Post by Dire Wolf on Nov 23, 2012 1:30:51 GMT -5
Faction: Sith
Department: Imperial Intelligence
Rank: Major (No Official Rank)
Name: Classified
Callsign: Preacher
Race: Human
Age: 31
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 173lbs
Birth place: Dantooine
Appearance:
The man known by the code name "Preacher" has absolutely no scars, tattoos, or identifying marks on his body. His job as a Sith Agent affords him nothing less. Preacher isn't exceptionally well built or over thin. His body is conditioned to the point of physical perfection. Preacher's eyes are an oceanic blue and his hair is a dusty brown hue, and the first thing one notices after his rugged jaw line is the five o'clock shadow that is kept well trimmed at all times. His skin is well tanned, but only below the triceps and above the collar because he is far too busy to sit in the sun, and those bits of flesh are the only ones that are regularly exposed.
Preacher's attire depends largely on the planet he's operating on or around, though he favors simple denim with a rolled up long sleeve shirt. His combat attire often involved no armor and a vest that's primarily used to carry extra blaster packs, knives, grenades, and other gadgets. A holdout blaster or small slug thrower is always concealed somewhere on his person. Nowhere does he ever wear the insignia of the Sith Empire, and the only true evidence of his existence beyond a ghost is a photograph of his sister. It brings a melancholy smile to his lips every time his dull brown eyes gaze upon its surface.
It is, perhaps, the only real proof that a heart beats within his chest to those that work with him.
Personality:
Lawful Neutral
Cold, detached, and calculating are a few words that could describe the man known only by his callsign; Preacher. Every other scrap of information linking him to his actual name has been expunged from any and all records, be they Sith or Republic in nature. Preacher may have been born on a loyal Republic world, but that fact only adds to his Sith Nationalism. The man believes in the justness of the Empire and her goals down to the very core of his being, and will stop at nothing to secure Sith dominance in the galaxy at large. In short he believes that the ends justify the means regardless of who or what falls under the "means" category.
Preacher's stoicism is only on the surface, however. He is still a true believer he still has a certain amount of moral fortitude, and is a man that is wracked with guilt. While the fact that he has committed atrocities that border on war crimes, none of them caused him to bat a lash. They were people, but they deserved it. Its when he kills innocent people that were at the wrong place at the wrong time that sadness finds his heart. Namely because he recently killed the kin he was closest to. Her death was necessary, though. She stood in the way of the incorruptible Sith Empire.
The Sith may have indoctrinated him from a young age at the Corvulo Academy on Sernpidal, but they couldn't rip the strong sense of honor from the boy's spirit. He does his best to reduce the amount of collateral damage and lost life, and will tell the truth in all the matters that he can. Its obviously impossible to keep one's sense of honor clean in the business of liars and killers, but he finds a way to manage.
Skills:
SARTO Training (SpeciAl Recon, Tactics, and Operations)
Kinetic Communication (Fluent)
Huttese (Understood)
Rodian (Understood)
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 5
Leadership: 3
Unarmed: 6
Melee Weapons: 5
Ranged Weapons: 7
Bio:
The man known as Preacher was born on the quaint little world of Dantooine to a large albeit poor farming family that had held their small acreage for as long as people had lived on Dantooine. Their most lucrative and only product was a plant that was used for the production of bread, but they didn't own nearly enough land to make a serious profit on their product. Preacher was born the youngest of seven children a decade into his parent's marriage.
Preacher's early years were initially carefree, but around the boy's third birthday tragedy struck. His mother had enjoyed tending to the small garden, and while she was out of the family's cottage a pack of Kath Hounds wandered onto their land. His mother never stood a chance. His father, four brothers, and even a sister rushed out of the house and from the barns armed with hunting blasters.
It was too late, though. By the time the pack was either dead or run off, his mother was little more than a barely bleeding bloody pulp. She died in his father's arms less than a minute later. Preacher's father was a military man and otherwise an honorable soul, but after his mother died the man fell into a stupor. Had his wife not bore so many children the farm would have fallen into disrepair and not been able to support his new favorite coping mechanism: drinking.
