Fibu’s glassy black eyes and pale domed head are a welcome sight to many a soldier lying wounded on the field of battle. Standing a shade under five-and-a-half feet tall, the Bith medic is wiry in his build and has smooth peachy-pink skin as yet unmarked by either time or battle. He has prominent features by Bith standards, with three well-defined skin flaps beneath both eyes that both form his upper jaw and hide extremely sensitive olfactory organs. The long ridges above his eyes trail back up the sides of his rounded cranium, meeting in a downwards point in the centre of his face and creating an appearance similar to that of a human furrowing their brow.

Fibu dresses in no particular preference when it comes to his attire and cares very little for his appearance in this regard. He often opts for well-fitted clothes that hug his frame for practicality reasons; he feels these weigh him down less, make him appear a smaller and less obvious target and don’t get in the way when attempting delicate battlefield surgeries. Normally he will be dressed in neutral colours like black or brown simply due to availability but has been known to throw together a few garish colours simply due to not being fussy and these being the ones no one else wanted. Oddly enough, Fibu is pedantic about choosing clothes that sound right. While he can deal well with battlefield noise thanks to a pair of noise-dampening earplugs, the sound of one’s own movement is incessant and unavoidable and as such Fibu is careful to choose an outfit that he doesn’t find annoying to listen to when he is running.

Like all Bith, Fibu was born as a result of a Computer Mating Service on the Bith homeworld of Clak’dor VII, or simply Bith to most. His father was Tholu D’orel, a lesser-known Bith politician, member of the Bith Government Assembly and advocate for galactic disarmament that regularly ran for a place representing the Bith in the Galactic Senate and regularly failed. A failure he claimed was no fault of his own despite his less than charming personality. Fibu’s mother was Rhimne D’orel, a fertility technician on Clak’dor VII who worked for the same CMS that spawned Fibu. Due to the natural atrophy of the Bith reproductive organs fertility practitioners were often important and well-respected members of Bith society. Fibu’s parents were actually bought together by a computer analysis match rather than any sort of previous courtship, which is common among the Bith, but stayed together happily with their son after his conception and successful gestation.

As a result of his parents’ affluence Fibu came from a happy, supportive home and had a comfortable upbringing. Born in the planetary Capitol of Weogar, Fibu and his family moved out of the city to Buerhoz when he was five years of age, a city much less sprawling and metropolitan although cramped all the same, as was the way of the enclosed Bith cities. Rhimne was able to continue her practices in their new home, while his father Tholu was often away for weeks at a time on official government business in the capital. Fibu never cared much for either city, finding that living so close together felt almost suffocating, and taking any and every opportunity to get out of the cities that he could.

Fibu excelled in a classroom setting, but rather than favouring technological savviness like many of his kind he found his calling more towards his mother’s practices, excelling in studies of xenobiology and biotechnology. It was also in school, while just a boy of 14, that Fibu met the love of his life, Haalia Thono. School years were happy years for Fibu, who found himself in his element, enjoying his studies and happy with his mate Haalia. Unlike many Bith, Fibu and Haalia opted to be together out of affection for one another rather than because a computer system insisted on it.

At 16 years of age, Tholu pulled some strings for Fibu. He was gifted, intelligent and dedicated to his studies, now a young adult and ready to truly strike out and make something of himself. Using government connections Fibu enrolled Tholu in the Lunis-Medix Medical Academy on Dzass IV in the Outer Rim, a prestigious and well-regarded medical school. The news was bittersweet; he would spend five years off-world and away from Haalia, studying what he loved in the hope of a long and successful career following his graduation.

Fibu and Haalia exchanged communications every day, meeting up whenever their lives would allow it and visiting each other frequently. Fibu eventually graduated from Linus-Medix Medical Academy at the age of 21, qualified as a doctor with aptitudes in surgery and diverse xenophysiology. Although there was not technically a marriage of two individuals of the Bith species, Haalia and Fibu swore to each other to be life-mates and have been together ever since. 6 years ago, at the age of 22, Fibu and Haalia finally moved out of the cramped urban environment of Clak’dor VII, going wherever work took Fibu in the Outer Rim. Eventually they settled on Taspir in the Dynali Sector, where Fibu was able to establish a practice and act as a doctor and surgeon to the planet’s people and earning himself repute and good regard in the process.

