Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Yusanis Myrishi

Yusanis Myrishi

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Introductory Report: The elusive Yusanis Myrishi is among the most wanted men in One Sith space. Founder and leader of the Smugglers' Association to Impede and Negate Tyranny (SAINT), a nonviolent outlaw group dedicated to lessening the impact of Sith occupation and war crimes by providing supplies and evacuating fugitives, Myrishi is considered an enemy of the state. His organization is not officially backed by any stellar government, operating on the generosity of private donors and his own personal fortune. The group works under a carefully-maintained shroud of secrecy, and Myrishi himself is rarely seen.
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Species: Echani (Near-Human)
Gender: Heterosexual Male
Age: 31 (Born 814 ABY)

Height: 1.81 meters
Weight: 73 kilograms
Force-Sensitive: No

Hair Color: White
Eye Color: Viridian
Skin Tone: Pale

Homeworld: Coruscant
Political Affiliation: SAINT
Rank: Founder and Director


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Lean and wiry, Yusanis has the blade-like build common to battle-trained Echani. His face is lean and angular, every line sharp enough to shred flimsiplast, from his harsh nose to his thin lips to his high, narrow cheekbones. The burn scars surrounding his left eye are the only roundness or smoothness to him, the skin softly puckered around the socket from the long-ago injury. Cybernetic augmentations and the edges of skin grafts draw further lines across his face, unyielding metal fastened down to his skull. One bright blue-green eye still stares out at the galaxy; the other is a prosthesis, a harsh and unnatural gold that sometimes stares in a different direction entirely from the organic gaze.

Paleness of skin and hair further betray Yusanis's Echani heritage. Thick white brows, the right one pierced with two small rings to balance the two on the left side of his nose, brood over his mismatched eyes and patchwork face. His hair is short but messy, hanging at odd angles that shift when he moves quickly. His beard, by contrast, is carefully trimmed into a short, smooth wave along his angular chin and around his lips. Scars and cybernetics alike disappear into the thick fringe, which goes no further down than his jawline. In all, his visage is a strange balance between even and uneven, harsh and smooth, symmetrical and divided. It lends him an intensity of glare and voice.

At all times, Yusanis is coiled as tightly as a spring. Everything about him is tense, hard, and wary. His movements are fast and deliberate, his gaze ever-shifting. His cybernetic left arm, styled in black and white, is the stillest part of him, but when the time comes it moves with terrifying speed and strength. While this is the most obvious sign of damage to his body, it is far from the only one. His chest, back, and legs are covered in long, thick scars and burns, reminders of a youth cut short and a life lived on the dark fringe of society. His clothes are loose and mobile, with many pockets and pouches. He favors dark colors, blending into the shadows rather than drawing the eye.

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The first, and perhaps only, trait that those who speak with Yusanis notice about him is that he is secretive to the point of near-paranoia. Very rarely does he deal openly with anyone or reveal his true location, working through droids and other intermediaries. This is a difficult but necessary sacrifice for someone who was once extroverted and personable; it preserves his safety and the safety of his network, but leads to terrible loneliness. But Yusanis no longer expects to have true friends. For the director of a nonviolent philanthropic network, he is surprisingly callous. He expects casualties, reacting to each new loss or Sith atrocity with resigned disappointment where others might feel crippling grief or overwhelming horror. Everyone he truly loved is dead, so now he thinks in terms of the big picture, in which individuals live or die like candles flickering in the wind.

Those who know Yusanis longer find that his most significant personality trait is his determination. He is a man who quite literally pulled himself from his own grave, and that was before years of hardening his heart and sharpening his mind. Nothing short of his total destruction will ever defeat him or lessen his focus and drive. He has chosen to battle his overwhelming sorrow by devoting himself, body and soul, to his chosen purpose, and his every waking moment is spent working toward that purpose. As such, he divides people into helpers and hindrances, with no regard for whether they are good or bad people, kind or cruel. The mission is all that matters, and he will see it done by any means necessary. Some find this inspiring, others off-putting, and most a little of both. It's likely to get him killed some day, probably some day soon. He really doesn't care.

Beneath the hardness, driving the mission, is a deep kindness and empathy. Yusanis doesn't feel for individuals anymore because he would shrivel up and die if he let himself. In every person he sees the good, in every family an echo of his own family's happiness before it all came tumbling down. He chose his purpose because it matters deeply to him to save as many people and as much beauty as he can, and he finds beauty in the galaxy's wondrous diversity. It's extraordinarily rare that he lets his softer side show, even with people he trusts; if he opens the floodgates of emotion, he knows it might sweep him away. He's seen terrible things, over and over again, since his world was shattered years ago, and he flees from those memories, locking them away where they can't slow him down. It's not sustainable, but he doesn't expect to be around for long.