Alcohol was the only thing that allowed him to forget his troubles and his dead wife. It didn't help that every time he saw his children the man couldn't help but see his darling wife. Especially in Preacher, the youngest and barely a few years old. His father would often turn his drunken fury on the little boy. The boy's brothers attempted to stop the much older, stronger, and military trained man but only ended up hurt as a result. This deterred the drunken man from turning his fists on the young child in their presence, but when the cats away the mice come out to play, so to speak.
So Preacher's eldest sister, Charmaine, made sure that the boy was never alone with his father. She quickly became something of a second mother to the young child, having taught him how to read and write. When time came for school she was the one that helped him with his homework. She taught him kindness and love, and to value knowledge. Perhaps the greatest gift she gave him was a love of books. Charmaine was also the one that cooked him food and kiss his owies.
Until she moved away to college.
Preacher begged his surrogate mom not to go and leave him alone. She promised the boy that she would come and visit during the summers. Preacher could have even gone to visit during vacations, if he had enough time. This made her departure somewhat bearable, but the little boy still cried for his mom as she departed to the shuttle. The boy visited his older sister on Coruscant as often as he could, but that wasn't nearly often enough. In the mean time his older brother, raised him to be better than his father. His brother instilled in him a sense of honor and courage that would inevitably lead him to the military. Though not the Republican military.
School had never particularly hard, nor was it easy for the boy. His older brothers and sisters would help him when he needed it, but he only asked for help when he truly needed it. Besides the pride issue, part of him felt like he betrayed his sister every time that he asked for someone else's help. She had been the one to help him in his early years, after all. Not asking for help was a habit that he held onto as he aged. He was about eight when he visited Charmaine and her 'friend' only to discover that her friend was more than that. Much more.
He was her fiance. Preacher hadn't hated the Echani man before that, but the instant that he discovered that he planned to take his sister/mother from him there was a hatred in his heart. A few years later he heard about his sister becoming pregnant and giving birth to a son. He was rewarded with the sight of a baby boy his next visit, and while he loathed the boy's father he couldn't help but love the little baby. Preacher helped out with him as often as he could every time he was on Coruscant. Which wasn't as often because Charmaine had decided to travel back to Dantooine for weeks at a time after she graduated college.
Partying, girls, and shockball were as much a part of his life as any other high schooler's, though he stayed far away from alcohol. He refused to have it pass his lips thanks to his father's nasty habit of beating him as a kid. If Preacher hadn't learned to fight at a young age from the school yard scuffles it was likely that his dad would have still beat him then. It was all well and good, because he found that while he didn't enjoy alcohol he did enjoy women. The women he especially loved were the ones that loved alcohol.
Four years of high school lead to a sports scholarship to Coruscant. He was overjoyed. Preacher spent as much time as was sensible with his surrogate mother and her son, but was careful not to overstay his welcome. The boy had studies to attend to, besides. The professor of his political science class had especially captured his attention. According to him the Republic had fallen into a state of decadence and the Sith Empire was the wave of the future. A society that would marshal in a gilded age for the galaxy. Preacher listened, took it to heart, and joined the Imperial Military as soon as he graduated.
Much to the disdain of his family. He didn't care, though. No honorable man would serve the Republic, and they just didn't understand. The Sith were right and good, despite their sometimes questionable methods. Even then they were regularly just in acting as they did.
Officer training for the twenty one year old Preacher, and by the time basic and combat training had been completed it was roughly a year later. He was excited for his first command, even if it was just sitting on a boat that patrolled the space lanes. There was the occasional skirmish here and there, but nothing too exciting. As the years and ranks went by he found open combat to be wearying, and pirates to get on his nerves. He was rarely home during this time, seeing as all of his family was located in the Republic. Preacher kept a constant line of communication open with them, though, especially Lucca and Charmaine.
