Post by Stephen on Jun 16, 2014 11:14:26 GMT -5
Name: Janus Yarloc
Race: Human
Age:31
Birthplace: Correlia
Allegiance: Republic
Status:Civilian
Rank: Businessman
Height/Weight: 5' 7” 144lbs
Appearance: A pale, grim faced blonde, Janus cuts a slight silhouette and a forgettable face with deep set eyes and a prominent, cleft chin. Short and thin, he moves with the practiced grace of someone who hates incidental contact and keeps his arms to his side or close to his chest. He either wears white collared shirts with gray vests and slacks, or oversized, dark green Correlian robes with billowing sleeves.
Personality: Janus is soft spoken and polite, usually preferring others to do the talking in most situations. Janus tends to not draw attention to himself unless he has to, and rarely makes a bold move without an escape plan. He prefers a crowd to a forest or a temple and generally a cantina if the option is available. Easy to talk to and hard to remember, most of his smuggling is done quietly and professionally. If driven by emotion, it's usually curiosity, and he's known to make more than an occasional misstep because of his need to know. He enjoys conversation on a one on one basis, but tends to get overlooked in groups, which frustrates him. Janus often finds himself out of his depth as his careful and aloof facade comes to head with his overall lack of experience as a spacer. As of late, he drinks too often and too much.
Ships/Vehicles: XS Class stock light freighter, Modified :(Two hidden cargo compartments, private bar)
Equipment: Arkanian heavy blaster, Utility Belt, Datapad with VI interface, Credit stick, Aged training saber (Yellow), All Temperature Cloak
Stats: (Feeble, Below Average, Average, Above Average, Superior, Legendary)
Strength - Average
Agility – Above Average
Intelligence – Superior
Charisma - Average
Force Stats: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Telekinetic- Expert
Telepathic- Apprentice
Body- Adept
Sense- Adept
Protection- Adept
Healing:– Novice
Destruction– Untrainted
Combat Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Blasters : Adept
Hand to Hand : Novice
Force Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Force Stealth : Adept
Other Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Repair : Adept
Pilot : Adept
Security: Adept
Deception : Adept
Lightsaber Training: (Untrained, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master, Specialist)
Shii-Cho- Master
Makashi- Specialist
Soresu-
Ataru-
Shien/Djem So-
>>Sub-form Backhanded-
Niman- Expert
>>Sub-form Jar-kai-
Juyo-
Double Bladed Combat-
Biography:
Janus was born in the city of Kor Vella to the minor nobles Tal and Essa Yarloc. They quickly swore their child off to the order and promptly forgot about him. Janus was only 18 pounds by his second birth day and was quite sick when the jedi came for him. In transit back to Coronet, the shuttle exploded and crashed into the mountainside. The knight and pilot were both slain, either in the crash or directly afterwords when The Old Man came to claim his prize. All three were either found or assumed dead by the council.
That is how Janus met The Old Man, whose name changed with the weeks. There were a few short years before formal training that Janus learned how to read and write, and channel the force. The Old Man as a teacher was overwhelming and all Janus wanted was to learn from him. He battled sickness often, but the old man never relented. When Janus slept he could hear the Old Mans Voice in his mind and when he woke it rumbled in his ear and drove him. The Old Man would often tell stories of the fall of the jedi order to Janus as he was going to bed. About how they were conquered from within, by indolence and greed. How they had turned from just might to silent appeasement, and how they no longer really existed, despite propaganda to the contrary. Janus slept well knowing that he was the first of the new jedi order, and dreamed of the day he, as a jedi would walk the temple steps.