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Yusanis is exceptionally cunning and well-versed in the arts of the underworld. He is skilled at evading detection, with tremendous knowledge of underused hyperlanes, patrol schedules, and law enforcement procedures. He is an able slicer, creating or bypassing layers of security and scrambling transmissions to make them near-untraceable. He knows a great deal about what makes people tick, and reads them exceptionally well; if they plan to betray him, or even could be coerced to do so, he is able to foresee it. For his own part, he is extremely persuasive, with a good sense of business, a strong moral compass, and a clear idea of when he should appeal to each. His ability to organize and coordinate operations has allowed him to build SAINT's network from nothing, and without his guiding hand holding all the secrets together it would almost certainly collapse.

Yusanis rarely acts in person, but a daily training regimen keeps him prepared to do so whenever necessary. He is well-versed in the martial style of the Echani warrior culture into which he was born, making him a swift, graceful, and unpredictable hand-to-hand fighter. The inhuman strength of his prosthetic arm helps him in this regard, propelling his blows with tremendous force and precision. He's a good shot with a blaster, as well. His technical skills picked up from his smuggling days allow him to modify, fix, or at least jury-rig just about any freighter ever built, though he's less familiar with other classes of ship. He tinkers with his own cybernetics as well. He still remembers many of the sleight of hand skills he learned in the Coruscani street gang he briefly ran with, and is a pretty good pickpocket and confidence artist when the need arises.


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Yusanis is a broken man held together with personal grit, but when the going gets too tough he supplements that with a significant chemical cocktail. He is addicted to Lesai spice, which takes away the need to sleep and with it his nightmares; the telltale purple blotches of a repeat user can be seen on the underside of his chin. During downtime, when there's no urgent work to throw himself into, he tends to slip into even more destructive habits: heavy drinking, painkillers, and high speed thrillseeking, anything to keep his mind away from memories. His secrecy isolates him so greatly that he has quite literally no one to talk to and no healthy way to process his mental strain, and this isn't likely to change anytime soon. He can only try to keep himself together and focus on what's in front of him, avoiding his breakdowns whenever possible by simply being too busy.

Despite his fitness, Yusanis also suffers greatly from his physical scars. His skin grafts and cybernetic enhancements keep him in stable condition, but moving quickly is often painful as old wounds grind together. On the other hand, Yusanis has simply lost feeling in many parts of his body due to damage to his nervous system; he sometimes has to check himself for injures he can't feel. He also has the odd distinction of being so laced with cybernetic parts that ion weapons could seriously threaten his life, with a sufficient burst leading to a heart-stopping overload. Yusanis is aware of these limitations; they are among the reasons he generally eschews physical combat and stays out of the field whenever possible. When he must push past them, he relies heavily on painkillers, yet these make him a far less coordinated and clever fighter.
 

Yusanis Myrishi

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..::Early Life::..
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Yusanis Myrishi was born into the Coruscani old blood, wealth and privilege his birthright. He attended the best schools, the most expensive high society events, and the most important state dinners. Yet his family also had a long history of philanthropy, and his parents taught him to think first of others. The result was a well-educated, refined, conscientious young man with a bright future ahead of him. From his place at the Coruscant College of Law he looked forward to a successful legal practice, or perhaps even a senate seat.

But everything changed with the return of the Sith. Yusanis was twenty-one, finishing up his junior year, when the One Sith sacked Coruscant. His family had the poor fortune to live in the Manarai Heights district, their high-rise complex overlooking Monument Plaza. The area was rapidly overrun by Yuuzhan Vong warriors and Imperial death squads, and the slaughter was terrible. Seeing the news live on his dorm room's monitors, the young man knew he had to get back home before it was too late.

Mom and Dad were doctors, and had taken to dragging the wounded from the streets and into the lobby of the apartment complex where they lived for treatment in an impromptu clinic. It was doomed to end badly; all too soon, someone would notice and put a permanent end to the place, doctors, patients, and all. Yusanis raced across the city in his speeder, desperate to arrive before that happened. And he did. Working quickly, he and his parents loaded up speeder trucks with everyone they could and drove hard for the Eastport Docking Facility.

Their timing could not have been worse. A Sith orbital strike hit the spaceport just as they dashed through the doors, collapsing the structure and killing almost everyone inside. Yusanis was crushed beneath the rubble, suffering a dozen fractures and severe lacerations. He was one of the lucky ones. Mom died instantly, vaporized in the strike. Dad took nearly an hour to die, impaled through the chest with a length of rebar. Yusanis could almost reach him, almost hold his hand, but the left side of his body was pinned tight. He could only watch. Slowly.


..::The Street Gang::..
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As the battle drew to a close, the Sith set about establishing an efficient occupation. That meant repairing and reopening the spaceports, with droids shifting aside the wreckage and tossing out the corpses. Yusanis was close enough to dead that, to a binary loadlifter's limited sensor suite, he could pass for it. He was tossed in one of the incinerator piles and forgotten. Buried in corpses, with his left arm crushed beyond repair and his left eye pierced and blinded, the young man found some last reservoir of internal strength. Somehow, he crawled out.

Yusanis had a sister, a nurse and now his last living family. His only thought was how he could reach her, but he was in no condition for it. He made it to an alley, wild plans of hotwiring a starship and flying it to the Aldera Medical Center swirling through his head, before he passed out from pain, blood loss, and exhaustion. If a Sith patrol had found him there, it would have been the end of his story. The way things turned out, he might have wished that one had; it would have been easier than what was to come.

