M O B I U S
PROFILE
- Age: Early Twenties
- Species: Human, Kraljica
- Gender: Male
- Height: 6'0"
- Weight: 190 lbs
- Force Sensitive: Yes
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION
Seth Denko carries himself with the effortless confidence of a man who’s survived both ballroom scrutiny and back-alley brawls. He’s striking in the way trouble tends to be—tall, broad-shouldered, and built like someone who grew up throwing punches more often than raising glasses. With sun-kissed blond hair that falls just past his ears and sharp, sea-glass eyes that rarely betray what he’s thinking, there’s a rugged nobility to him that feels just as at home in a Royal Naboo Navy uniform as it does in worn boots and a spacer’s jacket. Off duty, he favors comfortable civvies with a roguish edge, but when studying with the Shiraya, he adopts a leaner, more disciplined Jedi garb—simple, functional, and always ready for a fight.
INVENTORY
- Pending
PERSONALITY AND BELIEFS
Seth Denko is a man caught between two worlds and all too aware of it. Raised in the quiet shadow of high society but hardened in the streets of Nar Shaddaa, he’s learned to wear charm like armor and keep his fists sharp just in case. He doesn’t speak in flowery philosophy or the platitudes of politicians—he believes in action, in loyalty earned, and in doing what needs to be done when others hesitate. The Force, to him, isn’t some mystic religion; it’s a compass—flawed, maybe, but better than flying blind. He distrusts grandeur, despises hypocrisy, and has little patience for those who mistake status for strength. At his core, Seth is a survivor with a knight’s heart—rough around the edges, sure, but with a quiet code he’ll bleed for if it comes to it.
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES
- + Brawler's Instinct: Years on Nar Shaddaa didn’t just teach Seth how to fight—they taught him when. In bar fights, street corners, or tight quarters, he has a visceral sense of how people move before they move. He can read aggression in posture, feel a setup coming, and use dirty, practical tactics to win even against stronger opponents. In close-quarters combat, especially unarmed or improvised, Seth is a serious threat.
. - + Smuggler’s Stamina: Transporting wine through sketchy Southern Systems and dodging pirates taught Seth how to pilot through chaos—and stay alert for hours on end. He can handle long flights, sleepless nights, and high-stress situations without losing his edge. In tense operations or prolonged missions, Seth tends to outlast more refined or sheltered counterparts.
. - - Unrefined Force Control: Though trained by his father and now learning with the Shiraya, Seth's Force abilities are raw and largely self-taught. He lacks the fine control or advanced technique of traditionally-trained Jedi. In a pinch, he can lift or shove, but subtle uses of the Force (like mind tricks or complex sensing) often fail him or backfire. Against more disciplined Force users, he’s easy to outmaneuver in that regard.
. - - Divided Reputation: Being the illegitimate son of a noble and someone who openly fraternized with smugglers, thugs, and spacers means Seth doesn’t enjoy universal respect. In royal circles, there are whispers about his bloodline and conduct; in underworld dealings, some still see him as a rich kid playing at being rough. Depending on the setting, he may face distrust, scorn, or sabotage from those who don’t buy into his dual identity.
HISTORY
There’s nothing tidy about how Seth Denko came into the world.
He was the secret — the whispered name tucked behind silken curtains and locked doors. Born the illegitimate child of Abel Denko, his very existence was an inconvenience. His mother, a woman of standing within Naboo’s glittering high society, did everything she could to shield her son from the vultures of reputation and rumor. And for a time, it worked. Seth spent his childhood in the countryside, far from the noble courts and their saber-edged smiles. The days were slow, the air clean, and the silence of his exile was softened only by the warmth of his mother’s affection.
But secrets have a half-life. They linger. Decay. Erode.
When his mother fell gravely ill during his teenage years, the illusion shattered. Facing the possibility of death—and terrified of leaving her son unarmed against a world of gilded cruelty—she sent for the one man she'd hoped Seth would never need: his father.
Abel Denko was many things. A former drifter from Nar Shaddaa. A self-made rogue who clawed his way into legitimacy. And now, the reluctant Lord of House Denko, returning to Naboo to manage the family’s lucrative Skywind Reserve operations. On paper, he was nobility. In reality, he was still Nar Shaddaa through and through—blunt, abrasive, and completely unimpressed by titles or manners.
Father and son met under a roof thick with tension. Seth, polished by a silver-spoon upbringing. Abel, gruff and weathered by a galaxy that didn’t care for pleasantries. Their early bond was less a relationship and more a storm. Arguments came often. Tempers flared. Yet behind the fire was a spark neither of them could deny—something shared. Something real.
