They were never meant to survive - let alone find something worth living for.In the shadowed underbelly of the galaxy, trust is a currency few can afford.Ti’ad Davah, a fugitive with a forgotten name and Jedi past, has spent years surviving by her own rules. Her loyalty belongs to no one - until a failed spice deal binds her fate to Sykho Arai, a cold yet calculating Pyke enforcer with his own demons to bury. What begins as uneasy cooperation soon forges an unbreakable bond, tested by blood, betrayal, and the ruthless politics of the underworld.As power shifts and enemies close in, Ti’ad and Sykho must navigate the dangerous line between survival and surrender. Together they rise through the ranks of the criminal empire, but the deeper they go, the harder it becomes to outrun who they once were... and what they might still become.

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SYKHO ARAI

"This was never a negotiation. It was an evaluation. You failed."

• Biography
• Skills and Personality
• Relationships
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Biography

Homeworld: Oba Diah
Profession: Enforcer, Underboss (Later)
Gender: Male
Species: Pyke
Height: 190 cm
Languages: Pyke, Basic, Huttese
Family: Arai family
Affiliations: Pyke Syndicate

Early Life

Sykho Arai was born in 41 BBY to Zarrek and Kiona Arai, heirs of the influential Arai bloodline on Oba Diah. His childhood was shaped by the gilded but rigid expectations of high Syndicate society. Though his family name opened doors, affection was in short supply.His father, Zarrek, a politically driven Pyke with little time for softness, saw his only son as nothing more than an heir, an extension of legacy and ambition. Their interactions were cold, rare and transactional at best. It was his mother, Kiona, who quietly nurtured him. Composed and observant, she never openly challenged Zarrek, but shielded Sykho in her own way, raising him with discipline, dignity and unwavering presence.
She became the one steady anchor in a world of pressure and pretense.Sykho proved early on that he was more than just a name. Calculated, intelligent and focused, he moved through his early Syndicate training with quiet efficiency. By the age of sixteen, he was already taking on dangerous assignments. Running spice through volatile sectors, brokering under-the-table deals and navigating the Syndicate’s darker corners with a level head and steady hands.But at 20 years old, one of those missions went catastrophically wrong.During a high-stakes spice transport to Coruscant, his ship was intercepted by an Imperial patrol. Faced with annihilation or abandonment, he chose survival and abandoned the cargo. The Syndicate, ruthless and unforgiving in its code of loyalty and success, stripped him of rank and honor. His failure wasn’t just a mark on his record, it was a disgrace to his family name. Zarrek, humiliated, coldly declared that it would’ve been better for him to die than to return empty-handed. As punishment, the syndicate reassigned him to the lowest position imaginable, a guard in the spice mines of Kessel. His time on Kessel would leave a permanent scar, both physically and psychologically.Kessel was a hellhole. The toxic air, the mind-numbing labor and the constant presence of death were unrelenting. The rebreather he wore offered little protection from the acidic fumes that burned his lungs and blurred his vision. Days blurred into one another.Monotonous, violent, punishing.Sykho spent his days supervising broken slaves and his nights haunted by the silence of isolation.But the true turning point came during a massive uprising in the mines. Overrun by furious workers, Sykho was dragged into the fray. The slaves saw only the armor, only the mask, only another tormentor. He was thrown to the ground and beaten with crude weapons so violently that one blow split his helmet. A jagged shard tore down his face, nearly taking an eye and opening him from crown to lower chest.Left for dead, bleeding and barely conscious he should have died in that tunnel. But he didn’t. He survived by sheer will.The deep scar resulting from this day never fully healed. Nor did the trauma.
After the uprising was quelled, he returned to Oba Diah, changed.
Colder. Sharper.
He rarely spoke about those years, but the phantom pain in his scar reminded him of them every day.Determined to reclaim his standing, Sykho clawed his way back into the Syndicate’s favor. He completed increasingly dangerous missions with brutal precision and eliminated threats with ruthless efficiency.Over the next several years, he earned back his position, ultimately rising to become a respected enforcer.

17 BBY to 9 BBY

Sykho’s life shifted irrevocably in 17 BBY, the year he met Ti’ad Davah.The encounter began during what should have been a routine spice transfer on Tatooine. Sykho, representing the Pyke Syndicate, was scheduled to hand over a shipment to a representative of the Ghesh family. That representative turned out to be Ti’ad, a guarded, sharp-eyed woman with a presence that gave little away. Unknown to him at the time, she was a former Jedi hiding in the underworld.
Their first meeting was anything but cordial. Their interaction crackled with tension, sarcasm and mutual suspicion. But before either of them could walk away from the deal, the exchange was ambushed by a group of desert raiders. The spice was stolen and the two were forced - however unwillingly - to rely on each other.Tracking the stolen spice led them through the harsh backstreets of Mos Espa, down into smuggler tunnels and finally out into the canyons of the Jundland Wastes.They fought side by side, clashed over plans, exchanged heated words, but eventually succeeded.And somewhere in that chaos, Sykho began to see her skill, her sharp instincts and the way she didn’t flinch when things got bloody. She wasn’t just surviving, she was dangerous, capable and left by the crime family she thought she belonged to.Once the spice was recovered, he made a decision that would alter the course of his life. He offered her to work at his side for the Pyke Syndicate. Not out of sentiment, but strategy.
Having nowhere else to go, she accepted and from that point on, their partnership began.What started as reluctant cooperation slowly turned into a seamless alliance. Over the following years, they became a force of reputation. Her agility and intuition complementing his precision and raw power. The underworld knew their names. And in time, so did fate.

It was in all these years that Sykho realized he had fallen in love with her.
It wasn’t sudden. It was something that built slowly, in the quiet spaces between blaster fights and moments after missions. It crept in during shared glances across a smoky cantina, during the rare moments when their guards dropped and they allowed the other to see past the roles they wore to protect themselves.
Sykho didn’t fall in love with Ti’ad because of one grand moment. He fell in love with her across years. Through grit, blood and the thousand unspoken acts of loyalty that spoke louder than words ever could.He realized that with her, he didn’t need to be the cold enforcer, the weapon the Syndicate expected. She never flinched at the broken parts of him. The trauma, the deep scars both visible and not. When the weight of it all threatened to crack him, she never once stepped away.
She touched his scars that others looked away from and made him feel like they belonged to something sacred, not shameful. Her presence was able to dull the pain he carried. She saw him, not just the name, not just the role - but the man beneath it all. She didn't try to fix him. She loved him as he was. And he did the same.By 9 BBY, what they shared no longer needed to be named. It was carved into every glance, every breath, every reckless mission they survived. They weren’t just partners.They were bound by something no force in the galaxy could ever undo.

