"Man is a soldier, and life must be fought."
Robert Burns
-THEME-
BIOGRAPHY
BIRTH - EARLY ADULTHOOD
872-888 ABY
Born of two great Tuath clans, one of warriors, and the other of strong bardic heritage, high hopes had been bestowed on the Wild Child from the start. Just as they had on the lad's elder siblings, and though their higher standing in the line of succession assured every success in times of tragedy, that same hope was bestowed on the last, most-unexpected arrival to the Clan's ruling branch. The heroic father would accept nothing less of the clan's most-closely related sworn-sword in centuries, and for the first eight years of Raymond's life, it seemed as though the lad would be destined to fly off to the realm's capital planet, but then the Swarm coerced the Scar Hounds into waging war on the weakened armies of Imperium.
Cutting short all hope of endeavouring further-education and military service on Bastion's hard-fought surface, dashing the boy's prospects like deadwood on a coastal reef,
but the worst news of all would follow soon later.
The lad's father, one of the Empire's greatest-ever Generals by then, had perished in the successful defence of Nirauan, robbing Raymond of his paternal connection and all the chances of forming the last of his core-memories together. Imperium Defiant had lost their ever-persistent Champion, but for the son he left behind, the boy's everything had been lost to another Barran's blade; threatening the still-tentative peace between tribes, threatening the very sanity of the already-grieving widow, and much worse of a boy who was yet to know better than to blame a rogue's actions on the rest of the clan. Time would temper and draw focus from the fury eventually, but in morose, reluctant acceptance of living amidst the last years of Imperial-Galidraani dominance, the truth of the Lord-Chieftain's passing would only be admitted in small, explainable chunks, though only until the Wild Child was strong enough in mind to fully-accept the manner of his father's passing.
The Bloodhound was to blame, and his own brother had tried to avenge it.
Thus the lad's future, that very aspiration borne of his dreams, his everything would be set in stone; to win favourable peace in competitive scores kept with one Barran, and in the wake of his mother's long-overdue revelation, to reserve his fury in deathly-intent for the other. Not that the Wild Child would ever be given the chance to foster that hatred for long, as all the realms in former-Imperial space were fracturing, splitting off to schismatic, irrevocable extremes, and the realm of Galidraan had been left in a prime state for plucking. From the innermost, the Prime planet to Galidraan Station, eclipsing and consuming even III and IV, from Calavaran to Dunwaller, from Bramberite to the farthest north, the Tal dynasty was at the mercy of their new overlords.
And just as the Lord-Protector, Willan
"The Reclaimer", was, so too were the homeworlds of the Lord-Regent's native culture, as just like Calavar and Faslane, so too would Preston, Riordan Glen and Corcaigh Mhor alike. Robbing the promising youth of the Wild Child before it ever reached it's true zenith, the ever-doting mother was forced by fracturing Imperium to decide on her son's future, one that would assure the lad's survival in the Galaxy, but rightly worried that it might see him incarcerated someday. But considering the circumstances, and the heightened risks of execution by their homeworld's new overlords, the darling of a hero made a heroic choice of her own - calling on the help of Tuathan Reivers for the first time in almost a century.
Raiders, brigands, bastard-blooded rogues to the last, but they were loyal to the clan she married into, it only made sense to call upon vagabonds to redeem themselves in the eyes of the dead hero's kin.
BIOGRAPHY
THE SMUGGLING YEARS
888-896 ABY
Sticky on the way out, and sticky for more than a few weeks after they escaped the Galidraan star-system, the situation was less than ideal for the Riordan Cartel's maiden voyage; but they were all, and to each and every standing part of the embarking collective, still alive to tell the tale in their first eluding attempt to outrun their pursuers. Though as for the dinky, though-nimble fleet of ships they relied on for the task, most were barely functional by the time they reached Feriae Junction for repairs, fortunately still untouched by the boots of the Mandalorian Protectors at the time, though opportunists of every sort would be watching in predatory poise all the same.
It was here that Bounty Hunters would begin to pick up on the Cartel's trail, and though many would meet their peril in the hours, days, weeks and even the months that followed their departure from Feriae, others would follow proficiently enough to lose and pick up the same trail many times the course of the Riordan's nine-year run. However, one such agent of the authorities had proven his kindness of character enough to earn a rare comm-link interaction with the Wild Child, name-tagged as Calum Crichton at the time, though many knew that to be a deftly-crafted pseudonym from the start; and in this conversation lay a revealing truth of the Riordan's roots, giving the bounty's would-be collector more than enough insight on the motivations of the Cartel's young ringleader.
