Otho Rendoro
Renegade and Terrorist
---Vital Statistics---
Otho is odd among Ithorians; usually his people are harmonious and shy away from conflict. Otho, on the other hand, keeps a close accounting of what he deems as “his” and will defend it viciously. Sarcastic even in friendship, the massive Ithorian is venomous to those he considers enemies, strangers or those in a weaker negotiating position. Otho has little time for manners and even less time for small talk, being a strong-willed negotiator who sees himself as being in control of his destiny with more items on the agenda than hours in the day. To contrast, Otho shows respect for those who are stronger – the respect of an equal or a teaching opportunity. As a leader, Otho is quick to punish negligence or wrongdoing and slow to praise success; a worthy success brings reward that makes the wait worth the trouble. While he was involved in the politics of Tarisian crime, Otho developed a reputation for foul and brusque language and a relish for using his colorful vocabulary in circumstances where more polite language is the norm.
---Strengths and Weaknesses---
Otho's father was among the tallest of Ithorians and Otho carries on this tradition, a larger than life Ithorian possessed of heavy mass; he knows of his own gravity and looms over others with brown skin flecked with black streaks are yellow undertones. His left arm is swathed in bandages before an appropriate prosthetic can be designed and fitted. Expressive and intense yellow eyes gaze out from either side of Otho's head, not at all like the passive prey his ancestors were. His voice is a rumble on either side of his head, bubbling like an ancient cauldron in his broad chest.
---Biography---
Youth
Exile
Ascent
Laid Low
- NAME: Otho Rendoro
- FACTION: The Sith Ascendancy
- RANK: Acolyte
- SPECIES: Ithorian
- AGE: 25
- SEX: Male
- HEIGHT: 2.36 m
- WEIGHT: 155kg
- EYES: Yellow-brown
- SKIN: Muddy-brown
- FORCE SENSITIVE: Yes
Otho is odd among Ithorians; usually his people are harmonious and shy away from conflict. Otho, on the other hand, keeps a close accounting of what he deems as “his” and will defend it viciously. Sarcastic even in friendship, the massive Ithorian is venomous to those he considers enemies, strangers or those in a weaker negotiating position. Otho has little time for manners and even less time for small talk, being a strong-willed negotiator who sees himself as being in control of his destiny with more items on the agenda than hours in the day. To contrast, Otho shows respect for those who are stronger – the respect of an equal or a teaching opportunity. As a leader, Otho is quick to punish negligence or wrongdoing and slow to praise success; a worthy success brings reward that makes the wait worth the trouble. While he was involved in the politics of Tarisian crime, Otho developed a reputation for foul and brusque language and a relish for using his colorful vocabulary in circumstances where more polite language is the norm.
---Strengths and Weaknesses---
- It is difficult to miss Otho's size; not only does the top of his curved head extend far above most sentients but he has the physical bulk to ensure that violence is not far from one's future should they cross him. While he was always skilled in fighting, he did not know battle nor war; his skill was more suited for brawling or crippling unsuspecting targets. His melee prowess has been considerably affected by the removal of his dominant hand.
- A consequence of his size is reduced overall agility. Otho is not agile even among the famously unacrobatic Ithorian species.
- Otho is skilled at the gathering of information either by the establishment of rudimentary intelligence networks or through electronic spying means. When one can consider an opponents moves before, one can influence outcomes to their liking.
- Otho displays an explosive capacity for violence that when combined with his size and strength can usually assure his dominance over lesser beings. While Ithorians are normally passive, Otho can be quick to react but oftentimes his rash and abrasive nature will earn him more anger than fear or respect, cementing other beings as enemies with ease. A polarizing figure, Otho uses the weight of his personality to his advantage.
- Both of Otho's hands have been removed : one during a gang war on Taris, the other by Darth Ferox. His master has replaced them with standard cybernetics, vulnerable to electrical attack.
Otho's father was among the tallest of Ithorians and Otho carries on this tradition, a larger than life Ithorian possessed of heavy mass; he knows of his own gravity and looms over others with brown skin flecked with black streaks are yellow undertones. His left arm is swathed in bandages before an appropriate prosthetic can be designed and fitted. Expressive and intense yellow eyes gaze out from either side of Otho's head, not at all like the passive prey his ancestors were. His voice is a rumble on either side of his head, bubbling like an ancient cauldron in his broad chest.
