<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/qh8hBhV.jpg)</div><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Pantoriana Lelajan Kestrel</span></strong><br/><strong>Race:</strong>Human(ish)<br/><strong>Background:</strong>Born to a formerly noble house on Serenno, the home of the notorious Count Dooku, rebellion came naturally to Pan Kestrel. The disgraced and oppressed population of the former Confederacy was the first to be crushed by the new Empire, and none more swiftly and completely than that of its once-capitol. Stripped of its wealth and standing, Serenno society disintegrated rapidly… on the surface. Beneath its roiling poverty ran a network of informants and suppliers that survived the Clone War, and one that formed an ironic early backbone of what would one day be the Alliance to Restore the Republic.<br/><br/>Pan began her personal rebellion as a runner. As a youth, she ran information, literally running on foot from one covert to another, armed with nothing but her wits. As her renown among the local cells grew, so did the responsibilities with which she was trusted. By the time she was sixteen, she was running guns, droids, and people. Her travels eventually brought her into contact with reviled extremist Saw Gerrera, who wooed her into his way of thinking with his clarity of vision and decisive action, two aspects she had found quite lacking in many of the Rebel cells across the galaxy. The Partisans took her in, not letting on immediately that they only wanted her for her connections. Pan’s time with them was blissfully violent and violently short. A job on Felucia went fantastically wrong, devolving into a white-knuckle shootout with Imperial contractors in a city center. Pan was caught in the spray of one of Saw’s own acid detonators; the pain was so extreme that she blacked out almost instantly from shock, assuming she was dead.<br/><br/>Weeks later, Pan awoke, and found out that she had only<em>mostly</em>died. Her limbs and most of her torso had been slagged beyond recognition, but enough of her had survived that a back alley cyberneticist had been able to slot her head and remaining organs into a discarded human replica droid body. By all appearances, she was human, but was now possessed of the strength and speed of an assassin droid… if she could learn how to manage it. The “doctor” claimed the work had been paid for by the man who dropped her off, and she walked out free of connection, but full of rage, in search of the nearest Rebel cell.