Sil Yadar was brought up on Yablari, the Anomid homeworld, with pressure from their family they tried to join the family business in studying Anomid law. When they failed out of university his family cast him out in disgrace. What they did learn of Anomid law easily transfered to imperial tax law and they occasionally make a quick buck helping criminals under audit hide their ill gotten gains from the imperial beauracracy. They gamble their livelihood, as well as the life of their clients on their ability to falsify paperwork in a way that makes it impossible to trace.

Their is no greater rush in the galaxy than having a criminal realize they are desperate enough to avoid the law that they come to you, and when they are done, the quiet tip tapping accountant, has the information necessary to destroy you with the press of a button. The way their eyes light up when you offer to delete the truth... for a favor.

An imperial detective trawls through mountains of paperwork. Work hours are long past over, but they must find the thread. A thousand perfect pieces of paperwork, all notarized Sil Yadar. Too perfect, there must be a reason. No one escapes the tax man.

A plain looking Anomid with translucent lilac skin. Their vocalizer trimmed in unremarkable alloys, but his cloak of the deepest blue so as to appear black where unnoticed. Every bit of clothing pressed and fitted seam perfect. The eyes glimmer with amusement a moment before returning to the cold calculating matte. The dry monotone voice brings up another sheet of invoices.