I belong to a small subset of force sensitive Verpine who maintain an isolated monastery on the far side of the Roche asteroid belt. I was sent there as a pupa like all force sensitive Verpine to study to ways of the Force. We believe our non-verbal, communal radio wave communication is a gift which allows us greater ability to tap into the force, and much of our days were spent in silent group mediation, allowing our shared thoughts to coalesce into one mind.

We tattoo our carahide in brightly colored intricate patterns to represent the joyful radiance of the living force, and tie our antennae downward, to suppress their sensitivity to keep out of range of the main hive, or passing cargo ships, lest we become distracted or worse, attract unwanted guests with bad intentions and verpine-band comm scanners.

Unfortunately, one day, that's exactly what happened. A band of pirates were sweeping the outskirts of the system looking for isolated hives like ours to plunder. Me and many of the other fighting aged personalities had gone to the main hive on Roche to trade for supplies, and collect fungus, so there was no one left to defend the pupae or elderly masters. When we returned, everyone was gone and only the corpses of a few elders who dared to fight lay scattered around the halls.

Of those of us who remained, some stayed to maintain the temple, but many chose to leave and take on a pilgrimage. I chose the latter, and was assigned to seek out other force sensitive beings, in hopes of founding an alliance and maybe new pupils of our monastic tradition. If I rid the galaxy of a few scummy pirates while I'm at it, all the better.

I am however, haunted by a moral dilemma something which has yet to come up, but which I fear will be my undoing:

I am honor bound to spare an unarmed opponent, however I am duty bound to kill all who serve the dark side.

Those who know of my oath could seek to use it against me, but I am as of yet unwilling to let go of the customs of of my culture.

Though I would never admit it, I am motivated by vengeance against the pirates who raided our Monestary and slaughtered my family. I have no idea who they were, but every pirate I cut down might as well be the one who killed our pupae.

Oath – The character has sworn an oath to protect the Living Force.

There is no death, there is only the Force.
There is no emotion, there is peace.
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
There is no passion, there is serenity.
There is no chaos, there is harmony.
There is no death, there is the Force.

I cannot kill an unarmed opponent.
I am obligated to kill those who serve the Dark Side.

Phz'mo attacks in a blinding flash, like a samurai who draws, cuts, and sheaths his sword in a one instantaneous action. Phz'mo has learned to activate his lightsaber as it is being drawn, and deactivate the blade as its being stowed beneath his robes. He quickly learned that the sight of a lightsaber is the sort of spectacle that draws all the wrong attention, and if one absolutely must be used, it ought to be done as quickly and discreetly as possible.