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Rapier Squadron is Renegade Wing's Force Recon Element, composed mostly of pilots with strike or recon specialties. Rapier exclusively flies the Y-Wing starfighter, getting every bit of utility out of the surprisingly versatile platform for scouting and striking. Despite the relatively low-visibility nature of their missions, they do not hesitate to "go loud" if the objective requires it. The other Renegade squadrons may accumulate all of the public accolades, but without the keen eye of Rapier there would be fewer targets of opportunity for the Vigilant Task Force to take advantage of. Their motto is:

Thrust into the veil of darkness and cut it down

Wing Leadership resides in Renegade Wing Headquarters Element, Renegade Flight

Callsign Nickname Position Duties
Rapier Leader Sunny Squadron OC NPC
Rapier 2 Gramps   NPC
Rapier 3 Unassigned    
Rapier 4 Unassigned    
Rapier 5 Butcher Squadron XO NPC
Rapier 6 Unassigned  
Rapier 7 Duck   NPC
Rapier 8 Goose   NPC
Rapier 9 Pops Navigation Specialist NPC
Rapier 10 Mesh Comms Specialist NPC
Rapier 11 unassigned    
Rapier 12 unassigned    
Squadron Spacecraft

Rapier flies the Y-wing starfighter exclusively, but has a large cache of parts to modify ships depending on mission profile.

  • 12 Koensayr BTL-A4 Y-Wing Starfighters

 

Halls of Honor
  • Click here to see the honours awarded to members of the CRS Vigilant.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Captain Xun "Sunny" Brej

Officer Commanding Rapier Squadron

Currently assigned to Renegade Wing; Force Recon.
Attached to Nebulon-B Escort Frigate, Rehz'nor.

Technical Specialty Persuation and Negotiation
Combat Specialty Aggressive Strike Tactics
Side Arm Black Sun dual barrelled blaster
Favorite Beverage Alderaanian Vodka
Physical Description Falleen Female, 94 standard years old, 1.4 m tall and 68 kg. Blue eyes, black ponytail (bald otherwise), mottled green skin. Prominent skull ridges, though a scar runs across the ridge giving her an unintentional happy expression.

 

Bio:

Sunny was born to a rich clan on the planet Falleen. For generations, her family ran a successful research company with both military and civilian application. As a member of a successful clan, she was accustomed to the finer things that the galaxy had to offer, finding a taste for Alderaanian Vodka that would go on to skyrocket in value once the Empire destroyed the planet.

She was being groomed for a more prominent role in the family business when the Empire nationalized her family's company, as they had done with so many Falleen business interests before. Being able to turn a blind eye before since it didn't affect her lifestyle, she was now thrust into the uncomfortable waters that poverty provided.

Unlike many of the usurped Falleen ruling class that had fallen in with the unsavory gangs like the Black Sun or other criminal syndicates, she opted to take a more direct role in the conflict. She slipped past the Imperial blockade on her planet by posing as a slave being exported, one of the few forms of traffic the Imperials still allowed through the cordon.

Unfortunately, she was double-crossed by the slavers she had paid to smuggle her out, and was thrust into a life of harsh slavery at the hands of many cruel Imperial masters. Each master was well aware of the Falleen species' ability to influence others with their pheromones, and as such they either interacted with her ensconced in a gas mask or otherwise through layers of protective equipment to stop her pheromones from influencing them. One particularly cruel master had a penchant for cutting her if she displeased him, and left a deep scar across her brow ridge to make her seem always happy to see him.

After the Battle of Hoth, Sunny caught a break. During a routine transfer to another master, the being in charge of moving her had forgotten to wear a gas mask. Before anybody was the wiser, she had used her pheromones to convince her guard to escape with her in tow.

Once the two of them had made it to a remote port on the outer rim, she immediately killed the man. Her rage at the mistreatment she'd suffered for decades under Imperial slavery left the guard's corpse almost unrecognizable. The port authorities were convinced it was the result of a wild Nexu attack, as so much of the guard's insides were spread around the scene.

