S I L V A N E
PROFILE
- Age: Late Twenties
- Species: Human, Kraljica
- Gender: Male
- Height: 6'4"
- Weight: 220 lbs
- Force Sensitive: Yes
Saul Denko is a ruggedly handsome man in his late twenties, with sun-kissed blond hair that falls just past his ears in a deliberate, slightly tousled cut, and sharp green eyes that miss little. His jawline is clean but strong, often set in a look of quiet calculation. He carries himself with the casual authority of someone who’s lived through war and walked away sharper for it. Dressed most often in functional military wear—a blaster-resistant vest, dark utility pants, and scuffed combat boots—he rarely bothers with ceremony. The only emblem he consistently wears is the white harp of Silvane, stitched onto his shoulder where a nation's flag would sit, a quiet declaration of allegiance to his people over politics.
HOLDINGSPERSONALITY AND BELIEFS
Saul Denko is a man carved by experience, not ideology. To him, the Force isn’t divine or mystical—it’s a tool, like a rifle or a comms unit: useful when understood, dangerous when romanticized. He doesn’t speak in prophecy or parables, and he has little patience for mystics who do. Discipline, focus, and clarity—those are the virtues he respects. Saul believes in keeping things simple: know your mission, know your team, and don’t flinch when things get ugly. His humor is sharp and crude, honed in barracks and battlefield banter, the kind that breaks tension without ever shattering focus. He’s a soldier first, but not a follower—his loyalty is earned, not given, and once someone earns it, they have it for life.
As the founder and commander of Silvane, Saul leads with the precision of an officer but none of the pomp. He despises bureaucratic waste, and his firm reflects that—lean, efficient, mission-oriented. He’s not interested in empire-building or galactic fame; he’s interested in results and in making sure his people—the forgotten veterans, the disillusioned, the capable—have a place in a galaxy that’s left them behind. Saul expects excellence but doesn't demand perfection, knowing that what matters is trust under fire and the will to see things through. He’s not a man who talks much about legacy, but his actions reveal a belief that honor isn’t inherited—it’s built, one mission at a time.
As the founder and commander of Silvane, Saul leads with the precision of an officer but none of the pomp. He despises bureaucratic waste, and his firm reflects that—lean, efficient, mission-oriented. He’s not interested in empire-building or galactic fame; he’s interested in results and in making sure his people—the forgotten veterans, the disillusioned, the capable—have a place in a galaxy that’s left them behind. Saul expects excellence but doesn't demand perfection, knowing that what matters is trust under fire and the will to see things through. He’s not a man who talks much about legacy, but his actions reveal a belief that honor isn’t inherited—it’s built, one mission at a time.
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES
- + Cybernetic Right Arm: Saul’s right arm is a high-grade cybernetic replacement, seamlessly covered in synth-skin and engineered for precision, strength, and durability. It grants him enhanced grip, recoil absorption, and melee power—an edge in both close-quarters combat and demanding technical tasks.
. - + Tactical Versatility: Years of mercenary and special forces experience have made Saul proficient with a wide array of weapons, vehicles, and environments. Whether piloting a dropship or breaching a compound, he adapts quickly and executes cleanly.
. - - Cybernetic Vulnerability: Though advanced, his cybernetic arm is susceptible to EMP bursts, ion weaponry, and slicing attempts—leaving him compromised or even disabled in the wrong situation. It also causes him chronic phantom pain during pressure shifts or electrical surges.
. - - No Formal Force Training: While Saul can instinctively use the Force to augment his reflexes or sense danger, his lack of formal training limits his defensive and offensive potential against trained Force users. In a clash of powers, instinct and brute force only go so far.
Saul Denko came into the world as little more than a whispered name and a choice unspoken. His mother, Mira Vell, was a former slicer turned warehouse administrator with sharp eyes and a steel spine, who spent her younger years navigating data vaults and criminal deals in equal measure. Josiah Denko had been a brief light in her life—a passionate, fleeting affair before his calling to the Jedi Order took him far from the Smuggler’s Moon and the quiet weight of fatherhood.
Saul never knew his father growing up. Mira never spoke ill of the man, but she said little—only that his absence was deliberate, and that she had chosen not to follow. Saul, for his part, never questioned it. Life on Nar Shaddaa demanded focus, resilience, and often, silence. He scraped by in the industrial levels, where the air reeked of oil and ambition, and where questions were currency best spent elsewhere.
Despite the grime and danger of his upbringing, Saul thrived. He ran with courier crews as a teen, muscling through the ranks of local syndicates and eventually joining up with an Outer Rim mercenary outfit. There was always something odd about him—his instincts were too sharp, his reflexes a little too quick, his luck unsettling. In truth, the Force whispered to him his whole life, like a hum beneath his skin. He never had a name for it, nor formal training, but it guided him in firefights and kept him breathing through the worst of scraps. In time, he learned to follow the rhythm, mastering it through intuition and need, not scripture.
