Independent Risht Risst

[corranorreaux]

Name: Risht Risst
Species: Shistavanen
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Height: 5'9
Force Sensitivity: Yes - Untrained
Faction: Independent
Role-plays:

Appearance:
Although somewhat leaner/slimmer than most of his fellow wolf-like Shistavens, Risht certainly doesn't lack the bestial features of his species. Sharp canine teeth, dark brown fur, and sharp claws, all things that still serve him well in his usual line of work.


ATTRIBUTES:
While to most humans he'd still be an intimidating wolf monster, to his own kind he's more of a runt. Slightly smaller than average, below average in terms of strength, Risht falls short in most typical forms of masculine hierarchy for his species. He is however fast, both in mind and body. Even if he doesn't know it, the force tends to aid him all the more in such ways. Pressing his speed to something slightly beyond what a normal person should, a limited sense of precognition has also saved his life more than a couple of times.

Personality:
A cool head is often required in the alleyways of work Risht typically takes, and he figures he's better at keeping it cold than most, although he certainly can be pushed to rage. Somewhat sarcastic, but typically single-minded, he tends to be loyal towards the few things he can call a friend.

Skills:
Tracking, brawling, slicing, piloting, experience with blaster pistols and rifles.

Gear/Weapons:
- DE-10 Blaster Pistol
- Vibroblade (in dagger form)
- Blast vest
- Port Scanner
- Security Spike
- Stuka Cheskar Antidote

Bio:
Hierarchy is something you learn at birth. Straight from the womb and into the litter. Dominance is established from the smallest things and only grows as you do. Risht was born at the bottom of it. A runt among wolves, an alien among humans, coinless on a rich planet, unwanted where everyone has a place. Born into a small community of Shistavanens in the crowded alleyways, tunnels, warehouses, and gambling dens of Coruscant, Risht learned slicing through practicing on centuries-old nav computers and stolen commlinks, never wasting an opportunity to improve his skills.

He could never pick pockets, lacking the grace and small size of most other slum younglings and street urchins of smaller species. But his interest in tech and eye for scrap allowed him to tap into sensitive conversations and slice terminals, qualities that helped him get by better than others, even if the credits he was making weren’t quite as reliable as a merc or syndicate slicer.

As time went on and he honed his skills from child to adolescent, he gradually grew from just another small-time criminal to genuine annoyance. He wasn’t and could never be a threat to any gang’s bottom line, but Risht may have made an underworld middle manager short a few pocket credits, and that was enough to make him a target.

Driven off-world by a couple of threats here and a blaster shot there, Risht spent what little money he had left on a spot in the cleaning closet of a smuggler’s freighter, on the way to wherever the richer thug’s next stop would take him.

This plan was complicated by the smuggler himself.

His next stop was a depopulated moon on the edges of the mid rim, far enough out of the way that he’d be unlikely to be found by anyone else but more criminals. Anger reaching a boiling point and not about to let this upstart crime puppy leave him to die, Risht killed him with his bare claws. In the end, he gained a ship and a fancy blaster out of the deal, which seemed worth a little blood.

With a new taste for violence and the ability to seek out something greater than gang-run slums now open to him, it was impossible to do anything other than set a course and start looking for work.