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Varax Malchor

Varax Malchor

The Watcher
"Most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists. The ones that do call him The Watcher."
- Carmera Yylin, G.I.A. Operative

NAME: Varax Malchor - AKA: The Watcher
FACTION: The Galactic Republic (Galactic Intelligence Agency)
RANK: Operative
AGE: 30
SEX: Male
HEIGHT: 6'2"
WEIGHT: 171 lbs.
EYES: Amber
HAIR: Long - Dark Brown
SKIN: White - Fair Complexion


  • Extremely skilled marksman and sniper due to his extensive training under the tutelage of the Flayed Ones; his aim surpasses that of some specialized assassin droids.
  • Proficient in a number of martial arts that allow him to hold his own in martial combat at an advanced, but not masterful, level.
  • Intelligent and analytical nature allows him to properly gauge situations and weigh the positives and negatives of various scenarios.
  • Very muscular and athletic physique due to years of physical training.

  • Due to his need to keep his identity a secret, he is unable to form or maintain relationships (platonic or not) outside of the few people that know about him in the G.I.A. This can be very isolating and frustrating for Varax.
  • Being a man working for the Galactic Intelligence Agency out of necessity rather than desire, he is constantly at odds with the few people in the G.I.A. that know about him; specifically, the agency's director. His obligation to keep his identity a secret and stay committed to the agency's cause is often at odds with his personal desires and is, in his view, a new form of slavery.


Varax is a tall, lean, athletic man with an air of intensity in the way he holds himself. Despite having the body of a hardened soldier, he has a fairness and almost innocence in his look. His eyes are a light, golden amber that shine in the light. His long, dark-brown hair is very wavy and parts evenly down the middle of his scalp. Varax's lips are thin but his mouth is of moderate size, with an average nose and smaller ears. His body bears dozens of scars that looks like they came from lashes; they crisscross his back and torso in uneven patterns. The thickest scar is on his neck. However, rather than that of a whip, one would think it was a scar from an attempted hanging. He is almost never clean-shaven, usually having stubble on his face, and he very rarely, if ever, smiles.


Rough Beginnings

As a child, Varax Malchor grew up in a very poor part Coruscant. His parents, both dead beats who were more interested in their drug addictions than their own child, sold Varax off to slave traffickers at the sensitive age of seven. These traffickers transported thousands of prisoners across the galaxy, stopping at various spaceports and other shady cities to sell their illegal wares. Varax lived in horrible conditions for almost two years; living with a constant, metaphorical "for sale" sign around his neck. The other slaves, mostly older than him, were abrasive and cruel; always taking his food and beating him whenever he resisted. However, he had a protector. A strong man that believed that his innocence and his childhood was a blessing that must be cherished rather than abused. The man protected him and taught him how to defend himself. While originally no-one would bother him because of his protector, soon, no-one would bother him because he could protect himself. This life of traveling on a slave ship was all to end on the fateful day they arrived on Tattooine.

Varax stood there on the podium looking out at the faces of all the potential buyers. One, in particular, stood out to him; a man robed in black. As he became distracted by the sight of the robed man, he had not noticed that he had been sold to a portly Aqualish that eyed him with a look that sent a shiver down his spine. In chains, Varax was dragged by the podium into the ownership of the Aqualish. As the alien dragged him by his chains towards his land speeder a few kilometers from the slave-trader, Varax realized this was his opportunity for escape. Finally, he began fighting against his slaver's grasp and freed himself; running for his life in the opposite direction. The Aqualish pursued, eager to retrieve his prize.