When the Second Confederacy of Independent Systems pushed toward Hutt Space, Mira sat Saul down and told him the truth: his father was Josiah Denko, once Jedi, now Knight Obsidian, and a man of more weight in the galaxy than Saul had imagined. The news didn’t crack Saul’s foundation—but it did rattle the walls. Curiosity led to contact. Their meeting was tense but cordial. Josiah, older and quieter than expected, offered no apologies—only his lightsaber, a keepsake, and a willingness to talk. That gesture—more than the name or lineage—stuck with Saul.
He joined the Confederate Defense Force not out of obligation, but as a way to carve out something real for himself. He rose fast: infantry, then recon, then special forces. By the time the Confederacy collapsed during the Calamity, Saul had become a name in his own right. Cold, efficient, principled in a way only soldiers understand. With the nation crumbling and warlords rising, Saul became a mercenary again—but this time, a contractor of renown. Governments, corporations, and even nobles knew they could trust Saul Denko to get it done—clean, quiet, and complete.
Years later, hearing the name “Denko” echo through Outer Rim broadcasts again—now tied to the Royal Naboo Republic—he traced it back to Naboo. There, he met Abel Denko, his uncle, and Seth, his younger cousin. The meeting wasn’t dramatic. No fanfare, no accusations. Just a nod, a few drinks, and the weight of shared blood.
Instead of joining their quiet nobility, Saul created something different: a future for the forgotten. Together with a few trusted allies, he established Silvane, a private firm dedicated to risk management, logistics, and protection. Its ranks are filled with displaced Confederate veterans, operatives, medics, and analysts who otherwise would’ve been left adrift after the collapse. Silvane doesn’t just serve Naboo—it serves the idea of honor after ruin, and continuity without conquest.
Today, Saul remains a practical Denko—more mercenary than mystic, more soldier than statesman. He’s not interested in thrones or robes. But he believes in family, in loyalty, and in building something stable for those who’ve lost too much. And he carries his father’s lightsaber—both as a weapon and as a legacy.
Saul never knew his father growing up. Mira never spoke ill of the man, but she said little—only that his absence was deliberate, and that she had chosen not to follow. Saul, for his part, never questioned it. Life on Nar Shaddaa demanded focus, resilience, and often, silence. He scraped by in the industrial levels, where the air reeked of oil and ambition, and where questions were currency best spent elsewhere.
Despite the grime and danger of his upbringing, Saul thrived. He ran with courier crews as a teen, muscling through the ranks of local syndicates and eventually joining up with an Outer Rim mercenary outfit. There was always something odd about him—his instincts were too sharp, his reflexes a little too quick, his luck unsettling. In truth, the Force whispered to him his whole life, like a hum beneath his skin. He never had a name for it, nor formal training, but it guided him in firefights and kept him breathing through the worst of scraps. In time, he learned to follow the rhythm, mastering it through intuition and need, not scripture.
When the Second Confederacy of Independent Systems pushed toward Hutt Space, Mira sat Saul down and told him the truth: his father was Josiah Denko, once Jedi, now Knight Obsidian, and a man of more weight in the galaxy than Saul had imagined. The news didn’t crack Saul’s foundation—but it did rattle the walls. Curiosity led to contact. Their meeting was tense but cordial. Josiah, older and quieter than expected, offered no apologies—only his lightsaber, a keepsake, and a willingness to talk. That gesture—more than the name or lineage—stuck with Saul.
He joined the Confederate Defense Force not out of obligation, but as a way to carve out something real for himself. He rose fast: infantry, then recon, then special forces. By the time the Confederacy collapsed during the Calamity, Saul had become a name in his own right. Cold, efficient, principled in a way only soldiers understand. With the nation crumbling and warlords rising, Saul became a mercenary again—but this time, a contractor of renown. Governments, corporations, and even nobles knew they could trust Saul Denko to get it done—clean, quiet, and complete.
Years later, hearing the name “Denko” echo through Outer Rim broadcasts again—now tied to the Royal Naboo Republic—he traced it back to Naboo. There, he met Abel Denko, his uncle, and Seth, his younger cousin. The meeting wasn’t dramatic. No fanfare, no accusations. Just a nod, a few drinks, and the weight of shared blood.
Instead of joining their quiet nobility, Saul created something different: a future for the forgotten. Together with a few trusted allies, he established Silvane, a private firm dedicated to risk management, logistics, and protection. Its ranks are filled with displaced Confederate veterans, operatives, medics, and analysts who otherwise would’ve been left adrift after the collapse. Silvane doesn’t just serve Naboo—it serves the idea of honor after ruin, and continuity without conquest.
Today, Saul remains a practical Denko—more mercenary than mystic, more soldier than statesman. He’s not interested in thrones or robes. But he believes in family, in loyalty, and in building something stable for those who’ve lost too much. And he carries his father’s lightsaber—both as a weapon and as a legacy.
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