9 BBY

As the Empire’s purge of surviving Force-sensitives escalated, the shadows around Ti’ad began to stir. She had spent years burying her past, hiding the truth of who she once was. But the galaxy had a way of unearthing what was meant to stay hidden. The whispers reached the ears of Inquisitor Varn Drax.Drax was infamous within the Empire for his psychological warfare, breaking not only bodies, but minds. He didn’t simply kill his prey, he dismantled them piece by piece. And Ti’ad, to him, was unfinished work. One more Jedi who had slipped through the cracks. He wanted her to join his ranks. And he knew exactly how break her.
Sykho and her were lured to a supposed arms deal in the lower sectors of Eriadu. It was meant to be routine. But the moment they entered the compound, the doors sealed and the shadows came alive with stormtroopers. They fought with all they had, but there were too many. After a desperate struggle, exhausted and bleeding, they were overwhelmed.Imprisoned in the Inquisitor’s stronghold, Sykho eventually bore the brunt of the nightmare. Shackled and restrained, he was subjected to brutal torture by Drax himself. Not because of who he was, but because of who he was to her. Drax never laid a hand on Ti’ad. He didn’t have to.Every muffled scream from Sykho was calculated, every wound inflicted with the sole intent of shattering her spirit.
Because Drax knew she would endure anything, but not his suffering.
And he was right. She cracked.Watching Sykho bleed, helpless to intervene, planted a seed of terror in her that nothing could uproot and almost made her give up and bow to Drax. The fear that it would happen again. And again. And again. That being with her meant he would always be a target for them. The injuries Sykho sustained left more than just physical pain, they carved a wound into his pride and ignited a helplessness he had never known.
When they escaped - barely just - Sykho believed they had survived the worst. But something in her had changed. She became quiet. Then, her decision hit him like a blaster bolt to the chest.She came to him, shaking, tears in her eyes, hands trembling as she tried to explain what her heart was already breaking over. That she had to leave. That if she stayed, they would come again. That he would always be a target because of her. Her voice cracked as she told him she never wanted to watch him suffer for her again. Not when she could stop it.Sykho fought it. He swore to find and kill Varn Drax, to shield her from whatever threat came next, jaw clenched, fury and heartbreak rising in equal measure. He begged her not to go, not with words, but with his eyes, his touch, the way his hand gripped hers as if letting go would tear the galaxy apart. But deep down, he knew. He understood why. And that was what made it worse. She had made up her mind, not out of fear, but out of her love for him.They stood together one last time, forehead to forehead, not wanting to let go, both refusing to say goodbye. She promised to come back. She just didn’t know when.
He held her as if trying to memorize every line of her body, every breath, every heartbeat. And when she finally stepped back, his arms fell to his sides like broken steel.Watching her walk away felt like a part of him was being carved out with a dull blade. Her absence left a wound no blade could replicate. He hadn’t just lost his partner. He had lost the one person who meant everything to him.
In the days that followed, he withdrew. Silent. Focused. Something in him hardened.The grief didn’t break him, it refined him. When he moved again, it was with a cold, relentless precision. He rose with ruthless precision through the Syndicate ranks, forging his pain into something powerful.
And yet, through it all, one truth remained unchanged. He would wait for her, no matter how long it took.

8,5 BBY
Underboss era

After Ti’ad’s departure in 9 BBY, Sykho found himself alone for the first time in years. The silence she left behind echoed louder than he anticipated, gnawing at him during quiet hours in the ship’s cockpit or between reports in the Syndicate’s halls. He buried himself in his work, climbing through the ranks with focus and unflinching precision. Emotionally, he was wrecked, but professionally, he was unstoppable.Within months, he spearheaded several high-stakes operations.Shutting down a rogue spice refinery on Felucia, crushing a smuggling revolt on Ord Mantell, and negotiating a brutal arms-for-coaxium deal with a faction of Black Sun that no other Pyke dared approach. Each success solidified his name. Each mission pushed him further up the Syndicate’s ladder, until he was promoted an underboss himself.It was during this time he earned a reputation not just for efficiency, but for his terrifying calm in negotiations. His word became law among lower enforcers and even rival crime lords began to take his presence seriously. Whispers followed him - the Pyke who never forgot a betrayal and who never showed mercy to those who crossed him.Around this period, Sykho was approached with an offer - marriage into the Krim family, one of the oldest bloodlines connected to Pyke royalty. The union would have all but guaranteed him a place at the Syndicate’s helm-status, security, and a seat at the highest table. But Sykho declined. He knew Ti’ad was still out there. And even if the rest of the galaxy had moved on, even if it was politically unwise, he could not bind himself to anyone but her.By 7 BBY, Sykho had become one of the most feared and respected underbosses in Pyke Syndicate history.What set him apart was not just his tactical brilliance, but the unshakable aura of inevitability that surrounded him. One defining moment came during the "Velm Silt Incident," when a hidden cell of Syndicate traitors on Velm Silt attempted to divert a major shipment to a Crimson Dawn contact. Acting swiftly and without hesitation, Sykho orchestrated a brutal counter-strike. Within twenty-four hours, every conspirator was found. Some executed in the very rooms they had plotted in, others disappearing without a trace. Betrayal under Sykho's watch was not just punished, it was erased.Cold precision defined his leadership. Sykho had no patience for disloyalty or incompetence. His presence alone could silence a room. His dark gaze spoke louder than any threat, yet, those who served loyally under him knew an underboss who valued those who proved themselves. It was this blend of ruthless efficiency, calm authority, and unspoken loyalty to those who earned his trust that made Sykho not just feared, but highly respected.

7 BBY - Reunion

In 7 BBY, Sykho was overseeing a complex Syndicate operation near the edges of Mos Espa, a large-scale reorganization of one of the Pyke-controlled smuggling routes.The Syndicate had been bleeding credits due to repeated interference from rival gangs who had begun to exploit the weakened Krim leadership following a failed succession attempt. Sykho was tasked with re-establishing dominance in the region, identifying infiltrators, and reasserting control over the flow of spice into Hutt space.
The assignment required more than brute force, it required scrutiny, negotiation, and surgical elimination of weak links.Sykho had made himself known over the last two years for doing exactly that. Cold, efficient, and calculating, he managed the operation with unwavering command, balancing fear and respect with uncanny precision. His presence in Mos Espa was unannounced to most. Only trusted soldiers and enforcers knew the true extent of his involvement.
And yet, somehow, fate still found him.He had been reviewing reports in the stillness of his quarters when one of the guards stepped inside. The soldiers had detained someone, someone they said he’d probably want to see. No name. No credentials. Only a quiet insistence to speak with “the Pyke in charge.”
Sykho didn’t flinch, he never did.
Not until he saw her. Ti’ad.For a long moment, he couldn’t move. The mission. The reports. It faded into something distant and irrelevant.She stopped just a few feet away, her expression unreadable, suspended somewhere between fear and something that looked achingly like longing. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Sykho stepped forward, drawn not by impulse, but by something older, deeper. A pull rooted in memory and all he had refused to mourn.The silence held until he reached for her cheek and his hand, steady through war, betrayal, and blood, began to tremble for the first time in years, as his mind caught up with the truth - she was here. She had come back.And in that moment, the years caught up with him. The rise through Syndicate ranks, the ruthless discipline, the silence he had worn like armor, all of it fractured beneath the weight of her presence. And for the first time in years, Sykho let go again.He held her tightly, and for a moment, everything else fell away. Together, they dropped to their knees, worn by years of separation, grief, and unspoken longing. It wasn’t chance that had brought them back together. It was inevitability.Their love hadn’t faded during their time apart. It had endured, quietly, relentlessly. Through silence, through pain, through every battle fought without the other at their side. Neither of them had moved on. Neither of them had let go.From that day forward, they didn’t allow anything to come between them again. The bond that had once been tested by distance was now reinforced by everything they had overcome. Whatever came next, they would face it together.

Return to Oba Diah

A short time after their reunion, Ti’ad and Sykho were married on Oba Diah in a ceremony that, by Syndicate standards, was uncharacteristically grand. What began as a formal union quickly turned into a multi-day celebration, an event attended by Pyke dignitaries, trusted enforcers, and even a few off-world allies who had stood by them over the years.There were no lavish declarations, no ceremonial speeches, only the quiet certainty between two who had already walked through fire together and the unspoken truth that they had already belonged to one another for years. Their marriage only affirmed what had long been known between them.With Ti’ad now by his side in both life and work, their presence within the Syndicate solidified into something formidable. She took on increasingly critical responsibilities, negotiating high-stakes arrangements, acting as Sykho’s eyes and ears in sensitive territories, and leading missions that required more finesse than brute force.Then, in 6 BBY, Ti’ad became pregnant. Interspecies conception between a Pyke and a Human was unheard of yet. And the moment Sykho learned, something in him shifted. The future, which for so long had been filled only with strategy, blood, and survival, now held something else - legacy.Their son, Gereon, was born under the watchful quiet of Oba Diah’s night sky. He was healthy, strong and rare in every sense. Though his form mirrored that of a young Pyke, there were signs that set him apart. His skin was pale, almost pearlescent, unlike the mottled hues of his father’s kin. His eyes, Davah blue, glowed with the unmistakable intensity of Ti’ad’s Davah ancestry. And his blood ran red, not green.

