Beginnings: the Privileged Few
Attitude towards the Force: Pragmatic Power
Reason for Adventure: Fallen noble

When Detris Lyi Acosta was born into a Mirialan noble family, it seemed his life would be one of privilege. Surrounded by wealth and pomp, ceremony and high society, his early years were the envy of the common man, but these memories are a haze to Detris, masked by cruel catastrophe. Late in his 7th year, Detris's father took ill. He was 8 when he returned to the Force. Months later, when his mother, Maethe, remarried to save their way of life, the wound of loss was still fresh in the young boy's heart.
Though he was always close with his mother, relations with his stepfather, Avoss, were tense. Detris resented him for trying to replace his father, and Avoss in turn disdained Detris as another man's legacy. He took no part in raising him, aside from public appearances. The next 4 years, a stressful and confusing time for any adolescent, was made infinitely worse as Detris found himself being pushed away from his own family by this domineering patron. Then came the announcement that Detris would become a brother, Maethe was having another child, Avoss's child.

When his half-sister, Artrea came, Detris faded to an afterthought. His mother's time and attention leaned to the new child by necessity, and Avoss's neglect grew more resolute as he doted on his own progeny. Detris found some small solace in his loneliness, as lacking almost all supervision made it exceedingly easy to sneak out of the family estate. The turbulent youth spent his nights watching the stars, commiting small acts of vandalism, and exploring the city in ways a noble hardly ever could, but the vulnerable boy did not go unnoticed by the planet's villainy, and one morning, he did not return.

13 year old Detris awoke inside a dingy cargo hold, bathed in red auxiliary light. Through the roaring pain in his head he caught the hum of an engine and realized his predicament. Through a carbon-scored porthole he watched Mirial slip further and further away before the lurch into hyperspace.

Detris's kidnappers sent the ransom holo the day after they made it to their outer rim base. His captors waited. He waited. No answer came. Call after call went out to his family; threats, bargaining, pleas from Detris himself, but it was as if he never existed. Detris was devastated. He heard his guards talking about what to do with a useless captive, but he couldn't feel the fear through numbing shock. He knew this had to be Avoss, leaving him to die, grateful to have a convenient excuse to cut the unwanted branch from his pedigree. In the murk of despair, a seed of anger took root.

When it was decided that they had no more use for the youth, that no money was coming, the outlaws had only one thing to do. Their resources were limited and each day they kept the boy was another mouth to feed, another chance for their crimes to be unearthed. Detris was led out of his cell and towards a shuttle. He knew they intended to dump him somewhere and he knew he would not survive alone in the wild. Hurt, discarded, ripped out of his life, only to be discarded again, his hatred, his sadness, and the injustice of it all reached a boiling point. Like a catalyst to a bomb his rage burst. Just yards from the shuttle, a destructive wave washed off of him. His binders shattered, his escorts were thrown off their feet, and the ship's ramp crumpled. As dust settled around a shocked Detris, the marauders nearby scrambled to their feet and drew blasters, but a loud voice cut through the din, ordering them to hold. Their leader, a man named Tel Cidata, seeing the eruption for what it was, realized new potential in the recalcitrant teen. Though it took months of convincing, he recruited the boy.

Over the next few years Detris showed great aptitude during his training, showing promise with fire-arms and close-quarters weapons, but the outlaws had enough gunmen, what they didn't have were Jedi. Tel managed to surreptitiously procure, at great cost, records on Jedi teachings, crumbling books on the dark side of the force, even a training saber for his favorite recruit. Detris was encouraged to practice his other abilities above all else, and eventually he could manage to bend the force to some degree, but it was not fast enough for Tel. Knowing that danger, fear, and pressure brought it forth more readily, he had the young man accompany the others on supervised sorties, stealing supplies and munitions from republic colonies. At first Detris refused, but Tel promised that the band only killed when they had no other choice, and that his abilities could make many such choices available. Thinking of saving lives, Detris agreed. Participating in these raids brought some continued growth of his abilities, but also a greater sense of camaraderie with these radical bandits. For the second time in his life, Detris wasn't unwanted.