Things changed in recent years. The Empire's grip became evermore strangling, choking the life out of Fibu's home. The Rebel Alliance swelled, and resistance movements sprung up to fight against the oppressive regime that had overtaken the Galaxy. Like the rest of the Bith, Fibu saw his loyalty as to the Empire, and despite questioning it every day when he saw the was aliens were treated by Imperials, Fibu imply kept his head down and continued with his daily life, trying to secure himself and Haalia a happy life and future together.

And then, four years ago, the Battle of Yavin changed the course of the Rebellion. The Empire had been dealt a grievous blow and like ravenous sharks, the various resistance cells across the Galaxy swarmed to the blood in the water. The Empire became more aggressive than ever, tightening its grip on the systems it controlled in an effort to maintain its position. Numerous times Fibu was approached by a budding resistance group named the Scarlett Moons to act as a physician and doctor to their troops, but each time Fibu refused for fear of the repercussions and the potential to place his mate in danger.

Word spread among the Bith spread across the galaxy that the cities of Clak'dor VII were to be sealed during these times of strife, offering a safe haven for the Bith people to flock to and hide themselves away in safety while the Galaxy resolved its issues. 6 months ago, after Haalia's begging finally broke Fibu down, the pair returned to Clak'dor VII. At Fibu's insistence the pair got in contact with Rhimne and set about the artificial mating process, which was successful and left Haalia expecting their first child together. Fibu did this deliberately; he had no intention of settling in to weather the storm while millions suffered. Just days before the Battle of Endor and once he was sure the gestation process would be successful, Fibu left Haalia in his mother's care and used his father's connections to get himself smuggled back to Taspir.

When the recruitment officers came knocking this time, Fibu did not hesitate. Hearing of the Empire's defeat Fibu enlisted with the Scarlett Moons, hoping to be part of the movement that twisted the knife in the Empire's heart and freed the galaxy of their brutality and oppression. Even if it cost his own life, Fibu would provide a safer future for Haalia and his child.

Fibu is at his core a peaceful being, as are many of his people. Even in the face of extreme danger, Fibu is far more likely to accept his fate than he ever would be to draw a weapon. However, he refuses to believe that the best thing the Bith people can do is seal themselves away in their cities and wait out the storm. Sometimes war is the only way to peace; regrettably this appears to be the case in the fight to overthrow the cruel and corrupt Galactic Empire that the Bith so loyally used their knowledge and skills to serve, falling hook, line and sinker to Emperor Palpatine’s delusions of lasting peace and prosperity. It is apparent now that all Palpatine created was a brutal and xenophobic regime.

Fibu witnessed terrible things on the world of Taspir under Imperial rule. Non-human citizens were degraded, and many were enslaved. Those that weren’t were treated like a slave anyway, without the freedom to choose for themselves. Fibu was himself forced to lend his services to the Empire, lest blasted stormtroopers lay waste to his home and destroy everything he had worked so hard to build. Out of fear for Haalia’s safety more so than his own, Fibu complied, a decision he regrets to this day. He was forbidden from practicing on certain species under threat of execution and was regularly forced to stand by and watch people suffer at the hands of Imperial soldiers as they dragged innocents from their homes and shot them without mercy, as easily as one may slaughter livestock.

So, with great reluctance, Fibu has joined up with the ranks of the Scarlet Moons to put his skills to use in creating a safer galaxy for everyone and most importantly, a safer home for his mate and child to return to. Although his own peaceful ethos prevents him from taking up arms himself, Fibu instead does all he can to save the lives of the brave men and women who do march into battle and risk their lives for a better future, seeing them as heroes and himself not as one of them. No longer will Fibu stand idly by and watch as those that stand up to the evil that threatens to consume them lose their lives for their bravery.

Primary: Intellect

Secondary: Willpower

Bith

Durese

Galactic Basic

Medical Expertise: Fibu is a highly trained medical practitioner, capable of carrying out an array of both routine and emergency procedures on various life forms. He is calm and collected in high pressure situations, methodical and precise, and always maintains his equipment and hygiene to an almost unnecessarily high level of cleanliness. Combat situations limit his abilities somewhat; he finds most of the work he does in the field involves makeshift fixes to wounds and stabilising a casualty. His work does not stop off the field of battle; Fibu regularly provides medical advice, assists his squadmates with smaller issues and conducts surgeries and procedures when required.

