Five Syndicates Fenaris Maleco

[vamp]

BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION​

---Homeworld
---Age
--- Tattooine
--- 21

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION​

--- Species
--- Gender
--- Height
--- Mass
--- Eye Color
--- Hair Color
--- Skin Color
--- Force Sensitivity
--- Human
--- Male
--- 185 cm
--- 80 kg
--- Black
--- Brown
--- Fair
--- Negative

KNOWN AFFILIATIONS​

--- Faction
--- Organizations

--- Five Syndicates
--- Black Sun

--

Fenaris Maleco (pronounced /phen-ah-ris mah-lehcoh) was a human male smuggler and bounty hunter from the planet Tattooine. He was raised on the desert planet by Marissa and Jacko Maleco, two wandering merchants and scavengers. Although his family was respected in their circles and by clients, the acquisition by his father of an expensive artifact put them in the crosshair of several gangs of raiders from the Outer Rim, which ultimately resulted in a brief gunfight in their home and the murder of both of his parents. Fenaris was “taken in” by the victorious gang but not told of the circumstances that lead to his orphaning. He was subsequently trained to be a top smuggler, learning and honing skills in hiding products, ship mechanics, flying, gunfighting, hand to hand fighting, negotiation, hacking, and other useful things for those living on the other side of the law to know.

He lived with the gang for a period of time, eventually learning that, though they weren’t the ones to kill his parents, they likely would have done so for the artifact, and their killing of his parents’ assassin was only done for their own convenience, ensuring it fell into their hands. In the following nervous breakdown, he killed the crew he had been working alongside, slaughtering them while they were under the influence of alcohol and spice. He later sold the ship and bought a light freighter of his own, dubbed the Belly of the Beast and started taking on smuggling jobs for miscellaneous clients, as well as a few low-importance contracts for the Black Sun.

His knowledge in fields related to smuggling have helped Fen in ensuring a reliable service for his clients, though he struggles with the lifestyle that has been thrust upon him.

B A C K S T O R Y

The life of a smuggler was not an easy one. There were a lot of occupational hazards that would deter any half-sane organic lifeforms from becoming a part of the criminal world; there was the issue of dying in gunfights, of course, but there were also smaller, more trivial matters that made it seem unappealing. Rude, trigger-happy clients. Extreme weather, from braving sandstorms with a 3 ton load in the back to leading caravans of goods through frozen wastelands. Other smugglers, greedy and drooling at the idea of snatching your payload just before it reaches its destination, robbing you of the profits. Your own compatriots, should they prove to be unreasonable. It was an ugly world, and the only thing that made it worth the while was the profit.

It requires a thick skin and your wits to be about you at all times. It was physically and mentally demanding. Some days, you’d get back to your ship and lay down in bed, staring up at the ceiling and cursing the day you made the choice to forsake your chance at a legal, peaceful life. Many, perhaps most, people had the opportunity to make a choice. Others didn’t. Others were forced into it by unfortunate circumstances, stripped of their innocence on a day that was as normal as any other.

Beats slavery. But did it really? Is it not like being a slave in a way, chained down to this lifestyle despite its vile side effects?

He sighed, grinding his teeth, gaze set hard on the durasteel above him. Yes. Yes it is. But acknowledging his plight was the first step to letting it get the best of him. And Rash could not afford that. He could not afford to be weak.

***

It started, as most unfortunate turns of events do, with his parents. Marissa and Jacko, two of the noblest people in the galaxy, their lives tinged by a sense of pure-humbleness. Two hard workers, with an ethic above all others. Two wandering travelers, so deeply in love that they could not help from bringing another into the world, a testament of their togetherness. A manifestation of their passion.

They were not bad parents. As far as anyone could be concerned, they were great parents. They were not strict like so many others were, battered down by lives of hardship, drained of energy and given no other choice than to hold some resent for their child. They were not negligent. They loved their child as much as they loved each other, and it was felt. The boy that they brought into the world knew he was their shining jewel. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe his perfect childhood ruined him, because it made life so harsh once it was taken away.

