(http://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/bloodandhonor/images/7/7f/Kel_Dor.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20120511114908)<br/><br/>A  robed and hooded figure rose from his seat.  He was shorter than most of the people in the room and if the way his robe draped over his frame was any indication, he was slighter than most as well.  He pushed back his hood, revealing the eye shields and mask the Kel Dor were forced to wear when away from their home world if they wanted to breathe.  He gave the assembled group a respectful bow.<br/><br/>"My name is Shaa Raa," he said, his voice mechanical and emotionless due to the mask's vocoder.  "As you can see, I am from Dorin, although I haven't been home in a very long time.  I must thank you, Colonel, or whoever is responsible for the exquisite quarters that you have provided.  I've been wearing a breathing mask for so long I'd almost forgotten what it was like to not have it on.  The first night I slept here, I woke up in a panic, thinking I was suffocating."<br/><br/>He turned, his shielded eyes taking in the others in the room but no emotion was visible around the mask.  His gaze seemed to linger in places but never for too long.  "I suppose this is where I present a resume of why I am here.  My background is in trade, the legitimate kind rather than black market, although circumstances forced me to become familiar with that aspect of things as well.  I have been a pilot, navigator and a mechanic on freighters, I have literally gambled with my life as the stake and I have spent time staying alive through the scavenging and refurbishing of droids and personal vehicles.  I have known untold wealth, where anything I wanted was mine for the taking and utter abject poverty, where I could carry everything I owned on my back.  Having once been an honest, upstanding, law abiding citizen, I now find myself in a position where there is little I would not do to survive.  I will not ask you to walk a mile in my shoes before you judge me because, quite frankly, your opinion of me will have little bearing on my behaviour, just as I expect my opinion to have little affect on you.  I am also skilled in repairing the wounds I inflict.  If I were you, I wouldn't trust me to do more than stitch you up, although I will most likely try and persuade you to allow me to perform surgery, if only so I can remove any of your redundant organs to sell on the black market."<br/><br/>He held up a hand to forestall any protests.  "Kidding.  Most tales of organ theft are urban myth.  I'd need a full medical scan to determine if any of you were viable donors for the people on my waiting list."  He chuckled or at least that was what the noise his mask made could have been interpreted as.  "That joke sounds so much better without the mask.  That is me in a warra shell.  Anyone else want to take the stage, before I am reduced to singing or dancing?  Trust me, neither would be pretty."