Finally free, she immediately sought out and fell in with a rebel cell. She used her pheromones to gain a leadership position, and waged a brutal war against any Imperial forces that wandered into her web. She wasn't proud of using her pheromones to get her way, but the way she saw it she had wasted years under the Imperial yoke as a pleasure slave, and she wasn't going to waste any time paying them back in spades.

By the time the Battle of Endor was fought, she had been in charge of this cell for more than a year. When the now New Republic began standardizing the armed forces throughout the galaxy, she was put in charge of a squadron with the specialty of waging vicious hit and run attacks on any Imperial forces they could find.

This mission profile was taxing on the maintenance capabilities of her squadron's support staff, however, and it quickly became clear that she needed to attach herself to a larger unit that had more pull with New Republic logistics. It just so happened that Renegade Wing was looking for a unit of her abilities, and they authorized the transfer for her and her pilots to make their way to the FRG Rehz'nor.

While nominally based on a frigate in the Vigilant Task Force, Sunny and her pilots are often far afield searching out and striking soft targets. When her squadron isn't out taking Imperial lives, she is generally alone in her quarters. She often doesn't trust herself around others, especially superior officers, as using her pheromones is second nature. Thankfully this isn't a problem when she's in the cockpit, which is why she prefers to keep her pilots busy as often as possible.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Flight Officer Gram "Gramps" Drisko

Rapier Two

Currently assigned to Renegade Wing; Force Recon.
Attached to Nebulon-B Escort Frigate, Rehz'nor.

Technical Specialty Supply Chain Ops and Heavy Machinery Operation
Combat Specialty Suppressing Fire
Side Arm Modified Light Repeating Blaster
Favorite Beverage Ugnaught Spit
Physical Description Male Ugnaught, 134 standard years old, 1.3 m tall and 85 kg. Typical porcine features with jowls covered in white hair, and menacing looking tusks.

 

Bio:

Gram is a wise old Ugnaught who has seen his share of the galaxy, and of war. He was part of the last clan living in the hospitable areas of Gentes when slavers came to round them and sell them off as laborers.

After flying around the galaxy, fixing odds and ends, and making things efficient, he was able to earn back his freedom. He had seen enough of the galaxy and just wished to live his life in peace. He made his way back to his home planet of Gentes and settled in the wastelands toughing out the inhospitable landscape as best he could.

His life of solitude was disrupted by a crash near his home, and as thanks for helping them repair their ship he was offered a job repairing shipping freighters. The man he had helped, Kordran Zann, was the owner of a fledgling shipping company, and he was very grateful. Gram realized he missed traveling the galaxy so he accepted.

Gram traveled all over the galaxy, and eventually began to captain the shipping freighters from port to port. He still preferred to tackle tough engineering challenges himself, but being at the controls of a spaceship was pretty exciting. Not only could he keep repairs of the growing fleet at peak efficiency, he was becoming a pretty fair pilot.

Gram was excited to join Kordran at their new platform orbiting Alderaan for the announcement of its grand opening. He was completely surprised however when part of the ceremony was about him. Kordran had never forgotten that day he and his family were saved by Gram. Joined by his family on holo screen, they offered Gram an opportunity to join the ownership team. Gram was shocked by his good fortune and now he was the one that was grateful.

The revelry was short lived however, as the Death Star exited hyperspace and caused a panic. Kordran and Gram jumped in the company shuttle to race to the planet to save his family, but it was no use. The green laser of the Death Star Super weapon snuffed out the planet in an instant, and it took all of Gram's instincts to get them to safety.

Kordran, in shock at the loss of his family and his planet, handed Gram the security cylinder containing all of the company secrets, and then killed himself in grief. Gram had gone from the most amazing experience in recent memory, to tragedy.

Gram enlisted the help of the Rebellion in exacting as much vengeance as he was able. He dissolved any and all employees from the company he had just recently become the owner of, and used each one of them as a weapon against the Empire. Most of them did not succeed in their mission, but the chaos they created might do some good.

