If your not a pirate, or part of the Rogue Sector's fledgling military, odds are your keeping your head down in United Earth Empire territory. Welcome to the Rogue Sector, a chaotic faction of half alliances made in poor faith between the power hungry and the wicked. Odds are you had a bounty on your head before you fled to this lose coalition of desperate alliances. you did something that made it so you can never go home, and whether you believe that the Rogue Sector's vision of a galaxy outside of the empire's rule is just, or if this is a marriage of convenience, you do what the Council of Enigma dictates, either it be directly, or by some other loyalties you hold, such as to a ship's captain or one of the independent sub factions of the Rogue Sector.
Are you the young Cassandra Anderson, the 19 year old revolutionary. You may be naive but you are also passionate about the Rouge Sector cause. You are ready to liberate the galaxy from what you see as a tyrannical empire by any means necessary, and has jumped at every chance to help the cause. Armed with a light space craft, the Crossflare X-22, your most recent mission is to run the quarantine blockade around TF-J3FF, land, and recover classified cargo from a crashed Rogue Sector ship. Your 165 cm (5'5") and built thick, with wide hips, D cup breasts, and a few extra pounds you can't seem to shed. Your still plenty capable and an exemplary marksman. You have bronze skin, your hair is short, black, and spiked up, and your facial features are sharp, with almond eyes, a pointed chin and high cheek bones.
Are you the infamous Captain Herbert 'Hand Grenade' Davies. At the age of 60 with all of your original parts, your an infamous pirate captain that hasn't slowed down in the slightest. You rely on chemical cocktails to keep up with your youngest crew members, but when doped up your wealth of experience makes you formidable gunfighter, an expert duelist, a brilliant strategist, and just mad enough to become a legend. Your famous the galaxy over for your seemingly impossible victory at the Battle Of Wutig, your daring game of chicken with a solar flare now called a Solar Davies maneuver, has sent ripples through the Empire, completely changing the formations they deploy around any stellar mass. Your ship is just as legendary as you, an old cargo frigate refitted to become the the dreaded 'Gravity Behemoth' named after your weaponized artificial gravity generators that dot the outside of the vessel to effectively grapple your targets and redirect munitions. Your ship was untouchable until mere moments ago, when you were baited into battle just above the quarantine zone in what is officially Operation Endless Night, but historians will remember it as 'Hand Grenades Last Stand'. You don't know that, and after you survive an attack from a devastating new Imperial weapon, your forced onto the planet below to effect repairs on the Gravity Behemoth. Forced to chose a location fast you aim for Black Water Enclave, a strange island with a great big crater filled with an odd substance that emits high levels of radiation that should shield your ship from detection,though it will likely be hazardous to your health, but between death by radiation, and losing to some Empire weapon, you'd rather choke on your own blood than give them the glory. Your 180 cm (5'11") and built like a truck, though you have to keep jamming needles in your arm to keep your strength up. A side effect of being constantly pumped full of performance enhancing drugs is your face looks like death. Your dark skin is pulled tight over your skull, and your eyes have turned completely grey, though your eyes still function, but only when your doped up, and hair is but a distant memory, being one of the first things to go.
Of course, you could be here for some other reason
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