in fact, when she heard the gossip: a bounty hunter shot down by pirates in orbit. Flight plans changed as the desperate pilot cut a heedless path through Rorak's airspace as he tried to put down. Bets on how long he'd make it before the pirates caught up to him.

An idea blossomed in her head, bright and foolhardy - the exact same sort of idea that led her to Rorak IV in the first place. She had nearly no money, no skill, and few connections. She had precisely <i>zero</i> ins to the organization of licensed hunters. But if she saved a bounty hunter's life… Her teeth caught on her lip, freezing her for one torn moment of indecision. The counter clerk tried to get her attention, then again, rudely. Rosena ignored him, tightened her grip on her bag, and took off at a run…

The downed ship wasn't hard to find, and she knew she wasn't the only one tracking it. Rosena was lithe, and with her physique came a certain amount of speed, though her lungs and her heart struggled to keep up with the pounding of her feet; Rosena pressed on, breakneck, in almost intentional spite of it, as if the pain represented every vapid, venomous part of her life that had held her down, held her back, as if defeating that pain were the sole purpose of her life. If a career in bounty hunting lay at the end of the sprint, she thought, it may very well have been. She fround Travis staggering away from the wreckage, moving fast despite his injuries.

He wasn't anything like she had expected. Kylus had been hard, coldly confident, almost like a droid. Travis seemed possessed of that same tenacity, but though he no doubt younger than Kylus, he wore his experiences more heavily than she had. Unlike her, who seemed untouchable and unaffected by the world around her, Travis seemed <i>alive</i>. Rosena was surprised to find herself relieved; Kylus made a great ideal, a goal to drive her, but the Pantoran had been unsettled by a deep discomfort with the idea of working with someone so detached.

Further unlike Kylus, he seemed to work with a crew; from the appearance of the shaken survivors straggling after him, it seemed like Travis <i>cared</i> about that crew as well, something she hadn't dared hope for when she had heard rumors of a hiring hunter. Curiosity seized her features as she took in the crew, her eyes caught first by the most ramshackle droid she'd ever seen; she watched the thing lumber awkwardly behind the group for a moment, only to find her gaze stolen by a hulking Zabrak that passed in front of the thing until she remembered herself and set her lips into a hard line. <b><font color=#A41D79>"Follow me,"</font></b> she ordered.

She had no idea where she was going, but she could plan on the move. Of that, she was confident… a confidence that drew nothing less than confusion from the little crew and something of a surprised scuff from a Zeltron who stuck close to Travis. Rosena had never actually met a Zeltron before, and the sight and proximity of her was almost enough to falter the Pantoran. Rosena gave an uncomfortable little cough and tried to peel her eyes off the woman long enough to turn them to Travis. <b><font color=#A41D79>"Now, if you would."</font></b>

Rosena turned her back as if her command was a forgone conclusion, a technique she knew made others more likely to oblige her, and started off down the nearest street. She tried to keep her hand from shaking as she freed her blaster from its holster; she'd hardly fired it before, and now she was put in a position where she might have to use it against… someone. Pirates. She didn't even know who she had sided <i>against</i>, but she rightly assumed anyone pointing a blaster at them should be put down first.

She had cause and chance to test her theory twice before the day was out; she struck her target in the hip once, surprising herself more than pirate she'd shot, and missed all three shots the second time, though she stood resolute under return fire while she desperately attempted to prove herself useful. Somehow, despite the terror and the horribleness of it all, that small achievement brought a small smile to her lips.

Finally, she arrived a solution: her old apartment was still empty, since she'd paid through the end of the week. She led the group the four blocks to their destination, doing her level best to ignore two decades of conditioning and not care about the looks they received as they marched through the city. When they finally arrived at her empty little home, she wasn't even sure they'd all <i>fit</i> comfortably and found herself surprised once again when everyone, droid included, managed to squeeze their way inside.