The last offer he expected to accept was to enter another bloody conflict, but to some the Rebellion was a calling, and the only opportunity for Justice.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1st Lieutenant Komnay "Butcher" Malloc

Rapier Five - Rapier Executive Officer

Currently assigned to Renegade Wing; Force Recon.
Attached to Nebulon-B Escort Frigate, Rehz'nor.

Technical Specialty Sensor Augmentation
Combat Specialty Long-range Scouting
Side Arm Dethrain D-50
Favorite Beverage Devaronian Gin Fizz rimmed with Sulfur Salts
Physical Description Devaronian female, 34 standard years old. 1.6 m tall and 64 kg. White (bleached) shoulder-length hair, black eyes, and red-brown skin. Vestigial bumps on her forehead, pointy ears, and sharp teeth common with the females of her species, and ample freckling on her cheeks.

 

Bio:

Komnay had a typical upbringing on the planet Devaron. The matriarchal society meant that she was destined for a position within the government. It's not that the males of her species were barred from holding positions of power, rather they opted for a more mercurial life among the stars and planets of the galaxy.

Serving as a valued member of parliament that chaired a scientific sub-committee, she was well-versed in the scientific advances of the various companies and labs on her planet. She took a hands-off approach to oversight, which led to many positive contacts and relations amongst the scientific sector she was ostensibly in charge of keeping an eye on. There was talk of a populist movement to vote for her in the next planetary election for an even higher position with more authority, and she was excited to take on the challenge that a campaign for that position would require.

That all changed when her father, a military commander on her planet's home forces, executed his orders to the letter. The Imperials had pressed the Devaronian armed forces into rooting out rebel forces and sympathizers amongst their population. An enclave was discovered, and the Imperial squad that had found them was viciously cut down. The Imperial commander sent crystal clear orders: Intercept the fleeing Rebels, and do not leave any forces behind as guards for the captured Rebels. Executing his orders to the letter, he routed the Rebel resistance and rounded up all of the sympathizers, and executed them in a pen surrounded by his firing troopers. Immediately he was branded with the moniker "The Butcher", and he was suddenly an outcast, along with his entire family. He fled the planet immediately to avoid the misguided justice that was being aimed at him for following clear Imperial orders, and immediately melted into the dregs of the galaxy

Over the course of a day, Komnay's life was turned upside-down. She was suddenly relieved of all of her duties in the government, and suddenly couldn't even find work in the very sector she so adeptly managed previously. Her family was ridiculed and blackballed at every turn in Devaronian society. They were subjected to jeering calls and harassment bordering on death threats. More than once, somebody had sliced their home security and left notes calling for the heads of the Butcher's family.

They fled. And in their flight, they scraped together a meager existence. The xenophobic policies of the Imperial juggernaught meant that they had no semblance of the life they'd enjoyed at home. Komnay seethed more and more with each injustice she suffered. Her life had been taken away. Her future was now filled with a rumbling stomach and worry-lines brought on by the uncertainty of their existence.

Only by the grace of a rebel sympathizer was the worry lifted. They offered her sisters legitimate jobs, and her mother was given a comfortable residence. In return, Komnay agreed to join the Rebellion. This was her chance to bring the fight to the Empire, to exact righteous retribution for causing the downfall of her family name.

She was found to be quite adept at flying snubfighters, and found herself enjoying the exhilaration that the speed of the smaller ships could reach. She was vicious in her pursuit of Imperial targets, ruthlessly blowing them out of the sky whenever they were within her reach. It was so pronounced that her squadron leader called her "Butcher" to get her attention during a bout of bloodlust, and it snapped her out of the red-haze immediately.

Her embarrassment at how easily she fell into a murderous fugue state was immense, but there was also a swell of pride as she felt a stronger connection to her father. He was a murderer in hiding and she was a rebel, she supposed they were both war criminals now. How better to honor his betrayal at the hands of the Empire and her people than to take on the ignoble moniker bestowed upon him. Her bloodlust only increased at this, and her commander was quick to find a way to transfer her away from his unit. Sunny was all too pleased to snatch Butcher up and fold her into her squadron as her second in command.