His parents were nomads, living in the Outer Rim, scavenging and buying things cheap to sell to travelers from the rest of the Galaxy. Unlike many others, they made an honest living. They avoided trouble and dealt with things morally. They were friendly with strangers, something that is not applauded in the Outer Rim. Kindness makes you into a laughingstock.

But not in their case. Marissa and Jacko were loved by those around them, the regular customers and the merchants they tended to brush elbows with from time to time. No one tried to stiff them, because everyone knew how reputable they were. Of course, there were outliers. But anyone that was a thorn in their side was run out of town by the others. It was a peaceful life. Too peaceful for the Outer Rim.

It was on a calm day on Tatooine that a traveler sought shelter in their improvised home, a small network of tents that they had set up for the few weeks they’d be there, selling this and that. The two never refused a traveler who asked for something as small as a place to rest their head for a few nights, and the traveler was welcomed with open arms and good food. Fen could remember peering at the man from behind his mother’s apron, his childish curiosity peaked by the brown cloak and shiny, curved knife on that bantha-hide belt. He should have known.

Night time rolled quickly as his parents socialized with their guest, drinking and chatting in between customers. Business was slow in that part of the planet, which made settling down there for a bit peaceful but lucrative. The lack of civilization made people desperate, and they’d spend good money on things they need. His parents were smart.

In the dead of the night, long after the last candle had gone out and the last glass had run empty, that a gurgle broke the silence of the desert, followed by a crash. The child awoke with a start, his gut screaming at him that something was deeply, horribly wrong. He was about to go back to sleep, though, until he heard his father’s voice.

”Marissa? M--“ His voice was cut short, followed by another gurgle, like the sound of someone trying to clean the back of their throat with water. Fen broke out of his sheets and out of the room, adrenaline coursing through his veins, thoughts running through his childish brain. Were his parents in trouble? But that was impossible. His parents were invincible.

The common area was a mess when he got there. Blood had stained their fur carpets, a deep puddle slowly soaking through into the sand beneath. At its center, his mother, her hands to her neck, covered in a slick liquid that looked black in the darkness. A few meters away, his father, face-down and unconscious, more liquid underneath him. Above his father, the stranger, hood drawn, knife in hand and covered in that same strange substance. Fen did not connect the dots immediately, but he did not even get the chance to either way. There was now sand in his eyes and mouth, his extremities burning and uncomfortable. The stranger had kicked sand at him.

He choked and stumbled around, hands desperately rubbing at his eyes, mouth struggling to spit the grimy substance out. A voice broke the silence now, from somewhere to his right. ”Hey! We got here first you piece of shit!”

A pew pew rang out through the tent, the sound deafening in the dead of the desert night. A thud, and then silence. Rash opened his eyes, but someone pulled a bag over his head. They picked him up, and he could feel himself being carried despite his kicking. He opened his mouth and screamed until his throat was sore and only a rasping exhale of air came out. He clawed and shoved, but nothing happened. Then, he felt himself being thrown up.

He hit something hard, his head banging on durasteel. And then it all went black.

***

”No. You can’t refuse! We saved your life, you ungrateful sack of bantha shit!”

”That’s no way to talk to a child, Rek!”

”See if I give a sh-!”

The door slammed shut, a hand pulling the man outside by the scruff of his neck. Fen studied his surroundings resignedly, his eyes burning from crying for hours. He was in a small room, walls and floor covered in steel. He felt like he was in a metal coffin. Apparently this is how spacefaring lifeforms lived. He hated it, even though he’d only been on a ship for a few days. He’d vomited the contents of his stomach several times during the few hours, but his body slowly got used to it. His mind did not.

His parents had never taken him with them on their space travels, instead leaving them with a family friend on Tattooine. He was supposed to step on a ship for the first time with them, in a year or two when he was ready to begin helping with the family business. But he’d been robbed of that too.

