Warden of Selnesh
Althous Morvane
the Warden of Selnesh
the Warden of Selnesh
Dark Empire
Governor of Selnesh
Umbaran | Sangnir
Male
Average height
Average weight
Late seventies
Governor of Selnesh
Umbaran | Sangnir
Male
Average height
Average weight
Late seventies
Possessions
A vintage upsilon-class command shuttle
Various landspeeders
Duraplast plate inlay in clothing
A vintage upsilon-class command shuttle
Various landspeeders
Duraplast plate inlay in clothing
Attributes
Sangnir lowblood: Having been a sangnir for only a couple of decades, Althous possesses only the more rudimentary abilities of his elusive kin and is still in the process of acclimatizing to his new life.
Web of influence: Althous gained notoriety as an incredibly effective, but equally ruthless crisis specialist, being able to strategize and quell large-scale dissent. In the present day, through a few cells of blood-thralls he maintains an intricate web of influence.
Blacksite operator: A fanatic materialist, Althous lobbies for the simultaneous development of Selnesh into a haven for fringe science and a place to pursue the bleeding edge of imperial technology.
Umbaran heritage: On occasion, Althous has been able to pick up on otherwise ethereal tells in other people's demeanor, and since his vampiric rebirth, he can even sway the weak-willed.
Web of influence: Althous gained notoriety as an incredibly effective, but equally ruthless crisis specialist, being able to strategize and quell large-scale dissent. In the present day, through a few cells of blood-thralls he maintains an intricate web of influence.
Blacksite operator: A fanatic materialist, Althous lobbies for the simultaneous development of Selnesh into a haven for fringe science and a place to pursue the bleeding edge of imperial technology.
Umbaran heritage: On occasion, Althous has been able to pick up on otherwise ethereal tells in other people's demeanor, and since his vampiric rebirth, he can even sway the weak-willed.
History
Exiting the port under the dead sky of Selnesh, an imperial citizen makes his way through dirt roads and silent alleyways. His feet kick up colorless dust as the sight of the transportation complex fades behind him. His lips dry, and a strange toxic undertone slipping through his oxygen mask with every breath he takes.
He turns a shadowy corner and orients himself. An imperial patrol is seen in the far distance, disappearing into the dusk. A couple of hooded strangers pass by him on the street, with only a few stray animals breaking the depressive sight of the settlement's sprawling monochrome infrastructure. A sharp gust of wind ripples his cloak, dragging rock particulate in its wake. It hurts his eyes. He turns his back against the aerial current. Across the street, the dangling lights of a traveler's cantina flicker. Hushed whispers ripple over the patrons as the blast door snaps shut behind him; traders, imperials, a few collared miners in tattered clothes. The man makes his way to the bar and is swallowed up by the drilling electronica of the background, catching only snippets of the rumors that seem to revolve around one person in particular: the newest Warden of Selnesh.
Some say he doesn't even exist, others boast about seeing him even out on the streets, at or near the hive prisons that spread like a web upon the surface of the barren planet. The newcomer turns to the barkeep, a tall Duros, paler than usual. – Who is this new… warden, I hear about? – The barkeep's crimson eyes glimmer, but no answer. He serves another customer, then, leaning uncomfortably close to the transient man, repeats the tale he has told to many off-worlders. – Listen, if you don't know, then you're not supposed to know. – The bartender drags upon his cigarette, then blows the smoke out through his nose. – But a bit of info can keep you safe. The Warden maintains this penal colony through… - He gestures in the air, ash falling from the tip of his cigarette. – intermediaries. That's why everyone's a gossip these days. – He scoffs at the patrons. – The man is rarely seen, but be sure that he knows everything.
The Duros turns serious. – Our warden is the target of wild rumors for a reason. Don't start trouble on a prison planet. – Another drag of the cigarette highlights the contours of the Duros' slender face. - It's quiet around here, and that's because of his particular way of governance. Here, you are either an inmate, military, navy, corporate, or a passing outsider, like you. – The pale Duros leans back. Smoke rises from his mouth as he speaks. – This is the frontier of the Dark Empire, my friend. – The Duros barkeep turns his back on the man, making his way to attend other guests. Before his voice is overtaken by the industrial music, he bids his farewell from behind a sinister smile. – Don't get lost in the dark, off-worlder.
He turns a shadowy corner and orients himself. An imperial patrol is seen in the far distance, disappearing into the dusk. A couple of hooded strangers pass by him on the street, with only a few stray animals breaking the depressive sight of the settlement's sprawling monochrome infrastructure. A sharp gust of wind ripples his cloak, dragging rock particulate in its wake. It hurts his eyes. He turns his back against the aerial current. Across the street, the dangling lights of a traveler's cantina flicker. Hushed whispers ripple over the patrons as the blast door snaps shut behind him; traders, imperials, a few collared miners in tattered clothes. The man makes his way to the bar and is swallowed up by the drilling electronica of the background, catching only snippets of the rumors that seem to revolve around one person in particular: the newest Warden of Selnesh.
The Duros turns serious. – Our warden is the target of wild rumors for a reason. Don't start trouble on a prison planet. – Another drag of the cigarette highlights the contours of the Duros' slender face. - It's quiet around here, and that's because of his particular way of governance. Here, you are either an inmate, military, navy, corporate, or a passing outsider, like you. – The pale Duros leans back. Smoke rises from his mouth as he speaks. – This is the frontier of the Dark Empire, my friend. – The Duros barkeep turns his back on the man, making his way to attend other guests. Before his voice is overtaken by the industrial music, he bids his farewell from behind a sinister smile. – Don't get lost in the dark, off-worlder.
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