Rise to Power
(Post 6 BBY)

After Gereon's birth in 6 BBY, Sykho's ascent within the Pyke Syndicate didn't just continue, it accelerated. His already razor-sharp focus honed further. The Syndicate trusted him, respected him, and, in some corners, feared him. Operations under his oversight ran with precision, profits soared, and territories expanded quietly but decisively.Ti'ad continued working closely with him. Handling negotiations, overseeing extractions, and making sure Sykho remained untouched by the growing number of assassination attempts that came with power. She traveled with him often, stayed near him during crucial operations, and when she wasn’t at his side, her network of informants kept eyes and ears open.She didn’t leave it to fate, she guarded him with unwavering vigilance. And he appreciated it more than words could ever express.Sykho operated with the efficiency of a tactician and the fire of someone who knew what it meant to lose everything. His voice, though never loud, carried weight in Syndicate chambers. He managed volatile sectors without bloodbaths and expanded influence without drawing undue attention from Imperial eyes. Whispers began to spread, about how he'd cleaned up failed spice routes, how he’d broken an ambitious traitor ring on Mykapo, how no one dared touch the Kessel supply without his say-so.Years passed. His name became synonymous with order, harsh, yes, but reliable. Executions were rare, but when they happened under his orders, they were swift and deliberate. He didn’t need to scream to rule. His silence was loud enough.Then came the shift in Syndicate leadership. The Krim family’s heir was ambushed during a high-stakes deal gone wrong. His death sent ripples through the organization, unraveling old certainties and bringing long-buried rivalries to the surface. For the first time in decades, the question of succession was no longer theoretical, it was urgent.And Sykho stood at the center of it.Some scoffed, dismissing the idea of a Pyke who had once been at his lowest, buried in the depths of the Kessel mines, clawing his way to the top - family name or not - as the new face of the Syndicate. But others listened.Many had seen what he was capable of. Many had witnessed what he was capable of, how he could carve a path through even the most ruthless, impossible circumstances. He was known not just for his resilience, but for one unwavering truth: his loyalty to the Syndicate was absolute.
They had watched him hold fractured alliances together, neutralize insubordination before it could spread, and handle threats with the kind of cold precision that made him both feared and respected.He wasn’t just a candidate, he was a symbol of stability. A quiet force who never asked for recognition but delivered results few could match. Those who had once underestimated him now found themselves following his lead without question.By the time the internal debates quieted, it had become clear - there were few, if any, who could steer the Syndicate through uncertain times better than Sykho.
And he understood what was at stake. The Syndicate needed direction. It needed strength.And he was ready to lead.(To be continued)

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Skills & Personality

Skills

Sykho is an exceptionally skilled combatant, known for his deadly efficiency and precision. He’s highly proficient with a wide range of weapons, particularly blasters and energy rifles and is known to modify his gear to suit the mission or amplify damage. Whether customizing the recoil of a blaster or rigging a grenade for more controlled dispersion, his hands are steady, and his mind always a few steps ahead.He is a competent and adaptive pilot and flies with ruthless purpose. He favors control over showmanship, able to navigate tight routes through dense terrain or escape Imperial patrols in the crowded lanes of Coruscant’s underworld. He’s also a sharp strategist, capable of planning operations with minimal resources and executing them with surgical precision. His plans often include contingency upon contingency, an approach born from experience and caution, not fear.Though not a slicer by trade, Sykho is moderately skilled at hacking, enough to bypass basic security systems or reprogram locks when needed. He knows his way around a data spike and has learned just enough to get the job done when a specialist isn’t available.
Gambling and Sabacc, however, is a different story.
He’s absolutely terrible at it. His bluffing face a little too stiff, his tells a little too obvious. And yet, he often walks away with the pot. Why? Because he's a master at cheating. Subtle sleight of hand, a shuffled card in the sleeve, a misdirected glance. He claims it’s strategy. Ti’ad calls it mischief. Either way, he always wins.

Personality

Sykho’s presence is commanding. Through a grounded intensity, a sharpness in his gaze that speaks volumes before he ever opens his mouth.With enemies, strangers, or in high-stakes negotiations, Sykho speaks only what is necessary. His words are calculated, his tone clipped, built to keep others at a distance. He wields language like a blade, sharp, efficient, and without waste. But contrary to what many believe, he is not quiet by nature. With those he trusts, those rare few, he can be strikingly direct, even humorous. He’s sarcastic when he wants to be, sharp-tongued when the moment calls for it, and according to Ti’ad - especially during their earliest days, he’s the embodiment of “typical Pyke arrogance.”Sykho is intelligent, thoughtful, and observant. He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t posture. His patience is one of his most dangerous weapons and one of his greatest strengths. Though he’s done ruthless things in his life, it is never for pleasure. He doesn’t revel in cruelty and holds no love for unnecessary chaos. Every action is deliberate, driven precision and the weight of consequence.He is fiercely protective of everything he cares about and absolutely loyal to the Syndicate.

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Relationships

Pyke Syndicate

Sykho Arai bore a strong family name, one that still carried weight in the upper tiers of Pyke society. But a name alone meant little in the underworld’s harsher circuits. From the moment he entered the Syndicate’s ranks, he knew he would have to earn his place the hard way. He refused to ride on legacy. Every assignment, every deal, every mission - he approached them with a relentless drive to prove he was more than a bloodline.In those early years, he rose quickly, efficient and precise, his calm under fire making him a reliable asset. But at twenty, a mission went catastrophically wrong. A high-value cargo shipment, destined for the Empire, was lost under his command. It was a blow the Syndicate didn’t take lightly. Though he took the fall alone, the consequences were brutal.Sykho was stripped of rank and exiled to Kessel, not as punishment through violence, but degradation. Assigned as a mine warden, he spent years among the lowest ranks, reduced to overseeing slave labor and doing the dirty work others wouldn’t.He could have disappeared there. Many did. But Sykho endured. Hardened. And when he was finally summoned back to Oba Diah, he returned sharpened, colder, smarter. He worked his way up again without complaint or expectation, building his reputation from the ground up. Over time, the Syndicate’s grudges faded beneath the weight of his results. One operation after another, he proved his value, silent, effective, and loyal to the core. He never chased titles, but leadership began to seek him.In time, he was promoted to the rank of an Underboss.He moved through the criminal world like smoke, unseen by many, but impossible to ignore when he passed. To some, he was a whisper of consequence, to others, the precise blade that cut where it counted.
It’s no surprise, then, that whispers of succession circle his name. In the eyes of many, Sykho isn’t just a capable hand, he’s the quiet force that could carry the Syndicate into its next era.

Ti'ad Davah

To Sykho, Ti’ad is the only soul in the galaxy before whom he can fully lower his guard. In a life built on control, calculation, and strength, she is the one presence where he allows himself to be vulnerable, because he knows, with unwavering certainty, that she would never judge him for the weight he carries or the cracks beneath his surface. With her, he doesn’t have to pretend. He doesn’t have to be the sharp edge the world expects him to be. She sees through it, always has.He loves her gentleness. The way her voice softens when speaking to him. The steady devotion in her eyes when they stand back to back in the middle of chaos. He loves the way her hand finds his when words are too much. The way she looks at him, not as a feared enforcer, not as a syndicate figure, but as the man he truly is beneath all that. He loves her loyalty, her quiet strength, and the graceful, composed way she moves through the world, even after everything she’s endured. Even her scent, the quiet reminder that she is near, grounds him when everything else seems to spiral.Ti’ad became the thing he never knew he needed. Over time, she rooted herself in places of him no one else had ever reached. At some point, he stopped imagining a life without her in it. She is the one contradiction that ever made sense, the calm in his storm, the constant in a world built on betrayal and fire. She is the one person he would burn the galaxy down for without hesitation.
There’s a language between them that no one else can hear, a current of silent understanding that runs deeper than words.
Though distant and unreadable to others, Sykho becomes soft with Ti’ad and shows a gentleness noone would ever expect him to being capable of.