Two years into his first enlistment he joined the illustrious Sith Special Forces. The training was harsh and challenged every aspect of his person. Mental capacity and physical strength was brought to their limits during the training, but despite this he never gave up. He was one of the few men to not fail. His career with the special forces was illustrious and mostly involved secret raids against all enemies of the empire. One particular mission against a privateering ring that had skimmed off of the top of the loot they had acquired for the empire ended horribly. They were ambushed by a Force user and were by and were decimated. Had Preacher not set off a sonic grenade and slew the man. His unit managed to move on to eradicate the privateers before heading back to lick their wounds.
That was why he was selected to start an ambitious new program: the Jedi Hunters. The school was rigorous and ninety percent of the potential recruits washed out by the end. Half of them did so the first day. After writing the course syllabus alongside many other experienced Special Forces Operators and even a few Grey Jedi Mercenaries and ex-Jedi, Preacher was the first to go through it and pass.
Four more years of duty with the Jedi Hunters and the Sith saw it fit to move him once again, but this time to a far more secretive organization. Officially, the organization didn't exist. His orders, however, sent him to the Special Recton, Tactics, and Operations headquarters on a world he had never heard of before. It was there that he realized just how little he knew about fighting, espionage, and subterfuge. Preacher learned how do everything from offensively drive a speeder to slice into a computer terminal. Planting bombs, creating formulas for biological weapons, and even slug thrower marksmanship were all a few things among many. He even learned how to climb and became fluent in Kinetic Communication.
Preacher earned his code name there after he was one of two to pass out of a hundred men. From there he was sent to Dantooine so that he could infiltrate and undermine the resistance there. They were headed by a formerly prominent man and member of the Republic Special Forces. Preacher's efforts ultimately lead to the capture of a few Dantooine Liberation Army rebels along with the leader and his son. One small detail that was left out of the records, however, was how it also lead to the death of Charmaine.
The man had been in the middle of sending a voice message to his handler when his sister happened across the door. Instead of turning him in she confronted him about his dealings with the Sith. Not to mention the betrayal of his family, most of which were fighting in the DLA. After a considerable amount of option weighing and self hatred, he choked his surrogate mother to death and buried her in the middle of a field at the bottom of an unmarked grave.
What little was left of the honorable, kind young man that Charmaine had raised died that day. Preacher took his place.
He turned on the leader of the DLA just before the ambush was sprung, and thanks to this surprise attack he managed to get an upper hand in the fight rather early. That upper hand ended quickly. It was soon obvious to Preacher that Erledutch had completely outclassed him and even went so far as to dislocate his arm before taking his firearm. But not before he discovered that Erledutch trained the man that had instructed Preacher. Had a Sith stun bolt not hit Erle, Preacher would have perished.
Two more years passed and with them all manner of missions. Some involved rescuing an important aristocrat's daughter, and others assassinating threats to the growing empire. One constant remained, however: Preacher's utmost and complete devotion to the Sith Empire and all her subjects.
Anyone, Jedi, Soldier, or Politician who stands between the Sith Empire and their goal of galactic domination is a target. Without exception.
RP Sample:
"Its a funny thing, killing a man. You take away all he has, and everything he'll ever be," the man leaned against the back of a rather spartan wheeled chair. A holdout blaster was held gently in his right hand while a cigar was pinned between two fingers of his left. Normally idle talk wasn't in the man's interest, but it was ordered in this particular case. Theatrics were to be involved for this operation, and all of it would be captured on a holo-recorder.
The device was set up on a tripod and pointed directly at the principle with Preacher between him and the device. The translucent image of two women appeared before Preacher and his little friend seemingly out of nothing, and a muffled scream of terror and fury ripped its way out of the principle's throat. Preacher didn't particularly care what or why he had been told to kill this man, only that he had been told to kill him. With the theatrics that were about to ensue.
