Amos Bannon

Origins

Amos Bannon was born 37BBY on the planet of Alderaan. The Bannon family was immensely wealthy, not only in assets, but political ties as well. Young Amos was raised wanting for nothing. The best tutors, coaches and combat trainers were available to the boy throughout his upbringing, not to mention a loving if somewhat stringent household. By the age of 13 Amos was skilled in all facets of warfare excelling in marksmanship, hand-to-hand combat and infiltration tactics. Eventually - and to no ones surprise - Amos was accepted to the most prestigious boarding academy not only on Alderaan, but within the galaxy as a whole. His campus was located outside an area that would eventually become the refugee city of Chainar. As a result of the Clone Wars the RRM or Refugee Relief Movement was born on Coruscant and made its way quickly to Alderaan. Thousands of aliens, many of them Aqualish were trying to escape the battles raging on their home planet of Ando. The hastily erected city of Chainar was built to accept those fleeing the war. Life at school changed drastically for Amos and his classmates and a form of speciesism was born in the wealthy young man. He began to nurture a naïve hatred not only for the crude Aqualish with their assaulting speech, but for all species outside humanity. Upon graduation from boarding school at the age of 18 Amos joined the newly formed Galactic Empire’s ranks having been taken with their clear anti-alien propaganda rapidly spreading throughout the core worlds. Amos was drawn not only by the Empires natural aversion to non-human species, but the idea that he would be able to finally set out and explore the galaxy. Unfortunately for him his family’s political power kept him based on his home planet leading an elite scout trooper training program. A routine mountain exercise a few years later would mark a time of great change in young Amos’ life. A deep fissure covered by a recent blizzard was revealed as Amos boot punched through the thin crust. Though his reflexes were razor sharp a 7 foot hole immediately swallowed the young trooper and bore him down into the darkness. Amos came to an undetermined amount of time later, his injuries were numerous and if he was unable to find rescue, mortal. Time passed, how much he could not tell until a large shape detached itself from the shadows. The light hitting his eyes was too much after his time spent in the darkness of the crevice, which had long since been covered with more snow. Finally able to focus his breath caught in his throat. An Ithorian of all creatures stood before him – a specimen larger than he thought possible-  in cold weather gear, wielding a staff longer than Amos’ body. His eyes bore concern, none of which Amos wanted. He proved his hatred for the beast by spitting on the hard pack to the side of him. The pain was monstrous, but well worth the look in the creatures eyes. Shockingly the alien sat down across from Amos, closed it’s eyes, and began what looked like meditation. Over the course of a few days the Ithorian - who had identified himself as simply “Raam”- would try communication in his sonorous, stereo voice. Finally upon death’s doorstep, Amos realized the futility of his situation and responded.

“Please” was all he could muster before unconsciousness took him. A week later Amos Bannon and Aaraam Aamonn emerged from the frozen canyon as friends. Raam gave Amos a bearing that would bring him to an imperial patrol, but the stories of Raam’s unfulfilled quest echoed in his mind.

“My rescue is complete, but my debt remains unpaid” Amos told the hulking Ithorian after receiving direction, and so the two set out to find Aaraam’s prize. The two would remain great friends and traveling companions for many years after. Eventually Amos made it off world, his reputation for survival making him a sought after asset throughout imperial training programs. Amos was on the planet of Sullust when the footage of Alderran’s destruction at the hands of Grand Moff Tarkin and his Death Star battlestation reached him. When he could hear past the blood pounding in his ears, and see through the prisms of tears standing in his eyes only then did he recognize what he was a part of. The rest of his squad, his men and comrades were cheering for the death of billions on his home planet. His plan of attack was instant. Within a handful of seconds the 5 men in the room with him were dead on the ground, not a shot had been fired. Amos made his way through the base with methodical brutality. He briefly wished for Raam’s stoic company in the assault, but the big Ithorian had little stomach for killing. Once all base personnel had been dispatched Amos found a sheet of plasteel and toiled to cut it into a familiar symbol he had seen before. The red hot metal brought the smell of burning flesh to Amos’ nostrils as he called his oldest friend through a tight-beam laser transmitter.

“My dear friend, my words will not help you now” Aaraam said “but come to my coordinates. I have become part of the Rebel Alliance. Your skills could make a difference here, you must direct your anger lest it consume you. I can see your hate.”

Amos raised his forearm to the screen showing the remnants of the Imperial 501st Scout Regiment tattoo that had been put there in triumph all those years ago. Now stood the symbol of the Alliance raw, red and blistered.

“You always were a most committed man, Amos” Raam conveyed.

Amos replied in a voice he barely recognized as his own “The Empire is about of find out just how far that commitment will go old friend, I will see you soon.”