NAME: Hisashi Shinja
S H I N J A
ALLEGIANCE: The Confederacy
RANK: Knights Obsidian
FORCE SENSITIVE: Yes
P R I D E
Hisashi is no bound by honor or morals - when a directive is given, it is completed.
Hisashi has intimate knowledge of surviving in harsh environments.
Hisashi is adept in the arts of concealment, breaking, and entering.
Hisashi is particularly vulnerable to disease, poisons, toxins, and the like.
Hisashi's kit focuses on close-to-mid range engagements exclusively.
Hisashi is the apex of excessive, self-confidence.
V I P E R
He was never taught the reason why...
Every world is marred by the sting of battle. Every system reeks with the stench of death. Throughout life, mankind attempts to turn a blind eye to his vicious nature - but where at least two are gathered together, there is always strife. And from strife ignites the fires of war. Into such a world was Hisashi born: a moon caught within an inferno of battle. And, as it was with all war, the bloodshed was in the name of control. Lords clashed against one another using the poor and destitute as their swords. Those who could scarcely avoid starvation were pitted against each other whilst the nobles grew fat from their gains.
Hisashi was among many children born illegitimately to one such lord. The loathesome sod was the type of man who traded the basic means of survival - food, water, safety - in exchange for his pleasures. Hisashi's mother did what it took to continue breathing, and thus a son was born alongside many other. He and his siblings were not raised or reared with any care. They were looked upon as dogs, begging scraps from their father's table. They received no more mercy than those who blindly fought in the name of their sire. And thus, when Hisashi was scarcely able to utter his own name, it was decided that he would "earn his keep."
Like a dog...was abandoned on the corner. In time, his father took he and his brothers and set them before the feet of a sellsword who had long outstayed his welcome. The man was given a handsome bag of gold for his services and told to take the boys along for "training." They would "benefit" from experiencing what the world had to teach them - or at least, that was the lie that the lord gladly uttered. In truth, he was simply eliminating the number of dirty mouths at his table, for the wars would certainly devour them all. And if not the battles? Starvation surely would.
His sire was absolutely right. For the most part. When Hisashi turned away from his mother and left the palace gates, he was among a cadre of over fifteen siblings. He was the runt of them all. The youngest. The weakest. The most inexperienced in all things. And as a result, he was left behind when the sellsword took his elder brothers out to "earn their keep." The battles they fought saw them maimed. And, one by one, the brothers began to fall. In time, it was simply he and his siblings who too young to be of any use on the battlefield. And, one by one, the "liabilities" began to have accidents. The sellsword was not getting paid any further by the lord...and thus, he had no reason to care for their safety.
But, even for how young he was, Hisashi watched. He refused to go the way of his brothers. Refused to disappear in the middle of the night. Refused to fight and lose over the scraps of bread and meat that was thrown their way. Refused to end up like the endless corpses they stepped over in their travels. And thus, Hisashi tucked a knife into his robes and kept it close to his side. He, being so small, had a gift that his siblings simply could not master. He was quiet. He would wait until they awoke in the middle of evening to relieve themselves. Wait until they wandered away from the waning campfire and into a quiet corner of the woods. Wait until he could bury his knife in their side.
And in the morning, there was never a question. For death was simply a way of life. Between the hells of day and survival at night, Hisashi worked until he and the sellsword were the last two alive. But unlike his brothers, the mercenary was the furthest thing from ignorant. He was not blinded by fledging years and knew a murderer when he saw one. A small, quiet murderer who had no qualms about butchering his siblings for a piece of bread. The lord saw only a rabid animal begging for meat at his table...but the sellsword soon saw Hisashi as a dog. A pet to be trained.
As the years rolled ever forward, Hisashi became just what the sellsword desired. He would pose as a meek child and prey upon the mercies of men more moral than his sire. He would worm into their palaces. Move under the cover of night and leave open the way for his Master to emerge. Together, they would pillage. And for a time, they were satisfied with the modest gains they mustered. Enough that they could eat. Enough that they could purchase beds within towns away from the bloody fronts. But as the ambitions of lords continued to grow, there was soon nowhere that was not a stone's throw away from a battle.
Moreover, Hisashi grew. With each passing year, it became increasingly difficult to ply his innocent craft - for he began to resemble a man. And like a man, he was taught to take up the sword. Like a dog, he was trained to bite. He never forgot how to cling to the shadows. Never forgot how to breach the paltry locks wrought by the smiths or how to scale even the mightiest of walls. Hisashi became a true asset to his Master. And, together, they became an asset to yet another liege: Lord Shinja. It was by his word that Hisashi was dubbed his "Viper." And under his banner of his clan did they aide in many vicious battles.
But none was more...satisfying than the invasion of a palace that seemed vaguely familiar.
When night fell, Hisashi did as was his role. He ascended the palace walls and opened the way for his lord's forces. Yet each step felt surreal. It was not until fire began to consume the buildings that Hisashi realized this was where it all began. He was not filled with dread, remorse, or sorrow. But a need to get there first. As the cries of voices he had not heard in years filled his ears...Hisashi burst down the halls as quickly as his feet would carry them. Until he found exactly who he was looking for. And when he laid eyes on them...a genuine smile formed upon his face. He did not realize just how much he loathed the man who had sent him out into Hell. He did not realize it until all the memories flooded back. He remembered everything he had to do to survive - from smiting his brothers, to theft, to massacre. He remembered it all.
And with an arm outstretched, his wrath was exacted without so much as dirtying his blade. The universed acted for him - and by the Force was the man's neck ripped clean from his shoulders. Like most corrupt systems, when the head of the serpent was severed, the body crumbled soon thereafter. The day was theirs - but in the months that followed it became apparent that the sire had been escalating their way of life. The man responsible for Hisashi's existence sought to prolong his own by any means necessary, even going so far as to look to the stars for aide. He plead to the systems within earshot, painting himself to be innocent. A victim. And when the fires of battle consumed his palace, the response was slow...but absolute.
As Hisashi's new lord rested within the remains of his latest conquest, the heavens opened with literal fire. Warships had been dispatched from the Atrisian system to finally bring order to their neighboring system. In one, fell swoop they put to an end the savagery that had dominated the world for as long as Hisashi could remember. But. The dog would not tarry long enough to see the future Atrisia had in mind. Rather, he followed the lead of his master and hurried upon a transport of their own. They evaded fiery doom by the skin of their teeth - but as the ship roared into the depths of hyperspace, reality settled in. The Master did not emerge from the bombardment unscathed. Far from it. And as the light faded from his eyes, he gave Hisashi one final order; Survive.
And like any good mongrel, Hisashi obeyed. From one battleground to the next, from one Lord to the next, he roamed - and survived.