The door slid open again. A blond woman stepped inside, dressed like the typical Outer Rim traveler. Fen had seen many people like her buying things from her parents. The man that killed them had looked the same.

”Sorry about him. He’s been living like a savage for a long time, so he’s forgotten how to act around people. You know how it is.” She spoke with the casualty that not many used when speaking with children. She only realized that when Fen did not respond, staring her blankly.

”Oh! Yeah, sorry.” The woman stepped closer, toward the seat in front of Fen. He recoiled and dug deeper into the wall he was resting his back on. A strange look flashed across the woman’s face. Pity?

”No, no. It’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you. My name is Renna. What’s your name?”

”Y-you killed them.” He replied, his voice hoarse, face hard.

***

He grew to understand, eventually. It was not this crew that killed his parents, it was the stranger. They had just happened by and heard the commotion. Perfectly reasonable. Fen grew to become a member of the team because he had no choice. He would starve to death in the desert if he left them, and either way--they saved his life. Or so they said. He began learning all sorts of things, from how to shoot a blaster to what parts of a speeder could be taken off to stash things into. He learned how to make a fake ID. How to lie to someone without your body language giving you away. Fen dived deeper and deeper into this world, living in the underbelly of the galaxy, no more than a useful insect like a spider. Annoying, but useful to those who needed his services. He split profits with the team, of course, because they all worked together.

It took him a few years to ask questions.

***

”We saved your life you useless piece of sh-“ Metal on flesh and bone. A crack came out of the impact, then nothing more. Rek was still awake and alive, except now his nose was broken and bleeding just like the few others cuts on his face from the scuffle of tying him up. The veteran smuggler stared Fen dead in the eyes, the hatred on his face displayed openly, his teeth bared.

”Why were you there the night they died? What were you doing in the middle of the desert? Just wandering around?” He already knew the answer. Fen was nothing if not perceptive, and he was bound to overhear things if the people on this crew didn’t know how to keep their mouths shut when they got drunk. It had taken a few years, but the inevitable had happened.

”I know about the artifact,” he spoke again, breaking the long silence that had begun settling in. ”And you would have killed them too, if he hadn’t.”

No response. Rek was looking down at Fen’s boots. He was about to kick him the face, but he finally spoke.

”Yes.”

And it was all he needed to hear. Rek died instantly as the bolt hit him in the forehead. And then another. And another. He kept pressing the trigger, unable to stop, turning the man’s face into nothing more than a charred, bubbling mess of flesh and bone. The smell of burning meat filled the room. He tossed the blaster aside, dashing outside. He vomited on the hallway.

A P P E A R A N C E & S K I L L S

Chiseled and disheveled, Fen may be considered attractive by conventional standards, although some may turn their nose up at his appearance--and for understandable reasons. A persistent 5-o’clock shadow covers his strong jawline, a byproduct of his lack of motivation for even the most basic of things, such as shaving. His long hair appears a bit unkempt, as he does not even have a single comb on his ship. He’s relatively buff as a result of the heavy lifting he does for jobs, but an unhealthy lifestyle and drinking have ensured he is not going to be reaching bodybuilder levels anytime soon.

He’s skilled in things from hacking and informatics to flying and gunfighting, having a few years of experience in the criminal world. He is a good liar, having perfected the craft being forced to keep a straight face when feeding authorities false information. He’s determined when he takes a job, despite his distaste for the stress of criminal living, and he longs for a sense of belonging and satisfaction with his life.

B E L O N G I N G S

TRANSPORTATION​

--The XS-800 Light Freighter, 'The Belly of the Beast'

DROID(S)​

--TBD, 'TBD'

WEAPONS​

--DG-34 Peacemaker Blaster Pistol
----- ⇁ Two Power Packs
--BM-792 ZOK-10 Hunting Rifle
----- ⇁ Two Power Packs
--Nacht-5 Smoke Grenade
----- ⇁ Three

ARMOR​

--Fen's armor

MISC​

--Datapad
--Personav
--StarX Emergency Repair Kit