<"You ain't a gun-runner, kid. You're Imperials from Galidraan, and not a single one of us is fooled by your masquerading.... Go home, kid. The Galaxy's a different place now, no more dreams but those of dead men these days.">
<"What home? As thanks to fethwits like you - I have t'fight my way home now, understand? I AM WHAT THIS GALAXY MADE O' ME, WHAT FATE DEEMED TO BE MY PATH IN THIS LIFE!!!!">
It was clear that this way of life was, in no way, benefitting
,"Calum's", state of mind, but for all the stresses of the work the Riordan endeavoured together, young Crichton had not yet given in to the allure of Spice, and he had not gone through his experience without learning more than many a life-saving lesson. Not to mention the vital training and progression of skill in single and open combat alike, as his soon-to-be elite potential had saved more than enough of his Reivers along the way, but as soon as the Wild Child finally reached his physical peak, this is where the complications would begin to bear their rotten fruit. All their pursuing bounty-hunters predicted something like this would occur, but more and more complications of their own would befall their tracking efforts, and before the mystery could ever be uncovered, the damage would be done for gun-runner and bounty hunter alike.
Corellian Spice-dealers had been buying armoured speeders from the Riordan for a while, intended originally for use as technicals in a war between drug-syndicates, soon were ordered with new specifics in mind, by then placing delivery-orders at better premiums than they ever were before. Thus with new metallurgic composites came new possibilities, and in the understanding that these Corellians were the sort that made it difficult to refuse their demands, nothing else was said on the matter until a particularly grand drug-bust revealed exactly how much money these drug-dealers were making on Spice and Spice alone, a revelation of which forced the Riordan Cartel to discuss opening up their business acumen for one more marketable resource.
But unfortunately for the Tuathan Reivers - more money would only bring more problems as they continued to spiral into the metaphoric whirlpool of their own poor judgement.
With increasing reserves of currency for all who stood long-term with the Riordan, and with increasing reserves of products mechanical and powdered, it was only a matter of time before the latter would be traded for it's weight in the former, as necessity would soon call in demand for both. The gunslinging buyers, already seeing which way that wind was blowing, would accept ordnance in exchange for the Spice they had, by then, successfuly produced and sold for decades already, and in the following discovery of Crichton's late-blooming indulgence
(and his consequent addiction) to the drug these Corellian fiends knew better than anyone, smirks of satisfaction would be seen on the faces of the drug-dealers in every interaction that followed.
A process of which had been five years in the making, a process of which even the Corellians often admitted they encouraged in every aspect, not that Calum ever required much nudging in that regard, but what none would predict would be what caught up with the aligned smuggling-gangs in the end. For instance, only the Spice could motivate previously-passive pursuers to cast their lukewarm policies aside, whereas the rising number of dead rivals and bounty-hunters seemingly wasn't enough to light a fire beneath the longest-committing of pursuers, yet despite the situation spiralling with increasing momentum, the Wild Child somehow still managed to persist through four years of escalating, tumultuous evasion.
'Was it worth it, Crichton? If that even is your real name.'
'You will never know, Fett. But I had fun while it lasted, I'll admit that much.'
Predicaments the Tuaths would never have wished on anyone, not even on their ever-growing list of enemies, and all of which had come as a result of addiction to substance and lifestyle to equallng extremity, adventure that often followed a cadence that lacked rhyme, reason and rhythm alike. Throwing everyone and everything for a loop, and often throwing themselves in confusion in the midst of their slippery, swashbuckling leaps of faith; and by the time the best noses in the bounty-hunting industry had caught up with the Riordan Cartel, Crichton himself was already half-mad with sleepless delirium, intoxicated then on doses that would have killed the average man. Practically leaning into the newfound shackles in the end, it seemed as though the fight had finally left the rogue Tuaths, but the bounty-hunters would take no chances, only realising the real threats would be their own ilk after their first week of prisoner-transportation.
From the lawful end of the contrast to it's renegade opposite, the reward's grand payout could not be ignored, as there would be more than just the Galaxy's civilisations putting prices on Calum's head,
(and on those of his smuggling-gang) making it all the easier to pick off the surviving Riordan prisoners when they began to split off in headings to different Supermax-secure prisons, dropping like flies with their bounty-hunters often found among the dead. However, against the odds, some of the prisoners were able to reach the relative-safety of their would-be gaolers, as some of those embattled bounty-hunters were as handy with firearms as they were in tracking the Tuaths every step of the way.
Committed to the absolute disbandment of the Riordan Cartel, resolute in the process ending the gambler's run with lasting finality,
thus the Wild Child's fate was sealed.
