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IC Info

  • It takes a lot to kill a Barabel, and this one has shrugged off very nearly being cut in half.
  • There is nothing wrong with eating good meat, even if it's sentient meat. Besides, they're not using it anymore, are they?
  • Lying to Karr'roga is very possible - but it has the potential to go very sour. Barabel standards being what they are.
  • Karr'roga's form of The Art brings to bear the full experience of being hunted by a predator that will eat you, and many want others to suffer in their last moments: What better than to send a Barabel Assassin that will stalk like some watery beast?
  • Zhu Yan and Eriu Jynx must now navigate being around a Barabel that takes things very, very literally.
  • Does not like the ex-girlfriends of Liz'diot, and maybe-sorta wants to tear her insides outside and eat her face. Maybe.

"He is Barabel. They are hunters to the core. Made for it. Very strong, very tough. Bad bounties to take unless you have an extreme advantage or a crew that knows what they're doing." - Aja


Before the eyes is an immense Barabel male standing at 7'3" and 380.10 lbs. His scales are a dark green so deep as to be considered black, with hornlets growing from the tough exterior at odd intervals - leaving his shoulders and forearms with thick stubby spikes. The head is hairless, crocodillian in a way - the maw riddled with strong, terrifying teeth that promise to crunch, crush, rip and tear.

An ear-hole to ear-hole 'grin' displayed and when he speaks? There is a cacophony of hisses, and deep rumbles along with the subtle click of those teeth with each syllable. The prodigious strength and constitution of the Barabel People shows itself in the way this creature is built: Long arms that extend past the pelvis, a thick trunk of an abdomen, and musculature that almost makes the back look hunched - until it's revealed with any head motion that the shoulders are large and the neck seemingly swollen with that hidden power of the saurian bite. The face is a display of few emotions, but there is a cunning in those yellow eyes with their nictitating membranes and often slitted pupils. Careful study reveals that when the nose sniffs, so too do dozens of slits appear above the 'lips' - heat-sensing pits that win open with every inhale.

The fingers are thick, and end with strong black talons that at ful extension display a perfection of form and intent for ripping, stabbing, tearing. Moving down the trunk one can see that the musculature does not dwindle at all - but remains constant, and the blaster-fire marks of years ago still reside today across the Barabel hide that shrugged them off. The belly often smooth of hornlets, yet the back has a full display of them, down to the large, long, paddle-like tail that sways menacingly back and forth at nearly six feet long. The thick tail displaying fat stores, and it is then one gets to the feet to see this Barabel often goes barefoot - with bandages of some kind of leather as foot-wraps, and a set of talons that extend from each toe just as the fingertip. When irritated, the large toe often 'taps' on the ground, separate from the others to tap out the largest foot-talon like raptors of old.

Background - OOC unless learned ICly

Born upon Barab to a clutch of many, Karr'roga was born directly into a firefight and violence as his fathers protected the nest against egg-snatchers: Smugglers and hunters seeking the prize of a Barabel hatchling to ween into a terrifying fighting machine. Beneath the glare of the red star that the planet of Barab revolved around, Karr'roga was drenched in blood of soft-skins. His first meal? Still warm. It was this incident that is explained to 'mark' the Barabel as his caste, his profession, as a hunter and killer. The Mothers transported the blood-stained clutch directly to the coldest of their kind, those with the longest teeth, and patience. Training and raising was no longer the responsibility of family: But clan, and these new teachers. Teachers who taught about wading in water, about moving silently, and slowly, carefully. Of being patient...and striking once. Aggression was embraced. The teachers taught of the terrible and glorious might of the Cloud-Warriors, of their ferocity tempered by that killer's cold stare...and that they too, should harness this. Karr'roga's childhood was filled with the taste of blood. Of an affection for trophies from kills, and it started small - beasts of Barab, but when a crew of soft-skinned off worlders were found?

The Longest Fangs sent the blood-marked clutch forth as a test. A Proving. The night was quiet - until it wasn't. With primitive weapons and their own bodies, the blood-marked clutch brought down the crew: Crunching bone, tearing flesh, and drinking blood...but they had not expected, nor ever encountered the monstrosity that came forth from their ship: A batle droid. Rolling forth to decimate with terrible cannons, and though it lost two limbs it continued until the right moment - firing barbed nets.