Rosena told them little; she shared her name, informed them that she had contacts here, and stated she could help them get off world on the condition that they take her with them. With little options, the group agreed, leaving Rosena to anxiously cross the two streets separating her door from the nearest pay-holo. She contacted the only person she knew she could trust: Arik. Rushed for time, she was sparse with the details in this conversation, as well; rightly convinced that Rosena had gotten herself in some kind of trouble, he recommended a freighter pilot who owed him a favor and sent her own her way.

Even compared to the spring through Rorak IV's capital city - an event during which she had shot and been shot at - the quiet walk to the private spaceport their captain was docked at was the most nerve-wracking thing of Rosena's life. She found she was more comfortable with the near certainty of running from danger than the constant threat of possible harm, but she forced herself to walk as calmly as the others, each of them doing their best to blend in.

Rosena only truly breathed when they were safely aboard the freighter and on their way to Nar Shadda. On board, and afforded more time, she dedicated herself to memorizing the names and faces of Travis's crew. Integrating herself with them proved much harder as Rosena than ingratiating herself to others had ever been for Riyu; then again, she knew, so much had changed since then. She wasn't Riyu, and these weren't the upper crust of Rim society. She didn't know herself, didn't want <i>them</i> to really know her, and had no idea what to expect from a group of bounty hunters and mercenaries, and all these things left her wholly unsure how to approach them.

What she <i>did</i> manage to communicate was that she wanted in, really <i>in</i> on whatever they were doing. Not just as muscle - she wanted a license and an apprenticeship. She could read people enough to know they were apprehensive, both of her and the prospect of complying with her forward demands. She knew she'd botched the pitch, had almost fumbled over her words, but she had never really had to communicate something so <i>honest</i> before. To be a hunter felt like a need to her; to not get it threatened to hurt her in ways she wasn't prepared to accept, and it threw her off her game. Still, none of them outright refused, which she took to be a good sign.

Arriving at Nar Shadda, however, brought her no closer to her potential future than she had been in hyperspace. For weeks, Rosena was in limbo, hovering around the group but not truly a part of it. She wasn't the only one - the hunter's party seemed to be in stasis as well, lost without their ship. Travis left them alone time and again, and each time he returned, his head hung lower. Finally, voice grave, he told his crew he planned to go to a Hutt. In an effort to impress, they all went along, even Rosena.

The deal Travis negotiated, she knew, wasn't good for him, but it got him what he clearly needed and, she hoped, what she desired as well. A week of tense waiting stood between her and her answers, and for seven standard days she was a nervous ball of energy. Entirely unsure what to do with her hands, she took to pacing, then to running. By the time Travis got the call to meet the Hutt, she no longer felt that horrible stitch in her side when she ran more than a few dozen meters, but nothing had driven off the fluttery feeling in her stomach.

What came next nearly crushed her; she could tell it nearly crushed Travis, as well: the Hutt said no. All this waiting, for nothing. Rosena's head reeled, her thoughts spiraling back to everything wrong that had lead to this final moment of hopelessness; even though it was just a few months ago, Riyu felt so far away. Her hand drifted to her face, where new tattoos had obliterated any chance she had of going back to that life. As the Hutt's voice boomed out his refusal to follow through on their deal, Rosena found herself struck by the most absurd thought: she wondered if her brothers were happy.

Then she wondered what her brothers would do. She wondered what Riyu would do. She wasn't sure, not yet, but she stepped forward. Her brothers would talk. Riyu would have talked. Each to their own ends. What, then, would Rosena do? She needed to be a bounty hunter; to be a bounty hunter, she needed Travis to have a ship. She had nothing left to cling to.

<b><font color=#A41D79>"I'll take the debt."</font></b>

The Hutt ground to a halt, unused to being interrupted. Guards and servants all put on a show of looking slighted <i>for</i> him, though Rosena knew they didn't care a bit at all. Some reached for their weapons, hoping to earn favor with their lord by putting down such an obstinate guest. Rosena didn't flinch; she could get the ship or she could die here. She wasn't sure she cared; right now, she couldn't see many options outside the two. She waited for the bolts to come.

They didn't. With a wave of his small arm, the Hutt called off his retainers. His voice boomed again, one word that the translators repeated with an unnecessary dedication: Rosena knew a Hutt's curiosity when she heard it.

