Cirxis Cronossk
| Cirxis Cronossk | |
 | |
| Biographical Information | |
| Race | Trandoshan |
| Homeworld | Trandosha |
| Mother | Unknown |
| Father | Unknown - Supposed Blackscale Slaver |
| Spouse | Unknown Blackscale Slaver - Deceased |
| Siblings | Brother - Deceased |
| Children | Loxis - Presumed deceased |
| Born | Year -19 Day 329 |
| Died | N/A |
| Physical Description | |
| Gender | Male |
| Height | 2.1 Meters |
| Coloring | Green/Brown |
| Hair Color | None |
| Eye Color | Yellow |
| Political Information | |
| Affiliation | Blue Star Dominion |
| Prior Affiliation | Bounty Hunters Alliance, Tion Hegemony, Mytaranor Slaving Council, Depatar, Kanjiklub, Blackscale Clan |
- "Only in the shadows do you find the truth of the galaxy; trust in your claws to carve your path."
- — Cirxis, to a young, aspiring bounty hunter seeking guidance.
Contents
Biography
While most information regarding Cirxis has been destroyed or lost, what follows are mostly excerpts from his Autobiography, published by Crepan Press, or excerpts from his HoloCast, "Galaxy's Edge: The Cirxis Chronicles".
Early life
It was late in the year -3 when my journey began, plucked from the dusty streets of Lorpfan by the town's elders. They saw potential in me, a chance to rise above the rest, and so I was sent to Hsskhor. There, among the elite of my kind, I honed my skills, my scales toughening with each day's relentless training. A year of my life was spent in the grueling regimen of the Trandoshan Elites, each moment shaping me into the warrior I was destined to become.
Then, on the dawn of year -1, fate took me to the shadowed canopies of Kashyyyk. I was to aid the Blackscale Clan, a name that whispered of darkness and chains. It was a time shrouded in secrecy, my deeds there hidden from the galaxy's prying eyes. Only whispers remain of my service, a ghostly record of my existence—tales of a journey to Tatooine and a final return to Trandosha mark the sparse chapters of that era.
Back on Trandosha, life took a slower pace, but the call of duty never quieted. I found myself guarding precious cargo, jewels and stones that sparkled like the stars we sailed among. From Lorpfan to Varic, we traveled, ensuring the treasures of our world reached their destination unscathed. It was a quieter time, yet it bore the weight of responsibility, guarding the wealth of our planet with vigilant eyes.
Bounty Hunter's Alliance
For a spell, I vanished from the galactic scene, only to reemerge in Year 8 as the Bounty Hunters Alliance's Head of Hunts. Rumors floated about that I had left Trandosha post-discharge to dive back into the swoop bike racing circuits on Tatooine, hiding behind the alias "Raju Lucumba." Truth be told, the tales of my racing exploits might be more fiction than fact, a layer of mystery I've never felt compelled to clarify.
What's beyond dispute, however, is my frequent journeys to Cona, the beating heart of the BHA during those times. It was there, amidst the chaos of hunters and mercenaries, that I carved out my place, eventually rising to lead the hunts. Some whispered about my connections to a smuggling ring, ferrying salt across the stars to Cona. Let's just say, where there's smoke, there's usually a fire, and in the underbelly of the galaxy, I was often the one stoking the flames.
In the vast, unforgiving expanse of space, "Cirxis" became a byword for deadly efficiency and an ironclad dedication to the mission at hand. This notoriety opened gateways, attracting the eyes of those in power and securing missions that few dared undertake. One of the most pivotal moments came when I executed a contract on a comrade— exemplifying the brutal realities and sacrifices entwined with our creed.
This action, born from a rigid adherence to the code of the hunt—where contracts are sacred and the mission paramount—cast a long shadow over my path, shaping my reputation and my self-perception in profound ways. The incident forced a period of introspection, a reevaluation of the code I lived by and the cost of such a life. The realization that my actions severed more than just a target's life, but also a bond of kinship, marked a turning point. It became clear that living solely for the hunt, without regard for the deeper connections that bind the galaxy together, was a path leading to isolation and regret.
This moment of clarity did not come easily nor did it immediately alter the course of my journey. The galaxy, with its endless conflicts and shades of morality, rarely allows for simple redemption. However, it did instill a sense of purpose that extended beyond the next bounty. It awakened a recognition of the impact one individual can have on the lives of others, for better or worse, and the importance of choosing a legacy that contributes to the light rather than the darkness.