"If you'd be so kind as to direct your attention to your wife and daughter, Mister Talrax. Thank you." A strange warmth came from the Sith Agent's voice as motioned towards the pair of women. Both were fetching, especially the younger of the two. Tears gently rolled down their faces as the holocamera brought their image into Mr. Talrax's office. Within moments the man's home appeared in the background of the image, and the form of what looked like his dog lie in the background with a blaster bolt in the back of its head. Preacher was nothing if he wasn't thorough.
An apathetic sigh caused the man's shoulders to rise and then fall as he stood up and removed the gag from his target's mouth. Insults and pleas for mercy streamed from the man's mouth like a confused mixture of feces and honey. Preacher took in the man's words for a long silent moment, brought the cigar to his mouth, and held up his now free palm to him. "Mr Talrax, your pleas fall on deaf ears and those insults are unbecoming for a man of your stature. I'm very disappointed. There is absolutely nothing you can say to change what is about to happen, but I can offer you one sliver of solace: they won't suffer."
Before the aged man could utter another word Preacher's fingers had danced across his gauntlet. The hologram of the man's home detonated in a fiery blast of high explosives. This conflagration was so fierce and powerful that the Sith Agent saw the flash through the window of the man's top-floor office. Tears rolled down the crevasse's in Talrax's face. The hologram beside them had winked from existence shortly after the bomb had detonated.
Satisfaction did not register in his mind, but pride certainly had. Not the kind of pride that one felt for one's deeds, but rather the kind of pride one felt when one's child accomplishes a great feat. That was what his children were: the five bricks of high explosives, each ten pounds, that were laid about the man's house. Each one had to be timed perfectly or the first to fire would eradicate the others and make for a smaller explosion. Together, though, they sent tremors through the ground that Preacher felt in his feet from miles away.
"And now, Mr. Talrax, your services are no longer required," a high pitched screech tore through the silence just before a blaster bolt tore through the man's skull. There was little left but a canoe of red carnage where his head used to be. Preacher heaved a heavy sigh, tucked his holdout blaster into a sheathe beneath his dinner jacket, and collected the holorecorder.
He had places to be, after all.
Department: Imperial Intelligence
Rank: Major (No Official Rank)
Name: Classified
Callsign: Preacher
Race: Human
Age: 31
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 173lbs
Birth place: Dantooine
Appearance:
The man known by the code name "Preacher" has absolutely no scars, tattoos, or identifying marks on his body. His job as a Sith Agent affords him nothing less. Preacher isn't exceptionally well built or over thin. His body is conditioned to the point of physical perfection. Preacher's eyes are an oceanic blue and his hair is a dusty brown hue, and the first thing one notices after his rugged jaw line is the five o'clock shadow that is kept well trimmed at all times. His skin is well tanned, but only below the triceps and above the collar because he is far too busy to sit in the sun, and those bits of flesh are the only ones that are regularly exposed.
Preacher's attire depends largely on the planet he's operating on or around, though he favors simple denim with a rolled up long sleeve shirt. His combat attire often involved no armor and a vest that's primarily used to carry extra blaster packs, knives, grenades, and other gadgets. A holdout blaster or small slug thrower is always concealed somewhere on his person. Nowhere does he ever wear the insignia of the Sith Empire, and the only true evidence of his existence beyond a ghost is a photograph of his sister. It brings a melancholy smile to his lips every time his dull brown eyes gaze upon its surface.
It is, perhaps, the only real proof that a heart beats within his chest to those that work with him.
Personality:
Lawful Neutral
Cold, detached, and calculating are a few words that could describe the man known only by his callsign; Preacher. Every other scrap of information linking him to his actual name has been expunged from any and all records, be they Sith or Republic in nature. Preacher may have been born on a loyal Republic world, but that fact only adds to his Sith Nationalism. The man believes in the justness of the Empire and her goals down to the very core of his being, and will stop at nothing to secure Sith dominance in the galaxy at large. In short he believes that the ends justify the means regardless of who or what falls under the "means" category.