---Biography---
Youth
Maybe there had always been a darkness inside of him that waited for the right moment to expose itself, like a disease that had finally crossed the threshold from incubation into replication. Maybe the circumstances people are exposed to shape them more than they would like to admit, like wind etching its signature into the hills after years of labor. Perhaps this is an age-old question and the answer is ultimately a single ineffectual consensus that both may be true at the same time. Whatever the case, Otho Rendoro’s life changed radically shortly after his metamorphosis. All Ithorians were born as little pupae, limbless and carefree as they are lovingly shepherded by elders and the same was true on Otho’s herdship Jungle Spirit, an itinerant group dedicated to healing planets that had been devastated either in the wars of the last few tumultuous centuries or the recent decades.
Maybe there’s more to family than we think, and their habits and anxieties are passed down to those who they raise closely; maybe the blood will always out and Otho was born to be an outsider. The rekindling of life on a planetary scale took up the minds and time of most of Jungle Spirit, except Otho’s father. Udan Rendoro was a technician of sorts, spending much of his time working on computer systems and engines, trying to keep Jungle Spirit on course and afloat in search of damage to heal.
Otho was born in a period of wandering, the youngest among a clutch of his father’s children; while in days of old or plenty a male might reproduce as a flower upon the wind in strange times of famine and war the spread of life could be restricted to conserve resources. All the horror that could visited upon the psyche seemed as if it did not touch Jungle Spirit¸ isolated as it was from the confusing galactical political situation or some of the rumored horror or another. As Otho grew, limbless and among his brothers, sisters and a vast network of families, he often contrasted in subtle ways. Other pupae his age were the pure expression of the Ithorian character: they were carefree in those days, learning to appreciate living and being around each other. This pure experience left a strong impression on most and they learned to cooperate and put the needs of others above those of the self.
Maybe it was a familial connection, but neither Udan nor his son Otho seemed to learn that lesson.
It was to be that the sins of the father changed the life of the son. Udan had a core of ambition, a desire for recognition for his skills, that was unfortunately not justified in skill. Shortly after his youngest had grown his limbs and begun to engage in more advanced studies, the elder was working on a troublesome water reclamation system. Senior technicians had told the hard-headed Udan to leave it be, that something inside the machine had grown volatile like a beast whose domain had been volatile but he did not listen. Instead of repairing the machine, force raked through sections of Jungle Spirit as incredibly volatile hydrazine was induced to explosion by careless error. Udan was injured and the ship was damaged, with charges leveled against the technician once he had recovered. While he expressed some measure of remorse, Udan’s pride was a thing that sunk its claws into him. He regretted what he had done not because he had been advised not to do it, but solely because it had resulted in causing pain and destruction. The elders and the herd’s leader recognized that there was something in Udan’s character that introduced a discordant element into the herd and he was sentenced to exile from the ship into an uncertain galaxy.
But it was the law of Jungle Spirit that should they choose, only one of a parent’s children may accompany them into their exile; to deprive a being of all its loved ones was a punishment an Ithorian could not inflict. As Udan was sentenced to a grim fate inside a vaulted chamber of the herdship, a great tree on the platform on which Udan and the other members of the court stood, young Otho looked along the line of Udan’s family and none of his siblings stepped forward. Not the dutiful Wunrad, nor his eldest sister Mona or even Mazu who had worked side-by-side with his father on multiple engineering projects would dare step forward.
And so it was Otho, already so large like his father, who stepped forward. Otho, who the priests seemed to have a curious interest in. Otho, the perceptive child, who did not want his father to step into a larger world alone.
They decision had been made. Udan and Otho Rendoro were banished from Jungle Spirit.
Maybe there’s more to family than we think, and their habits and anxieties are passed down to those who they raise closely; maybe the blood will always out and Otho was born to be an outsider. The rekindling of life on a planetary scale took up the minds and time of most of Jungle Spirit, except Otho’s father. Udan Rendoro was a technician of sorts, spending much of his time working on computer systems and engines, trying to keep Jungle Spirit on course and afloat in search of damage to heal.