Varax rounded a corner into an alley behind a cantina. It was a dead end. He looked around desperately for a way out but there was none to be found. The slaver had found him and took joy in recapturing him, slowly walking down the alley towards the nine-year-old boy. He brandished a knife that revealed the Aqualish's true intention for buying him. When all hope seemed loss, Varax caught a glimmer of metal underneath a pile of trash in the alley. Staring hard at it, he realized it was an old kitchen blade that had clearly been discarded by the cantina's owner. The Aqualish came closer and closer and closer. "You are mine, slave," the deranged alien said. But just as the slaver was within his arms reach, Varax pulled the old knife from the trash and shoved it through the wretched alien's torso. The Aqualish wheezed as he slumped over, unable to scream for the knife which had collapsed his lung. Varax, both shocked and relieved at what he had done, threw the knife back into the pile of trash.

"I am no slave," the boy said, before pulling out the dead alien's key and relieving himself of his bonds. As Varax left the alley, however, another individual arrived. The man in black, who pulled the bloody knife from the pile of trash.

The Flayed Ones

For months, Varax lived as a homeless boy dependent on the charity of others and the grace of those that might seek to harm him. He learned to appreciate and pity the downtrodden and the poor, and the first time he stole something, he realized what it was like to be truly desperate. It wasn't until he reached the age of ten that he had an experience that would change his life forever. A group of vagabonds had caught him stealing from their plunder, and had decided to teach him what happens when you steal from a thief. Weapons brandished, Varax braced himself for the cold caress of death, closing his eyes. He heard the sound of metal against flesh and yet, he was unharmed. When Varax steadily opened his eyes, there he was: the man in black. It was the very same man that he had seen a year ago on that very day. The man sheathed the long, straight blade beneath the folds of his black robe, and unveiled his hood. The man was human. He had a bald head and a stern face,covered in scars and marks. Varax was very scared, but managed to buck up the courage to thank the man for his help. "Come with me," the man said, seemingly unfazed by the boy's appreciation.

The pair traveled through the harsh desert for hours. Varax feared that he had traded his life of humble freedom for a return to servitude. As he pondered what was going to happen, he was introduced to a hidden door in a small, rocky outcrop. The large, metal door slid open slowly, revealing a large passageway which lead to a massive room filled with a variety of men and women, training and fighting. The man in black guided Varax to a room where there sat an old man, his face almost featureless from the scars that adorn it. The old man explained that he was the master of the Flayed Ones, an ancient order of assassins that had existed for hundreds of years. They had been watching Varax for all his time on Tattooine and had honored his resourcefulness and willingness to do whatever was necessary to survive. The old man offered him a place among their order. He would be trained in precise art of cold assassination and through pain and struggle, would become one of the most elite killers in the galaxy. Eager to finally have a place of belonging, Varax agreed to undergo the rigorous training.

For years, Varax trained under the vicious tutelage of the Flayed Ones. They accepted only the best results and the punishment for failure was severe. Every missed step, every loss of balance, and every mistake was punished with a lash from a bladed whip. The many scars that Varax began to gather were testament to his commitment and a reminder that failure should never be forgotten, but learned from. As his training progressed, the leadership of The Flayed Ones began to recognize and appreciate his incredible skill as a marksman. Quickly becoming the most renowned marksman within the league, he was given the title of Headhunter; an honorable title reserved for only the best marksmen. The Flayed Ones taught him to eschew the blaster, as they were loud and opposed the stealthy and hidden nature of the assassin. He became adept with the use of slugthrowers and other, quieter means of assassination. However, Varax's greatest test was yet to begin.

On his twenty-first birthday, he would undergo his greatest and most brutal test; a ritual known as The Killing. In a fight with no armor and nothing but a combat blade, Varax would have to kill one of his fellow assassins. Specifically, the one who recruited him: the man in black. It was the final test of skill, ruthlessness, and expertise; a test to see if the student would become the master. The fight was long and bloody, but Varax succeeded, piercing the man's heart. He looked at Varax with a look of pride as he lay there dying. In that moment, Varax learned the true value of death and murder. With the success of the ritual, The Killing could be completed. The old man and master of the order walked up to him and nodded. Suddenly, two men came up behind him and began to strangle him with a thick, burning-hot wire. Varax wailed internally as the wire seared and scarred his flesh, but finally, the wire was released. The most important scar of The Flayed Ones is the hanging scar. It symbolizes the death of the person they once were and their rebirth into an agent of death.