Preacher's stoicism is only on the surface, however. He is still a true believer he still has a certain amount of moral fortitude, and is a man that is wracked with guilt. While the fact that he has committed atrocities that border on war crimes, none of them caused him to bat a lash. They were people, but they deserved it. Its when he kills innocent people that were at the wrong place at the wrong time that sadness finds his heart. Namely because he recently killed the kin he was closest to. Her death was necessary, though. She stood in the way of the incorruptible Sith Empire.
The Sith may have indoctrinated him from a young age at the Corvulo Academy on Sernpidal, but they couldn't rip the strong sense of honor from the boy's spirit. He does his best to reduce the amount of collateral damage and lost life, and will tell the truth in all the matters that he can. Its obviously impossible to keep one's sense of honor clean in the business of liars and killers, but he finds a way to manage.
Skills:
SARTO Training (SpeciAl Recon, Tactics, and Operations)
Kinetic Communication (Fluent)
Huttese (Understood)
Rodian (Understood)
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 5
Leadership: 3
Unarmed: 6
Melee Weapons: 5
Ranged Weapons: 7
Bio:
Childhood
The man known as Preacher was born on the quaint little world of Dantooine to a large albeit poor farming family that had held their small acreage for as long as people had lived on Dantooine. Their most lucrative and only product was a plant that was used for the production of bread, but they didn't own nearly enough land to make a serious profit on their product. Preacher was born the youngest of seven children a decade into his parent's marriage.
Preacher's early years were initially carefree, but around the boy's third birthday tragedy struck. His mother had enjoyed tending to the small garden, and while she was out of the family's cottage a pack of Kath Hounds wandered onto their land. His mother never stood a chance. His father, four brothers, and even a sister rushed out of the house and from the barns armed with hunting blasters.
It was too late, though. By the time the pack was either dead or run off, his mother was little more than a barely bleeding bloody pulp. She died in his father's arms less than a minute later. Preacher's father was a military man and otherwise an honorable soul, but after his mother died the man fell into a stupor. Had his wife not bore so many children the farm would have fallen into disrepair and not been able to support his new favorite coping mechanism: drinking.
Alcohol was the only thing that allowed him to forget his troubles and his dead wife. It didn't help that every time he saw his children the man couldn't help but see his darling wife. Especially in Preacher, the youngest and barely a few years old. His father would often turn his drunken fury on the little boy. The boy's brothers attempted to stop the much older, stronger, and military trained man but only ended up hurt as a result. This deterred the drunken man from turning his fists on the young child in their presence, but when the cats away the mice come out to play, so to speak.
So Preacher's eldest sister, Charmaine, made sure that the boy was never alone with his father. She quickly became something of a second mother to the young child, having taught him how to read and write. When time came for school she was the one that helped him with his homework. She taught him kindness and love, and to value knowledge. Perhaps the greatest gift she gave him was a love of books. Charmaine was also the one that cooked him food and kiss his owies.
Until she moved away to college.
Preacher begged his surrogate mom not to go and leave him alone. She promised the boy that she would come and visit during the summers. Preacher could have even gone to visit during vacations, if he had enough time. This made her departure somewhat bearable, but the little boy still cried for his mom as she departed to the shuttle. The boy visited his older sister on Coruscant as often as he could, but that wasn't nearly often enough. In the mean time his older brother, raised him to be better than his father. His brother instilled in him a sense of honor and courage that would inevitably lead him to the military. Though not the Republican military.
Shadows & Dust
School had never particularly hard, nor was it easy for the boy. His older brothers and sisters would help him when he needed it, but he only asked for help when he truly needed it. Besides the pride issue, part of him felt like he betrayed his sister every time that he asked for someone else's help. She had been the one to help him in his early years, after all. Not asking for help was a habit that he held onto as he aged. He was about eight when he visited Charmaine and her 'friend' only to discover that her friend was more than that. Much more.
