Ka'tra carries herself with a quiet, confident demeanor. She is not cocky, but gives the impression of someone who has had earned many credits in the school of hard knocks. Her name is Mandalorian for "Night of Pain". Although not born to Mandalorian parents, she was raised by them, for reasons she rarely discloses. She has a distinct hatred for slavers. Although gentle and soft-spoken, she is a cold-blooded killer when she wants or needs to be.
| 2 | 4 | 2 | 2 | 2 | 2 |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| BRAWN | AGILITY | INTELLECT | CUNNING | WILLPOWER | PRESENCE |
| 3 | 12 | 12 | 1/1 |
|---|---|---|---|
| SOAK VALUE | W. THRESHOLD | S. THRESHOLD | M/R DEFENSE |
Skills: Deception 1, Gunnery 1, Perception 2, Pilot (Planetary) 2, Ranged (Heavy) 2, Skulduggery 1, Stealth 1, Vigilance 1.
Talents: None.
Abilities: None.
Equipment: Blaster rifle with forearm grip, telescopic optical sight, and weapon sling (Ranged (Heavy); Damage 9; Critical 3; Range Long; Stun setting), shock gloves (Brawl; Damage +0;, Critical 5; Stun 3) scanner goggles, comlink, utility belt.
Career: Bounty Hunter.
Specializations: Assassin.
Credits: 164
XP: 0 unspent / 110 total
Ka'tra b'Aaray intro script
| Bzzzzzz. Feevo pressed the button for the second time and waited. He shrugged it off. He knew Typho never answered his door alarm on the first buzz. It was his way of letting people know that he was a busy man, and his work came before the needs of any individual. Feevo knew he would have to buzz a third time before Typho would consider answering. Feevo had worked for Typho for nearly one year. He was a young, cocky Rodian who envisioned himself with more import and reputation than he actually owned. He was no beginner, but he was not a veteran of the trade, either. His "confidence" was really just a facade he used to hide the insecurities he still retained. He wanted to be a big name with a big reputation, but hadn't earned it yet. At least, not in the minds of anyone but himself. He settled back against the wall, waiting for Typho to open the door. Soon, a viewscreen came to life, and Typho's face appeared. "Who is it?" Typho asked, his voice carrying a tone that implied he really didn't care. "Feevo," replied the Rodian in his native dialect. "You wanted to see me." Typho understood many languages, and Rodian was one of them. He had no need for a protocol droid to translate for him. "Yeah. I do," responded Typho. "Come in." The thick, blast-resistant, triple panelled door made clunking sounds as the various locks disengaged, and slowly opened just wide enough for Feevo to enter. Typho's office was more secure than some of the vaults the Banking Clan used to contain their mass amounts of currency and valuables. If anyone wanted to get into Typho's office, it was going to take some serious ordnance to do so. Feevo entered the office, and the vault door closed and locked loudly behind him. Typho was seated at a desk about 15 meters away. Feevo knew there was a small arsenal of weapons stored under that desk, and most of them were pointing more or less in his direction. Typho never took chances. Feevo pretended not to care, and acted in a way to give the impression that this was a normal, daily routine for him to visit The Boss, which it most definitely wasn't. But Feevo was hot stuff, or so he felt. He was cool when others were nervous. He played the part almost convincingly. Feevo passed the tables stacked with files full of old and yellowing flimsies, piled high under dim yellow sodium lights. Typho's office was like a shrine to centuries past. It appeared low-tech, dark, and dusty--like something out of an archaeological holodocumentary on ancient races. But for Typho, form followed function. He had a firm belief that electronic information could be sliced and stolen. Hard copy--flimsies, fax sheets--they could not, and thus, for Typho, were the best way to keep information you didn't want others getting ahold of. Typho sat in the dim, smokey yellow light, an exotic cigar still smoldering in an ashtray on his desk. Feevo approached the large lacquered desk and seated himself in a chair positioned opposite Typho, one meter away from his desk. "What can I do for you, boss?" Feevo asked in an informal voice. feigning a level of comfort and camaraderie with Typho that did not exist. Typho stared at him for a moment, revealing nothing by his expression. He shook his head briefly and looked down at some papers on his desk. "I've got a little job for you," replied Typho. His tone was all business. Feevo smiled. He thought of himself as big-time, and was convinced The Boss would think that, too, eventually, and give him a special job of his own. Doing jobs for Typho personally was a big deal. Most people got messages that explained what he wanted done. Few, however, were called into his presence and offered contracts. Feevo's already bold ego grew even more as he listened. "No problem," Feevo answered, acting nonchalant, like it didn't matter how hard the job was, it was not going to be a challenge for him. "What would you like me to do?" Typho could see right through the Rodian's fake bravado. He didn't care. The "job" he had for Feevo meant very little, if anything, to Typho. He could care less how the Rodian felt about it. Typho reached over and picked up an aging folder and set it on the desk in front of Feevo. There was little in it--a few fax sheets and a couple of flimsies. This caught Feevo off guard a bit, as Typho was well known for the large amounts of intel and information normally contained in his job files. Whatever he had for Feevo to do, he didn't have a lot of information on the subject. Feevo's ego immediately translated this to mean it was a tough job, and he was being entrusted with it. "Her name is Ka'tra." Typho spoke as if he was giving an intel briefing before a major operation. Feevo was immediately excited by the tone things had taken. Finally, he thought. He's given me a mark. A mark was the term for an assassination mission. When Typho wanted someone...neutralized...he would issue a mark. Feevo knew this was his big chance. He had finally entered the upper tier of operatives for Typho. He was being given a mark. Typho continued, oblivious