Comfortable Beneficiaries

Stahssk has never known order. As a Trandoshan of the Outer Rim, the alien hopped from planet to planet, settlement to settlement, scouring for what jobs he could work, what food he could scavenge or steal, or what gangs would take him in. There was always a risk, always a chance when a blaster could be poised his way and his life ended. That all changed when the Empire came. For once, there were troopers in white shiny armor patrolling the streets. Crime was down. There were jobs in infrastructure, ration lines, and a place to rest your head, if you were willing to put in the labor.

Home Planet: Hsskor

Language: Dosh

Belief: Progress

The New Recruit

Stahssk wanted to do more for this force of change that was moving through the galaxy. He attempted to enlist at his local Imperial Garrison, but was turned away for being an alien. He tried at numerous other stations, until an Officer of the ISB noticed him in line and pulled him out. Rather quickly, the secretive members of the ISB noticed that Stahssk presented a rare opportunity. The criminal underworld was where many individuals of both the criminal underworld and the Rebellion crossed over. If they could get a man inside, one who could easily blend in with the rough and tumble surroundings about him, then they could get a leg up on the Rebellious cells within that Underworld. He was given an assignment, and a group to work with. He was on his way to making the Galaxy a better, more hospitable place...

Internal Security

Duty: 20

The most dangerous threat to the Alliance comes from within its own ranks. Any Rebel soldier, operative, or ally could be an insidious threat waiting to take an action at a critical moment to bring entire operations crashing down, costing lives and assets. Knowing that vigilance against these threats is the truest form of devotion to the cause of the Alliance, the PC watches for any and all signs of betrayal.

Stahssk has a greyer hue to his scales compared to his kin with their yellowish green tint. Many of his species thought he looked sickly. His face is covered with small red scars from the knife fights and brawls he participated in throughout his past. His eyes are a deep, burning orange, the rectangular slits within them a consuming black. On his arms, black tattoos are burned into his scaly skin, crappy looking marks of previous gangs and swoop bikers he ran with through his youth. He generally wears a padded jacket, swooper pants bunched just over his clawed feet. Many of those he works with, either in the criminal circuit or within his basic training from within the Empire, gave him the name: “Scales”