And so Janus' official training began in earnest, just a few weeks after his fifth birthday. Janus learned the Jedi creed from The Old Man (and he always said creed, never code). He learned of other codes as well as the teachings of the Jal-Shay, the Matukai, and the refugee Miralukan Seers. And he learned the trade of an urchin. How to hide a twig near his leg and snap it as he fell, mirroring the sound of a snapped bone. He learned how to lift wallets and how to crack simple security. He learned his numbers and sciences, and what languages The Old Man claimed he knew that day. Not until much later did Janus learn that this wasn't a Jedi's training, but he was an apt pupil. The Old Man would always remind him that he wasn't special, that being a Jedi wasn't special. “You know why I picked you boy? Because you were small, and new and easily missed.” He would yell at times. “But you know what, you'll be the only properly trained Jedi in the galaxy if I have anything to say about it.”Still, Idol worship covered a multitude of sins, so he couldn't hate The Old Man for long. As Janus grew, his duties expanded to more articulate cons, and occasionally taking care of The Old Man when he grew sick. The Old Man's sickness came from a bottle, that made a twisted kind of logic to Janus. One bottle to get sick and one to get well, that's where The Old Man found balance in the force. During Janus's own bouts with illness, he would relent only slightly, allowing him to do his chores with only the force. Finesse followed soon after. The Old Man used to say, “If you can twist the top off a pill bottle on your worst day, imagine what damage you can do on your best.”Eventually Janus got him to claim him as a padawan at the age of 12, although he wasn't allowed to grow the braid. “A Jedi should never be obvious, he loses so much of his edge when you see him coming.” He said.
The Old Man used to joke that Janus' Trial of the Flesh began the day after he asked to be a padawan. The Old Man would strike almost unfailingly from the shadows, with blasts of force or heat that would bruise and sear Janus daily. He taught Janus to hide from him, and then strike him when his guard lapsed. The tension of holding his force in was often too much for Janus. He thought to be akin to holding his breath while tensing all of his muscles. The The Old Man would seek to frustrate Janus, by giving him impossible tests of skill while 'holding his breath'. His favorite was seeing if Janus could sense him through the force, knowing that his own concealment was much stronger than anything the 'padawan' could muster. Then he would strike from the shadows to test his flesh once more. Saber practice also began around this time, and in this Janus was closer to The Old Man's equal. Shii – Cho came quickly to Janus, much to the delight of The Old Man. The Old Man called the style archaic but Janus loved it, and found himself able to practice it without a saber. Years of neglect as a child and a life in the streets of one slum or another hadn't made Janus very strong, nor much of a jumper, but his mind followed the flow of battle very quickly and he naturally excelled at the Makashi saber style, although The Old Man demanded he practice Niman as well. He would mime a blaster pistol with his first two fingers and thumb every time he saw Janus' Makashi. Janus didn't mind the mocking much.
Children are easy to lie to, adolescents less so, but it's still feasible. But as Janus became a teen the illusion began to tear at the seams. Holonet recordings of the Jedi temple seemed different life than what Janus was told was true. At first the Old Man dismissed the recordings outright, “They just mock it up like that for the holonet, no one actually believes that crap.” And that was enough for awhile. Janus continued his training, hopeful that his dream was still in reach. He even caught The Old Man once (He claimed he sensed him, but really it was an ultraviolet sensor he tripped on his approach). When Janus reached fifteen, The Old Man finally took him on a visit to Ilum to pick out his crystals. In the Frozen caves of Ilum, Janus found the crystal for him, a green conical sliver, no thicker than the tip of his last finger. During the crafting process however, The Old Man decided to test him once more and blasted him with force while he meditated, slamming him into the cave wall and spraying razor sharp ice fragments over Janus's hands and face. Janus barely caught the delicate pieces before they were dashed on the stone of the cave wall. The pieces floated in a half circle around Janus, motionless and quiet before he one by one assembled him. The Old Man left Janus to his work without further comment.
Eventually though, the lie wouldn't keep, and Janus met an actual Jedi of the order, shortly after he turned fifteen, in the slums of Coruscant. After a brief confused conversation with him, the truth came spilling out. He stormed back to the shoddy hotel they stayed at and The Old Man was gone, the only evidence of his passing was all of Janus's things piled neatly on the bed. Lost and confused, he hid his lightsaber and hitched a ride to the Temple to try to find out what came next. They told him that although they were very sorry, they could not admit him into the order as he was too old. They also told him they had no say on what he could do with his life as he was never truly a member. He left the temple with a small credit voucher, a letter of recommendation for work (crewing a tramp freighter), and tears in his eyes.