After three years as a fully inducted assassin of The Flayed Ones, the order's quiet war with the Hutt Clan erupted in violence. When Varax returned to the assassin's temple after an assassination job, he found that their home had been destroyed. Everyone, the master, the trainees, the veterans, were dead. Varax was the last of The Flayed Ones. Though they were like family, he felt no pity or sorrow for their deaths. Pity and remorse is not in the nature of the assassin; it is the fire of weakness that must be stamped out before it can consume you. A good death is its own reward. Varax gathered what equipment he could from the temple's storage (equipment, weapons, and credits) and left Tattooine, hoping to make a new name for himself.

Death and Birth of a Legacy

Out in the wide galaxy, Varax made a great name for himself as one of the most renowned assassins in the galaxy. Working out of Coruscant, his home planet, Varax would receive contracts from hundreds of employers from all walks of life and all political affiliations. He was feared for his precision and ruthlessness throughout various systems; and for good reason. Bounty hunters and fellow assassins both feared and respected him for his commitment and terrible effectiveness. Over the years, his kills became more and more high-profile; a Republic senator here, an Empire General there. By age twenty five, Varax had so many high-profile political killings under his belt that it motivated an investigation by the Galactic Intelligence Agency, who were encouraged by governing bodies to bring him to justice for crimes against the Galactic Republic.

Three years after the investigation, at the age of 28, Varax was picked up by Republic authorities and taken into custody by the G.I.A. However, rather than implement actions that would lead to his trial and execution, the directing body of the G.I.A. decided that he would be more valuable to them as an asset. Varax was offered amnesty from all of his crimes against the Galactic Republic on the condition that he serve as a field operative in the G.I.A. Begrudgingly agreeing to these terms, Varax was to become a secret operative for the G.I.A. His trial and execution files were fabricated to convince governing body in the Republic that he had been eliminated and avoid the pressure that would come if they knew he was still alive.

Nowadays, only a handful of individuals in the Galactic Intelligence Agency can verify his existence; even fewer know his actual origins. He is a rumor, a ghost, and a secret in an agency that deals in secrets. He carries out missions too dangerous or sensitive for any other operatives. He's a master of assassination, espionage, and stealth. He is known only by the individuals he has killed and his mysterious code name: The Watcher.


'Carnifex' JumpMaster 5000 that has been repainted black.

  • Black Armorweave Bodysuit.
  • Utility harness for carrying ammunition and other equipment.
  • Modified headpiece with built-in Ziko Model 1020/A Macrobinoculars and breathing filter.
  • 24" Durasteel Combat Blade
  • Dissuader KD-30 Slugthrower Pistol
  • Modified Verpine Shatter Rifle with MKIV Targeting Scope.
    The rifle's chassis has been bulked up to allow for better comfort for Varax when aiming. Additionally, the scope has been permanently affixed to the rifle to prevent it from becoming disconnected from the weapon and allow it to have a sleeker profile. These modifications are purely aesthetic and have negligible effects on the performance or weight of the weapon. It is, for all intents and purposes, a standard Verpine Shatter Rifle.







That one kid
@[member="Varax Malchor"] I have to say, this character is probably the most interesting character I've seen. It'd be fun to be able to RP with him, perhaps because you're possibly able to take on the Net.
And, slavery to an agency. Sounds like me and the old Confederate Intelligence.

Varax Malchor

The Watcher
Feena Mason said:
I look forward to RPing with you!
The feeling is mutual, @[member="Feena Mason"] !

Strask Ak'lya said:
@[member="Varax Malchor"] I have to say, this character is probably the most interesting character I've seen. It'd be fun to be able to RP with him, perhaps because you're possibly able to take on the Net.
And, slavery to an agency. Sounds like me and the old Confederate Intelligence.
Thanks, @[member="Strask Ak'lya"].

That sounds cool, PM me with some details of what you had in mind!