<b><font color=#A41D79>"I apologize for speaking out of turn, Majestic Jergal. I desired only to save you the effort of explaining to Travis why he has slighted your intelligence; your time is worth more. Obviously, we will <i>all</i> take the debt - everyone who comes with your investment in our enterprise."</font></b> By the change in her eyes, she knew she'd pacified the Hutt, but she needed to do more than that. She needed to make a point worth cutting him off for.

<b><font color=#A41D79>"Of course it is understandable you wouldn't trust debt worth an ship to just one man, especially one who has displeased you so. A businessman as shrewd as yourself clearly understands you need more assurance than a bond to one man when we are all clearly sharing in what would be so generous an investment. No, nothing short of insurance against the whole enterprise would satisfy a benefactor with intellect as vast as yours. To make a profit on our shared enterprise, you need to make sure none of the pieces walk off."</font></b>

Her brothers would have been proud, had she not been pariah to them; to disagree at this point would also be to disagree with her <i>assessment</i> of him; she had calmed him, stoked his ego, and then seized on it, the entire delicate operation her and her siblings had jointly performed done under pressure in one sure stroke. On her own, she had tied his vanity to <i>her</i> outcome… it would either work or get her killed horribly. No time to second guess; the Hutt was already opening his mouth to speak and interrupting him a second time would be most unwise. She had to finish it before it came to that.

<b><font color=#A41D79>"After all, if Tyleah were to run off, we'd be unable to take larger jobs; if we lost Kallus, our ability to cow bounties would drop greatly. That first one… well, that'd keep us from the most lucrative jobs, and if <i>Kallus</i> left, marks would put up a fight and between the lost 'alive' bonus and the medical costs, we'd be out about 28% of the whole operation -"</font></b> it didn't matter that the number was <i>right</i>, just that it was <i>believable</i> <b><font color=#A41D79>""- and if you'd taken Travis up on his offer, <i>you'd</i> take that loss so long as <i>he</i> stuck around. Only a stupid Hutt would take that deal."</b></font> What was that Hutt's name? The one Arik's boss hated? The one <i>everyone</i> hated? <b><font color=#A41D79>"That's the kind of deal <i>Opat</i> would take. You, you aren't Opat. You know that if any one of us leaves, you need to recoup your losses with fees and reprisals. And, in the event we all decide to abandon Travis here, obviously we wouldn't want to you nearly lose everything. I imagine a Hutt as clever as you would prefer if you could get extra fees owed by <i>all of us</i> should we abandon the venture you would be funding. An investor without some assurance of return profit isn't really an investor, he's a <i>donator</i>. You don't need to waste your valuable time explaining this to us; I apologize profusely if Travis here has made your illustrious self feel the need to stoop to such a level. Let us all take on the debt and grow your kajidic, may it remain forever profitable."</font></b>

The room was silent for long moments, her words fading into the far reaches of the Hutt's vast chamber. Travis, Jergal, what she hoped was her future crew, all were caught off guard and each for different reasons. Rosena sucked in a breath for her nose, unable to keep herself from this small lack of composure, and she didn't let it out until the Hutt responded.

Despite her newfound capacity, her lungs were near bursting before Jergal spoke next. Rosena barely heard the words - later, she would recall, perhaps incorrectly, the massive Hutt's response ultimately coming down to him complimenting her for complimenting him, the same circular reasoning that ultimately came back to inflating the Hutt's status. Whether through negotiation or flattery (and maybe a mix of both), her ploy had worked - Jergal decreed any who wanted to utilize the ship in question would take on an equal portion of the debt to all others also involved in the venture, increasing the size of the debt by about 5% of what was originally negotiating on the logic that, spread amongst the arrayed sentients, each would not suffer too much of an "undue personal burden". In no position to disagree, Rosena agreed to her share, cementing her fate to Travis's regardless of his thoughts about taking her own as an apprentice hunter.

