Cao the Exiled
Grijs
Enzayne
MarshalSolgriev
Lord Zee
Frettzo
DracoLunaris
Vec
Name:
TB-239
Age:
Manufactured 20 BBY;
Species:
T-series tactical droid
Gender:
Masculine programming
Homeworld:
Manufactured on Geonosian droid factory
Appearance:
Standing at the exact height of 1.93 meters in height with a boxy appearance, TB follows the standard make and model for the late T-series strategy droids. He bears a painting pattern of blue, which covers his lower torso and legs, and white which covers the top of his head, upper torso, and upper arms. His eyes glow a bright white, and so does his mouth when he speaks. While he follows the make and model of the standard T-series droid, he is riddled with dents and blaster marks as a sign of previous battles.
Major Skills:
- Strategizing/Analysis
- Repairing
- Diplomacy
Primary Equipment:
- E-5 Blaster Rifle
- Repair Kit
Force Sensitive:
No
Biography:
Like many of his kind, TB-239 was produced to administer command to droids where an organic could not be at the time. That was his life for the the majority of the Clone Wars, leading droids against the Republic but never encountering these fabled ‘Jedi’ that his programming had told him to be cautious of. That was until TB was warned that a fleet led by a jedi master was on the way to his position, his fleet of three ships were ordered to retreat and rally with the rest of the Confederacy’s fleet. He disobeyed, arrogantly at that. He ordered for the fleet to power down all systems. They laid adrift for an hour, waiting for the forced of the Republic to show itself and so it did. Everything about the trap went according to plan at the exact calculations done by TB-239, the republic boarded the dead ships and patrolled it, expecting to find some form of resistance, no resistance was given. The Jedi strode all the way to the command center to find nothing. That was before blaster fire came from behind them all, the scene looping in his mind to this day.
The clones, fleshy and weak died under the hail of fire provided by the destroy droids, not a single round missing its mark. The jedi, as calculated, drew his sword and began to deflect shots to the best of his ability: attempting to grab his communicator to relay the trap had been sprung. Predictable. Soon his saber fails him, blasters hitting their marks and bringing him to his knees, too weak to fight on any longer. I saunter up to him, I would smiled if I could. He looks up at me, anger and hate any his eyes, I fail to understand how I recognize those emotions. “I'll turn you to scrap,” the human states and I would reply “Thank you.” I ordered him captured, bound behind me as the ship powers on and I begin to hail the Republic fleet. “I have captured your Jedi, shut down your weapons and we shall release him to you.” They agreed, predictable. I have him escorted to the hanger. I order our weapons to be powered up. The dropship was halfway to their carrier when our turbolasers tore through their shields and hull, an underhanded strategy, effective at bringing panic. Our second ship follows suit, tearing into their destroyer, flawless execution.
Clones within the ship proved problematic, blocked B1’s from getting to their ships. I saw to it personally, brandishing an E-5. I gunned them down, my destroyer droids acting as my guards while the Republic ships attempted to flee. It seemed that they did not expect this outcome, need more droids, more me.
TB felt proud as the Republic fleet attempted to retreat, a dead jedi and severely damaged ships were never a good thing. However, as he reported into his organic superiors, he overheard them speaking of decommissioning him, turning him to scrap despite his victory. However, he did not want that, he could do the Confederacy so much more if he was not scrap, so what if he disobeyed one lousy order? So he ran. TB took a fighter and flew into space, disabled any way of the Confederacy from tracking him, then proceeded to get lost in space. A rather lackluster way for a Jedi killer to get lost and now he just floats through space, in a fighter that only has enough power to send a weak distress signal. He does not know of the Empire, the Rebellion, or anything like that, obsolete in design and programming.
The clones, fleshy and weak died under the hail of fire provided by the destroy droids, not a single round missing its mark. The jedi, as calculated, drew his sword and began to deflect shots to the best of his ability: attempting to grab his communicator to relay the trap had been sprung. Predictable. Soon his saber fails him, blasters hitting their marks and bringing him to his knees, too weak to fight on any longer. I saunter up to him, I would smiled if I could. He looks up at me, anger and hate any his eyes, I fail to understand how I recognize those emotions. “I'll turn you to scrap,” the human states and I would reply “Thank you.” I ordered him captured, bound behind me as the ship powers on and I begin to hail the Republic fleet. “I have captured your Jedi, shut down your weapons and we shall release him to you.” They agreed, predictable. I have him escorted to the hanger. I order our weapons to be powered up. The dropship was halfway to their carrier when our turbolasers tore through their shields and hull, an underhanded strategy, effective at bringing panic. Our second ship follows suit, tearing into their destroyer, flawless execution.
Clones within the ship proved problematic, blocked B1’s from getting to their ships. I saw to it personally, brandishing an E-5. I gunned them down, my destroyer droids acting as my guards while the Republic ships attempted to flee. It seemed that they did not expect this outcome, need more droids, more me.
TB felt proud as the Republic fleet attempted to retreat, a dead jedi and severely damaged ships were never a good thing. However, as he reported into his organic superiors, he overheard them speaking of decommissioning him, turning him to scrap despite his victory. However, he did not want that, he could do the Confederacy so much more if he was not scrap, so what if he disobeyed one lousy order? So he ran. TB took a fighter and flew into space, disabled any way of the Confederacy from tracking him, then proceeded to get lost in space. A rather lackluster way for a Jedi killer to get lost and now he just floats through space, in a fighter that only has enough power to send a weak distress signal. He does not know of the Empire, the Rebellion, or anything like that, obsolete in design and programming.