Luckily for me, I didn't have long to reflect on these thoughts as the BHA's tides shifted with the departure of long time leader Kataradanna, making way for Auron Drayer's short-lived tenure. It wasn't long before I, alongside Vadik Edik, stepped out from the shadows to steer the BHA's ship in Auron's absence. Leadership, however, is a double-edged sword. Auron's exit and Kataradanna's return marked the beginning of turbulent times for the Alliance. The trust was frayed, and under her leadership, the BHA faced decline.
Vadik and I, seeing the writing on the wall, conspired to right the ship, to steer the BHA back to its former glory. Trust, however, is a rare commodity in our line of work. Kataradanna, sensing the shift in the wind, aligned with The Damned, enlisting Banquo Knox to eliminate the threat we posed. It was a stark reminder that in the shadows of the galaxy, allegiances are as fleeting as the stars.
Assasination Attempt and Exile
The tale goes a bit like this: Banquo Knox, thinking he had the upper hand, was mere steps away from turning me into a footnote in some dusty galactic archive. He had the location of my ship, his intentions as clear as the Tatooine suns. But I've always been one step ahead, or at least I'd like to believe so. Instead of a grand confrontation or a dramatic space chase, I left him staring at the dust trails of a Koro II Airspeeder. That's the thing about being underestimated; it becomes your best weapon.
After giving Knox the slip, I didn't just disappear; I became the ghost many believed me to be. That year and a half of exile wasn't a retreat but a recalibration. The galaxy spun on, and amidst the silence, rumors about me thrived like weeds. They said I went back to Trandosha, slipping into the role of a mentor for the new bloods of the Elites, passing on the lessons learned not from textbooks, but from the gritty, unscripted drama of life itself.
Then there were whispers of Ashkrik, a name that echoed in the underground swoop racing circuits, a ghost racer tearing through the tracks, a shadow with my smile. And yes, amidst the stars, I found and lost a piece of my heart to Levis Morbus, a Kaminoan whose spirit was as vast as the oceans on her world. Our engagement was a whirlwind, the kind that sweeps you off your feet until reality pulls you back to the ground.
Coeus Ahlstedt and the Silhouette organization became unexpected chapters in my journey. Silhouette wasn't just any organization; it operated within the shadows of the galaxy, pulling strings that even the most astute players on the galactic stage were unaware of. Our missions were designed not just to impact the immediate, but to shape the course of events in a way that would only be understood in the fullness of time. My expertise in clandestine operations, honed through years of navigating the underworld and the bounty hunting sphere, found new purpose in Silhouette. I was involved in orchestrating high-level espionage missions that infiltrated the most secure facilities, extracting information that would shift the balance of power in subtle but significant ways. We dealt in secrets—the currency of power—and I became adept at uncovering and leveraging them to our advantage.
During my tenure with Silhouette, an operation was undertaken to erase my digital footprint from the Galactic archives—a task as complex as it was critical to the longevity of my career and the safety of those associated with me. This operation wasn't just about obliterating past records; it was a strategic move to cast a veil over my activities, allowing me to operate without the specter of my past actions painting a target on my back. The operation to purge my records was meticulously planned and executed with precision, a testament to Silhouette's capabilities. We infiltrated Imperial data centers, employing a combination of cyber warfare and physical sabotage to access and delete records. But deletion was only the first step; we also planted false trails and misinformation, creating a web of confusion that would lead anyone trying to track my past on a wild chase to nowhere.
The purging of my records from the galaxy symbolized a rebirth of sorts. No longer was I merely Cirxis, the mercenary with a checkered past; I became a ghost within the galaxy, untraceable, unbound by my previous deeds, and capable of influencing the galactic stage from the shadows. This operation was a declaration of my freedom from the chains of history, enabling me to write a new chapter on my own terms, one shrouded in secrecy and driven by the unseen forces that shape the destiny of the galaxy.
As for the dark whispers linking me to the untimely demises of certain high-profile figures during those years, well, the galaxy loves its mysteries, doesn't it? Whether I had a hand in them or was merely a specter at the feast, I'll let history decide.
Tion Hegemony, Black Sun, The Darklights, and The Cron Resurrection
By the time the galaxy's calendars marked Year 10, I had cast off the shadows once more, this time emerging under the colors of the Tion Hegemony. My arrival in Tion wasn't just a mere change of scenery; it was the beginning of a new chapter, one where I laid the foundations for the Tion Blackops Division. Under my command, this elite unit dove headfirst into the galaxy's darkest corners, playing crucial roles in conflicts like the war against Black Sun, the harrowing Darklight Crisis, and the Cron Conflict. Our efforts during these tumultuous times weren't just about survival; they were about ensuring the Hegemony's prosperity through strategic superiority and unwavering resolve.