Gereon

Gereon was Sykho’s everything, plain and simple. His son, his miracle. The child he had never dared to imagine, born of a bond so unlikely it had once seemed impossible. Pyke and human. Two bloodlines never meant to mix, and yet, there he was. Proof that some things could defy every law, every expectation.Sykho had been silent when Ti’ad first told him. Not out of doubt, but awe. The thought that her body, her blood, carried something of them was more than he knew how to hold in words.And when Gereon was born, impossibly small yet fierce in presence, Sykho looked at him as if the galaxy had cracked open and offered him something sacred. He had bled for the Syndicate, killed for survival, but nothing had prepared him for this.From the beginning, Gereon had been sharp-eyed, unafraid, and unusually calm, traits that reminded Sykho of both Ti’ad’s strength and something old he couldn’t quite name. A depth behind the boy’s gaze that spoke of Davah lineage and something beyond Syndicate bloodlines. Ti'ad and him were quickly sensing the Force curling beneath the surface, slow-moving, patient, like a tide waiting to rise.Sykho kept the boy close whenever he could. He read to him in Pyke when no one was listening. He taught Gereon everything that mattered in Syndicate life - the art of subtlety, the weight of loyalty, and how to move through dangerous circles with quiet control. Meanwhile, Ti’ad ensured their son grew confident in his connection to the Force, guiding him with the understanding and patience she herself had once been denied.

Kiona Arai

Sykho’s relationship with his mother, Kiona Arai, was the quiet anchor in an otherwise cold and fractured childhood.Though her marriage to Zarrek was arranged and devoid of warmth, Kiona never allowed that bitterness to touch her son. She raised Sykho largely on her own, offering him the steadiness and dignity that her husband never could. Though she was reserved by nature, Kiona's love ran deep. She showered Sykho with affection, with presence, guidance and unwavering support.
Even during his darkest years, when others abandoned or doubted him, Kiona never wavered.She never involved herself in his affairs directly, but she watched, quietly proud, as he rose from disgrace to underboss. Her trust in him was never about status, it was about strength of character and in Sykho, she saw all of it.Their bond remained close, even in the later years.

Zarrek Arai

Sykho’s relationship with his father, Zarrek Arai, was strained from the beginning and in many ways, never truly existed.Zarrek, a politically driven Pyke of high status, viewed his son less as a person and more as a tool to extend the family’s influence. Their rare interactions were marked by cold expectations and constant judgment.When Sykho fell into disgrace in his early twenties, Zarrek publicly distanced himself, declaring it would have been more honorable to die for the Syndicate than to return a failure. Even after Sykho clawed his way back from the depths of Kessel and rose to the rank of underboss, Zarrek’s interest returned only as a means of control, offering unsolicited advice and attempting to stake a claim in his son’s success.But by then, Sykho had grown beyond needing - or wanting -his father’s approval. He met Zarrek’s renewed presence with icy detachment, treating him as nothing more than a distant relic of a past he no longer answered to.

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Trivia

The Kessel trauma

The years Sykho spent on Kessel left marks that no amount of time could ever erase. Physically, the deep scar that ran across his face and down to his chest was a constant reminder of what he had endured, the uprising that nearly ended his life and the betrayal that had condemned him to the mines in the first place. But it was the invisible wounds that cut the deepest.Kessel was the worst humiliation of his life. Stripped of his status, his freedom, and almost his identity, he had been reduced to little more than a ghost laboring in poisonous darkness. For a time, trapped in the mines with no end in sight, Sykho truly believed it was the end - that he had reached the bottom, and that there was no future left to fight for.The trauma of Kessel followed him into every chapter of his life. Some nights, long after he had risen through the Syndicate’s ranks, he would wake breathless, haunted by the suffocating weight of the tunnels and the distant echoes of suffering he could never forget. The phantom pain of old injuries gnawed at him during quiet moments, a cruel reminder of the suffering he had once believed would bury him.He rarely spoke of it. He buried the worst of it under discipline and control, locking the memories behind an unbreakable wall. Yet those who truly knew him, those rare few, recognized the signs. The tension he carried, the way his fingers unconsciously traced his scar, the cold stillness that sometimes overtook him when the air around him grew too heavy.For Sykho, Kessel was not just a place he had survived. It was a wound that never fully healed. A silent shadow reminding him of how far he had fallen, and how far he had fought to rise again.

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TIA'D DAVAH

"I’ve buried the version of me that cared what they thought."

• Biography
• Skills & Personality
• Relationships
• Yasiah & Davah Legacy

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Biography

Homeworld: Yasiah (Inhabitable), Tatooine, Oba Diah (Later)
Profession: Jedi Knight (Former), Smuggler and assassin
Gender: Female
Species: Human (descendant of the Davah species)
Height: 170 cm
Languages: Firz'ah, Basic, Huttese, Pyke
Family: Davah Clan, Arai family (Later)
Affiliations: Davah Clan, Hutt Cartel (Former), Jedi Order (Former), Ghesh crime family (Former), Pyke Syndicate

Early Life (37 BBY – 20 BBY)

Ti’ad was born in 37 BBY on Yasiah, a desert planet in the Outer Rim. She was a descendant of the extinct Davah, a long-lived, Force-sensitive species known for their striking blue eyes and spiritual traditions. Her early childhood was spent among the last remnants of her people, who clung to their way of life in the face of growing danger.In 33 BBY, when Ti’ad was just four years old, Yasiah was ravaged by violent natural disasters that rendered it uninhabitable. Her mother Ask’kah, a Davah priestess, sacrificed herself to save the surviving members of their clan. The remaining survivors Davah bloodlines fled the destruction and sought refuge in the Outer Rim. They eventually settled on Tatooine, but not without cost.
The Davah clan was granted the right to inhabit a remote region of the Jundland Wastes, but only under a binding agreement with the local Hutt cartel. In exchange for sanctuary, they were required to pledge service to the Hutts, providing labor, skills, and resources to maintain their precarious place in this harsh world. It was the price they paid for survival.Even as a child, Ti’ad stood out. Her presence was sharp and self-assured, and her connection to the Force ran deep. Her father, Ravad Davah, a Jedi Knight, recognized her potential immediately and made a difficult decision. She was to be sent to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. He believed she deserved more than the compromised life they were forced to lead.
At just six years old, in 31 BBY, Ti’ad was taken to the Jedi Temple. There, she was placed under the care of Master Khujari Vys, a stoic and demanding Bothan Jedi master. Their relationship was strained - Khujari was unyielding, and Ti’ad pushed back, unwilling to let go of the Davah instincts and identity that still lived in her. Though she proved talented in lightsaber combat and Force-based perception, she often questioned the Order’s rules and detachment.She didn’t feel like she belonged, neither fully Jedi nor fully Davah anymore. Her doubts grew quietly but steadily over the years.
Finally, in 20 BBY, at the age of seventeen, Ti’ad made a choice. She walked away from the Temple, from the Order, and from everything her father had hoped she would become. No goodbyes. No explanations. She disappeared into the endless shadows of Coruscant’s underworld, chasing something the Jedi could never give her - a path that was truly her own.

