Ren is, despite being in his late thirties, a man who could pass for being in his early thirties. His brown hair sits in a scruffy style that didn’t obscure the vision too much of his sharp blue eyes and his goatee was groomed and trimmed, it’s length kept so that it wasn’t able to mess with any of the emergency facial gear he has to wear on occasion as the close combat specialist. He prefers a lightly armored duster be it on or off duty, though he does wear the standard issue duds underneath when he’s on duty. At six feet tall, Ren is not exactly small in build, but due to lanky legs and a good personal kinetic sense, he’s able to move quick and hit hard.
Off duty he wears a T-Shirt, tan pants and light boots, but he’s never without his twin blaster pistols.
Ren is often very indirect about what exactly happened that he was able to finally escape the clutches of the Smuggler’s Moon, often deflecting to get others to share their own stories. The only thing he will consistently admit to when he does share, however, is that it wasn’t pleasant. In fact, some of his fellow Scarlet Moon members think he sold his parents to the Hutts
The truth, however, is far worse.
Ren Jenterus was born to human parents of little import in a ramshackle slum near one of the docking areas for refugees. It was rough, ramshackle and when his parents were able to snatch up a shipping container, his father rigged it so that no one could get in it while the family slept. The owner of the nearby docking area was well off enough that he had hired mercenaries to try and keep the worst of the gangs out of the area and resolve disputes between the residents and for a few years, Ren was spared the worst of the nightmares of the Smuggler’s Moon’s underbelly.
However, shortly after his twelfth birthday, the mercenaries started finding empty storage containers, usually in groups of four or five, where families and couples had lived previously. At first, no one knew what was going on. There were minimal signs of struggle, no signs of forced opening, but plenty of taggings from a gang that had been trying for years to move in on the slum.
The dock owner directed a squad of his mercenaries to start investigating the gang and upped the patrols around the slum, but nothing changed.
In fact, two weeks later, the dock owner turned up dead and a Hutt by the name of Jerogo bought the place up. In days, what was a relative safe haven from Nar Shaddaa’s darkness became a terrifying part of it. It only took a few weeks for the gangs to establish their turf within the slum and the youth of Randen Slums were conscripted into the Gang Wars.
It was during this time that Ren picked up most of his experience in close-quarters and hand-to-hand fighting, starting with the most important rule of the underworld; never fight fair. If they’re bigger, you hit low. If they’re stronger, you aim for their weaknesses and if you can’t hit those, you make weaknesses.
His first real kill was not far from his home, in the middle of a brutal melee after he’d turned fifteen. The gang that had recruited him, the Roughnecks, had been forced back from the usual skirmish line by a surprise attack by a rival gang, led by a big old Gamorrean who called himself Lug. They’d retreated and Lug and his lackeys had given chase. Finally, they were forced to turn and fight, but by that point, the MA65 blaster rifles they usually used no good in each other’s personal bubbles and so out came the vibro-knives, swords and stun batons, among other melee weapons.
Ren’s job was to keep low and move fast, strike at the officers in any fight and take them out whether he blasted them or slit their throats with his vibro-knives. Even still, he found himself fighting more than usual, though the guys were usually redirected quickly in the mess.
After about fifteen minutes, it became clear that Lug had come in with only himself in charge and so he went for the pig. Ren ducked, dodged, and weaved as he ran towards where he’d last seen the fat bastard, fighting with three different members of the Roughnecks while swinging his vibro-axe and laughing wildly. Finding the carnage of such a fight wasn’t hard, the fat pig still laughing as he searched for his next opponent.
The young man attempted to oblige, but their first clash was brief as the Gammorean essentially caught Ren by his throat and threw him into the wall behind him. Struggling to his feet, he learned another rule of close quarters fighting that day as the Pig rushed him; you don’t have to be stronger than your opponent, just smarter.
He already knew he couldn’t out-strength the Gammorean, his encounter with the wall had showed him that, so instead, when Lug swung his ax down, he rolled between his legs and came up behind him, letting the ax bury itself in the wall while he plunged his knives into the oversized pig’s back and neck.