So Abel made a decision. If his son was going to survive this galaxy, he’d need more than a noble name.
He needed teeth.
That’s how Seth found himself living on Nar Shaddaa—cutting his teeth on back-alley deals, navigating smokey cantinas and rough company, and learning the kind of survival you don’t pick up in private schools. Abel taught him the Force, sure, but he also taught him how to read a room, how to spot a grift, and how to hit hard when talking failed. Nar Shaddaa wasn’t gentle, but it sharpened him. And in the grit and grind, Seth found something his old life never gave him:
Freedom.
He found joy behind the controls of a ship—hauling crates of vintage across the Southern Systems, running supply runs in rustbuckets with more duct tape than dignity. It was thankless work, barely glamorous, and rarely legal. But it was his.
Still, he wanted more. Something with purpose. Something that didn’t taste like dust and disappointment.
That something came in the form of a recruiter, smooth-talking and sharp-suited, during a stopover back on Naboo. The pitch was all starbursts and glory—service in the Royal Naboo Navy, prestige, adventure, a future that meant something. Seth didn’t hesitate. He signed before the man could finish his sentence.
Now?
Seth Denko serves as a rookie pilot in Naboo’s finest. Still green. Still finding his footing. But the Force is with him. His instincts are sharp. And with a cockpit under him and the stars ahead, the young lord—illegitimate or not—finally feels like the galaxy is his to carve a name in.
No more secrets. No more shadows.
Just a Denko. And his story.
He was the secret — the whispered name tucked behind silken curtains and locked doors. Born the illegitimate child of Abel Denko, his very existence was an inconvenience. His mother, a woman of standing within Naboo’s glittering high society, did everything she could to shield her son from the vultures of reputation and rumor. And for a time, it worked. Seth spent his childhood in the countryside, far from the noble courts and their saber-edged smiles. The days were slow, the air clean, and the silence of his exile was softened only by the warmth of his mother’s affection.
But secrets have a half-life. They linger. Decay. Erode.
When his mother fell gravely ill during his teenage years, the illusion shattered. Facing the possibility of death—and terrified of leaving her son unarmed against a world of gilded cruelty—she sent for the one man she'd hoped Seth would never need: his father.
Abel Denko was many things. A former drifter from Nar Shaddaa. A self-made rogue who clawed his way into legitimacy. And now, the reluctant Lord of House Denko, returning to Naboo to manage the family’s lucrative Skywind Reserve operations. On paper, he was nobility. In reality, he was still Nar Shaddaa through and through—blunt, abrasive, and completely unimpressed by titles or manners.
Father and son met under a roof thick with tension. Seth, polished by a silver-spoon upbringing. Abel, gruff and weathered by a galaxy that didn’t care for pleasantries. Their early bond was less a relationship and more a storm. Arguments came often. Tempers flared. Yet behind the fire was a spark neither of them could deny—something shared. Something real.
So Abel made a decision. If his son was going to survive this galaxy, he’d need more than a noble name.
He needed teeth.
That’s how Seth found himself living on Nar Shaddaa—cutting his teeth on back-alley deals, navigating smokey cantinas and rough company, and learning the kind of survival you don’t pick up in private schools. Abel taught him the Force, sure, but he also taught him how to read a room, how to spot a grift, and how to hit hard when talking failed. Nar Shaddaa wasn’t gentle, but it sharpened him. And in the grit and grind, Seth found something his old life never gave him:
Freedom.
He found joy behind the controls of a ship—hauling crates of vintage across the Southern Systems, running supply runs in rustbuckets with more duct tape than dignity. It was thankless work, barely glamorous, and rarely legal. But it was his.
Still, he wanted more. Something with purpose. Something that didn’t taste like dust and disappointment.
That something came in the form of a recruiter, smooth-talking and sharp-suited, during a stopover back on Naboo. The pitch was all starbursts and glory—service in the Royal Naboo Navy, prestige, adventure, a future that meant something. Seth didn’t hesitate. He signed before the man could finish his sentence.
Now?
Seth Denko serves as a rookie pilot in Naboo’s finest. Still green. Still finding his footing. But the Force is with him. His instincts are sharp. And with a cockpit under him and the stars ahead, the young lord—illegitimate or not—finally feels like the galaxy is his to carve a name in.
No more secrets. No more shadows.
Just a Denko. And his story.