19–17 BBY - Into the Underworld

Stripped of her former identity and burdened by the ghosts of her training, she navigated the criminal world alone, using only a false name and her sharpened instincts. She buried the Force deep within herself, afraid to draw attention, but its influence lingered in every movement, subtle, but unmistakable.At first, she survived on odd jobs - smuggling minor shipments, helping with surveillance, and running messages between lower-tier gangs. Her quiet, watchful nature and quick reflexes made her invaluable. What set her apart, however, was her fearlessness in close-quarters combat. She preferred claws, knives and short blades, often laced with poison, a brutal style that contrasted sharply with the more showy, distant weapons favored by others. Within months, her reputation grew.By 18 BBY, she was noticed by the Ghesh family, a powerful and politically-connected crime family that operated out of the upper levels of Coruscant’s shadow markets. They took her in, offering steady work and protection in exchange for her loyalty. Varic Ghesh, the family patriarch, saw potential in Ti’ad, though many believed it was his son, Vanus Ghesh, who truly pushed to bring her into their fold.
Vanus, young and ambitious, took a particular interest in her. He admired her skill, her defiance, and the beauty and mystery surrounding her. Though he never discovered her true origins, he saw her as both an asset and a challenge. Ti’ad, in return, tolerated his attention, using his interest to maintain her position, though she never returned his affection. She was loyal only to herself, and never truly trusted the Ghesh.
Over time, she became involved in increasingly dangerous operations: spice retrieval runs through restricted Imperial sectors, high-risk heists of rival syndicates, and sabotage missions that danced the edge of open warfare. Her efficiency made her a prized operative and eventually, one of Vanus‘ most trusted lieutenants.But Ti’ad never felt safe. She knew the Ghesh family too well. Their smiles were masks, their words sharpened knives. Though she wore their sigil and carried out their missions, she always moved with one eye over her shoulder. Her growing power within the syndicate made her useful, but also disposable.

17 BBY – A Shift in Fate

Ti’ad’s path took an irreversible turn on a scorched plateau just outside Mos Eisley, where she was sent to collect a shipment of Sansanna spice for the Ghesh family, a lucrative job that should have secured her standing with them permanently. But the deal went sideways fast. Bandits ambushed the exchange point, overwhelmed both parties, and vanished with the shipment. In the chaos, Ti’ad was forced to fight alongside the Pyke enforcer stationed for the delivery, Sykho Arai.Their first impressions of each other were far from favorable. Ti’ad saw him as arrogant and cold. Sykho considered her reckless and unpredictable. Still, neither could afford failure. They begrudgingly agreed to work together to retrieve the stolen spice, tracking the bandits across the dunes, clashing often, verbally and physically, before slowly forming a functional alliance.
The mission was brutal and relentless. It brought them to the brink of exhaustion, tested their combat skills, and forced them to rely on one another.After the mission, it became clear they could not return to the Ghesh family. The betrayal had been orchestrated, both Ti’ad and Sykho were meant to die to cover up the family’s botched smuggling routes. With nowhere else to go, Ti’ad accepted Sykho’s offer to work under his wing for the Pyke Syndicate.The transition was far from seamless. Ti’ad was human and worse, a Force-sensitive with a background she kept carefully hidden. Earning the Pykes’ trust meant more than survival, it meant delivering results. She, alongside Sykho, took the most dangerous assignments without complaint - smuggling high-grade Coaxium out of Hutt-controlled sectors, sabotaging rival cartel shipments, and silencing informants threatening Pyke operations in the Core. Her precision, boldness, and refusal to fail didn’t go unnoticed.It was during one critical mission on Garel, where she and Sykho intercepted a shipment of corrupted spice bound for Imperial officers, that she caught the attention of the Pyke leadership. The two of them returned with the proof, the supplier, and the intel to prevent what would’ve been a devastating scandal for the Syndicate.Her growing reputation was mirrored by the slow-burning evolution of her relationship with Sykho. What had started as necessity became an unexpected bond. They knew each other’s rhythms in combat, covered each other’s blind spots. They learned to read each other without words, where she fought with speed and precision, he moved with brute force and cold calculation.
And outside of battle, there were quiet moments. Shared glances after close calls, drinks passed across cantina tables, nights spent talking. Without realizing when it had happened, Ti’ad had come to trust him. And he, against every instinct, had come to trust her too. Their connection was undeniable. By the time their third year of working together came, there was no denying that their partnership had become something far more personal.

16 BBY – A Turning Point

Ti’ad’s value to the Syndicate extended far beyond her combat skill and strategic mind. She wielded another powerful weapon: herself. With her graceful bearing, striking pale blue eyes, and an air of quiet mystery, she had little trouble drawing attention, especially from men. Her beauty and the effortless elegance of her movements made her seem untouchable, fascinating, and disarming all at once.
Ti’ad became a master at using that allure to her advantage. Infiltration missions, information gathering, delicate negotiations in cantinas or high-end casinos, wherever subtlety was needed, she excelled. She could make a target lower their guard with a smile, spill secrets without realizing it, or believe in a promise she never intended to keep.
Because her appearance and manner set her apart from the Syndicate’s Pyke enforcers, she was able to gain trust quickly, slipping past defenses that brute force would have only strengthened. It was this combination of charm, intelligence, and ruthlessness that made her one of the Pyke Syndicate’s most trusted covert operatives and a figure impossible to overlook.One mission marked Ti’ad’s true rise within the Pyke Syndicate.Tasked with gathering information about a suspected plot against several Syndicate underbosses, Ti’ad was sent undercover to a high-stakes gathering on Bal’demnic, where various criminal factions mingled under the fragile mask of diplomacy. She played her role flawlessly, posing as an independent broker looking to trade sensitive information. Over days of careful maneuvering, subtle questioning, and expertly applied charm, Ti’ad uncovered the truth - a coalition of rival groups had planned a coordinated assassination attempt during an upcoming Syndicate meeting.
Armed with this knowledge, she passed a covert warning back to Oba Diah. Thanks to her intel, the Syndicate was able to preempt the attack, saving the lives of several key underbosses and crushing the rebellion before it could ever ignite.It was a defining moment. Not only had Ti’ad proven her worth under extreme pressure, but she had also demonstrated loyalty, precision, and strategic brilliance. From that point onward, she was no longer simply Sykho’s partner or an external asset, she was seen as a true insider, a vital part of the Syndicate’s future. Her standing among the Pykes rose sharply, and her access to Oba Diah became unrestricted, a rare privilege few outside the Pyke bloodlines were ever granted.
From that moment on, her name carried weight in Pyke circles.During her times on Oba Diah, Ti’ad formed a close friendship with Threya Chrephontis, a Pyke soldier and sentinel. At first, Threya distrusted her, viewing Ti’ad’s status with skepticism. But over time, admiration grew between them. Threya affectionately later called Ti’ad “somewhat of a Pyke” both for her loyalty and her fluency in the Pyke language, which Ti’ad had begun to study in earnest.Amid all this, something else had shifted. Over the years, through every mission, every brush with death, and every quiet moment stolen between chaos, Ti’ad and Sykho came to understand something neither of them had expected - they loved eachother.
It wasn’t dramatic or sudden. It was built slowly in the space where trust met understanding. By the time they realized it, they already knew the deepest parts of each other, the nightmares that haunted them, the wounds that never fully healed, the weight of the past each carried in silence. They had seen one another stripped of every defense, in their worst moments and their quietest fears.They read each other in the smallest movements, in the way a hand lingered too long, in the way silence settled gently when words weren’t needed. They understood each other without explanation. A connection rooted not just in survival, but in something much more powerful, belonging. With each passing day, it became clearer, they needed each other. Not for protection, not for mission success, but because life without the other had become unthinkable.