Musical "Talent": the dexterity of the Bith lends itself well to playing instruments and in this regard Fibu follows suit. He stills keeps a Fanfar and a Fizzz on his person and finds that, even though he is not the most talented, it is a good way of keeping morale up. Nothing brings a squad together like all having something to complain about - even if it is Fibu's dreadful Fanfar solos.

Connections to Bith Government: Fibu's father Tholu was a Bith politician. While he was never particularly powerful or influential, through his father Fibu does have a few connections and friends in high places. Unfortunately, most don't hold any sway outside of the Government Assembly of Clak'dor VII.

Pacifist: An admirable trait, but not for a soldier. The Bith by nature and teaching are a pacifist people and Fibu's father especially was an advocate for galactic disarmament. As such Fibu has never really held a blaster and certainly never fired one. While Fibu is adept at what he does, his nature creates a great amount of distrust towards him with his fellow squaddies as, even if he was watching your back, his extreme reluctance to draw a weapon means he would hardly be able to do anything about it were his squad mate in genuine danger.

Sensitive: Fibu is deeply caring and most definitely a family man. It creates problems especially in his line of work; he takes every loss on the battlefield as a personal failure in his own duties, which can often leave him dejected and frustrated with himself. He also does not take kindly to extreme criticism, and will become easily enraged if anything negative is said about his family. Noise is another trigger when he cannot control it - extremely loud or unnecessary irritating noises can certainly sour Fibu's mood.

Obsessive: When Fibu fixates on a goal or task he often does so to the detriment of others. In his line of work, he often wastes time trying to heal a lost cause, and in the process wastes both valuable supplies and time that should have been spent on treating someone else. It all feeds further into his sensitivity; the more he tried, the harder the loss hits and eventually everything spirals out of his control. Too long spent trying to heal one only for them and several others to die as a result can be catastrophic for Fibu's mental state.

Graduate of Linus-Medix Medical Academy

Proud owner and player of a Fizzz and Fanfar

Decorated medical practitioner and surgeon

Approximately 200 Credits

Further 200 Credits stashed for emergencies

Photograph of Fibu with Haalia on Taspir

Childhood photograph of Fibu with Tholu and Rhimne on Clak'dor VII

Various sturdy clothing items in an array of neutral and not-so-neutral colours, all pleasant sounding

Well-worn black boots

Light anti-blaster chest plate

DH-17 Blaster Pistol, seldom drawn and barely fired

Field breathing regulator

Mediprobe droid named F1-X fitted with vital signs scanners, provides rapid analysis of a casualty to aid in delivery of treatment

Microsonic vibration injector

PFG-700 Serum Synthesizer (not carried into combat due to its size and value).

Wrist-mounted tissue analyser

Pulmonary resuscitation kit

Access to various medical and surgical implements at base for performing procedures.

Bacta patches, spray and two bacta grenades

Disinfectant spray

Skin-gloves

Bio-cap for stemming severed limbs

Biocast for broken bones

Heat closure pack for cauterising wounds

Universal plasma stabilization serum (intravenous)

Shock cloth for treating shock

Various drugs such as chemical stims and painkillers

Rations for two in case of a need to share

Water

Leather belt with assorted pouches

Blaster pistol holster

Heavy duty backpack

Medical pack

Noise-dampening earplugs

Delta wave inducer to help others sleep when needed

Keys to Fibu and Haalia's home on Taspir

Keys to Fibu's medical practice on Taspir

Dorenian Beshniquel and Fanfar

Ren is, despite being in his late thirties, a man who could pass for being in his early thirties. His brown hair sits in a scruffy style that didn’t obscure the vision too much of his sharp blue eyes and his goatee was groomed and trimmed, it’s length kept so that it wasn’t able to mess with any of the emergency facial gear he has to wear on occasion as the close combat specialist. He prefers a lightly armored duster be it on or off duty, though he does wear the standard issue duds underneath when he’s on duty. At six feet tall, Ren is not exactly small in build, but due to lanky legs and a good personal kinetic sense, he’s able to move quick and hit hard.

Off duty he wears a T-Shirt, tan pants and light boots, but he’s never without his twin blaster pistols.

Ren is often very indirect about what exactly happened that he was able to finally escape the clutches of the Smuggler’s Moon, often deflecting to get others to share their own stories. The only thing he will consistently admit to when he does share, however, is that it wasn’t pleasant. In fact, some of his fellow Scarlet Moon members think he sold his parents to the Hutts

The truth, however, is far worse.