Instead of Sith soldiers, the scavenging thugs of a lower-levels gangster named Thrash Falgarr came across the young Echani's broken body. He was something of a public figure due to his big-name family, and they recognized him immediately. Loading him into their speeder, they brought him back to their boss. And Falgarr saw an opportunity in the young man. Underworld doctors cut away his ruined flesh, replacing it with cybernetic parts. In exchange for this and passage offworld, Yusanis was told when he awoke, he would help Falgarr steal his own fortune.

It was a plan months in the making, during which time Yusanis slowly adjusted to his modified body. He'd lost his left arm at the shoulder, his face and torso were scarred by cuts and burns, and his left eye was gone. It was terrifying to see his reflection, to remember how much he'd lost. Missing his parents, reliving their final moments, kept him from sleeping. He kept going only through the knowledge that his sister was safe and alive in Republic space. For the chance to see her, to protect her better, he would do anything Falgarr asked.

The Sith had seized the assets of many of the high-profile Coruscani families killed in the invasion, including the Myrishi fortune, and stealing from the Empire was not something to be undertaken lightly. Falgarr taught Yusanis a great deal about the ways of the underworld as they prepared, from slicing to sleight of hand to deception. When they finally launched their plot, kidnapping and replacing an Imperial treasury employee, Yusanis himself took on the role, for only he knew what to look for and how to disguise the transfer. And after a year's preparation, it worked.

At least, it worked temporarily. The Echani youth transferred the funds to a credstick successfully and made his escape, but Falgarr had left too much of a trail. When Yusanis returned to the gang boss's hideout, Sith inquisitors had already been there, killing everything that moved. It was all he could do to sneak to Falgarr's secret hangar, take his ship, and make his escape, blending in among the transports resupplying the Sith navy as they prepared to embark on another voyage of conquest.


..::Adrift::..
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It was another cruel twist of fate that the Sith invasion fleet was bound for the same destination as Yusanis himself: Alderaan. Crueler still that, by the time he arrived, Aldera Medical Center had been torn apart by an alchemical beast, his sister crushed to death inside. Once again the young Echani found himself alone on an occupied world, this time utterly without hope or drive. Aboard Falgarr's ship, the Can't Catch Me, he plotted a new course to nowhere in particular. He had no idea of where to go or what to do.

The Can't Catch Me, however, had ideas of her own. The vessel was programmed with dozens of potential smuggling routes and real-time analysis of the prices of underworld goods. Yusanis needed something to throw himself into, something to give him purpose, lest he give up on life. Money wasn't really a problem now that he'd stolen his fortune back, but there were other uses for secret hyperlanes. Yusanis began to look up people that he knew who now lived in Sith-occupied space. He couldn't rescue his own family, but maybe he could still save someone else.

He spent a year rescuing people he knew, packing up their lives and ferrying them to safety in Republic space. Smuggling jobs killed the time between, building up his finances and underworld contacts. And as he ran out of people he knew to rescue, his new contacts put him in touch with others who needed to escape. Business, if it could be called such when he didn't charge, never slowed. In an ever-darkening galaxy, an unending stream of sentients sought to flee the iron grasp of the Empire for as long as they could.

And the darkness was growing in those years. As he worked, Yusanis heard about the genocides and mass enslavement on Amar and Togoria, the massacres on Glee Anslem and Rangoon VI, the unprovoked destruction of Kaltes and the Zeltros Strip. And he knew deep in his shattered heart that what he was doing would never be enough to shine even the tiniest light in that overwhelming shadow. What was one family saved in the face of nine billion dead in a single invasion? There had to be some way to have a greater impact.


..::The Network::..
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As one freighter captain, Yusanis realized, he could do comparatively little. But many freighter captains, united in purpose, could accomplish far more. They wouldn't be out to overthrow the Empire, to stop its conquests, or even to slow it down; they would focus on saving the people caught in the crossfire of each war of expansion, the beings deemed unworthy to be citizens under the One Sith. They couldn't save everyone, but perhaps people like Yusanis's family could survive if there were someone ready to pull them out.

This was the genesis of the idea behind the Smugglers' Association to Impede and Negate Tyranny, or SAINT. Yusanis knew plenty of smugglers from his years in the shadowy underworld of the Core; more importantly, he knew who had a conscience and whom he could trust. And so he quietly began to recruit. Wealthy donors wronged by the Sith, freighter captains with moral fiber, resistance cell leaders across the Core Worlds, all were bound together in an invisible network, many of them unaware that the network existed at all.

Everything came together just as One Sith expansion hacked the Republic in two, leaving dozens of systems at the mercy of the dark invaders while democracy reeled for balance in the galactic south. Yusanis saw little hope, but that had never stopped him before. He put everything into motion, ready to fight to save as many as he could from the iron grasp of the Empire. Operations soon began, with smugglers from across the galaxy hired on secret philanthropic missions deep into the heart of enemy space, and the concept of the network was put to the test...
 

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