9 BBY — The Shadow of the Inquisitor

Inquisitor Varn Drax, known for his cruelty and obsession with hunting down remnants of the Jedi Order, had caught wind of Ti’ad’s name through whispers in the underworld and the quiet trails of unconfirmed Force sensitivity. He began to track her with terrifying precision, suspecting her of being a fugitive Jedi and determined to confirm it through blood. The final blow came when Sykho and her were captured by him.Ti’ad had faced many things in her life. But nothing broke her like watching Sykho bleed for her past.Varn Drax tortured him, just to get to her. His screams haunted her nights, the sound of his body crumpling beneath pain meant for her, all because she had once been a Jedi. Though they barely managed to escape, the damage was done. She had seen what her legacy could cost him. And it tore her apart.She couldn’t let it happen again.Knowing the Empire would keep coming, Ti’ad made the only choice she believed could protect him - she left. Not because she wanted to. Because she couldn’t bear to see him suffer, not for her, not again.Her decision was devastating. Sykho begged her to stay, swore he would end the Inquisitor himself, that they would face it together. But Ti’ad knew the truth. The inquisitor would always find a way back to them. And next time, she feared, they wouldn’t survive.So she walked away. From him, from the Syndicate, from everything they had built.It broke her.The months that followed were the darkest she’d ever known. Though she continued to move, to survive in the shadows of Nar Shaddaa, she was a ghost of who she had been. There were nights she couldn’t breathe from the ache of missing him, the silence of not hearing his voice.But she had made a promise to herself - to protect him, to not drag him with her into the endless black whole. No matter the cost.

8 BBY – Disappearance

After parting ways with Sykho, Ti’ad vanished into the shadows of the galaxy. She fled to Nar Shaddaa, where names held no weight and survival depended solely on wit, reflexes, and a willingness to bleed. She stayed low, working minor mercenary jobs and protection details that kept her off the Empire’s radar. Her lodgings were bleak, often no more than a stained cot in a smoky backroom, but they offered anonymity, and for now, that was enough.Each night she lay awake in those nameless dens, her mind drifting to Oba Diah. To the scent of rain on stone. To the rare silence in Sykho’s breath when he slept beside her. The ache of separation never dulled, and the holos she kept of him comforted her when solitude became unbearable.
During this time, Ti’ad formed a handful of short-lived alliances, most of them with human outlaws and small-time syndicate deserters who saw her as a weapon to wield. She allowed these partnerships to serve her only so far as they helped her stay alive and invisible. The moment their usefulness waned or their morals faltered, she cut ties without hesitation. None of them ever saw past her mask, and none of them lasted.It was during a job in the lower levels of Nar Shaddaa that fate intervened, bringing her face-to-face with a ghost from her past. Her father, Ravad Davah.
He, too, had been forced into hiding. His refusal to join the Inquisitorius, paired with his known Jedi past, had made him a marked man. And though time had added more gray to his hair and weariness to his stance, the fire in his eyes remained. Their reunion was bitter at first. Ravad, proud and stubborn, had always carried shame over what his daughter had become. Fighting for crime syndicates, standing arm in arm with a Pyke. He did not understand the bond she had formed, nor the path she had chosen. But the galaxy was cruel and narrowing, and together, they understood that survival now depended on unity.The two went into deeper hiding, combining their efforts to erase every trace of themselves from the Empire’s systems. But the galaxy, it seemed, had other plans. Varn Drax, the Inquisitor who had haunted Ti’ad’s nightmares, found them.
What followed was no simple skirmish. It was a brutal, drawn-out duel. A clash of Force and fury. Ravad and Ti’ad fought as they had once trained: blades humming, instincts aligned. The Force flowed between them, two Davah bloodlines holding the line one final time. But Varn was powerful, corrupted and relentless.In the final moments, it was Ravad who landed the mortal blow, driving his saber through Varn’s chest in a burst of light and fury. But the victory came at a cost. Ravad was mortally wounded, his side carved open by the Inquisitor’s final strike.
In the quiet that followed, Ti’ad knelt beside her father. Their hands, once so distant, found each other. She forgave him, not because he had asked, but because she knew the burden he had carried. He died not as the Jedi Master he had once been, but as a father who had stood by his daughter when she needed him most.With the Inquisitor dead and her father gone, Ti’ad made a desperate decision. Using her knowledge of falsification, and with the help of a few trusted allies, she staged her own death. A body was left in her place, burned beyond recognition. The Empire, still shaken by the loss of one of their Inquisitors, accepted the illusion without question. For the first time in years, Ti’ad Davah was truly gone, at least in the eyes of those who hunted her.

7 BBY

Ti’ad, no longer hunted but still carrying the weight of her false death and her father’s sacrifice, had returned briefly to Tatooine to fulfill Ravad Davah’s final wish - to deliver his belongings to the remnants of their exiled clan. The encounter was cold and distant. Whatever remained of her connection to them had long since faded. She belonged elsewhere now.While in Mos Eisley, uncertain of her next steps, she was unexpectedly recognized by Pyke soldiers who were present on Syndicate business. They didn’t confront her, only exchanged a few careful words, before requesting her presence. She followed them in silence, heart pounding, unsure what waited at the end of their path. But it was him.
Sykho, now an Underboss within the Syndicate, was overseeing operations in the sector. When Ti’ad entered the room and their eyes met for the first time in years, everything else fell away. Neither of them spoke at first, there was only the storm of emotion in their faces. Disbelief. Relief. Ache. The weight of everything that had been left unsaid.Though the galaxy had continued turning, though wars had burned on and allegiances shifted, neither of them had stopped loving the other. Not for a single moment. Despite the hurt, the fear of not knowing if the other had survived, their love had never faded. The bond they had formed through years of hardship and trust had endured, unbroken, just waiting to be lit back to life.
They embraced like it was the first time and the last.
From that moment forward, they never parted again. Whatever scars the separation had left behind, they chose to carry them together. Their lives resumed not at the beginning, but exactly where they’d paused, only now with even greater certainty that their paths would never again diverge.

6 BBY - Gereon and the Force

After their emotional reunion on Tatooine in 7 BBY, Ti’ad and Sykho returned to Oba Diah. Ti'ad's reunion with her best friend Threya came with fierce embraces, teasing remarks, and the kind of warmth only forged through shared danger. It wasn’t long before Ti’ad and Sykho were married in a ceremony that, while sacred in its intimacy, was followed by a celebration that lasted several days and echoed through the corridors of Oba Diah.Just a year later, in 6 BBY, Ti’ad discovered she was pregnant. For a long moment, she could hardly believe it. The thought that her body could carry life - his life -seemed unreal. Interbreeding between Pykes and Humans was not known of. And yet, against every improbability, she was carrying their child.When eventually Gereon, as they named their son, was born, he was a miracle in more ways than one. As a hybrid, he bore mostly Pyke features, but his pale, almost white skin and striking Davah-blue eyes spoke of her lineage, just as surely as his red blood marked him as something rare.Ti’ad adored him with the quiet intensity of someone who had once thought herself beyond such things. She carried him close, taught him not only to walk the halls of Oba Diah with dignity, but to feel the world around him. From an early age, it became clear to Sykho and her that Gereon was touched by the Force.Ti’ad recognized it in his stillness, in his unspoken awareness of people before they spoke, in the strange calm that lingered around him. She had spent years cutting herself off from that part of her, but for him, she reopened the door.Her reawakening came slowly. At first she meditated in secret, afraid of what she might find. But over time, the connection returned, not as a flood, but as a steady, patient tide. The Force didn’t demand anything of her. It waited. And she answered. Drawing on the ancient teachings of her people, the Davah, she began to train again, centering herself in ritual, silence, and memory. Her affinity for healing and perception grew stronger, shaped not by doctrine, but by instinct and bloodline.More than anything, she wanted Gereon to be safe in it. Not afraid of it. Not hunted because of it.
She trained him with care, never forcing, never correcting with fear. Under her guidance, the Force became a companion to him, not a curse. She taught him to listen before acting, to sense without needing to control. And while the galaxy remained dangerous, Ti’ad made certain her son would meet it not with fear, but with presence.In the years that followed, Ti’ad remained a vital presence within the Syndicate. While Sykho managed the machinery of power as Underboss, she often stood beside him, quietly observing, advising. Enforcers respected her calm. Strategists feared her foresight. And more than once, it was her vigilance that stopped an assassin’s blade before it ever left its sheath. She always made sure no one's blade ever got close to Sykho.(To be continued.)