Life among the stars had it's own appeal, Janus had to admit, after he had crawled out of himself aboard “The Wayward Light”. The freedom was exhilarating and The Old Man's training came in handy more often then he cared to admit. He worked under Captain Fardnom for five years, first as an extra set of hands to haul freight, then a mechanic, then finally a co-pilot. Fardnom, Janus and T1-88 had a good life all in all. Sure they broke the law every now and again, but they never smuggled anything Janus would find distasteful. Medicine to rim worlds. Blasters to militia men. Expensive wines to nobles on Alderaan. He soon found identity on the ship, and peace followed. He still turned on his lightsaber in private, to keep in practice, but now favored the blaster, or even more often, words.
Then one day he came to own “The Wayward Light”, although all things considered, he would a preferred not to. They had just finished shipment of rifles to Dantooine, and took on a shipment of minerals to Coruscant. Janus had just fallen asleep in his quarters when he heard the whisper of a feeling. Like a quiet conversation just beyond hearing, and it pulled him out of his bed with a start. The smell of slums and cheap spirits burned in his nostrils. “The Old Man” he thought, not sure why. His mind swam for a moment before he realized what he was feeling. Two people, in the main room of the freighter, strong in the force and filled with malice. He grabbed his lightsaber and waited, unsure if they had yet pierced his stealth. Alone in his room, his mind reeled. These two felt like The Old Man. After a tense moment of standing in a ready stance in nothing but his small clothes, he quietly got dressed, switched his blade off and silently opened the door. He crept out to the edge of where the loading ramp was. He could hear them talking.
“So when Yana asked for the heads of everyone on this ship, do you think he mean the dish head thing of this scrap heap here?” A bored feminine voice said and he heard smack of boot hitting plasteel. Janus stopped, Yana was one of The Old Man's aliases. “No clue, I wish you'd stop carrying the captains head around though, it's staring at me.” Said a young masculine voice. “OooooOO” she replied, “Look out Terrak, it's gonna-” Terrak was left wondering what Fardnoms head was exactly going to do as the woman's right arm and head came off, from armpit to collarbone, in a nasal hiss of hazy green light. Janus was on Terrak in a rush, green clashing on red in the cramped main hold of “The Wayward Light” Terrak, while off guard, was nearly half a foot and a hundred pounds Janus's superior. The first rush claimed three fingers off of Terrak's offhand, but now on more or less even footing, Janus was forced to give ground as Terrak bullied his way through Janus's guard. Slowly, step by step, he was forced to retrace his steps, past the loading ramp then towards his room. A smile crept on his face as his plan came together in the last moment. He threw himself wholly into a blast of force, kicking Terrak off the curved wall of the hall and onto the floor at the base of the loading ramp. He chased after, slamming the button to open the loading ramp, before running back to his room and closing the hermetically sealed door.
Janus has since inherited Fardom's shipping business as it's sole surviving member. Yarloc shipping incorporated as it is now known, trading under YSI does good business due to Janus familial tie to Correllian nobility and the tax breaks afforded him as a member of a royal family. He banks primary through Correllia and his families majordomo, Tomo Quinn handles accounts. Mr. Quinn reconnected with Janus after noticing the family name on the stock tickers. Often too charitable in goal for it's meager stockholders, The Wayward Light has yet to not turn a profit in either quarter or year. Janus maintains this business undermanned, as well as several under the table business dealings for over ten years now. His contacts, largely mined from TI-88's internal contact lists and names slipped to him by Mr. Quinn. Janus spends most time in hyperspace routes training, or on the ground trading. His higher profile as a businessman has allowed him some incomplete protection from his former masters machinations and he's since settled into a rhythm that he's yet to break.
Roleplay Sample: .