Otho was born in a period of wandering, the youngest among a clutch of his father’s children; while in days of old or plenty a male might reproduce as a flower upon the wind in strange times of famine and war the spread of life could be restricted to conserve resources. All the horror that could visited upon the psyche seemed as if it did not touch Jungle Spirit¸ isolated as it was from the confusing galactical political situation or some of the rumored horror or another. As Otho grew, limbless and among his brothers, sisters and a vast network of families, he often contrasted in subtle ways. Other pupae his age were the pure expression of the Ithorian character: they were carefree in those days, learning to appreciate living and being around each other. This pure experience left a strong impression on most and they learned to cooperate and put the needs of others above those of the self.
Maybe it was a familial connection, but neither Udan nor his son Otho seemed to learn that lesson.
It was to be that the sins of the father changed the life of the son. Udan had a core of ambition, a desire for recognition for his skills, that was unfortunately not justified in skill. Shortly after his youngest had grown his limbs and begun to engage in more advanced studies, the elder was working on a troublesome water reclamation system. Senior technicians had told the hard-headed Udan to leave it be, that something inside the machine had grown volatile like a beast whose domain had been volatile but he did not listen. Instead of repairing the machine, force raked through sections of Jungle Spirit as incredibly volatile hydrazine was induced to explosion by careless error. Udan was injured and the ship was damaged, with charges leveled against the technician once he had recovered. While he expressed some measure of remorse, Udan’s pride was a thing that sunk its claws into him. He regretted what he had done not because he had been advised not to do it, but solely because it had resulted in causing pain and destruction. The elders and the herd’s leader recognized that there was something in Udan’s character that introduced a discordant element into the herd and he was sentenced to exile from the ship into an uncertain galaxy.
But it was the law of Jungle Spirit that should they choose, only one of a parent’s children may accompany them into their exile; to deprive a being of all its loved ones was a punishment an Ithorian could not inflict. As Udan was sentenced to a grim fate inside a vaulted chamber of the herdship, a great tree on the platform on which Udan and the other members of the court stood, young Otho looked along the line of Udan’s family and none of his siblings stepped forward. Not the dutiful Wunrad, nor his eldest sister Mona or even Mazu who had worked side-by-side with his father on multiple engineering projects would dare step forward.
And so it was Otho, already so large like his father, who stepped forward. Otho, who the priests seemed to have a curious interest in. Otho, the perceptive child, who did not want his father to step into a larger world alone.
They decision had been made. Udan and Otho Rendoro were banished from Jungle Spirit.
Exile
The Spirit’s first port-of-call was the opposite of an Ithorian herdship: the Smuggler’s Moon, Nar Shaddaa. The peace and unity of the herdship was cruelly ripped away. The comforting hissing of the trees as a bit of artificial wind moved through them was replaced by the omnipresent hum of the city so large it touched the bones of the world. Stillness was replaced by chaos. Young Otho, perceptive as he was, felt like he was drowning in the desperation of a billion sentient minds. They did not stay long, but Otho’s first impression of the galaxy was a place of tremendous freedom.
For a time, they resumed their nomadic ways, Udan bartering his own skills and the labor of his son for passage from planet to planet. Otho had not known many races but now was exposed to all that the galaxy had to offer, from humans to Bith and Wookiees and all manner of people from all manner of places. For two years, they visited all manner of planets. Otho repaired moisture gathering apparatuses under the twin suns of Tatooine for several months before they would leave because of a rumor of lucrative contract to help reinforce parts of the underground of volcanic Sullust.
The exiled Rendoros eventually settled on urban Taris; they received tax incentives encouraging “skilled works with diverse backgrounds” to engage in business. The tactless Udan had trouble finding lodging in all but the lowest levels of a major megalopolis on the southern continent, a literal and figurative underworld. He rented space and purchased a supply of tools, taking contract work from the Melnic droid foundry in the highest level. Business progressed at a pace even an Ithorian would consider plodding. There were many attractions that caught Udan’s eye at night and his work suffered, leaving an increasing share on Otho’s plate. While Udan slacked off, Otho worked hard doing repairs to the foundry’s equipment, replacing parts for droids and learning the finer nuances of programming. But even as revenues climbed due to Otho’s labor, debt spiraled due to mismanagement by Udan and his increased appetite for exotic liquors and increased opportunities to lose more and more money playing cards and dice and bingo.
