Full Name: Sarun Skysong

Nickname(s): None

Age: 18

Gender: Male

Homeworld: Bretta (Small world in the Corporate Sector)

Race: Human

Occupation: Entertainment (Poet)

Eyes: Aquamarine

Hair: Chestnut Brown, Shoulder Length

General Description: Sarun stands at five and a half feet, well below the norm for a human of his age. His facial features resemble a roughly chiseled statue of white marble, with few curves and many brutally straight lines. His eyes are blue-green and set deeply in their sockets like twin wells, both half full. Thick brown hair falls to his shoulders, like a curtain draped over an Easter Island moai. He possesses a subtle aura of calm, and there is confidence in his walk.

Clothing: An ill fitting but well-tailored azure shirt, simple black pants held in place by a bronze-colored metal belt with a circular buckle, and durable but presentable brown shoes made of synthetic leather.

Weapons: None

Other Equipment: Datapad with word processor, dictionary, thesaurus, and translator programs. Three changes of clothing. Holodisk containing images of his family.

Transportation: None

Inventory: 500 Credits (automatically)

Family:
Father: Ander Skysong (Deceased, Musician)
Mother: Wiline Nabille (Receptionist at CSA [Corporate Sector Authority] offices)
Brother: Torren Skysong (Sienar Fleet Systems Engineer)

History: Sarun Skysong was born on the small Corporate Sector world Bretta. It is a little known world far from the main hyperspace lanes and signature hustle and bustle of the Corporate Sector, and Sarun and his brother Torren were always anxious to leave home and see the greater galaxy. Neither their father nor mother had the salary to even book passage in a cargo hold, however, so the boys relentlessly explored what they could of their home planet. Their father was a keyboard musician who preformed at the local nightclub, while their mother manned the front desk of a CSA office building. They both encouraged their children to think big so that they would not be in such a difficult financial situation, and both children worked hard to please their parents. The brothers were inseparable, albeit very different. Torren loved building things and setting careful plans he followed to the letter, while Sarun was quick, impulsive, and passionate, reveling in the here and now. Sarun frequently got into arguments with others of his age and above, and it was suggested that he go into law. He replied that the law had far too many rules. He wanted something less constrained but equally fiery, and he chose poetry.

Sarun practiced writing, basing his creations off of the work of prominent poets and authors. He had no teacher, so his progress was very limited. He hoped to attend the University of Coruscant and learn from the masterful artisans there, but such a dream was, at the time, far out of reach. The Galactic Civil War was in full swing, and Stormtroopers were stationed even on Bretta. Rebel cells became active on the planet, turning the few wilderness areas into war zones. Upon witnessing the terrible fate of those rebels who were captured by the Empire Sarun became a rebel sympathizer, secretly supplying rebel troops with food, blankets, and inexpensive medicine. This was the most difficult choice of his life, for his brother, an unflinching believer in the Empire’s just rule, would surely turn him in if his actions were discovered. The Rebel Alliance was not the only active group that opposed the Empire, but it was the most moderate, and among other groups terrorist action was common. Sarun’s father was killed when a bomb detonated in the nightclub in which he was playing, leaving his family grief-stricken and poorer than ever. Not long after Torren was offered a job as an engineer at Seinar Fleet Systems, a post that paid well. Torren gave Sarun the money he would need to pursue his education at the University of Corsucant and more, just in case. His dream made possible at last, Sarun set out to make it reality.

RP Sample: By the time Sarun had fully packed his bags the beautiful light of the sunset was streaming through the window. It was not that he had many possessions: he did not. It was that he felt as though they belonged where they were, for many of them had been there all his life. He stared around the nearly empty room and felt pangs of homesickness even though he had not yet left his house. Best if I get this over quickly, he thought. All in one motion he picked up the satchel containing the items most important to him, slung it over his shoulder, and strode out the door into the kitchen. His mother was sitting at the kitchen table and stood up when he entered.

“The rail to the port will arrive in twenty minutes. Be careful, Sarun. Don’t… Don’t do anything stupid.”

She flung her arms around him, and he hugged her back. He felt her tears on his shoulder as he pulled away, and turned quickly toward the door to hide his own. He would miss her.

“Bye, mom. Stay safe.”

It was all he could manage. He opened the door and left down the street. There was one more person he had to visit before he left. He turned down a dimly lit alley and crossed several streets, passing Stormtrooper patrols and shady dealings alike, until he arrived at a small house on the edge of town. He scanned the road behind him and, seeing nothing, knocked twice on the front door. A voice came from inside.

“Who’s there?”

“The speeder repairman, here with replacement parts.”

Every member of the cell had an “occupation” to answer the door with. It was far less suspicious than a single word password, and as long as it wasn’t overused it worked well. The door slid open, revealing a beautiful young woman in her early twenties. Her golden-blond hair fell to the middle of her back, and her eyes were as blue as the deep sea.

“I thought you were leaving.”

“I am. I just wanted to give one last little bit to the cell. I have a little bit of jewelry you can sell, and a pair of blaster pistols that belonged to my father. Never was any good with a blaster anyway. Good luck. I don’t want to hear about you on the Holonet.”

Sarun passed her a bag from his satchel, lightening his load considerably.

“Thank you, Sarun. Good luck to you too, and don’t let the Imperial propaganda mess you up.”

He nodded and turned, then began to walk back through the town to the station. He arrived just as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, casting only a faint glow on a sky where stars had begun appearing. The station was packed and the lines long. Due to recent attacks the Stormtroopers were double-searching everyone, and by the time Sarun had gotten through security his hovertrain was about to leave. He leapt onboard just as the doors closed, then found a seat. Despite all the lines few people were going to the Spaceport. Most didn’t have the proper papers, but Sarun’s brother Torren had gotten them for him through his Seinar contacts. Sarun owed a lot to Torren, and it saddened him to think that he had deceived his brother for so long. He had to help the Rebels, but Torren would never understand.

Security was even tighter at the Starport. Sarun’s papers were checked at least six times, and he was fully searched three times. He was glad to finally board the battered starship that would take him to Coruscant. It looked like it had been hit several times by laser fire, and the airlock doors both hung loosely from their hinges. He was too tired to worry, however. For the hour the ship had to wait for authorization to take off Sarun slept peacefully, only awaking as the movement began. He looked out the tiny viewport at his home planet, rapidly growing smaller as he sped away from it. Suddenly his stomach lurched and speeding stars were visible. They had made the jump to hyperspace, and toward Sarun’s future.

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