Three hours. Lamb was three full hours late. Janus sat at one of the two corners of the squared c that made the bar counter making decent headway through his ninth Alderaanian Beer. Luckily for Janus, the Isis starport cantina was better than average, both in drinks and decour, although no starport bar exsisted without it's share of sharp edged wash outs and dark eyed loners. Janus tugged at the bottom of his vest, pushing it flat to his hips with more than a little difficulty. He made a vague wrist gesture at the barman, hoping against hope that he understood Janus's need for another beer. He sat in silence for a moment, willing himself patience for at least another hour. Then he'd call it a night, sleep it off in his ship and be lost to the lanes once again. His beer arrived and he nodded in appreciation before taking a long slow drag from it. “One more hour.” he thought, “That's all I owe you.”
Janus was just finishing his beer when to door flew open and the room filled with Stocky Gamoreans. Five muscled through the narrow doorway, most with massive axes in their hands, the last with a blaster rilfe, The crowded room exploded into a mess of upturned tables and stray blaster fire. Janus's blaster caught in his holster, and his attempt to free it cost him his balance and he fell sideways to the floor. He quickly scrambled on his hands and knees behind the bend in the bar. Janus finally managed to pull his blaster out with an undignified jerk and righted himself with his back to the bar. The Porcine squeals and screams had begun to die out leaving only quiet gutteral grunts and heavy breathing. He took an apraising glance around the room. Blood was thick on the floor, pooling in rounded abstract shapes, pushing around broken glass and fallen bodies. A few people stirred, stunned and wounded, unable to make sense of their surroundings through the pain and shock.
“Hands and heads boys”, he heard from the other side of the room, “something we can identify someone with quickly, and do it quickly. Wont be long till Isis security is crawling down our throats.” Janus Popped his head over the top of the bar to see a pair of wide shoulders and long brown hair walk away in a well filled brown robe. He also noticed only two of the Gamoreans remained on their feet. one with an axe and the one with the rifle. Janus slid his blaster to his left hand and pulled his saber out of the top of his boot and ignited it as he stood. The drink still spun within him, but now he was angry enough to not care.
Race: Human
Age:31
Birthplace: Correlia
Allegiance: Republic
Status:Civilian
Rank: Businessman
Height/Weight: 5' 7” 144lbs
Appearance: A pale, grim faced blonde, Janus cuts a slight silhouette and a forgettable face with deep set eyes and a prominent, cleft chin. Short and thin, he moves with the practiced grace of someone who hates incidental contact and keeps his arms to his side or close to his chest. He either wears white collared shirts with gray vests and slacks, or oversized, dark green Correlian robes with billowing sleeves.
Personality: Janus is soft spoken and polite, usually preferring others to do the talking in most situations. Janus tends to not draw attention to himself unless he has to, and rarely makes a bold move without an escape plan. He prefers a crowd to a forest or a temple and generally a cantina if the option is available. Easy to talk to and hard to remember, most of his smuggling is done quietly and professionally. If driven by emotion, it's usually curiosity, and he's known to make more than an occasional misstep because of his need to know. He enjoys conversation on a one on one basis, but tends to get overlooked in groups, which frustrates him. Janus often finds himself out of his depth as his careful and aloof facade comes to head with his overall lack of experience as a spacer. As of late, he drinks too often and too much.