For a time, they resumed their nomadic ways, Udan bartering his own skills and the labor of his son for passage from planet to planet. Otho had not known many races but now was exposed to all that the galaxy had to offer, from humans to Bith and Wookiees and all manner of people from all manner of places. For two years, they visited all manner of planets. Otho repaired moisture gathering apparatuses under the twin suns of Tatooine for several months before they would leave because of a rumor of lucrative contract to help reinforce parts of the underground of volcanic Sullust.
The exiled Rendoros eventually settled on urban Taris; they received tax incentives encouraging “skilled works with diverse backgrounds” to engage in business. The tactless Udan had trouble finding lodging in all but the lowest levels of a major megalopolis on the southern continent, a literal and figurative underworld. He rented space and purchased a supply of tools, taking contract work from the Melnic droid foundry in the highest level. Business progressed at a pace even an Ithorian would consider plodding. There were many attractions that caught Udan’s eye at night and his work suffered, leaving an increasing share on Otho’s plate. While Udan slacked off, Otho worked hard doing repairs to the foundry’s equipment, replacing parts for droids and learning the finer nuances of programming. But even as revenues climbed due to Otho’s labor, debt spiraled due to mismanagement by Udan and his increased appetite for exotic liquors and increased opportunities to lose more and more money playing cards and dice and bingo.
Ascent
As he grew older, Otho grew taller. Udan was among the tallest of his people but as he worked in the shop, mending rotors and healing machines he surpassed even his father, who could look a Wookiee in the eyes if he had enough liquid courage in him. And yet, his began to resent his father who blathered on and on in cantinas in the lowest civilized parts of the city, his business attracting attention from criminals who insisted that R&R Repairs needed “protection” from even more violent elements in the city. A gang of brutes, mean humans from death worlds and point-hungry Trandoshans lead by a yellow-toothed human named Deng invited themselves into the shop, insisting that Otho pay them or the hammerhead would regret it.
Many Ithorians are passive creatures. Otho lifted two of the scum by their necks and threw them from his shop. They wanted to take what he had built, and what the old man had built and he wouldn’t let them. He organized a band of his own, drawn from dried-up bounty hunters and brutish dregs that found their way to the underside of Taris like so many broken things. Suitably protected but almost crippled by debt at nineteen, Otho used his computer skills to begin opening doors for some of the more enterprising new friends he made, charging little for his services upfront but expecting a fair percentage of any future returns. Oftentimes, he made his friends very happy and Otho began to dig himself out of his hole.
Other times, they sought to be foolish and take what was his. Perhaps it was that nobody expects to be kicked in the stomach by an Ithorian, but when the time came from violence Otho was ready to respond forcefully and without mercy. When some slimeball overextended the line of credit that Otho had graciously extended, he was applying pressure to their kneecaps until they relented. When someone needed sensitive information, they could purchase it directly from the hulking Ithorian or they could purchase illicit droid modules that would listen and transmit with discretion. As Otho’s influence and cashflow increased, jealousy among other criminal and legitimate power players mounted.
Otho managed to reduce debt and the price of debt payments in addition to paying himself, but friction between father and son developed. Udan contended that he had taken on the initial risk, but it was clearly Otho’s efforts, both above and below board, that saved what could be saved. The friction led to Udan spending even less time at the shop, until one day he stopped showing up at all. Even Otho, for all his skill in managing rogue assets, was unable to source his own father in their home city.
As time wore on and Otho still could not find the elder Rendoro, he learned that it had not been an uncommon occurrence at all, and that many people had simply vanished one day with no trace, both on Taris and offworld. Otho threw himself into work and the volume of his business began to eclipse other Tarisian criminals, his ambition touching his rival at the Melnic foundry when he infiltrated their computer systems and began to make small but key changes to production schedules and executive itineraries, not the least of which resulted in the accidental fabrication of several hundred thousand u-bends for toilets and Yamilla Melnic’s prized longhair tooka being retrieved from her manse and shipped to Duro for grooming.