When not in a cockpit, Butcher is a calming influence on those around her. Her warm, close-lipped smile is a welcome sight. If you see a sharp-toothed grin, however, be wary. She reserves that for beings she means to kill.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2nd Lieutenant Oran "Duck" Zapal

Rapier Seven

Currently assigned to Renegade Wing; Force Recon.
Attached to Nebulon-B Escort Frigate, Rehz'nor.

Technical Specialty Droid maintenance, slicing, and (some) stealth/infiltration
Combat Specialty Snub fighting and hand-to-hand combat
Side Arm Standard DH-17
Favorite Beverage Fuzzy Tauntaun
Physical Description Human male, 32, moderately athletic, Weight (77 kg), Height (6'0), messy taper hairstyle with thick but trim beard, red hair, caucasian skin color. Green eyes.

 

Bio:

Wise. Optimistic. Lucky. These are all qualities that Oran Zapal doesn't embody. Born and raised in the city of Pons Ora on Abafar, 1st Lieutenant Oran "Duck" Zapal's life has been anything but ordinary. Orphaned at the age of seven, he survived the streets of his homeworld, stealing and scrounging what he could to survive. He would have been headed for a life of crime had it not been for a chance encounter with Jana Cyone, an Outer Rim treasure hunter and smuggler. Taking pity on the young boy, she raised him and trained him to be a skilled pilot, slicer, mechanic, and oftentimes clumsy deckhand on her ship. The two had many adventures together, skillfully evading pirate gangs, Imperial patrols, and passing the odd inspection by Imperial forces.

One day, however, this all changed when a treasure hunt went bad. Hired to retrieve an artifact from a long-forgotten temple, they ran into members of the Crimson Dawn crime syndicate who were also pursuing the artifact. Jana Cyone was killed, and Oran barely escaped in his former master's ship with his life and the artifact. The Crimson Dawn thugs chased Oran half-way across the galaxy until the ship took significant damage near Nar Shaddaa. Forced to crash in a scrapyard, Oran was able to hide from his pursuers. It was here that he found the discarded remains of 9D-0, an R2-style ferry droid. Repairing the droid, the two became fast friends and set out to make a name for themselves while surviving the crime-ridden streets of Nar Shaddaa.

The two eventually secured jobs as pilots for an off-world mining company. While daily patrols were less than exciting, it provided ample flight time and opportunities for the two pilots to hone their skills and teamwork abilities. This would prove invaluable when one day, years later, the Empire attacked and took over the facility, citing illegal mining and criminal activities to justify doing so. Oran and 9D-0 knew better, but with little choice they were forced on the run again.

With nowhere to go and no love for the Empire, the two did what they could to survive. Playing at sabacc tables, frequenting bars, and taking odd jobs to scrounge up credits only worked for so long. Eventually, Oran became indebted to the Pyke Syndicate, and with no way to pay off his debts was forced to run again. Oran and 9D-0 evaded the Pyke's until they were cornered and captured on Kijimi. The two were spared only because of their wide array of skills, and spent two years working off Oran's debts under close guard.

Wanting nothing more to do with the Pyke's or a life of crime, Oran and 9D-0 set out to find a new purpose for themselves. Wandering the galaxy, it wasn't until they happened to be passing by the shattered moon of Bori that they picked up a distress signal. A small convoy of civilian cargo transports and luxury liners had come under attack by pirates. Outnumbered and outgunned, the two decided to do the right thing for once and stop running, hoping to buy the civilian craft enough time until local Imperial forces arrived.

Unfortunately, the Empire never came to the rescue. All hope seemed lost until a patrol of Rebel fighters from Diamond Squadron arrived to lend aid. Impressed by their flying ability - in Z-95s, no less - the squadron leader extended an offer for the two to join the growing Rebellion against the Empire once the pirates were driven away. Seeing an opportunity to do some good for once, Oran and 9D-0 accepted the offer.