Ships/Vehicles: XS Class stock light freighter, Modified :(Two hidden cargo compartments, private bar)
Equipment: Arkanian heavy blaster, Utility Belt, Datapad with VI interface, Credit stick, Aged training saber (Yellow), All Temperature Cloak
Stats: (Feeble, Below Average, Average, Above Average, Superior, Legendary)
Strength - Average
Agility – Above Average
Intelligence – Superior
Charisma - Average
Force Stats: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Telekinetic- Expert
Telepathic- Apprentice
Body- Adept
Sense- Adept
Protection- Adept
Healing:– Novice
Destruction– Untrainted
Combat Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Blasters : Adept
Hand to Hand : Novice
Force Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Force Stealth : Adept
Other Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Repair : Adept
Pilot : Adept
Security: Adept
Deception : Adept
Lightsaber Training: (Untrained, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master, Specialist)
Shii-Cho- Master
Makashi- Specialist
Soresu-
Ataru-
Shien/Djem So-
>>Sub-form Backhanded-
Niman- Expert
>>Sub-form Jar-kai-
Juyo-
Double Bladed Combat-
Biography:
Janus was born in the city of Kor Vella to the minor nobles Tal and Essa Yarloc. They quickly swore their child off to the order and promptly forgot about him. Janus was only 18 pounds by his second birth day and was quite sick when the jedi came for him. In transit back to Coronet, the shuttle exploded and crashed into the mountainside. The knight and pilot were both slain, either in the crash or directly afterwords when The Old Man came to claim his prize. All three were either found or assumed dead by the council.
That is how Janus met The Old Man, whose name changed with the weeks. There were a few short years before formal training that Janus learned how to read and write, and channel the force. The Old Man as a teacher was overwhelming and all Janus wanted was to learn from him. He battled sickness often, but the old man never relented. When Janus slept he could hear the Old Mans Voice in his mind and when he woke it rumbled in his ear and drove him. The Old Man would often tell stories of the fall of the jedi order to Janus as he was going to bed. About how they were conquered from within, by indolence and greed. How they had turned from just might to silent appeasement, and how they no longer really existed, despite propaganda to the contrary. Janus slept well knowing that he was the first of the new jedi order, and dreamed of the day he, as a jedi would walk the temple steps.
And so Janus' official training began in earnest, just a few weeks after his fifth birthday. Janus learned the Jedi creed from The Old Man (and he always said creed, never code). He learned of other codes as well as the teachings of the Jal-Shay, the Matukai, and the refugee Miralukan Seers. And he learned the trade of an urchin. How to hide a twig near his leg and snap it as he fell, mirroring the sound of a snapped bone. He learned how to lift wallets and how to crack simple security. He learned his numbers and sciences, and what languages The Old Man claimed he knew that day. Not until much later did Janus learn that this wasn't a Jedi's training, but he was an apt pupil. The Old Man would always remind him that he wasn't special, that being a Jedi wasn't special. “You know why I picked you boy? Because you were small, and new and easily missed.” He would yell at times. “But you know what, you'll be the only properly trained Jedi in the galaxy if I have anything to say about it.”Still, Idol worship covered a multitude of sins, so he couldn't hate The Old Man for long. As Janus grew, his duties expanded to more articulate cons, and occasionally taking care of The Old Man when he grew sick. The Old Man's sickness came from a bottle, that made a twisted kind of logic to Janus. One bottle to get sick and one to get well, that's where The Old Man found balance in the force. During Janus's own bouts with illness, he would relent only slightly, allowing him to do his chores with only the force. Finesse followed soon after. The Old Man used to say, “If you can twist the top off a pill bottle on your worst day, imagine what damage you can do on your best.”Eventually Janus got him to claim him as a padawan at the age of 12, although he wasn't allowed to grow the braid. “A Jedi should never be obvious, he loses so much of his edge when you see him coming.” He said.
The Old Man used to joke that Janus' Trial of the Flesh began the day after he asked to be a padawan. The Old Man would strike almost unfailingly from the shadows, with blasts of force or heat that would bruise and sear Janus daily. He taught Janus to hide from him, and then strike him when his guard lapsed. The tension of holding his force in was often too much for Janus. He thought to be akin to holding his breath while tensing all of his muscles. The The Old Man would seek to frustrate Janus, by giving him impossible tests of skill while 'holding his breath'. His favorite was seeing if Janus could sense him through the force, knowing that his own concealment was much stronger than anything the 'padawan' could muster. Then he would strike from the shadows to test his flesh once more. Saber practice also began around this time, and in this Janus was closer to The Old Man's equal. Shii – Cho came quickly to Janus, much to the delight of The Old Man. The Old Man called the style archaic but Janus loved it, and found himself able to practice it without a saber. Years of neglect as a child and a life in the streets of one slum or another hadn't made Janus very strong, nor much of a jumper, but his mind followed the flow of battle very quickly and he naturally excelled at the Makashi saber style, although The Old Man demanded he practice Niman as well. He would mime a blaster pistol with his first two fingers and thumb every time he saw Janus' Makashi. Janus didn't mind the mocking much.