The pinnacle of our endeavors came on the morning of Day 226, Year 11. It was then that I led a daring raid on Paul Cron's personal vessel. The operation was tense, fraught with the danger of the unknown and the very real threat posed by Cron and his followers. Yet, through a combination of meticulous planning and the sheer determination of my team, we overcame. The struggle, though brief, was intense, culminating in Cron's arrest and delivering a decisive victory to the Tion Hegemony. The conflict's end was a testament not only to our tactical acumen but to the indomitable spirit of those who fight not just with weapons, but with the conviction of their cause.
Following the resolution of the Cron Conflict, I made the difficult decision to step away from the Tion Hegemony. Leadership of the Black Ops division was passed to Talen Mordare, a capable warrior whose dedication and strategic mind promised to carry on the division's legacy. As for me, rumors swirled of my journey towards The Maw, a region shrouded in as much mystery as my own past. But in the life of a figure like me, the journey is never just about the destination—it's about the paths we choose, the battles we fight, and the legacies we leave behind in the endless expanse of the galaxy.
Life in the Outer Rim
In those untamed stretches of the Outer Rim, my tale took a turn that few could've predicted. It was there I came across the YV-666 that would come to be known as "Scorekeeper's Bounty." Now, the galaxy whispers all manner of stories about how that ship came into my possession. Some say it was taken by force, its previous crew meeting a grim fate at my hand. Others spin tales of a serendipitous discovery, a wrecked vessel on Biosh that I, with a bit of underworld savvy, brought back to fearsome life.
But it wasn't just about ships and spoils. My journey took a strategic turn when I aligned with Karl Korne, stepping into the role of Team Captain for the Cirbodyn Crusaders in the Colonial Shockball League. This move was more than a play for glory on the shockball field; it was a calculated step into the circles of power within the Zann Consortium under Karl's leadership.
Yet, my ambitions stretched beyond the confines of sports and allegiances. Joining the T’doshok Alliance and ascending to the head of House Blackscale wasn't just about power—it was about securing a foothold, establishing outposts and a fortress among the stars that would serve as my base of operations. My asteroid hideout, transformed into a palace among the void, was a statement: here stood Cirxis, a force to be reckoned with.
The crescendo of my time in the Outer Rim came with a bold move that would change the course of the Zann Consortium forever. Under my leadership, the entirety of Zann's riches and resources were redirected, funneled into my accounts through a web of underworld connections. Karl Korne, caught in the snare I had laid, found his empire crumbled beneath him. While some might decry such tactics, the galaxy breathed a sigh of relief. Among the voices of gratitude was none other than the renowned pirate, Teniel Djo, acknowledging a shift in the winds of power.
This chapter of my story, set against the backdrop of the Outer Rim's lawlessness, was not just about survival or accumulation of wealth. It was about establishing dominion, about crafting a legend from the shadows and debris of space. It was here, among the stars and the dark reaches, that Cirxis truly became a name known across the galaxy—not just as a mercenary or a captain, but as a master of the game, playing the long con for all it was worth.
Eidola and Mytaranor Slaving Council
The day I stood face to face with The Pirate Queen was a day of reckonings and new beginnings. It was on the rugged terrains of Marlavir that our fates intertwined, forging an alliance that would reshape the underbelly of the galaxy. In a ceremony steeped in tradition and watched by the eyes of the cosmos, the Mytaranor Slaving Council was passed into my hands, marking a new era under the watch of the Blackscale Slavers.
As the new head of the council, I breathed life back into the ancient practice of gladiatorial combat. The arenas on Alisandor and within the bustling city of Depatar on Marlavir roared to life once more, a testament to our power and a spectacle for the masses, echoing the brutal beauty of survival.
The galaxy, however, is a cauldron of unpredictability. By Year 12, Day 207, whispers of madness swept through the stars—Teniel Djo and other top brass of Eidola vanishing into the abyss of The Maw's black holes. It was during this tumultuous time that I found myself in a clandestine dialogue with Warlord Squall Chitose. The galaxy seemed to hold its breath as we pondered the void left by Teniel's audacious exit. Squall, with his vision unclouded by the chaos, assured me of the unbreakable nature of our alliance. "In the vacuum of space, our bond is the only certainty," he said, a statement that solidified our path forward.