Both were stationed at the outpost on the forest moon of Corvy, which was well-protected from Imperial patrols thanks to its extensive asteroid belt. Oran proved to be a natural fit for the band of rebels. He quickly rose through the training program there, mastering any starfighter he was trained in. This proved invaluable as he gained valuable flight time, skills, and sorties against the Empire. Eventually, he and 9D-0 transferred into Heart Squadron, the training squadron, and helped train new recruits alongside other squadron veterans. It was during this time met and befriended Andrew "Dobber" Dobson, showing him the ropes and teaching the young recruit a few tricks. It was here that he also earned his nickname "Duck" for his uncanny ability to hit his head on pipes, doorways, and while repairing his fighter craft.

Tragedy struck, however, when the squadron was ambushed by Imperial forces after a routine convoy raid. Had Blue Squadron not arrived to save the day, they wouldn't have survived the assault. While some of the survivors transferred into Blue Squadron, Oran and 9D-0 chose to remain and focus on serving the Rebellion as best they could elsewhere.

Oran may not have been part of the engagements at Scarif, Yavin, Hoth, or Endor, but his time in other campaigns has proven him more than capable of being a match for the Empire, and one of the few pilots to survive several years worth of fighting against Imperial rule to make the galaxy a better place.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2nd Lieutenant 9D-0 "Goose"

Rapier Eight

Currently assigned to Renegade Wing; Force Recon.
Attached to Nebulon-B Escort Frigate, Rehz'nor.

Technical Specialty Slicing, tracking, intel gathering
Combat Specialty Snubfighter Combat
Side Arm BlasTech light repeating blaster, various blaster rifles
Favorite Beverage Hot oil
Physical Description Ferry droid white body, orange trim.

 

Bio:

9D-0 is a master of keeping secrets. This is mainly due to the fact that while vital information has been stored deep in his data banks, his memory has been wiped so many times he doesn't remember it being put there, or who it belongs to. Once the property of a wealthy heiress, like so many of his kind 9D-0 was discarded when considered no longer to be of use when she married her fifth husband, who had a knack for hunting droids for sport.

It wasn't always like this for 9D-0. He remembers being activated from the assembly line, knowing his purpose in life. He served his various owners well, performing a variety of roles as needed without complaint. How could one complain or do anything about their situation with a restraining bolt attached to their frame, after all?

Years of disrepair and poor maintenance since being discarded have greatly affected 9D-0. While he tried to make a living on Nar Shadaa, credits were few and far between. Discrimination was also a common and everyday experience for him. Resigning himself to being nothing more than a walking bucket of bolts, rust slowly eating away at his body, 9D-0 accepted his fate and decided to spend the rest of his days in a local junkyard, switched off and rusting away.

It wasn't until he was discovered and reactivated by Oran Zapal that he found a new purpose in life. Oran helped repair 9D-0 to a working condition, going so far as to remove his restraining bolt permanently as part of the process. 9D-0 knows that Oran repaired and upgraded him for his own reasons, but the kindness and care that he has been shown lets him overlook this. Many who meet 9D-0 might simply consider him to be a walking bucket of bolts or a rustbucket who communicates with garbled hoots, honks, and beeps. But if it weren't for Oran, 9D-0 wouldn't be functioning. Friendship may be a foreign concept for most droids, but 9D-0 does consider Oran a true friend, and gladly accepted the nickname of "Goose".

Since meeting Oran, Goose has become a skilled pilot. The two are practically inseparable, and both share a deep bond. Goose may not always agree with Oran, but his loyalty to his friend is second-to-none. They also make a great team when flying together, and have saved each other countless times.

More than a few pilots and Rebellion personnel have given Goose strange looks. How couldn't they when they see an R2 ferry droid piloting an X-wing or Y-wing with its own astromech in the droid socket? It's all a bit metaphysical, of course - though it helps when your processor can calculate hyperspace jumps and combat tactics at a 0.07% faster rate than your average astromech anyway.

