Name: Rando Outright
Appearance: One black circle tattoo on the top of each hand, another on the back of the neck near the top of the spinal cord. Brown hair, brown eyes.
Brief History: Hand-to-hand, archaic weapons specialist originally attached to Gerba's entourage of bodyguards. Medium-proffiency in firearms and small explosives with training from lead marksman in service to Gerba. Born and raised on Nar Shaddaa originally, began working for Gerba right after losing quite a bit of money in a sabaacc game.
Weapons: Partial to vibro-straight sword, carries blaster carbine. Himself. Mostly anything, including double shield and bench.
The bag struck the wall for the 30th time, the sound of the numerous metal balls rolling around inside rang for the 30th time. He stopped the bag with two hands, aware that although his hands were like Mandalorian iron his head was not. From there, he finished his morning workout, bathed- a habit most would ignore in the presence of a Hutt, he just had to though-, and finished dressing. Cumilating in tieing his sword belt, vibro-straight sword tucked in.
His room, unlike most, was very well furnished. Large enough to practice in unbothered. The cost had been paying for the renovation of two prison cells as well as the loss of a little face before his boss, or the stink of the Hutt Lord's dungeon, he had never decided. He carefully unlocked and opened the door, exited after locking it, however much good that would do.
He passed the dank cells, staying well away from the Trandoshan. He'd scarcely survived the reptile's first attempt to kill Gerba. Sidestepped past a guard being yelled at by a demanding prisoner, he chuckled under his breath, lucky his room was soundproof and he was never granted guard duty.
Eyes followed him, new eyes. Old burnt outs uncaring, personality lost somewhere, hidden in the stone walls.
"My, you're up late today. Thought you'd be excited, people will be dieing soon, You should get up earlier." The voice was bored, attempting to make him stop and talk. As it had been trying to do since the prisoner had gotten here.
He called himself Flying W, and no one knew why he was there. He merely appeared one day, in that cell, replacing its former inhabitant. Rando stopped exhasperated, W sighed in relief.
"Good, good. That's a fine start. Now we're finally going to talk."
"I should be in the audience chamber protecting my boss, make it quick."
Flying W laughed,"You're going to be sorry. For even waking up today."
Rando shrugged, ignoring the standard lunacy and proceeded to the lift. Not that Katray needed the help.