Ren Jenterus was born to human parents of little import in a ramshackle slum near one of the docking areas for refugees. It was rough, ramshackle and when his parents were able to snatch up a shipping container, his father rigged it so that no one could get in it while the family slept. The owner of the nearby docking area was well off enough that he had hired mercenaries to try and keep the worst of the gangs out of the area and resolve disputes between the residents and for a few years, Ren was spared the worst of the nightmares of the Smuggler’s Moon’s underbelly.

However, shortly after his twelfth birthday, the mercenaries started finding empty storage containers, usually in groups of four or five, where families and couples had lived previously. At first, no one knew what was going on. There were minimal signs of struggle, no signs of forced opening, but plenty of taggings from a gang that had been trying for years to move in on the slum.

The dock owner directed a squad of his mercenaries to start investigating the gang and upped the patrols around the slum, but nothing changed.

In fact, two weeks later, the dock owner turned up dead and a Hutt by the name of Jerogo bought the place up. In days, what was a relative safe haven from Nar Shaddaa’s darkness became a terrifying part of it. It only took a few weeks for the gangs to establish their turf within the slum and the youth of Randen Slums were conscripted into the Gang Wars.

It was during this time that Ren picked up most of his experience in close-quarters and hand-to-hand fighting, starting with the most important rule of the underworld; never fight fair. If they’re bigger, you hit low. If they’re stronger, you aim for their weaknesses and if you can’t hit those, you make weaknesses.

His first real kill was not far from his home, in the middle of a brutal melee after he’d turned fifteen. The gang that had recruited him, the Roughnecks, had been forced back from the usual skirmish line by a surprise attack by a rival gang, led by a big old Gamorrean who called himself Lug. They’d retreated and Lug and his lackeys had given chase. Finally, they were forced to turn and fight, but by that point, the MA65 blaster rifles they usually used no good in each other’s personal bubbles and so out came the vibro-knives, swords and stun batons, among other melee weapons.

Ren’s job was to keep low and move fast, strike at the officers in any fight and take them out whether he blasted them or slit their throats with his vibro-knives. Even still, he found himself fighting more than usual, though the guys were usually redirected quickly in the mess.

After about fifteen minutes, it became clear that Lug had come in with only himself in charge and so he went for the pig. Ren ducked, dodged, and weaved as he ran towards where he’d last seen the fat bastard, fighting with three different members of the Roughnecks while swinging his vibro-axe and laughing wildly. Finding the carnage of such a fight wasn’t hard, the fat pig still laughing as he searched for his next opponent.

The young man attempted to oblige, but their first clash was brief as the Gammorean essentially caught Ren by his throat and threw him into the wall behind him. Struggling to his feet, he learned another rule of close quarters fighting that day as the Pig rushed him; you don’t have to be stronger than your opponent, just smarter.

He already knew he couldn’t out-strength the Gammorean, his encounter with the wall had showed him that, so instead, when Lug swung his ax down, he rolled between his legs and came up behind him, letting the ax bury itself in the wall while he plunged his knives into the oversized pig’s back and neck.

From there, he only climbed higher in the gang, but there was a sinister undertone to it, a look from his fellow members that didn’t sit well with him. Their boss, whom he had never met, sent them on one particular mission, struck directly at Jerogo himself. They blew up a warehouse of his that was of particular importance, had no problems as they took out the guards and planted the explosives. The entire time, Ren’s gut turned, a sense of unease eating at him even as it went up in flames.

The other kids that had been conscripted had eventually grown distant from their family, but Ren had gone to lengths to avoid that, even remaining in the same storage unit as them. He got home that night, and while his friends, if he could call them that, went on to party, he went home to discuss what had happened with his parents. The conversation had just started when their power cut and the doors were blown open. He remembered reaching for one of his pistols, his MA65 too far to reach, before a stun bolt flew in through the new opening and caught him in the chest.

When he woke up, it felt like it had been hours since he’d been stunned, but it had only been a few minutes. However, what he faced brought a terrified grimace to his face. Before him sat Jerogo, flanked by a group of Nikto, humans and Nautolans. There were no pleasantries, he cut straight to the point. Jerogo was hungry and he was a part of the raid that had blown up the Hutt’s warehouse. Either he got eaten or his parents did and he had thirty seconds to choose before they all died.

The choice was taken from him as his father said to take them despite Ren’s protests. The Hutt didn’t argue and Ren got to watch his parents eaten, whole, by a twisted monster of Nar Shaddaa’s depths. He was spared, knocked unconscious afterwards and dropped in the hold of a cargo freighter heading off world.

