Vashira
Falleen · Pirate · Level 6
Identity
Ability scores
Saving throws
Skills
Weapons
| Name | Attack | Damage | Range |
|---|---|---|---|
| ●DC-17 Hand Blaster | +3 | 1d10 Energy | 50 ft |
| ●DH-23 Blaster Pistol | +3 | 1d10 Energy | 50 ft |
| ●Datadagger | +5 | 1d4 -1 Piercing | 5 ft |
| ●Blaster Pistol | +5 | 1d10 Energy | 50 ft |
| ●Unarmed Strike | +2 | 1 -1 bludgeoning | — |
Languages
Inventory
- Holoprojector (Personal) · 0.5 kg
- Bacta Pad×2 · 0.05 kg
- Multitool · 0.5 kg
- DC-17 Hand Blaster · 1.2 kg
- Tactical Mesh Vest · 6 kg
- Comlink Earpiece (Covert) · 0.05 kg
- Datadagger · 0.1 kg
- DH-23 Blaster Pistol · 1 kg
- Blaster Pistol · 1 kg
- Datapad (Advanced) · 0.5 kg
Backstory
Falleen age slowly, and Vashira had learned — across more than a century of quiet observation — that patience was not a virtue so much as a weapon. She had watched the Black Sun from the periphery since before most of its current lieutenants were born, mapping its fault lines the way a surgeon maps a body before the knife goes in. She did not hate them the way younger beings hated. Her hatred had calcified into something more useful: architecture. The night a Viggo's enforcers came to Clan Vashek on Falleen, she was offworld, running cargo through the Outer Rim — already half-exiled from her people, too cold and deliberate even for a species that valued composure. She learned what happened through a secondhand transmission, the kind that arrives twelve hours too late to be anything but grief. The official story, filtered through Black Sun's long reach, called it a disease containment action. Vashira knew what it was. A Viggo had decided her family's network of quiet influence had grown inconvenient and had solved that problem the way powerful men always solve inconvenient problems: completely. She did not return to Falleen. There was nothing to return to. The years that followed were not dramatic. They were deliberate. She worked the fringes of the Hutt Clans' trade routes, learning Huttese not from a tutor but from necessity, from negotiating cargo manifests at Nar Shaddaa docking bays while starving enough to make the lessons stick. She was not charming in the way people mean when they call someone charming — her Falleen pheromones opened doors that her bluntness would have otherwise slammed shut, and she learned to let them do their work while she watched and filed away everything she saw. She was not the smartest person in any room she entered. She knew this, and she used it, letting people explain things to her that they should have kept quiet. The Empire's rise scattered the old criminal order enough to create openings. When the Bothan Spynet began reaching for sources inside Black Sun's logistics network, Vashira was already there — not by accident. She had seeded the contact herself, feeding the Bothans precisely enough to make herself indispensable, not so much as to become a liability. Information moved in both directions. Black Sun's influence eroded in the sectors she touched. No one connected the threads to her. She had spent two centuries making sure there were no threads to connect. The *Patient Dividend* sits fuelled and crewed in a docking bay on the edge of Imperial space. The Viggo who signed the order against Clan Vashek still holds a seat. Vashira intends to take it — not through the front door, not loudly, but the way she has done everything: from so far back that by the time anyone understands what happened, the game is already over. She is not there yet. That is the only fact that still troubles her sleep.
Roleplaying notes
- **Deception as Architecture:** Your Expert Deception is not impulsive lying — when another character asks you a direct question, take a visible pause before answering, as though you are selecting which version of the truth to offer. Never lie when misdirection will do. - **Pheromone Leverage:** Falleen pheromones are a passive biological tool, not a personality trait — play your CHA 14 as controlled and deliberate rather than warm, letting others lean toward you while you remain measurably cooler than they expect. When it works, you notice; when it doesn't, you log the failure. - **The Long Count:** Before any plan is proposed at the table, privately decide what *you* want out of it three steps from now, not immediately — voice only the current step. Your WIS-1 means you sometimes miscalculate the human cost of the wait; let that surface occasionally as a blind spot, not a strength. - **Allies Are Assets, Not Friends:** You treat your crew with consistency and fairness because unreliable tools break at the worst moment — not out of warmth. If a party member pushes for emotional openness, deflect with a practical observation about the mission rather than a personal disclosure. - **Speech Pattern:** Speak in complete, unhurried sentences with no filler words — no "well", no "look", no "I mean". When you want something, state it once, clearly, and do not repeat yourself. Repetition, in your experience, signals desperation.