He was her fiance. Preacher hadn't hated the Echani man before that, but the instant that he discovered that he planned to take his sister/mother from him there was a hatred in his heart. A few years later he heard about his sister becoming pregnant and giving birth to a son. He was rewarded with the sight of a baby boy his next visit, and while he loathed the boy's father he couldn't help but love the little baby. Preacher helped out with him as often as he could every time he was on Coruscant. Which wasn't as often because Charmaine had decided to travel back to Dantooine for weeks at a time after she graduated college.
Partying, girls, and shockball were as much a part of his life as any other high schooler's, though he stayed far away from alcohol. He refused to have it pass his lips thanks to his father's nasty habit of beating him as a kid. If Preacher hadn't learned to fight at a young age from the school yard scuffles it was likely that his dad would have still beat him then. It was all well and good, because he found that while he didn't enjoy alcohol he did enjoy women. The women he especially loved were the ones that loved alcohol.
Four years of high school lead to a sports scholarship to Coruscant. He was overjoyed. Preacher spent as much time as was sensible with his surrogate mother and her son, but was careful not to overstay his welcome. The boy had studies to attend to, besides. The professor of his political science class had especially captured his attention. According to him the Republic had fallen into a state of decadence and the Sith Empire was the wave of the future. A society that would marshal in a gilded age for the galaxy. Preacher listened, took it to heart, and joined the Imperial Military as soon as he graduated.
Much to the disdain of his family. He didn't care, though. No honorable man would serve the Republic, and they just didn't understand. The Sith were right and good, despite their sometimes questionable methods. Even then they were regularly just in acting as they did.
An Officer and a Gentleman
Officer training for the twenty one year old Preacher, and by the time basic and combat training had been completed it was roughly a year later. He was excited for his first command, even if it was just sitting on a boat that patrolled the space lanes. There was the occasional skirmish here and there, but nothing too exciting. As the years and ranks went by he found open combat to be wearying, and pirates to get on his nerves. He was rarely home during this time, seeing as all of his family was located in the Republic. Preacher kept a constant line of communication open with them, though, especially Lucca and Charmaine.
Two years into his first enlistment he joined the illustrious Sith Special Forces. The training was harsh and challenged every aspect of his person. Mental capacity and physical strength was brought to their limits during the training, but despite this he never gave up. He was one of the few men to not fail. His career with the special forces was illustrious and mostly involved secret raids against all enemies of the empire. One particular mission against a privateering ring that had skimmed off of the top of the loot they had acquired for the empire ended horribly. They were ambushed by a Force user and were by and were decimated. Had Preacher not set off a sonic grenade and slew the man. His unit managed to move on to eradicate the privateers before heading back to lick their wounds.
Ghosts & Hunters
That was why he was selected to start an ambitious new program: the Jedi Hunters. The school was rigorous and ninety percent of the potential recruits washed out by the end. Half of them did so the first day. After writing the course syllabus alongside many other experienced Special Forces Operators and even a few Grey Jedi Mercenaries and ex-Jedi, Preacher was the first to go through it and pass.
Four more years of duty with the Jedi Hunters and the Sith saw it fit to move him once again, but this time to a far more secretive organization. Officially, the organization didn't exist. His orders, however, sent him to the Special Recton, Tactics, and Operations headquarters on a world he had never heard of before. It was there that he realized just how little he knew about fighting, espionage, and subterfuge. Preacher learned how do everything from offensively drive a speeder to slice into a computer terminal. Planting bombs, creating formulas for biological weapons, and even slug thrower marksmanship were all a few things among many. He even learned how to climb and became fluent in Kinetic Communication.
Preacher earned his code name there after he was one of two to pass out of a hundred men. From there he was sent to Dantooine so that he could infiltrate and undermine the resistance there. They were headed by a formerly prominent man and member of the Republic Special Forces. Preacher's efforts ultimately lead to the capture of a few Dantooine Liberation Army rebels along with the leader and his son. One small detail that was left out of the records, however, was how it also lead to the death of Charmaine.
