Working in 'spacefaring hospitality' (Flight attendant), he has traveled to many locales in this local arm of the galaxy. What he really wants to learn more about is himself.


Current HP: 53/59 Force Points: 9 Destiny: 3
Credits: 325
XP: 9900
Denjo Joora CL 4

Medium Human Jedi 4
Dark Side 13
Init +9; Senses Use the Force +13
Languages Basic, High Galactic

Defenses Ref 19 (flat-footed 15), Fort 15, Will 18
hp 51; Threshold 15

Speed 6 squares
Melee lightsaber 4 (2d82) or
Melee combat gloves 4 (1d83)
Ranged blaster pistol 1 (3d62)
Base Atk +4; Grp +6
Special Actions Cleanse Mind, Drain Knowledge, Gauge Force Potential, Illusion, Skilled Advisor
Force Powers Known (Use The Force +13) farseeing, Force disarm, Force lightning, Force slam, mind trick, move object, negate energy, vital transfer

Abilities Str 10, Dex 14, Con 10, Int 12, Wis 16, Cha 15
Talents Cleanse Mind, Clear Mind, Drain Knowledge, Force Perception, Gauge Force Potential, Illusion, Skilled Advisor, The Will to Resist, Visions
Feats Force Boon, Force Sensitive, Force Training (2), Martial Arts I, Martial Arts II, Skill Focus (Use the Force), Weapon Proficiency (advanced melee, lightsabers, simple)
Skills Acrobatics +9, Initiative +9, Knowledge (galactic lore) +8, Perception +5 (may Use the Force +13 instead), Use the Force +13 (may reroll to avoid detection by other Force users but must keep the result of the reroll even if worse)
Possessions blaster pistol, combat gloves with Ion Charger, cybernetic prosthesis, lightsaber with Cloaked


“My name is Denjo Joora, and one day soon I’ll be murdered for the content of this log.
I’ve begun to doubt my own sanity, and that’s the primary reason for this log. I used to dream of someday becoming a Jedi, never knowing that the reality of even being suspected as such might one day be tantamount to execution. Life’s kinda nigthmarish for me right now, because while I’m no Jedi I’m certain to be something close.
I was sixteen when it happened. AN order went out and Jedi across the galaxy were summarily murdered for their part in some kind of convoluted political coupe attempt. I was just a dockrat in one of Corellia’s more sanitary space dives. Of an age to leave the orhange when I finally had enough credits, Dead set on saving the money for a flight to Coruscant, I was sick to death of waiting on some iterant Jedi to finally wander across my corner of the system and discover my talent. And I knew I had talent from the get-go; I could always sense things from time to time—things hidden from others. I knew the Orphanage was corrupt by the time I was nine, and thus became an early hand at hiding my potential from those in power.
But that day the Emperor was attacked, the jedi were slaughtered, looking to become one suddenly seemed a bad idea and I became sick for weeks. These overpowering waves of pain and…something hot and sudden, full of anger and danger, festering like a wound….I can’t describe it all but the emotions tore me up inside. By the time I came to, stories were everywhere that the Jedi were dead or hiding, hunted, and something in the comments pulled me along, hit me with more waves of these conflicting emotions and incapacitated me for another two weeks. I had dreams of something dark, something gathering strength and seeking to blot out the destiny of hundreds of millions of stars. I mumbled in my sleep and realized I must be causing quite a scene.
I don’t know how long I might’ve needed to rest before recovery, but i felt a sudden need to be someplace else. I don’t know how I did it, but I ‘made’ myself better. Just kind of focused inward, and set everything right. Got a job as a gopher on a lovely little freightor called the Epoch, and trimmed sails for the Outer Rim.
Captain didn’t want me on at first, something about being untrained and all. I ‘pushed’ him and he agreed though. Don’t know if i can explain it better then that. Might be something related to the Old Jedi Mind Trick you hear about now and then. Well, I got on the ship anyway, and did just about every odd job you can imagine. Assisted in repairs, helped negotiate with clients, hauled in cargo, spoke with Port authorities, even a little ship medic now and again. I had to be real quiet and smart about it, but I could ‘make’ better if they weren’t too seriously injured, and my persuavsive capabilities kept us from getting docked more then once in the seven or eight years I spent with them.
I still get these feelings though, like on the day the Jedi died. here and there a big sense of pain or paranoia—like I’m being hunted—overcomes me and I get somewhat ill. Ditched the Epoch on Tattooine eight years in, just before the Captain took a job from some Hutt there and all sorts of nasty hit the crew. Was stranded there for a little over a year, though, and would occasionally meet this crazy hermit. Had some great conversations but always felt guarded, like he couldn’t trust me and I wasn’t about to trust him. Got a job finally on this here passenger liner touring around the galazy, and spent nearly a year on that beast. Hit a few planets and then headed in, dropping off half our tourists in Corellia before high-tailing it back to Coruscant.
Normally, Coruscant is the last place I want to be. Headquarters of the now deceased Jedi, home of the Emperor—you’d think all the heebie-jeebies would be warning me away. There’s a disease of fear I can nearly feel lingering all over the planet—even lightyears away. But there’s something else there, something calling me into that seat of Madness. I have no words. I may or may not have the force, but as we head towards Coruscant I can’t help but ask that it be with me.”


The Corellian Company penmagician