Yet, not all was to remain shrouded in the machinations of power and alliances. I found myself, after years of lurking in the shadows, stepping into the dim light of a cantina. It was here, among the whispers of deals and the exchange of death sticks, that I openly embraced my role in the Mytaranor's slaving legacy. A bold move, perhaps foolish, that marked my return to the public eye after years of silence.
But the galaxy has a way of reminding you of the fragility of life and the greed that festers in the hearts of men. An assassination attempt, laughably inept yet stark in its intent, was a clear message. It was time for a change. With the weight of this realization, I chose to retreat once more into the shadows, passing the reins of the Mytaranor Slaving Council to the Hutt, Percilia Kajidic, as the year waned.
Racing Career
In the heart of Hutt Space, with the glare of the twin suns on my scales, I found myself at the helm of the YT-1760, the Scorekeeper's Champion, racing through the void in Krieg's Run's second season. It was a grueling competition, the kind that tests both pilot and ship to their limits. Emerging from a field of contenders, I managed to claim the fourth spot, a respectable finish that set the tone for what was to come.
I skipped the next race, biding my time, honing my skills, and preparing for a stronger comeback. True to my word, I returned to the fray, this time pushing harder, flying faster, and securing the third place. It was a sweet victory, one that tasted of redemption and promised more.
The anticipation was palpable by the time the fourth race rolled around. My fingers danced over the controls, my instincts sharper than ever. That race was a spectacle, a testament to my growth as a pilot. I flew like I was one with the ship, crossing the finish line a mere breath away from the leader, Tabty Haasza. Securing second place was a triumph, but it left me hungry for more.
Yet, fate had its twists. The Champions Race was a different beast. Despite my best efforts, technical gremlins and a temperamental hyperdrive hampered my performance, leaving me in fourth place. It was a humbling experience, a reminder that in the vastness of space, victory is never guaranteed.
Year 15 brought a new dawn, a new race, and with it, a new ship—the YT-510 Scorekeeper's Wings. With its controls beneath my hands, I felt a resurgence of purpose. That race, I soared past nebulae and asteroids, claiming second place in a blaze of glory.
The season's final champions race was a bittersweet affair. I clinched third place, a proud yet reflective moment. It was time.
With a heart full of memories and a legacy etched in the stars, I retired from the galactic stage, returning to the familiar landscapes of Lorpfan on Trandosha. There, amid the whispers of the past and the embrace of home, I found peace.
Tragedy and a New Life
In the following years, I found myself stepping into the limelight only on rare occasions, the most heart-wrenching being to bid farewell to Kilian Delmarco, in Year 17. My path took an unexpected turn in Year 18 when Loxis, my son, came into this galaxy, his mother a fierce warrior from the Blackscale ranks. Yet, fate dealt us a cruel hand when a Wookiee raid laid waste to my home early in Year 19, leaving me to mourn their loss.
Driven by restless spirits and seeking solace in the vastness of the Outer Rim. It was there, amidst the haze of taverns and the cacophony of starport cantinas, that Sofia Lizeth crossed my path. Together, we breathed life into KanjiKlub, a name that would come to mean many things to many people.
Our ambitions didn't stop at mercenary work; together, Sofia and I dreamed of a Spacer's Alliance, a beacon for those adrift in the galaxy’s cold expanse, offering services and security to those who could seldom afford it. Despite our efforts, the galaxy wasn't ready for such a vision, or perhaps we were too ahead of our time. The Alliance disbanded a year later, and I found myself stepping back into the shadows, a figure whispered about in tales and rumors, as the galaxy spun on without me.
From Shadows to Rebellion
My path to the Rebellion wasn't born out of a sudden epiphany or a dramatic turn of events. It was a gradual realization, a series of events that showed me the true face of the Empire and the suffering it caused across the galaxy. Throughout my life, I witnessed firsthand the tyranny of the Empire—worlds enslaved, freedoms stripped away, and lives mercilessly taken for the sake of order and control.
Initially, my involvement was purely professional; the Rebellion was another client, albeit one fighting for a cause rather than profit. We took jobs disrupting Imperial supply lines, rescuing prisoners, and gathering intelligence. Each mission pulled me deeper into the heart of the Rebellion, exposing me to the ideals and the spirit of those who fought not for credits but for freedom.
Joining the Rebellion was no easy transition. A mercenary's skills are honed for personal gain, not for a collective cause. But the principles I lived by, the codes of honor and loyalty that defined me, found a new purpose in the fight against the Empire.