The man had been in the middle of sending a voice message to his handler when his sister happened across the door. Instead of turning him in she confronted him about his dealings with the Sith. Not to mention the betrayal of his family, most of which were fighting in the DLA. After a considerable amount of option weighing and self hatred, he choked his surrogate mother to death and buried her in the middle of a field at the bottom of an unmarked grave.
What little was left of the honorable, kind young man that Charmaine had raised died that day. Preacher took his place.
He turned on the leader of the DLA just before the ambush was sprung, and thanks to this surprise attack he managed to get an upper hand in the fight rather early. That upper hand ended quickly. It was soon obvious to Preacher that Erledutch had completely outclassed him and even went so far as to dislocate his arm before taking his firearm. But not before he discovered that Erledutch trained the man that had instructed Preacher. Had a Sith stun bolt not hit Erle, Preacher would have perished.
Two more years passed and with them all manner of missions. Some involved rescuing an important aristocrat's daughter, and others assassinating threats to the growing empire. One constant remained, however: Preacher's utmost and complete devotion to the Sith Empire and all her subjects.
Anyone, Jedi, Soldier, or Politician who stands between the Sith Empire and their goal of galactic domination is a target. Without exception.
RP Sample:
"Its a funny thing, killing a man. You take away all he has, and everything he'll ever be," the man leaned against the back of a rather spartan wheeled chair. A holdout blaster was held gently in his right hand while a cigar was pinned between two fingers of his left. Normally idle talk wasn't in the man's interest, but it was ordered in this particular case. Theatrics were to be involved for this operation, and all of it would be captured on a holo-recorder.
The device was set up on a tripod and pointed directly at the principle with Preacher between him and the device. The translucent image of two women appeared before Preacher and his little friend seemingly out of nothing, and a muffled scream of terror and fury ripped its way out of the principle's throat. Preacher didn't particularly care what or why he had been told to kill this man, only that he had been told to kill him. With the theatrics that were about to ensue.
"If you'd be so kind as to direct your attention to your wife and daughter, Mister Talrax. Thank you." A strange warmth came from the Sith Agent's voice as motioned towards the pair of women. Both were fetching, especially the younger of the two. Tears gently rolled down their faces as the holocamera brought their image into Mr. Talrax's office. Within moments the man's home appeared in the background of the image, and the form of what looked like his dog lie in the background with a blaster bolt in the back of its head. Preacher was nothing if he wasn't thorough.
An apathetic sigh caused the man's shoulders to rise and then fall as he stood up and removed the gag from his target's mouth. Insults and pleas for mercy streamed from the man's mouth like a confused mixture of feces and honey. Preacher took in the man's words for a long silent moment, brought the cigar to his mouth, and held up his now free palm to him. "Mr Talrax, your pleas fall on deaf ears and those insults are unbecoming for a man of your stature. I'm very disappointed. There is absolutely nothing you can say to change what is about to happen, but I can offer you one sliver of solace: they won't suffer."
Before the aged man could utter another word Preacher's fingers had danced across his gauntlet. The hologram of the man's home detonated in a fiery blast of high explosives. This conflagration was so fierce and powerful that the Sith Agent saw the flash through the window of the man's top-floor office. Tears rolled down the crevasse's in Talrax's face. The hologram beside them had winked from existence shortly after the bomb had detonated.
Satisfaction did not register in his mind, but pride certainly had. Not the kind of pride that one felt for one's deeds, but rather the kind of pride one felt when one's child accomplishes a great feat. That was what his children were: the five bricks of high explosives, each ten pounds, that were laid about the man's house. Each one had to be timed perfectly or the first to fire would eradicate the others and make for a smaller explosion. Together, though, they sent tremors through the ground that Preacher felt in his feet from miles away.
"And now, Mr. Talrax, your services are no longer required," a high pitched screech tore through the silence just before a blaster bolt tore through the man's skull. There was little left but a canoe of red carnage where his head used to be. Preacher heaved a heavy sigh, tucked his holdout blaster into a sheathe beneath his dinner jacket, and collected the holorecorder.
He had places to be, after all.