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Skills & Personality

Skills

Ti’ad possesses a diverse set of skills, shaped by the unusual path her life has taken. Trained from childhood in the ways of the Force and lightsaber combat, Ti’ad remains a formidable fighter. She favors agility and precision over brute strength, moving with a grace and fluidity that make her deadly in close quarters.Her relationship with the Force, however, is complex. After abandoning the Jedi Order, Ti’ad’s connection to the Force became fractured, something she both nurtures and struggles with. There are times when she feels the Force flowing through her effortlessly, allowing her to perform powerful techniques like Force healing. Yet there are also periods where the Force feels distant and muted, a reminder of the emotional scars she carries. It remains a part of her, but one she cannot always command at will.
Ti’ad’s talents extend beyond combat. She possesses a natural charm and charisma, able to sway and manipulate with carefully chosen words and a smile. Her elegant and ethereal presence makes her both memorable and disarming. She often uses this to her advantage during covert missions, extracting information or negotiating under the pretense of innocence.She is moderately skilled at Sabacc, though luck rarely favors her; what she lacks in raw card sense, she makes up for with her quick thinking and ability to read her opponents. In contrast, her ability to pilot or navigate starships is modest at best, something she heavily relies on Sykho or others to handle when the need arises.
Ti’ad is quick-witted, light on her feet, and exceptionally observant. She adapts fluidly to new environments, whether slipping unnoticed through the back alleys of Nar Shaddaa or navigating the political webs of Oba Diah.

Personality

Ti’ad has an elegant, composed presence masking a core of unshakable resilience. Shaped by a fractured past and the burden of ancient expectations, she carries both the poise of a former Jedi and the sharp instincts of someone who learned to survive among criminals and opportunists.
Ti’ad is observant and perceptive, often reading a room with a single glance. She speaks with care, choosing her words precisely, understanding the power of silence as much as speech. There is a quiet strength in her; she does not demand respect, it follows her naturally. Her graceful manner, inherited from her Davah bloodline, cloaks a mind that is strategic, calculating when necessary, but never cruel.
Beneath the composed surface, Ti’ad is fiercely loyal to those she trusts. Her loyalty is not given lightly, but once earned, it is unwavering. She is willing to sacrifice for the people she loves, even at great personal cost. She believes deeply in protecting what little she has left in a galaxy that took so much from her. Her bond with Sykho is a testament to that side of her. She stands with him not because of obligation, but because she chooses him, again and again, with full awareness of the risks.
Despite all she has endured, Ti’ad has not lost her capacity for gentleness. She holds a soft spot for the lost and the vulnerable, and often acts with quiet compassion when no one is watching. Yet she is no stranger to ruthlessness when it is required. She understands the hard choices survival demands, and does not flinch from them.
There is also a subtle stubbornness in her, a quiet defiance that has carried her through betrayals, battles, and heartbreak. She carries the ancient pride of the Davah people in her heart, sometimes coming off a little self-important.

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Relationships

Sykho

Ti’ad was never searching for love, nor for companionship. Her only priority had been her independence, the freedom she fought so hard to claim after a life spent bound by expectation and control. The idea of belonging to anything or anyone again felt like a step backward. Which is why it confused her deeply - shook her, even - when she began falling for Sykho, the Pyke enforcer she was forced to partner with by sheer circumstance.Over the years they spent side by side, Ti’ad saw far beyond the exterior he showed the galaxy. She came to know the quiet pain he carried, the weight of the Syndicate’s expectations pressing on his shoulders, and the long-unspoken grief etched into his every movement. Beneath all his steel, he was a mirror of her own struggles and despite all their differences, they were not so different at all.
The understanding between them ran deep. With Sykho, she could voice every thought without fear of judgment. Their communication became seamless, sometimes wordless, especially in negotiations and missions, where a single glance between them could mean everything. Ti’ad trusts him blindly, as he does her, and together they’ve proven that trust time and time again.She loves his roughness - the sharpness in his presence - and equally the softness he hides beneath it, the vulnerability he shows to no one else but her. She cherishes the way he looks at her, the way his hands find her skin with a gentleness no one would ever expect from someone like him. She admires his drive, his discipline, and the unshakable strength he draws from his convictions.
To Ti’ad, Sykho is what her people, the Davah, would call Alk’'hfe'rad - "the other part of the soul".

Threya

Threya did not like Ti’ad when they first met. In fact, she made little effort to hide her disdain.Ti’ad had arrived on Oba Diah as a non-Pyke with sudden access to Syndicate resources, privileges that many had bled for, privileges Threya herself had earned through years of loyalty, discipline, and absolute service. To Threya, Ti’ad was an anomaly. A wildcard. Dangerous not because of what she did, but because of how little anyone seemed to know about her. She wore no crest, claimed no legacy, and yet moved through high-level circles with unnerving confidence.For someone like Threya, whose life was built on hierarchy, clarity, and control, Ti’ad was a problem.At first, their interactions were cold, clipped, formal. Threya kept her distance, observing every word, every silence, every deviation in Ti’ad’s behavior. She was skeptical of Ti’ad’s loyalty, cautious of her independence, and outright hostile when others spoke too highly of her. She expected her to make a mistake, to reveal herself as a threat or an opportunist, like so many outsiders before her.But Ti’ad never did.She remained composed. Focused. Quietly competent in ways Threya couldn’t ignore. She took no shortcuts, asked for no favors, and made no attempts to impress anyone. Over time, Threya’s suspicion shifted into something else, curiosity, then respect. Ti’ad didn’t demand trust. She simply moved in a way that earned it.And once the walls fell, everything changed.What followed was one of the most unexpected and quietly profound friendships of Ti’ad’s life. Once the initial frost thawed, Threya revealed herself not as the cold strategist many believed her to be, but as someone protective, deeply loyal, and quietly kind. She became a constant. A source of dry humor, late-night conversation, and unspoken support. They understood each other in ways neither had anticipated. Ti’ad never questioned Threya’s sharpness, and Threya never diminished Ti’ad’s softness. Their differences didn’t divide them, they balanced each other.Once trust was in place, there was no friction, only a steady, intuitive bond. Threya became one of the very few people Ti’ad truly let in, second only to Sykho.During the years of Ti'ad's absence due to the Jedi hunt of inquisitor Varn Drax, Threya made it clear, through action, not words, that anyone who tried to exploit her absence would face consequences. And when Ti’ad returned, it was Threya who ensured her reintegration into the Syndicate was seamless and unquestioned.

Pyke Syndicate

Ti’ad’s path into the Pyke Syndicate was anything but smooth. She entered their world through a failed spice deal on Tatooine, betrayed by the Ghesh family and forced into a reluctant alliance with Sykho Arai.She had no name that mattered in the underworld at this time, no standing among the Pykes, and more than a few who doubted her place. But she didn’t ask for space - she earned it. Mission after mission, she took on what others wouldn’t: high-risk extractions, volatile cargo runs, sabotage deep within Imperial territory.Ti’ad’s true breakthrough within the Pyke Syndicate came when she successfully completed a high-stakes infiltration assignment that uncovered a plot to assassinate several Syndicate underbosses. Acting alone and deep behind enemy lines, she gained the trust of a rival faction, extracted critical information, and exposed the conspiracy before it could unfold. Her success didn’t just save key figures within the Syndicate. It preserved a fragile power balance on Oba Diah and prevented what could have turned into a civil fracture.From that point on, she was no longer seen as an outsider or a tool of convenience. She had proven her worth through intellect, subtlety, and unwavering nerve.
She was granted open access to Oba Diah, an honor rarely given to non-Pykes and began learning the Pyke language, forming bonds few would have believed possible, including a lasting friendship with Threya Chrephontis.In time, Ti’ad became became a strategic asset. Her human appearance, coupled with her sharp mind and disarming presence, made her invaluable in situations where a Pyke would have drawn too much suspicion. Ti’ad could infiltrate rival networks, charm information out of enemies, and sow quiet unrest where brute force would have failed.Her background allowed her to slip between layers of the underworld undetected - too elegant to suspect, too clever to corner. The Syndicate came to rely on her not only for action in the field, but for subtle manipulations, intelligence gathering, and quiet influence far beyond the reach of a typical enforcer.Today, Ti’ad is not merely accepted by the Syndicate; she is respected, feared by rival syndicates. She walks Oba Diah not as a guest, but as one of its most trusted shadows.