It was with a chance encounter with a ghost of my past that things really began to turn in my mind. Vadik Edik, with his sharp wit and even sharper strategic mind, played a pivotal role in swaying my allegiance towards the Rebel cause. Our partnership, initially forged in the crucible of the Bounty Hunters Alliance, was built on mutual respect and a shared understanding of the galaxy's darker corners. Vadik, however, saw beyond the immediate horizon of profits and power plays. He recognized the growing tyranny of the Empire as not just a threat to our operations, but to the very fabric of freedom in the galaxy.
During our time leading the BHA, Vadik often spoke of the long-term implications of the Empire's rule. He argued that the suppression of freedom and the systematic destruction of entire cultures and planets would eventually leave no place for individuals or organizations like ours. "Today, it's them; tomorrow, it could be us," he'd say, underscoring the Empire's indiscriminate crush of dissent across the galaxy.
But Vadik did more than just appeal to my sense of justice; he laid out a strategic vision. He outlined how our skills and resources could be a linchpin in the Rebel's fight against the Empire. "Imagine the impact we could have," he mused, "not just as mercenaries for hire, but as champions of a cause greater than ourselves." Vadik understood the importance of our network, our knowledge of the underworld, and how it could be harnessed to undermine the Empire's operations.
It was Vadik's blend of pragmatic strategy and moral conviction that ultimately convinced me. He didn't just talk of joining the Rebellion as the right thing to do; he demonstrated that it was the smart play for the long term. In his view, aligning with the Rebellion was not just about fighting against the Empire but fighting for a galaxy where freedom and justice weren't just ideals, but realities for all its inhabitants.
Thus, with Vadik's encouragement and strategic foresight, my path veered towards the Rebel Alliance. It wasn't a decision made lightly, but with the understanding that the fight for freedom was also a fight for our own future. Vadik didn't just help convince me to join the Rebel cause; he helped me see it as the only course for those who valued freedom and justice.
Throughout my time with the Alliance, I've remained a shadowy figure, moving unseen and striking where the Empire least expects. Each operation, each mission served not only to weaken the Empire but to inspire hope across the galaxy—that the Rebellion was a force capable of challenging and eventually overcoming the darkness that had enveloped the stars.
In every action, every decision, I carried with me the lessons of my past, the wisdom of those who had guided me, and the determination to see a galaxy free from tyranny. My journey from a bounty hunter to a champion of the Rebel cause is a testament to the belief that anyone, no matter their past, can play a pivotal role in shaping the destiny of the galaxy.
Personal Effects
Throughout my journeys and countless skirmishes across the galaxy, my ships and my gear have been my steadfast companions, each with its own story etched in the scars of battle. The YV-666, known affectionately as "Scorekeeper's Bounty," and my prized racing vessels, the YT-1760 "Scorekeeper's Champion" and the YT-510 "Scorekeeper's Wings," have become symbols of my presence in the galaxy. These ships have carried me through the stars, from the darkest corners of the Outer Rim to the gleaming cities of the Core Worlds, each flight a testament to the spirit of adventure that drives me.
In the heyday of my career as a bounty hunter, the Valken-38 Carbine was an extension of my will, its blasts as true as my resolve. The dual DL-44s at my sides were not just tools of the trade but declarations of my readiness to face whatever dangers the galaxy threw my way. Yet, as the tides of conflict changed, so too did my arsenal. By late year 11, the A280 had become my weapon of choice, its reliability and power mirroring the evolution of my role in the galactic struggle.
As the leader of the Blackscale Clan, I found myself wielding a highly modified Nightstinger, a weapon that spoke to the subtlety and precision required in our clandestine operations. Its whisper-quiet shots were the heralds of justice in the shadows, a silent testament to our cause.
My attire, though seemingly simple, serves its purposes well. The brown hooded robe I often wear is more than mere fabric; it's a veil of anonymity in a galaxy where visibility can mean vulnerability. Beneath it, my earth-toned clothes provide comfort and mobility, essential for the life I lead. However, it was at the Champions Race award ceremony that I donned Imperial Royal Guard armor, a trophy of conquest and a symbol of irony, its origins shrouded in the same mystery that often surrounds my own past.
In the role of commander of the Blackscale mercenaries, I have been seen donning both the regal Imperial Royal Guard armor and Heavy Battle armor, each suit a declaration of my readiness to face the galaxy's myriad challenges head-on. Whether cloaked in the guise of the enemy or armored for open battle, my appearance has always been a statement of my philosophy: adaptability, readiness, and the element of surprise are the keys to survival and success in the vast and unpredictable galaxy we navigate.