The next he awoke, he was on Kashyyk, an Imperial taskmaster poking and prodding him. His equipment had been left with a datapad bearing a cryptic note.



Rage blinded him and he lashed out at the taskmaster, slamming one of his knives into the man’s face and kicking him away before gathering up his few belongings and fleeing, heading for a spaceport in the distance. He wasn’t sure what to do, but he knew his skill set was highly coveted by many mercenary outfits and he had no desire to go back to Nar Shaddaa and fight against a member of arguably the most powerful Crime Family in the galaxy. So he headed out for the galaxy at large and started working. Over time, he would find himself working with far too many different aliens and while the work wasn’t unwelcome, he found not understanding what the Trandoshans were saying behind his back or the Wookies called him to his face to be unsettling and so he learned to understand them over the course of many payments and the tutelage of a protocol droid and it’s owner.

He joined the first outfit he could find and quickly regretted it as their anti-human sentiment became prominent. The Scarlet Moons had come highly recommended from one of the people he did a contract as a bodyguard for regularly in the Vexta System, said they had a high success rate and always had a use for new talent. As it quickly turned out for the young man, now coming up on thirty-two, the reason they always needed new talent was due in large part for the lack of concern for fresh meat.

He served as a Private for two year of hell, fighting on the flanks of the ground battles and holding the line as the enemy would begin to get too close for comfort for his squadmates, but a range he was more than at home with. However, it was during a boarding action that his talents got him noticed and promoted.

His squad had been hit hard after they’d boarded an enemy frigate, the security forces having set up a deadly crossfire at an intersection, cutting down the fireteam lead and squad leader along with the front line of the boarding team. Thinking fast, Ren got the surviving members into positions at the corners while he slipped into a side hall and worked his way around to the hallway his squad was pinned down at, but behind enemy lines. Raising the MA65 Blaster Carbine to his shoulder, it fires six times, a bolt taking down one man each as it found its mark.

With the enemy crossfire broken, the boarding parties in his part of the ship were able to break through and reach their objectives. He received special recognition for his work in breaking the crossfire and a special note had already been made of his exceptional close quarters combat skills.

Ren views the underworld as a whole as a shadow that should be burned away with every type of light any being can think of, but he also knows that someone like him would never do well as a cop or as a member of a regular military. His outlook on life is touch jaded with a heavy dose of morbid, but other than that, he tries hard to keep it...loosely happy. The result of such heavy anti-human sentiment in the Scarlet Moons should have only added to an anti-alien sentiment formed by the Hutt devouring his parents, but instead, he spends his free time trying to convince them that the Empire wasn’t the standard if he isn’t drilling newer recruits in CQC or hand-to-hand.

...

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Scrapper: Growing up on the mean streets of Nar Shaddaa, you learn a few things about dirty fighting and Ren isn’t above such things. And he knows how to use improvised weapons to their maximum effect.

Gun Nut: In the hunt for a decent form of close range weapon, he’s studied, used and worked on many different models and styles of blasters and he loves them all.

Hand-to-Hand Expert: If you weren’t fighting close range battles with snub-barreled blasters and blaster pistols, you were hacking and slashing each other with blades or beating each other to a pulp. Ren’s dad had enrolled him in a martial arts class before the slums had been taken over and so he used what he’d learned in reaching a blue belt level to help survive the Gang Wars.

Flaw-Extreme Distrust: Someone on his old gang him out as the leader of the attack on Jerogo’s warehouse and since he never found out who, he has a great distrust of new faces and not much trust for the more vehement anti-humanists.

Flaw-Poor Ranged Fighter: His specialty is close combat, so anything outside of fifty meters, he’s both unlikely to hit and unwilling to try and hit. It’s likely a side effect of his time fighting in the alleys and close quarters of the Nar Shaddaa docks, which made him incredibly uncomfortable with open spaces.

Optional

300 Credits
Old Family Photo

Variously colored T-Shirts
Multiple pairs of tan pants
A pair of light combat boots
Lightly armored Duster
Standard issue Scarlet Moon uniforms, including BDUs, Dress Greens, and PT uniform
Silver Necklace, family heirloom

MA65 Blaster Carbine
Twin C-11 Spec Ops Pistols
Four vibro-knives

Three emergency use bacta kits
Spare clips for pistols and carbine

A backpack and duffel bag for transporting things

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