Some would leave, some would stay, but <i>she</i> was set on her path… and while she had perhaps traded one prison for another, sacrificing that freedom that glittered in her dream of becoming a bounty hunter, she was <i>on her way</i>. At the end of the day, that was more than she'd had in her whole life….

[Freedom]

At the end of they day, Rosena just wants to be free. What that means differs on any given day; sometimes, when the thoughts of who she used to be feel so oppressive she wants to burst, she wants to be free of her past. Mostly, she wants the means and power to be truly free: to chose her own path, to win the battles she needs to win, to refuse the advances she wants to refuse, and to never, ever again be a piece in someone else's game. That might be a pipe dream, but after twenty-two years of having almost no identity or power for herself, she desperately wants to be master of her own fate. On her best days, however, she wants the same things for the people around her. Whether that means standing up to people they can't and attaching no strings to her help or delivering the supplies people need to be independent of powers that would indebt them for the same service, Rosena feels like she should do it. After all, while she wants to look out for herself, she can't rid herself of the idea that those with power ought to do something for the people without - ultimately, she's beholden to the idea of noblesse oblige that her upper class family failed to live up to, if only to prove to herself that decades of playing at it won't go to total waste.

--- Debt (Ship) :: 5 ---

As the mastermind behind splitting the debt for their new ship between the crew, Rosena shares deeply in that debt, both in the very real sense and in the way that she feels its effects on the crew keenly. While she knows it was the only way to get them off world in a ship of their own, knowledge of the necessity of her actions doesn't stop the consequences going away, and Rosena owes a good sum of money to a powerful Hutt. Moreover, necessary or not, she can't help be suffer from a good deal of guilt whenever the weight of their shared obligation starts to weigh on the crew.

--- Debt (New Identity) :: 5 ---

When Rosena arrived with Arik on Rorak IV as Riyu Senada, she had nothing and needed everything. Arik helped to connect her with his boss, who was more than willing to loan her money to get a new start on Arik's recommendation. While she wants to believe Arik trusted her to get her feet under her or just thought more of getting her the help she needed than of the consequences, Rosena suspects her friend had an ulterior motive in passing debt on to her: to drive her to an "interesting" and "exciting" life of crime. Regardless of his motivations, the sum of money Arik helped her secure went a long way to distancing her from her past: it got her a place to sleep, it got her a weapon to keep her safe, it even afforded her a new armored wardrobe, all of which she plans to put to good use as an amateur bounty hunter. More importantly, though it gave her the fake credentials, records, and tattoos necessary to give her a fresh start as Rosena Mortimer.

--- Criminal :: 5 ---

In a former life, Rosena lost the ultimate social game. Whether or not they are exaggerated or even untrue, the charges leveled against Riyu Senada are very real. Charged with a host of Imperial crimes, not the least of which is evading justice for the rest of those crimes, Riyu is likely wanted on multiple worlds and maybe even multiple systems - Rosena doesn't know, and she's never wanted to stop and check. She has, after all, gone to great lengths to prevent those charges from catching up to her; Rosena has a thoroughly convincing fake identity and has even altered her face tattoos so it's almost impossible to identify her as a former member of the Senada family. For all intents and purposes, Riyu Senada no longer exists... Of course, no one can run forever; one day, Rosena will slip up, or someone will notice that her facial tattoos are an unreadable jumble, and she'll get tied back to her past crimes.

--- Betrayal :: 5 ---

Although she has forsaken any ties to the Senada line, her family's callous discarding of their own daughter to save face and retain status haunts her; it represents a truth Rosena doesn't want to face: that the rotten core of her old lifestyle is nothing but a vapid, self-serving dishonesty. With twenty-two years built on social grooming, Rosena was always aware elements of her relationships were nothing but a game, but the thought that all of it was meaningless and that she may have wasted two decades of her life accomplishing nothing sometimes seems like it will crush her. On her best days, she can put the past behind her and stride forward with purpose, but some days these thoughts weigh heavily on her, making her loathe to put in the effort to maintain social niceties with the crews' clients and contacts... of course, what she'd do if she ever MET another member of the Senada clan, or what they'd do to her if they found her, is a question altogether more haunting....

[See character details]