BIOGRAPHY
PENAL SERVICE
896-898 ABY
Coruscant, incarcerated with all the best and all the worst of the Galactic Alliance's enemies, though fortunately for the Wild Child, his greatest living threat was still at large by then, far beyond the walls of the prison that would, one day, incarcerate the Bloodhound in turn. Thus all that remained to assail Calum by then were imprisoned former-rivals,
(often bought out for hit-jobs by the same Corellian Spice-Dealers he worked with before) ideological enemies and any random inmate who fancied himself a killer, no problem for a young, highly-confrontational Goidel of Crichton's sort.
But despite that first nine months of blending in with the jumpsuit masses, gears would eventually turn in the minds of the warden's highest-ranked staffers, looking for means to assure Calum's demise without being implicated in his death. As unlike the known, conventional dead-or-alive bounties of the Galactic Alliance, cartel green-light orders always remained, as death was the only outcome that earned a payout in underworld spheres of influence, and negation on suchlike promises would only be met with deathly, murderous responses. Such was life for proponents of organised crime in the Galaxy, but with prison-guards being held to these aforementioned deathly promises, there was only one option that denied all complicity in the eyes of their Coruscantine, Senatorial overlords, one choice to satisfy every element involved in the effort to discard of the Riordan's Don.
Reduce the Goidel's criminal threat-level from A to C+
Present the Goidel as low-risk to a passing penal-conscription PMC
Let war and ultraviolence achieve what shivs could not
With nothing but the clothes he wore when he arrived, and the sword his arresting-captor handed over with all the other effects, the Wild Child would find himself handed over to one Chairman Capaq just days before the turn of Galactic new year, contented enough to let
Scavenger PMC decide on how best to make use of the new fodder. But Capaq was smarter than the Coruscanti prison-warden, as unlike all who had seen Calum's sword before his penal transfer, the Chairman knew to keep his insight to himself in recognition of the Rapier's storied past, as such a blade could only belong to one family in particular. As like with all great deals, Capaq was never one to beef up pricetags before purchase, and like with all decent strategists, he wasn't about to reveal plans beyond the fodder-assumptions of the seller.
The old Chiss would laugh all the way to Scavenger PMC's next deployment, wheezing from the moment the Tuath was firmly out of the gaolers' grasp, as there was nothing that Calum's captors could do after the off-ramp of their ship was raised. Capaq had retained clearances for penal-conscription in many systems since the downfall of the Empire, and beyond the point of handover, there was no legal or safe way to renege on the transfer, nor were there any helpful precedents to protest the outcome at that point in time. All the prisons nearest to Coruscant were at the Chiss-born's mercy, and by the time the Wild Child had entered into his custody, their wardens had been suffering the Chairman's impunity for ten years already, resigned to biting back on their indignance for as long as Capaq enjoyed connected protections beyond those of a warden's meagre political standing.
'They call you Calum Crichton.... But Wasp was never wielded by anyone of that name, not in all it's unbroken tenure.... I know who, and what you are,"Calum", but rest assured your secret's safe with me. Or at least, for now, or for however long it might suit to keep my trap shut. You're a drug-smuggler after all, and I've often found your sort quite aggravating in the past - don't give me an excuse.'
On multiple occasions did Crichton give Capaq an excuse, but each and every time the old Chairman's patience was tested, the loss of a higher credit-payout would be seen like a prophetic vision of doom, discouraging the blue-skinned mercenary's deathly greed for the better part of a year before the next buyout offer came along. Fortunately for Calum, however, the next offer would be made by Imperials from Yinchorr, and these Imperials would take extra efforts to leave with the Goidel in tow, fated upon arrival to laugh with an impunity not-too-dissimilar to that of the Chairman. But until then, the Chiss and the Goidelic Human would need to tolerate each other, on and off deployment; though the tensions eventually simmered, it wouldn't be out of the norm to hear them screaming at each other in uniform, even during attacks on OPFOR positions.
Yet more was learned to improve combat prowess with the mercernaries than was learned in Calum's time-spent as a smuggler, and by the largest of contrasting margins, aided in no small part by the sword-sparring sessions between the Wild Child and the Chairman's highest-ranked subordinates. This would remain as a solution to the Tuath's hot-headed confrontationalism, and for the majority of Crichton's time among the warriors of Scavenger PMC, this progression would continue to improve at a quick, yet steady pace until Capaq himself finally decided to join the others in the sparring-yard, a change that would fatefully work to push Calum through yet-another ceiling of his own Kyber-less limitations.