Children are easy to lie to, adolescents less so, but it's still feasible. But as Janus became a teen the illusion began to tear at the seams. Holonet recordings of the Jedi temple seemed different life than what Janus was told was true. At first the Old Man dismissed the recordings outright, “They just mock it up like that for the holonet, no one actually believes that crap.” And that was enough for awhile. Janus continued his training, hopeful that his dream was still in reach. He even caught The Old Man once (He claimed he sensed him, but really it was an ultraviolet sensor he tripped on his approach). When Janus reached fifteen, The Old Man finally took him on a visit to Ilum to pick out his crystals. In the Frozen caves of Ilum, Janus found the crystal for him, a green conical sliver, no thicker than the tip of his last finger. During the crafting process however, The Old Man decided to test him once more and blasted him with force while he meditated, slamming him into the cave wall and spraying razor sharp ice fragments over Janus's hands and face. Janus barely caught the delicate pieces before they were dashed on the stone of the cave wall. The pieces floated in a half circle around Janus, motionless and quiet before he one by one assembled him. The Old Man left Janus to his work without further comment.
Eventually though, the lie wouldn't keep, and Janus met an actual Jedi of the order, shortly after he turned fifteen, in the slums of Coruscant. After a brief confused conversation with him, the truth came spilling out. He stormed back to the shoddy hotel they stayed at and The Old Man was gone, the only evidence of his passing was all of Janus's things piled neatly on the bed. Lost and confused, he hid his lightsaber and hitched a ride to the Temple to try to find out what came next. They told him that although they were very sorry, they could not admit him into the order as he was too old. They also told him they had no say on what he could do with his life as he was never truly a member. He left the temple with a small credit voucher, a letter of recommendation for work (crewing a tramp freighter), and tears in his eyes.
Life among the stars had it's own appeal, Janus had to admit, after he had crawled out of himself aboard “The Wayward Light”. The freedom was exhilarating and The Old Man's training came in handy more often then he cared to admit. He worked under Captain Fardnom for five years, first as an extra set of hands to haul freight, then a mechanic, then finally a co-pilot. Fardnom, Janus and T1-88 had a good life all in all. Sure they broke the law every now and again, but they never smuggled anything Janus would find distasteful. Medicine to rim worlds. Blasters to militia men. Expensive wines to nobles on Alderaan. He soon found identity on the ship, and peace followed. He still turned on his lightsaber in private, to keep in practice, but now favored the blaster, or even more often, words.
Then one day he came to own “The Wayward Light”, although all things considered, he would a preferred not to. They had just finished shipment of rifles to Dantooine, and took on a shipment of minerals to Coruscant. Janus had just fallen asleep in his quarters when he heard the whisper of a feeling. Like a quiet conversation just beyond hearing, and it pulled him out of his bed with a start. The smell of slums and cheap spirits burned in his nostrils. “The Old Man” he thought, not sure why. His mind swam for a moment before he realized what he was feeling. Two people, in the main room of the freighter, strong in the force and filled with malice. He grabbed his lightsaber and waited, unsure if they had yet pierced his stealth. Alone in his room, his mind reeled. These two felt like The Old Man. After a tense moment of standing in a ready stance in nothing but his small clothes, he quietly got dressed, switched his blade off and silently opened the door. He crept out to the edge of where the loading ramp was. He could hear them talking.