It wasn't long though, until he was reminded of just who this surrogate family was. With Detris's help, more and more raids were met with success. The raiders were raking in wealth, strategic supplies, weapons, but more importantly, attention. Their infamy caught the eye of a wealthy employer, offering them a job on Coruscant. Pulling off a raid in the heart of the republic was dangerous but the sum reward was beyond anything they’d ever had before, enough funds to make a real difference. Tel explained that they were kidnapping a senator, not an important one, but a loud voice against the independence of outer rim systems and a difficult target all the same. His apartments would be crawling with security, defense systems, and weapon detectors that could thwart an all out attack or any technical sabotage. Detris’s job was to circumvent these defenses with a more primitive approach.
With the force, his bare hands, and a grapnel, he scaled the outer walls to a spot where a pre-arranged speeder crash had damaged parts of the tower, including the alarm system for that floor. Once the hardest part was over and he had entered through the damaged section, it was a simple matter to borrow a plasma cutter from the repair equipment and cut his way upwards to the senator’s apartments. When the senator arrived he was gently persuaded that it was in the interests of his health to go out for a nighttime drive. Minutes later they left the tower in the senator’s own speeder.

A short distance later he made it to his rendezvous point with the adrenaline of success and risk flooding in his veins, anxiously wanting to know what Tel would think of how smoothly he had accomplished the mission. As he pulled the panicked senator over to his group though all those hopes were dashed. Tel approached, never making eye contact with Detris, and put a bolt through the Senator’s skull. The full weight of a body nearly toppled the gore-spattered boy, shocked and insensate, he was half-dragged to the shuttle while Tel droned on about changes to the mission, something about the senator's replacement being bought. The target was no longer needed alive, only removed. Their pay had been doubled, and for that price, cold blooded murder was no longer off the table.
The chime of a credit transfer knocked the world back into focus and time seemed to slow. Tel's growing smile as he lifted the loaded credit stick, the ramp closing and the landing pad sinking away as the ship rose, the whole crew waiting with bated breath to hear what they'd just scored, and Detris, blood smeared and sickened by the new light cast on his fosters.
Before he could think he snapped forward like a bolt loosed from a blaster, he snatched the credit stick before Tel could blink and flung a hand backwards. A wave of force like the one that saved his life years before rippled out, ejecting Detris out of the rapidly closing ramp and sending the shuttle into a barely controlled spin. In his plummet towards the landing pad, and his crashing, painful roll he never slowed, never turned back, he hooked his grapnel to the edge and jumped.

By the time Tel had the shuttle safely landed Detris was long gone, stolen credits in hand.

Now the Mirialan outlaw darts from planet to planet taking any job that comes his way, evading the criminals he once belonged to, while pursuing knowledge to further his dreams, unwilling to spend or discard the stolen blood-fortune.

The Jedi are idealistic to a fault and the sith are needlessly cruel. Neither side experiences or utilizes the force to its full potential. I will walk a path that belongs to neither of them and surpass them both. If I can bring others to this path I will consider my mission fulfilled.

Wisdom opens the path
Ambition starts the journey
Strength drives you forward
Compassion keeps the balance
The Force surrounds you.

Ambition:Greed
I must balance my pursuit of this new path. Like a breaker amongst waves, both sides crash upon me, light and dark, pushing and pulling, ebb and flow, but I will not topple.

Detris is a young man of 19 years. his eyes are a striking orange and his black hair is kept in a utilitarian short cut. He has light green skin common to his people as well as the traditional geometric markings to mark his life's story, though scarring on his face obscures many of his family marks. Close examination reveals these burns to be intentional.

Marks along his left arm remind of his failures, that he might learn from them, while his right speaks of victories and pride.

In his own private language derived from Mirialan custom, his neck and chest bear self-made tattoos detailing the tragedy of his youth and anguish of the intervening years, but also his hopes for the future and dreams for what might be.

Detris is slow to trust but loyal to those who earn it.