Name: Gyr
Species: Feeorin
Homeworld: Odryn
Age: 135
Gender: Male
Specialization: Apprehension and elimination of wanted criminals.
Current area of operation: Republic and Hutt Space, the Outer Rim
Species: Feeorin
Homeworld: Odryn
Age: 135
Gender: Male
Specialization: Apprehension and elimination of wanted criminals.
Current area of operation: Republic and Hutt Space, the Outer Rim
Short description of the operative.
Gyr stands at just over two meters in height, and when outfitted on the job his already imposing form is complemented by hardened armor. He doesn’t have a friendly face to boot – green skin, tentacles, noseless face and flat, pupil-less yellow eyes make for a grim and alien countenance. In short, not a handsome fellow, unless maybe you’re a Feeorin, and positively intimidating if you’ve got a price on your head even without a blaster in sight.
Gyr is rarely unarmed, however. Gyr’s armory is extensive, replete with blaster rifles, carbines, and pistols, providing him with extensive ranged solutions to troublesome opponents, along with a host of edged weapons, both vibroblades and standard. In the field, he favors a heavy blaster pistol at his hip and a pair of sidearms, along with pair of short vibroblades at the small of his back and at his shoulder, and a pair of vibroknucklers, a favorite of his. Finally, his gauntlets are outfitted with a few tricks; the left holds a whipcord thrower to entangle and incapacitate his targets, and the right has a modifiable hardpoint that can accommodate a gas dispersion unit, a projectile launcher, a light blaster, or even a flamethrower.
His ship, a heavily modified, black market Republic gunship of an older design, is outfitted with an armory where he keeps a wide variety of equipment that allows him to restock and resupply between missions,
Simplified report on known skills and estimated levels.
Gyr has spent decades practicing the trade, making him a more than competent with an array of weaponry and capable of adapting to most any situation he’s faced with while on the hunt. Even stripped of his blasters and blades, he’s more than capable with his fists. Beyond his raw strength, Gyr is also a trained martial fighter able to beat down a quarry if it comes to it.
Gyr is also a competent pilot, and helms his own starship, the Dark Passage, well enough that he doesn't need to bother hiring a pilot to ferry him from job to job.
Quick report on favored employers, associates, contacts and rivals.
• Sharka, a blue-skinned Selkath from Manaan, is Gyr’s assistant and technician aboard the Dark Passage.
• Drezio, a Devaronian fixer and lieutenant of the Bounty Hunter Guild’s House Samur-Tong, is one of Gyr’s principal sources of bounties.
Psychological evaluation of Bounty Hunter.
Gyr is cunning, driven, and effective. He enjoys his job, some might say more than is reasonably healthy. Each pursuit is a unique challenge, and he thrives on testing himself against some of the most dangerous criminals in the galaxy. Decades of judicially sanctioned (and often unsanctioned) kidnappings and executions has left him with a dry, dark sense of humor that most would describe as mediocre at best. He doesn’t get paid to make jokes, though; he gets paid to put sentients either in jail or the ground, and he’s good at that.
List and description of known and suspected flaws. To be put into restricted database.
Gyr is not a big thinker, so to speak. He’s not a compromising person and he doesn’t play well with others. He partners with hunters rarely and doesn’t enjoy it when he does. He’s also fickle when it comes to his loyalties. Ultimately, his employer is whoever holds the most credits at the end of the day, and he’s not afraid to burn a weak bridge in favor of a stronger one. This attitude, naturally, does not make him many friends. A lack of those can get you killed in this line of work.
Major achievements and failures on record.
Gyr’s hauled in a number of prominent bounties over the course of his career. Among his most impressive are a Sith apprentice, a prominent pirate captain, and a majordomo to a Hutt crime lord. His failures are also numerous. Gyr doesn’t shy away from killing a quarry if need be, even if the contract calls for the mark to be brought in alive. He’s forfeited a small fortune in bounty profits by killing his targets. Finally, he has failed to deliver on some of his assignments, and in the bounty hunting profession failure can have dire consequences. There are certain former employers with whom Gyr has particularly bad blood.
Background
Gyr was born on Obryn, the largest colony of the Feeorin people, over a century prior to the Great War, the son of mercenary privateers. He spent much of his life aboard ships, as his father captained a pirate hunting corvette in the Noonian sector. He entered his father’s employ as a privateer himself, and worked for years protecting the trade routes of the Republic’s outlying territories. He picked up a fair bit of combat experience in those years, whether at the guns of frigates and gunships or in boarding engagements. His experiences also spurred him to strike out on his own, hunting pirates and similar criminal elements not in the capacity of an employee of a security company, but as an independent bounty hunter.
Gyr’s first few years on the job were challenging. He had the talent, and the skills, but lacked the refined expertise and experience. The unpredictable nature of the job meant a steep learning curve, and Gyr was forced to learn. Over the years he honed his talents, becoming proficient with a wide variety of weapons and approaches to apprehending a mark. Naturally driven and determined, he actively sought mentorship and training and to expand his skillset. When he started, he had a passing knowledge of how to operate a military starship and could shoot his way out of a bad situation. After twenty years on the job, he’d expanded his capabilities such that he was a capable veteran in the field. The decades since have only made him more dangerous.