Karr'roga was taken captive, and the automated systems fired off bringing him deep into the system. For weeks of travel the lone Barabel was alone on a ship, feeding on rats and whatever he could find, having broken free from the nets...it wasn't until the landing in a massive ship that he discovered what had occured: Taken prisoner by a pirate. Ravenous from the travel, yet his training with the Longest Fangs was now instinct. Patience...and they drew closer...patience...and they drew closer...remarks about his youth ignored. Patience...

...they mistook his immobility and patience as fear; and that was the day Karr'roga discovered that Quara hands are delicious - and his new master would learn to invest in a muzzle, or risk losing his own hand: Jagga was impressed by that patience, and thus began Karr'roga's life as a pirate's personal attack dog. A pit fighter. A terrible monster that made his friends, and enemies, focus on those teeth, the claws - rather than the credits and cargo Jagga himself moved around the systems.

A decade would pass, and the brash Chiss would forget the lesson of patience - and lose his life, instead of his hand. So would Karr'roga flee with his old master's head taken as a trophy, the skull cleaned and kept even today - persuing payment through the only profession he has ever known: Killing. Hunting.

  • The most significant event in Karr'roga's life would be his slavery to Jagga, the Chiss Pirate and master. His captor. His trainer. For through those ten years with Jagga, Karr'roga honed the Art that the Longest Fangs were teaching - and became a terribly effective killing instrument. But it was this decade of slavery, of being treated like a beast, a monster, an animal, that taught Karr'roga a truly cold patience: Sit for years, look like a log - strike once.
  • Karr'roga values freedom above anything else, but this is not something he can actually articulate. It's not a lack of intelligence, but simply a thing that cannot be spoken to many other species for Barabel are so close to that primordial brain, that to describe it, would be an act of enslavement: He values The Hunt, The Kill. These things are him, and he is them. Born marked with blood, born to make things bleed, born to be a Barabel! This, is Freedom. The freedom to kill, to feed, to live as his bones tell him is right. Secondly, a rare commodity in his life but an instinctual calling beyond something as simple as desire - loyalty. Barabel are said to be a territorial breed, and loyal beyond mere words. This internal demand for that loyalty is almost as powerful as his need to hunt and kill, which has left many would-be contractors dead in their attempts to double-cross. One's word is absolute, why else would one waste breath to speak it? Furthermore, Karr'roga values proficiency and self-reliance. There is nothing like The Hunt. The Kill. This value, this rush, the taste of The Kill is made only better by hunting greater, and greater prey - stronger prey, fiercer prey. Easy prey is not tasty. Easy prey fills the belly, but leaves this one empty: Not acceptable.
  • The goal of Karr'roga is currently to master his Art. For decades he has studied, and practiced, and honed his profession and Art with jobs, contracts, and the very act of survival - but to become a Longest Fang means to be like the mighty Cloud-Warriors, and strike like an unseen force. To move so quickly as to not seem to move at all, to strike so violently that rumors spread of his acts as if they could only be done through this force, and to sharpen his mind senses until it is like he can read minds. This goal aside? The most important is to find a nest. A swamp. A place that is 'safe', for living a life on the move is problematic to The Art.
  • Karr'roga currently moves planet to planet, system to system, following contracts and networks. Jobs. With no sense of where to go, or when, he is lead by his nose and stomach - taking each day as a new lesson, not aware he still suffers the marks of his slavery in unseen ways. It is through the stars then he travels with his favorite trophy: The Chiss Pirate, Jagga, rattling on his belt to the drums, screaming strings, growling words and roaring of the Barabel people.
  • Though Karr'roga is violent, there is a deep philosophy to each action and the very act of his living. He was raised on the Barabel-told stories of the Cloud-Warriors (Jedi) and thus aspires to their level of ferocity and terrible, rumor-inspiring power. He chases challenges and prey as a means to better himself, without understanding fully what that means. The scars of his slavery can be seen in how he takes almost all things literally: One does not waste breath saying a thing, unless they mean it, yeah? Say what you mean, mean what you say - and this has resulted in contracts often being messily completed. Why else would they say, 'I want his guts in a basket' if they did not mean it?

RP Hooks

  • Killer for Hire
  • Chef of Raw Delights
  • Philosopher of a Predator
  • Heavy Metal Is Barabel Love Sonnets
  • Morals-Not-Included