As his reputation grew so did his audacity. Otho’s infiltration of the Melnic mainframe enabled him to develop cost-saving fixes for both his own business and their accounts, gradually poaching their business after late nights of computation and research on his part aided by his machines. After a large account defected from Melnic to Rendoro & Rendoro, the leader of the rival concern initially gave Otho a very generous buy-in offer with their foundry, relegating him to a junior partner and hopefully appealing to his sense of greed.
Guffawing nastily in stereo, Otho cut that call, his chest filling with the flush of rebellious zeal.
Many Ithorians are passive creatures. Otho lifted two of the scum by their necks and threw them from his shop. They wanted to take what he had built, and what the old man had built and he wouldn’t let them. He organized a band of his own, drawn from dried-up bounty hunters and brutish dregs that found their way to the underside of Taris like so many broken things. Suitably protected but almost crippled by debt at nineteen, Otho used his computer skills to begin opening doors for some of the more enterprising new friends he made, charging little for his services upfront but expecting a fair percentage of any future returns. Oftentimes, he made his friends very happy and Otho began to dig himself out of his hole.
Other times, they sought to be foolish and take what was his. Perhaps it was that nobody expects to be kicked in the stomach by an Ithorian, but when the time came from violence Otho was ready to respond forcefully and without mercy. When some slimeball overextended the line of credit that Otho had graciously extended, he was applying pressure to their kneecaps until they relented. When someone needed sensitive information, they could purchase it directly from the hulking Ithorian or they could purchase illicit droid modules that would listen and transmit with discretion. As Otho’s influence and cashflow increased, jealousy among other criminal and legitimate power players mounted.
Otho managed to reduce debt and the price of debt payments in addition to paying himself, but friction between father and son developed. Udan contended that he had taken on the initial risk, but it was clearly Otho’s efforts, both above and below board, that saved what could be saved. The friction led to Udan spending even less time at the shop, until one day he stopped showing up at all. Even Otho, for all his skill in managing rogue assets, was unable to source his own father in their home city.
As time wore on and Otho still could not find the elder Rendoro, he learned that it had not been an uncommon occurrence at all, and that many people had simply vanished one day with no trace, both on Taris and offworld. Otho threw himself into work and the volume of his business began to eclipse other Tarisian criminals, his ambition touching his rival at the Melnic foundry when he infiltrated their computer systems and began to make small but key changes to production schedules and executive itineraries, not the least of which resulted in the accidental fabrication of several hundred thousand u-bends for toilets and Yamilla Melnic’s prized longhair tooka being retrieved from her manse and shipped to Duro for grooming.
As his reputation grew so did his audacity. Otho’s infiltration of the Melnic mainframe enabled him to develop cost-saving fixes for both his own business and their accounts, gradually poaching their business after late nights of computation and research on his part aided by his machines. After a large account defected from Melnic to Rendoro & Rendoro, the leader of the rival concern initially gave Otho a very generous buy-in offer with their foundry, relegating him to a junior partner and hopefully appealing to his sense of greed.
Guffawing nastily in stereo, Otho cut that call, his chest filling with the flush of rebellious zeal.
Laid Low
The confident Ithorian was not prepared for the ruthlessness of Yamilla. She began by offering his small contracts incredibly steep discounts and bonuses for renegotiating with her and starved Otho of competition; even the large clients he had poached could not sustain his business. Secondly, she levied more police spotlight in circles he was known to frequent. It was her third blow that lead to his demise, by having new information regarding the records of a large portion of his sentient security force. They were arrested en masse in one day, leaving Otho uncommonly exposed.
At which point Yamilla sent in Otho’s oldest enemy, the human Deng, to strike. But Deng had been uncommonly humiliated by Otho. Instead of a direct confrontation, Deng used a paralytic dart to immobilize him and take the massive alien to one of their nearby boltholes. Restrained by three of Deng’s thugs on his knees, Deng tormented the Ithorian, who was rendered unable to speak.
“You thought you could disrupt the food chain!” the demented human shrieked, muscles in his face twitching as his yellow teeth were exposed in a paroxysm of glee. “You thought you could steal from Yamilla Melnic? From me? I’ll show you what we do to thieves, beast!”
His tongue traced the edge of the blade before Otho’s left arm was hauled out; he struggled as he could but his attackers had heavily dosed him. Deng smiled, a humorless and bloodless smile that did not touch those hollow eyes, before the blade sung in the air and cleaved his flesh. At first, his eyes bulged in disbelief and he wanted to bellow but his lungs would not expand air.
