DEAD
NAME: Brill
FACTION: The Moross Crusade
RANK: Furry Menace
SPECIES: Cantrosian
AGE: 23
SEX: Male
HEIGHT: 2' 8”
WEIGHT: 33lbs
EYES: Yellow
HAIR: Sandy fur
SKIN: You're not shaving me to find out, pal!
FORCE SENSITIVE: No
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STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES
[+] Slippery Bugger – Given his incredibly short stature in a galaxy full of behemoths Brill is extremely agile, nimble and annoying.
[+] Haphazard Chemist – While having no official qualifications if given the correct recipe and the right ingredients Brill can bake quite a cake*.
[+] Kitty Got Claws – Being a feline creature Brill of course possesses claws, which can afflict the mildly annoying Cantrosian-scratch fever.
[-] Amongst Giants – Being as small as he is Brill could very easily be stomped by about half the galaxy.
[-] Not a Real Chemist – With a lack of real training any devices that Brill makes has a fifty-fifty chance of not actually working and is subject to a dice roll. Given that this is his preferred method of combat, this can be a major downfall.
[-] Can't Swim – Please don't drown my sentient cat.
*CAUTION: NOT REAL CAKE!
APPEARANCE
The picture says it all. Big ears, bigger smile, regrettable piercing, could use a comb but good luck trying. Is often found slightly singed from playing with fire and chemicals. Generally he dresses in what comes in his size, even if that means donning a Jawa robe in times of desperation, although he is very rarely seen without his trademark pair of goggles. Sometimes there's food stuck in his fur, don't mention it, you'll embarrass him.
BIOGRAPHY
Like most of the Galaxy's uneducated mildly annoying creatures Brill hails from Tattooine.
Naturally his childhood was a charming story of street rats and pick-pockets with the Cantrosian being the perfect height to pilfer valuables from people's pockets. All-in-all it was an easy way to make credits and the childhood of the feline was not one of tragedy but rather hi-jinks and hilarity.
His adolescence brought the introduction of women, booze and gambling to him and he lapped it up like every lecherous cheeky chappy on the dust bowl tended to do.
On the side he and a few friends from his scampish childhood decided to set up a small shop for bits and bobs. Generally they tried to compete with the Jawas in scavenging but Brill really found his talents lay in tinkering, more specifically in the area of rudimentary bomb making, which they would then sell to unsavoury types at very low prices.
Unfortunately, a faulty batch of the home-made explosives meant that Brill found himself on the wrong side of a very minor swoop gang who proceeded to rough the little guy up, stuff him into a crate and sent him packing on a very long trip.
Where would the crate of mystery turn up?
*CAUTION: NOT REAL CAKE!
APPEARANCE
The picture says it all. Big ears, bigger smile, regrettable piercing, could use a comb but good luck trying. Is often found slightly singed from playing with fire and chemicals. Generally he dresses in what comes in his size, even if that means donning a Jawa robe in times of desperation, although he is very rarely seen without his trademark pair of goggles. Sometimes there's food stuck in his fur, don't mention it, you'll embarrass him.
BIOGRAPHY
Like most of the Galaxy's uneducated mildly annoying creatures Brill hails from Tattooine.
Naturally his childhood was a charming story of street rats and pick-pockets with the Cantrosian being the perfect height to pilfer valuables from people's pockets. All-in-all it was an easy way to make credits and the childhood of the feline was not one of tragedy but rather hi-jinks and hilarity.
His adolescence brought the introduction of women, booze and gambling to him and he lapped it up like every lecherous cheeky chappy on the dust bowl tended to do.
On the side he and a few friends from his scampish childhood decided to set up a small shop for bits and bobs. Generally they tried to compete with the Jawas in scavenging but Brill really found his talents lay in tinkering, more specifically in the area of rudimentary bomb making, which they would then sell to unsavoury types at very low prices.
Unfortunately, a faulty batch of the home-made explosives meant that Brill found himself on the wrong side of a very minor swoop gang who proceeded to rough the little guy up, stuff him into a crate and sent him packing on a very long trip.
Where would the crate of mystery turn up?