Ravad Davah

Ti’ad’s relationship with her father, Ravad Davah, has always been marked by tension and unyielding pride, both shared and conflicting.A deeply spiritual man and one of the last guardians of Davah tradition, Ravad saw his daughter’s connection to the Force early and, believing it was her destiny to be sent to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant - against her will. It was a decision that fractured their bond.Ti’ad never forgave the loss of choice, and Ravad never fully understood her rejection of the path he had so carefully chosen for her. Their stubbornness mirrored each other, and over the years, their conversations became arguments more often than not. Still, beneath the silence and clashing wills, there was love, fierce, complicated, and unspoken.When Ti’ad fled the Jedi Order, choosing exile and eventually falling into the shadows of the underworld, Ravad was devastated. He saw it not as rebellion, but as a tragic detour from everything he believed she was meant to be. Her alignment with the Pyke Syndicate shattered his hopes, but not his devotion.When the threat of the Inquisitor grew and Ti’ad’s life fell into severe danger, Ravad, who himself survived Order 66, put aside his disappointment and acted without hesitation. It was he who helped her vanish, faking her death and killing Inquisitor Varn Drax, who had pursued Ti’ad with near-maniacal obsession.In the final confrontation, Ravad was mortally wounded and died soon after, but not before Ti’ad forgave him.Fulfilling his final, unspoken wish, she returned his few remaining possessions and his lightsaber to the remnants of their clan on Tatooine

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The planet Yasiah

Yasiah, the ancestral homeworld of the Davah, lies deep in the Outer Rim, a remote desert world shaped by wind and time.Its endless dunes stretch like golden waves across the horizon, broken only by jagged stone arches, sun-bleached plateaus, and the crumbling remnants of ancient sanctuaries carved directly into the cliffs. Water is scarce, but sacred. Life once thrived in deep, hidden caverns and beneath the sands, where the Davah built temple complexes accessible only through narrow passages known as soul-throats, echoing tunnels believed to carry the voices of the ancestors.Though harsh and seemingly barren, Yasiah was revered as a spiritual cradle. To the Davah, the desert was not lifeless, it was pure.A place of vision, trial, and communion. It was said that the Force rose more clearly here than anywhere else in the galaxy, vibrating through the bones of the planet itself. Fire rituals were performed at night, where sandstorms moved like spirits across the dunes, and starlight was believed to reveal the path to enlightenment. The desert was both sanctuary and crucible, offering silence deep enough to hear the soul’s true voice.But by the time Ti’ad was four years old, Yasiah changed.Something in the atmosphere began to shift. Massive electrical sandstorms swept across the planet with increasing ferocity, warping the climate into a violent, relentless cycle of destruction. Entire regions were swallowed by sand and sky. What had once been sacred ground became uninhabitable. The last surviving members of the Davah Clan, Ti’ad among them, were forced to flee, scattering into the galaxy in search of refuge, carrying only what memory and tradition they could preserve.Since then, Yasiah has remained untouched. Abandoned. Buried beneath layers of storm and silence. Few know how to find it and fewer still could survive if they did.But even now, the Davah believe the planet remembers. That somewhere beneath the ruin, their origins still sleep.

The Davah Legacy

The Davah were an ancient, near-extinct species whose origins trace back to a remote and now-forgotten system called Yasiah on the edge of the galactic frontier. Long-limbed, humanoid in form, and known for their pale blue, luminescent eyes, the Davah were often mistaken for ghosts or spirits by early travelers who encountered them. Their skin was of a pearly white, and their faces bore no noses, only smooth, high cheekbones and slender mouths. Every movement they made seemed deliberate, almost ceremonial, as if they lived in constant awareness of the energies flowing through and around them.The Davah culture was deeply spiritual, rooted in the belief that all things, flesh, stone, flame, memory- were connected through a living current they called "the Echo Deep". Though not aligned with the Jedi or Sith, many among them were sensitive to the Force in a raw, untrained way. They did not command it, they communed with it.Their society was guided by temple orders rather than governments. Each temple was led by a Seer-Priestess, women chosen not by bloodline but by vision. They were the interpreters of silence, the keepers of memory, and the voices of Ki’set Al’mea’ch, the legendary priestess who, after her mysterious disappearance, became the heart of their faith.Worship among the Davah was quiet, sensory, and deeply symbolic. Sacred tattoos marked rites of passage: birth, love, loss, war, and death. Singing was done not only with voice but with harmonics generated through movement, breath, and crystal resonance. Fire was seen as both destroyer and messenger, a bridge between the mortal and divine.Over the centuries, war, imperial expansion, and cultural erosion scattered the Davah across the stars. Many assimilated into other species, slowly blending physically and genetically. What remains are bloodlines, fragments of memory carried in eyes, in gestures, in dreams.One such surviving lineage is the Davah Clan from Yasiah, to which Ti’ad belongs. Though much of the old knowledge has faded, the clan has preserved what they could. Through oral stories, ritual tattoos, and fiercely guarded tradition.They still honor the ancient rites in smaller, sacred circles - fire meditations, symbol offerings, and seasonal observances under open skies. Members of the clan often bear the same pale blue eyes and carry long lifespans, aging far more slowly than humans.The Davah Clan is not large, but they are proud, nomadic, and bound together by the shared weight of memory. They speak little of their origins to outsiders, and their spirituality is private, often misinterpreted as superstition. But to those within, the old ways are alive.The Echo Deep still murmurs in their bones.

The goddess Ki'set Al'mea'ch

Ki’set Al’mea’ch was once a high priestess of the Davah species, born in a time thousands of years before the rise of the Empire, when her people still walked openly among the stars.Known for her otherworldly grace, piercing blue eyes, and the ceremonial tattoos that marked her as a vessel of the ancient currents, Ki’set was said to possess a connection to the Force so profound it blurred the line between mortal and divine. She led her people through an age of darkness, not with armies or weapons, but with vision, ritual, and unwavering resolve. Legends say her voice could calm tempests and her blood carried ancestral memory. When she vanished, disappearing into the sacred caverns beneath Yasiah, many believed she had transcended death itself.Centuries later, she was no longer spoken of as a woman, but as a goddess. Shrines and temples were raised in her name. Her sigil, a radiant eye carved into obsidian stone, became a symbol of clarity, protection, and inner fire. To the scattered descendants of the Davah, she is the eternal guide, the silent witness in shadowed places.To Ti’ad, she is more than myth. In moments of fear, doubt, or spiritual stillness, Ti’ad often finds herself whispering prayers to Ki’set, calling her "Mother of Echoes", "Flame of the Deep", "She Who Remains".Ti’ad doesn’t speak often of her beliefs, but Ki’set Al’mea’ch remains a quiet, constant presence in her life. She carries the priestess-goddess in the quiet rhythms of her meditation, in whispered prayers spoken into silence, and in the sacred ink etched into her skin. Ki’set is not just a figure of legend to her, she is a source of strength, a spiritual anchor. In moments of doubt or stillness, Ti’ad turns inward and calls to her, seeking guidance, calm, and clarity. To Ti’ad, Ki’set is the flame in the dark, the voice beneath silence a reminder of endurance, of transformation, and of the power held by those who walk alone but never forget where they came from.

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