From there, he only climbed higher in the gang, but there was a sinister undertone to it, a look from his fellow members that didn’t sit well with him. Their boss, whom he had never met, sent them on one particular mission, struck directly at Jerogo himself. They blew up a warehouse of his that was of particular importance, had no problems as they took out the guards and planted the explosives. The entire time, Ren’s gut turned, a sense of unease eating at him even as it went up in flames.
The other kids that had been conscripted had eventually grown distant from their family, but Ren had gone to lengths to avoid that, even remaining in the same storage unit as them. He got home that night, and while his friends, if he could call them that, went on to party, he went home to discuss what had happened with his parents. The conversation had just started when their power cut and the doors were blown open. He remembered reaching for one of his pistols, his MA65 too far to reach, before a stun bolt flew in through the new opening and caught him in the chest.
When he woke up, it felt like it had been hours since he’d been stunned, but it had only been a few minutes. However, what he faced brought a terrified grimace to his face. Before him sat Jerogo, flanked by a group of Nikto, humans and Nautolans. There were no pleasantries, he cut straight to the point. Jerogo was hungry and he was a part of the raid that had blown up the Hutt’s warehouse. Either he got eaten or his parents did and he had thirty seconds to choose before they all died.
The choice was taken from him as his father said to take them despite Ren’s protests. The Hutt didn’t argue and Ren got to watch his parents eaten, whole, by a twisted monster of Nar Shaddaa’s depths. He was spared, knocked unconscious afterwards and dropped in the hold of a cargo freighter heading off world.
The next he awoke, he was on Kashyyk, an Imperial taskmaster poking and prodding him. His equipment had been left with a datapad bearing a cryptic note.
Someone on your crew wasn’t so loyal, Jenterus.
Rage blinded him and he lashed out at the taskmaster, slamming one of his knives into the man’s face and kicking him away before gathering up his few belongings and fleeing, heading for a spaceport in the distance. He wasn’t sure what to do, but he knew his skill set was highly coveted by many mercenary outfits and he had no desire to go back to Nar Shaddaa and fight against a member of arguably the most powerful Crime Family in the galaxy. So he headed out for the galaxy at large and started working. Over time, he would find himself working with far too many different aliens and while the work wasn’t unwelcome, he found not understanding what the Trandoshans were saying behind his back or the Wookies called him to his face to be unsettling and so he learned to understand them over the course of many payments and the tutelage of a protocol droid and it’s owner.
He joined the first outfit he could find and quickly regretted it as their anti-human sentiment became prominent. The Scarlet Moons had come highly recommended from one of the people he did a contract as a bodyguard for regularly in the Vexta System, said they had a high success rate and always had a use for new talent. As it quickly turned out for the young man, now coming up on thirty-two, the reason they always needed new talent was due in large part for the lack of concern for fresh meat.
He served as a Private for two year of hell, fighting on the flanks of the ground battles and holding the line as the enemy would begin to get too close for comfort for his squadmates, but a range he was more than at home with. However, it was during a boarding action that his talents got him noticed and promoted.
His squad had been hit hard after they’d boarded an enemy frigate, the security forces having set up a deadly crossfire at an intersection, cutting down the fireteam lead and squad leader along with the front line of the boarding team. Thinking fast, Ren got the surviving members into positions at the corners while he slipped into a side hall and worked his way around to the hallway his squad was pinned down at, but behind enemy lines. Raising the MA65 Blaster Carbine to his shoulder, it fires six times, a bolt taking down one man each as it found its mark.
With the enemy crossfire broken, the boarding parties in his part of the ship were able to break through and reach their objectives. He received special recognition for his work in breaking the crossfire and a special note had already been made of his exceptional close quarters combat skills.
Ren views the underworld as a whole as a shadow that should be burned away with every type of light any being can think of, but he also knows that someone like him would never do well as a cop or as a member of a regular military. His outlook on life is touch jaded with a heavy dose of morbid, but other than that, he tries hard to keep it...loosely happy. The result of such heavy anti-human sentiment in the Scarlet Moons should have only added to an anti-alien sentiment formed by the Hutt devouring his parents, but instead, he spends his free time trying to convince them that the Empire wasn’t the standard if he isn’t drilling newer recruits in CQC or hand-to-hand.
Member
soren,
Lurking Krog,
Dane,
Simply Not Real,
flat lovenote,
Cath,
Guardian Angel Haruki,
Xaltwind,
Shazamrock,
BrokenPromise