While Goose's life has improved, he still suffers from the occasional glitch. There are few humans or aliens he would outright trust other than Oran. Memory fragments also contribute to his unique personality, and one day he'd like to find answers to what these fragments mean - especially with why he has such a knack for the porg plushie he keeps in his cockpit, and how he is able to make the best gumbo this side of the galaxy despite not knowing what real food tastes like.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1st Lt. Gabon "Pops" Lucarr

Rapier Nine

Currently assigned to Renegade Wing; Force Recon.
Attached to Nebulon-B Escort Frigate, Rehz'nor.

Technical Specialty Astrogation and Hyperspace Routing
Combat Specialty Heavy Munitions
Side Arm Snub-nosed Blast Cannon
Favorite Beverage Tabanna Spice Whiskey
Physical Description Human male from Tusha Station (Widden's System), 48, heavy build, 110kg, 1.82m, brown eyes, salt and pepper thinning hair, tanned skin and disheveled beard.

 

Bio:

Gabon started flying long-haul freighters as the Clone Wars ended. At first it was a part-time job while he figured out what he was going to do with his life, but soon it became his life. His father was also a hauler, as was his mother, and his brother, and a whole lot of cousins too. Hauling was in his blood, though Gabon never really thought of it as a passion.

What he did love was solitude. Long months alone in a ship with nothing but his thoughts and his cargo made for easy living. At least, until the cargo started breathing. The Empire was 20 years into its prime and the Battle of Yavin a month away when Gabon was first ordered to take slave cargo to a detention center in the Core. Deciding he'd had enough of that, he took his cargo to a Rebel friendly outpost he'd shipped for and offloaded them there. He also signed up. Rebellions need haulers too.

For every hotshot pilot there are a hundred logistics guys, Gabon liked to say. When squadrons cut their teeth on escort missions, he was sweating it out as the sitting duck freighter pilot.

For five years he hauled everything under the sun and a few things that weren't for the Rebel Alliance. Then Endor happened and a lot of pilots died. They were offering a 'retread' program for experienced flyers who wanted a shot at a fighter slot. Gabon had had enough being a sitting duck, and was wanting to do a little shooting of his own. The Empire had done a lot of evil in its time, and he wanted a shot at making sure it didn't do that again.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2nd Lt. Rhones "Mesh" Orden

Rapier Ten

Currently assigned to Renegade Wing; Force Recon.
Attached to Nebulon-B Escort Frigate, Rehz'nor.

Technical Specialty Linguistics
Combat Specialty Aggressive Negotiation
Side Arm D-17 Blaster
Favorite Beverage Ale
Physical Description Human male, age 32. Black hair. Shaves, but infrequently. Gray eyes, darker skin, 1.8 meters in height.

 

Bio:

Rhones grew up near a spaceport on Brentaal IV. A child of very career focused merchants, Rhones found himself without much real supervision. He was fascinated by the variety of ships that passed through the spaceport. It wasn't long before he was sneaking around to get a closer look. As Rhones grew he started taking odd jobs around the spaceport. This eventually led to him working at a pub that he knew a lot of the freighter crews frequent. Soon Rhones was picking up other species' languages to help him communicate and to collect stories.

This love for stories, language, and history lead Rhones to want adventure. He signed on as a crew member of a freighter. A few years later he became a useful addition to the bridge as co-pilot and interpreter with outposts where basic wasn't the primary language. That love of languages also made him disgusted with the Empire and its treatment of other races. This was something he was quite vocal about, which got him into frequent trouble at Imp-friendly ports.

It also attracted the attention of the rebellion. A fulcrum agent offered him a role as interpreter for a cell. Rhones agreed, but quickly became enamored with the glamor of being one of the Alliance's starfighter pilots and transferred to a pilot training cadre. He cleared training with flying colors and is a solid pilot. Rhones was then assigned to a squadron as part of a cell that operated around Listehol in the outer rim where he's been since just before Endor.

Rhones is fairly easy-going and able (in most circumstances) to strike up a conversation with a number of species in their native languages. Languages and history are his passions and he can get very fixated on the minute details of both in conversation. His former squadmates joke that a 'good shake' will snap him out of it.