“So when Yana asked for the heads of everyone on this ship, do you think he mean the dish head thing of this scrap heap here?” A bored feminine voice said and he heard smack of boot hitting plasteel. Janus stopped, Yana was one of The Old Man's aliases. “No clue, I wish you'd stop carrying the captains head around though, it's staring at me.” Said a young masculine voice. “OooooOO” she replied, “Look out Terrak, it's gonna-” Terrak was left wondering what Fardnoms head was exactly going to do as the woman's right arm and head came off, from armpit to collarbone, in a nasal hiss of hazy green light. Janus was on Terrak in a rush, green clashing on red in the cramped main hold of “The Wayward Light” Terrak, while off guard, was nearly half a foot and a hundred pounds Janus's superior. The first rush claimed three fingers off of Terrak's offhand, but now on more or less even footing, Janus was forced to give ground as Terrak bullied his way through Janus's guard. Slowly, step by step, he was forced to retrace his steps, past the loading ramp then towards his room. A smile crept on his face as his plan came together in the last moment. He threw himself wholly into a blast of force, kicking Terrak off the curved wall of the hall and onto the floor at the base of the loading ramp. He chased after, slamming the button to open the loading ramp, before running back to his room and closing the hermetically sealed door.
Janus has since inherited Fardom's shipping business as it's sole surviving member. Yarloc shipping incorporated as it is now known, trading under YSI does good business due to Janus familial tie to Correllian nobility and the tax breaks afforded him as a member of a royal family. He banks primary through Correllia and his families majordomo, Tomo Quinn handles accounts. Mr. Quinn reconnected with Janus after noticing the family name on the stock tickers. Often too charitable in goal for it's meager stockholders, The Wayward Light has yet to not turn a profit in either quarter or year. Janus maintains this business undermanned, as well as several under the table business dealings for over ten years now. His contacts, largely mined from TI-88's internal contact lists and names slipped to him by Mr. Quinn. Janus spends most time in hyperspace routes training, or on the ground trading. His higher profile as a businessman has allowed him some incomplete protection from his former masters machinations and he's since settled into a rhythm that he's yet to break.
Roleplay Sample: .
Three hours. Lamb was three full hours late. Janus sat at one of the two corners of the squared c that made the bar counter making decent headway through his ninth Alderaanian Beer. Luckily for Janus, the Isis starport cantina was better than average, both in drinks and decour, although no starport bar exsisted without it's share of sharp edged wash outs and dark eyed loners. Janus tugged at the bottom of his vest, pushing it flat to his hips with more than a little difficulty. He made a vague wrist gesture at the barman, hoping against hope that he understood Janus's need for another beer. He sat in silence for a moment, willing himself patience for at least another hour. Then he'd call it a night, sleep it off in his ship and be lost to the lanes once again. His beer arrived and he nodded in appreciation before taking a long slow drag from it. “One more hour.” he thought, “That's all I owe you.”
Janus was just finishing his beer when to door flew open and the room filled with Stocky Gamoreans. Five muscled through the narrow doorway, most with massive axes in their hands, the last with a blaster rilfe, The crowded room exploded into a mess of upturned tables and stray blaster fire. Janus's blaster caught in his holster, and his attempt to free it cost him his balance and he fell sideways to the floor. He quickly scrambled on his hands and knees behind the bend in the bar. Janus finally managed to pull his blaster out with an undignified jerk and righted himself with his back to the bar. The Porcine squeals and screams had begun to die out leaving only quiet gutteral grunts and heavy breathing. He took an apraising glance around the room. Blood was thick on the floor, pooling in rounded abstract shapes, pushing around broken glass and fallen bodies. A few people stirred, stunned and wounded, unable to make sense of their surroundings through the pain and shock.
“Hands and heads boys”, he heard from the other side of the room, “something we can identify someone with quickly, and do it quickly. Wont be long till Isis security is crawling down our throats.” Janus Popped his head over the top of the bar to see a pair of wide shoulders and long brown hair walk away in a well filled brown robe. He also noticed only two of the Gamoreans remained on their feet. one with an axe and the one with the rifle. Janus slid his blaster to his left hand and pulled his saber out of the top of his boot and ignited it as he stood. The drink still spun within him, but now he was angry enough to not care.