The Great War was a boon to the bounty hunting profession. Both sides of the war saw desertion, and as a highly capable combatant, tracking down and apprehending soldiers was a task he was particularly well suited for. Beyond that, the strain the war placed on bureaucracy meant law enforcement, especially in the outlying regions of the Republic, were more dependent than ever on the bounty hunter guilds to maintain order and apprehend criminals. Gyr made a fortune in the twenty-eight years of war, and the work hasn’t stopped in the years since. With the delicate balance of power between the Republic and the Sith comes a great deal of work to be done, from apprehending criminals on worlds the Republic no longer has the resources to police to eliminating targets that can’t be pursued without violating the labyrinthine provisions demarcating the Imperial and Republic spheres of influence.
The House of Samur-Tong
Gyr - Six Marks Cantina, Nar Shaddaa
“I heard you brought in a Sith, alive.”
“I did.”
“I heard it was a young one, though. A child, actually. That takes the wind out of it a bit, if you ask me.”
Gyr sat across from a Devaronian with a shark’s smile and mirrored shades at the corner table of a Nar Shaddaa cantina, conversing in Huttese. There were hardly two more starkly different sentients in the undercity joint, a favorite of Gyr's and many other hunters in the Guild community. Gyr was turquoise skinned, tentacle faced and headed, scarred, and absolutely imposing, a two-meter tall, well-muscled Feeorin with enough blasters and knives on his person to arm half the patrons, including himself. The Devaronian was a short, red-skinned devil of a man, wiry thin and dressed in a slick, corporate suit. His horns brought him up to maybe five and a half feet in height, likely shorter.
“No one’s asking you,” Gyr returned. The Devaronian stabbed at Feeorin’s chest from across the table with a black nailed finger. Gyr wondered whether it was painted or natural.
“That’s where you’re wrong, eh? I have clients coming to me asking about you. ‘Drezio,’ they tell me,” he said, affecting a voice, “‘how do I hire the captain of the Dark Passage? I hear he’s the best in the sector.’ That’s what they ask me.”
“Is that so?”
“It is. And you know what I tell them? If he doesn’t work with Samur-Tong, he’s not the best in the sector,” Drezio said, leaning back in the booth and resting his arms on the patent leather seating. “But I keep hearing it. Best in the sector, in half the sectors I work in no less.”
“Good for me.”
“Bad for you, Gyr,” Drezio disagreed. “Bad for me too. I have clients with deep pockets who can’t get the bounty hunter they want. You have clients with deep pockets who are hiring other people because you’re not on my team. I think there’s an opportunity for us to meet in the middle.”
Gyr leaned back in his seat in the booth, arms folded. “What’s your cut?”
“Fifty percent.”
“Fifty percent?” Gyr repeated.
“Fifty percent,” Drezio confirmed.
“House Cordavox takes thirty. Why would I bother with your bounties if Cordavox is giving me more money for the same jobs?”
“Cordavox doesn’t have half the resources we do. We have more facilities, more fixers, more intelligence, and more clients across the Outer Rim than Cordavox,” Drezio countered, “and we do not have the same jobs. We have better clients with higher payouts.” He slid a datapad across the table. “Take a look. Our business analytics team put this together. On average, our clients pay seventeen percent more for our services than Cordavox’s, and our high-end guys – the ones you’d be working for – deeper pockets and bigger payouts than anyone using Cordavox’s services. We cater to a better class, criminals and legitimate.”
“Huh,” Gyr intoned, and flicked the datapad on to consider the data. It was a brief presentation, graphs and charts, but the numbers were in nice, big font and they showed nice, big numbers.
“You’re free to continue taking on Cordavox jobs, too, if you like. We have no exclusivity requirement at Samur-Tong and we’ve negotiated mutuality of operations agreements with most of the Houses that do,” the Devaronian continued, and threw back a shot of clear liquor. “So,” he said, wincing as the liquor burned his throat, “I gotta ask again. You bring in a Sith? Lightsaber and all?”
“Lightsaber and all,” Gyr said, setting the datapad down.
“How’d you do that?”
“A rapid acting nerve agent dispersed in vapor form,” Gyr explained. “Lethal dose. I had to perform a tracheotomy to keep him breathing. Never got a chance to pull the saber.”
“Shit.”
“He did,” Gyr said with a smirk. “Still stank when they brought him out of the carbonite, I heard.” Gyr brought his glass of liquor, untouched until then, to his mouth and put it back. “So, what kind of jobs do you have?”
Drezio brought a small disc out of his jacket pocket and slid it across the table. It settled next to the datapad. Gyr touched it, and the disc projected a holographic image of a human woman. “I have a client putting together a team of particularly talented individuals, with skillsets not unlike yours. We’re still in the process of negotiating the payout, but we expect you’ll be more than satisfied when the job’s done.”
Gyr considered the woman. He’d seen many like her over his hundred years of bounty hunting. Another mark. “Good.”