And in all eight of the following sparring-yard bouts between Capaq and Crichton, that trained Combat Intuition
(often referred to as,"Warriors' Will", among conventional CQC experts) would find it's first signs of awakening at a higher, more-complex standard of self-inspiration. A cleaner fuel that catalysed his strongest sword-strikes, his mobility in lateral and countering movement, but most of all in it's transferable compatibility with Force-Wielding techniques, and in this same regard, Capaq had also grown in powered capability, perhaps even thinking the Tuath had made the Coruscantine purchase worth his while by then, likely giving reason for the Chairman's change of priorities by time they reached Korriban.
If the rest could be learned in battle against real opposition, then it stands to reason that the Goidel wouldn't be needed after aiding the Chiss-born's growth-trajectory so soundly, work endeavoured much too proficiently by continuity standards. However, unlike the Coruscanti gaolers, the Chairman had grown to like the Tuath-born rogue; appreciating Calum for all his help and faults alike, choosing not to treat him as fodder in the end, adhering to all his earlier promises after all.
The Chiss would later come to regret the choice, but beyond that ill-advised decision to sell his prisoner on to a high-payout faction,
the Chairman could never amass an army large enough to retrieve the smuggler from his new masters.
BIOGRAPHY
MILITARY SERVICE
898-902 ABY
After the Jackals bought out the remainder of Calum's penal-service conscription, Chairman Capaq would be left to his scavenging ways on Korriban without incident, thus freeing the Tuath in almost every sense of the verb, as the Wild Child's ankle-tag would need to remain legally locked for another three years after the last transfer.
And with it came a new change of name, an Anaxsi name.
Such was the norm for all non-Yinchorri initiates who joined the Jackals, thus in keeping in accordance with secrecy and Yinchorri integration-policy, the Wild Child's new official pseudonym would be
Raymond Juste Senée, fated to be the last of it's sort before the time was right to reclaim the name he was born with.
Establishing the Tuath's cover at the earliest possible opportunity, keeping in good clandestine form as had been expected of all Imperials of their sort before, and then after several doctored archives later, Raymond became blood-tied on paper to his new, commanding mentor. A promising Lieutenant of the same given surname, the one they called Martin also carried around that same intuitive potential, even sensing it in the newly-dubbed Raymond's presence in their first encounter on Korriban. Both were pushing beyond the threshold of Awakening,
(the realm of Combat Intuition that many describe as mythical) but both Martin and Raymond were still unsure what that really meant at the time, yet despite the inability to articulate or express what lay beyond that precipice, this strategically-drawn pairing ensured their chances of achieving what legendary exemplars achieved before them.
In the three years of legally-tagged deployment after his initiation, much in the way of preparation and attempts to Awaken has been endeavoured since, though after Yinchorr's downfall and exiled defection to the Empire of the Lost, most of the development in combat has been between Raymond and Martin in their sword-sparring. Drawing their focus away from developing their signature fighting forms for the time-being, though progression through the ranks is by no means a wasteful substitute of their time, so the Lieutenant and his Tuath-born bodyguard persevere for now, fortunately confirmed of merit in the Wild Child's unprecedented progression through the ranks since he joined. In that time, Martin would be able to focus more on his Force-Wielding abilities whilst finding a means to climb the commissioned ladder, leaving Raymond in the dust for the time-being - as such was life for
,"Brothers", following completely different
(convergent though they were) learning-trajectories at that point.
But in the months following defection to Kilran's Empire, and coincidentally at the turn of 902 ABY, these limitations of progress would quickly change for the Wild Child.
A new, fourth year with the Jackals would bring in a rapid change of circumstances, and not only for Raymond either; learning of Emperor Velran's dominion over Galidraan had assured more than just a chance to see his homeworld again, and with that, more than the chance for familial reunion. As there was a lightsabre waiting exactly where the Wild Child had left it, the Serennoan-Hilt with the Green Kyber set within, as much the key to Martin's growth as a warrior as it was to Raymond's own, knowing that retrievals of this magnitude always presented greater challenges for all opposition. Regardless of sparring, competitive or warlike disposition, regardless of motivation and power alike, this chance to practice in Force-Wielding disciplines would prove to be the one missing-piece in the duo's process of challenging their own limitations.
Commencing the meeting of convergent trajectories once more,
just in time for the next war.
This new overlord, this Empire of the Lost, held a chance for experience and prestige; and despite being beset on three sides by entirely differing factions, and despite the risk of discovery being heightened whilst being so close to home, the Senées had been relishing the opportunity from the moment Moff Bastion's so-called defection was made official. Caring little for whichever foe they would be facing first, disregarding the prospect of facing Coalition forces, Manadalorians and Sith alike, for all would be considered as separate, specific training-tools along the way, mere preparation for that glorious, all-encompassing future toward which both Raymond and Martin alike were striving already.
