"I know those law books mean a lot to you, but not out here. Out here a man settles his own problems."
- Sheriff Amroth
Beyond the veil of civilized space lies the sprawling expanse of the Outer Rim Territories. A lawless, underdeveloped waste, travel from one system to the next can take anywhere from days to weeks or even months. The Outback is a great rift with whole gulfs of nothingness stretched between frontier border worlds and the occasional hermit empire or local confederation.
Our Coalition is a dream, but that dream only exists because of what good souls can do when pushed to the brink. Out here, there would be no justice at all if it weren't for a brave few. Some may call them vigilantes, others glorified bounty hunters, but we just call them...Judges.
Saints and sinners, puritans and rogues, there is no orthodoxy out here on the galaxy's edge. They don't care what guidelines you follow, as long as you do right by the people. They can teach you to swing a lightsaber, but ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side. A Judge's hand cannon is a sacred thing, some of the most legendary guns in the rim have been held by these lawmen, inheriting traditions from both the Wardens of the Sky and Grey Paladins.
We don't got many temples out here, there's no councils or high grandmasters or the like, a Judge finds his own students. If you look like you've got potential, you're taken on as a Deputy. Once a deputy proves they can walk their own beat and survive, they are made a Sheriff of the Rim and can take on apprentices of their own. Those sheriffs who prove that they got true grit become Marshals, the best of the best.
I suppose you could call them monks, but of a very different sort. They drink, they raise hell, and tend not to take vows of everlasting chastity. You're more like to see one in the cockpit of a junk freighter than behind the flight stick of a slick and polished Jedi ace starfighter. They prefer trench coats over drab robes, and the stun setting over tactful diplomacy. And yet they're always on the job, for out here in the wastelands there's a mystery around every corner.
Many worlds within Coalition space accept their authority, Judges have won the respect of the Kathol powers, Terminus, and the Squib to name but a few. But not every rock in the rim believes in our dream, and there are many places the hunted can run where a Judge has to contend with hostile natives to get to their mark. It's an impossible job, but someone's gotta do it.
Think you got what it takes?