to Feevo's thoughts, because he didn't really give a pile of poodoo what the Rodian was thinking. "Very little is known about her," he added, "and some think she's just a myth." "And you want me to eliminate her." Feevo responded, cutting Typho off in mid-explanation. Typho paused and looked at the Rodian. His facial expression indicated that he was not happy to be interrupted. After a few moments of silence, Typho picked up the file, set it in a pile off to the side, then sat back in his bantha leather chair, picked up his cigar, and took a long puff before blowing smoke into a large cloud over his desk. "Do you know a Trandoshan named Slyssk?" he asked, as if he was changing the subject. Typho was annoyed with the cocky Rodian, and wasn't going to waste time trying to be thorough and professional with him. "Yes. Yes, I do," replied Feevo. "I worked for him a bit before I came to work for you." "Yeah," Typho said, nodding his head. "You did." Feevo detected something odd in Typho's tone, but wasn't sure what it was. "Have you heard from him recently?" Typho asked, sounding as if he already knew what the answer may be. "Not for a while," Feevo said. "He didn't bother stay in contact once I started working for you." "Sure," replied Typho. "That's one way to think of it." Feevo was starting to feel confused. Obviously, Typho knew something he didn't. Despite the fact, the Rodian maintained his cool facade and acted as if nothing bothered him. "Why do you ask?" questioned Feevo. He wasn't sure where this was going. Maybe this Ka'tra had contracted Typho to have Slyssk eliminated. Feevo was starting to put together a picture in his mind of what was happening. "Slyssk was found three days ago on Tatooine," Typho answered, taking a long puff from his cigar. "What was he doing there?" asked Feevo. "He'd gone there on 'business' about a months ago," replied Typho. "He spent most of that time dying." Feevo's eyebrows raised. Typho could easily read the surprise on his face. "Someone who didn't like him has a good working knowledge of Trandoshan anatomy. Slyssk spent nearly four weeks abandoned in the desert. I could go in to detail if you really want me to, but in essence, he spent that time feeling more pain and suffering than he could ever imagine possible. I showed the report to one of my Trandoshan associates, and he puked while reading it. You know what it's like when one of those lizards loses their worms all over your office?" Typho didn't give Feevo time to reply. "You're free to read it, though, if you want. It's got pictures, too, if you aren't the reading type.' Feevo was squirming in his chair. He clearly had no interest in seeing the report. He sat and thought for a few moments, trying to figure out what Typho was getting at. "Then, was it this Ka'tra person that killed him?" he asked. "And why?" "The evidence leads to the conclusion that it was indeed Ka'tra. I won't bore you with the details, though," Typho responded. He leaned forward and rested his arms on his desk. "As for why.....well, let's just say that it was nothing personal. She'd never even met him. You could say she had a strong 'disagreement' with his chosen profession." Typho paused and smoked his cigar for a moment. "She apparently has a dislike for anyone in that business." He sat back again and stared at Feevo, waiting for the young Rodian to connect the proverbial dots. Feevo didn't. "So. Someone wants you to find her and kill her, and that's where I come in, huh?" he said. "I'm sure I can take care of this problem." Feevo leaned back, attempting to project confidence and cool. Typho sighed and shook his head. "Look kid, I don't think you get it," Typho pointed at Feevo with his cigar. "This lady is dangerous. Slyssk was a warrior. He was a lot tougher than you, and she still took him out, and not by luck. But the point I'm trying to make here is that she really does not like people involved in Slyssk's line of work. She's clearly got a chip on her shoulder if she was willing to take the time and effort to ensure that Slyssk died slowly and painfully. Someone that dedicated and thorough is probably bantha poodoo crazy, and I wouldn't be surprised if she is hunting down everyone who worked for Slyssk. Including you." Typho went back to his cigar and let him think about it. Feevo sat in silence, his Rodian features betraying apprehension, despite his attempts to hide it. Typho sat in a small cloud of cigar smoke, dimly illuminated by the yellow lamps. After some reflection, Feevo spoke. "I see," he said, gesturing with his hand as if it was a casual response. "You want me to lay low for a while until this blows over?" Typho nodded his head in sarcastic agreement. "Yeah. Why don't you lie low for a while. That sounds like a good plan. I'll be in touch when I think she's not looking for you anymore. I'll find you some more work and you can start back at it." Inwardly, Typho was shaking his head at the ignorance of the green humanoid sitting across from him. The quicker he left, the happier Typho would be. But, the Rodian remained seated, as if he was expecting more conversation. "Got it?" Typho asked. "The sooner you get going, the better. And I mean SOONER." Feevo seemed to catch that part. "Well, okay then," he stood slowly, and stepped away from the desk. "You'll know how to find me, then?" "Yeah, I do," said Typho. He knew all right. He'd be "notified" of where to "find" Feevo. He was sure of that. "Well, I'll get on my way and lay low for a while," Feevo said. Typho nodded and gestured toward the door with his cigar. "You do that," he said. Feevo turned and walked back to the entrance. The thick security door opened for him, and he stepped out. As it closed, the door must have had some sort of malfunction, giving off a wailing screech as it shut. Feevo thought about how it reminded him of the legend of banshees, and the scream they allegedly made before claiming their victims. A week later, Feevo heard another such screeching sound while gazing at the night sky above a little known backwater planet. A month after that, the impossible pain and suffering that had lasted four long weeks came to an end, as did Feevo. |
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