Then, they pressed a hot piece of metal to the stump just below Otho’s elbow and it was like every fiber of his being lit up with pain and hatred. Molten fire and electricity shot up his spinal cord to his brain and no narcotic could contain his rage. All his willpower was jammed into his four throats and he let out a scream of which he had never heard the like. He wanted to make them feel his pain. Fragile eardrums began to bleed and there was a flash of electrical sparks as the light fixture blew its bulb.
Freed from his attackers, Otho lashed out with his monstrous foot, slamming them on to the ground. Deng dropped the knife with a clang that seemed puny compared to the roar of the enraged Ithorian. His chest heaved laboriously as Otho kicked him in the chest, sending him flying into a crossbar. He could not control himself and he bludgeoned them with fist and foot until there was little left but spluttering piles of flesh.
He ordered his assets be as liquidated as possible, except for the workshop property and extended an invitation to Yamilla Melnic to meet with him to discuss the sale of his business. Perhaps due to Otho’s signature forceful personality, she agreed to meet later that week. When she arrived, she found it deserted, except for a holographic recording of the Ithorian.
“I would never sell to you and I’ll see you in hell!”
Those words would be the last she ever heard, as Otho Rendoro sat secure on a freighter that was going to take a slow route to the galactic east, towards territory that lay at the end of a major hyperspace trade route. High-yield explosive charges embedded within droids, computer banks and the workshop’s structure detonated, buried Yamilla Melnic in a smoldering tomb for her avarice.
As Otho cradled his wreck of an arm after medical treatment, he pondered over his treatment as a youth by the priests and dreamed of possibility.
At which point Yamilla sent in Otho’s oldest enemy, the human Deng, to strike. But Deng had been uncommonly humiliated by Otho. Instead of a direct confrontation, Deng used a paralytic dart to immobilize him and take the massive alien to one of their nearby boltholes. Restrained by three of Deng’s thugs on his knees, Deng tormented the Ithorian, who was rendered unable to speak.
“You thought you could disrupt the food chain!” the demented human shrieked, muscles in his face twitching as his yellow teeth were exposed in a paroxysm of glee. “You thought you could steal from Yamilla Melnic? From me? I’ll show you what we do to thieves, beast!”
His tongue traced the edge of the blade before Otho’s left arm was hauled out; he struggled as he could but his attackers had heavily dosed him. Deng smiled, a humorless and bloodless smile that did not touch those hollow eyes, before the blade sung in the air and cleaved his flesh. At first, his eyes bulged in disbelief and he wanted to bellow but his lungs would not expand air.
Then, they pressed a hot piece of metal to the stump just below Otho’s elbow and it was like every fiber of his being lit up with pain and hatred. Molten fire and electricity shot up his spinal cord to his brain and no narcotic could contain his rage. All his willpower was jammed into his four throats and he let out a scream of which he had never heard the like. He wanted to make them feel his pain. Fragile eardrums began to bleed and there was a flash of electrical sparks as the light fixture blew its bulb.
Freed from his attackers, Otho lashed out with his monstrous foot, slamming them on to the ground. Deng dropped the knife with a clang that seemed puny compared to the roar of the enraged Ithorian. His chest heaved laboriously as Otho kicked him in the chest, sending him flying into a crossbar. He could not control himself and he bludgeoned them with fist and foot until there was little left but spluttering piles of flesh.
He ordered his assets be as liquidated as possible, except for the workshop property and extended an invitation to Yamilla Melnic to meet with him to discuss the sale of his business. Perhaps due to Otho’s signature forceful personality, she agreed to meet later that week. When she arrived, she found it deserted, except for a holographic recording of the Ithorian.
“I would never sell to you and I’ll see you in hell!”
Those words would be the last she ever heard, as Otho Rendoro sat secure on a freighter that was going to take a slow route to the galactic east, towards territory that lay at the end of a major hyperspace trade route. High-yield explosive charges embedded within droids, computer banks and the workshop’s structure detonated, buried Yamilla Melnic in a smoldering tomb for her avarice.
As Otho cradled his wreck of an arm after medical treatment, he pondered over his treatment as a youth by the priests and dreamed of possibility.