The galaxy won’t be quite as loud, chaotic, or… contagious… without him.
Nal Hutta – a rumor of drunken and disorderly conduct well beyond even the high degree of debauchery typical on Nar Shaddaa has begun to leak out into the galaxy. Upon exploring the source of these rumors, the Eidola News Network discovered that the galaxy’s most notorious space rogue, the Pirate King himself, Warlord Squall Chitose, is finally hanging up his Beskar and lightsaber for good. While pirates everywhere mourn, there is a cautiously hopeful murmuring among the insurance adjusters of Hutt Space who only recently discovered, after nearly a decade of investigation, that the seemingly random mass thefts of Rancor Plan-B medication were correlated at 99.3% with Squall’s reported travels.
Born on the twin-sunned hellscape of Tatooine, young Squall avenged his parents’ Imperial murder at fourteen with nothing but daddy’s blaster and sheer teenage spite. From there it was a whirlwind: youngest High General in Rebel history at sixteen, a quick stint with the Empire’s Dark Blade Legion (he quit when he realized they were the bad guys), masterminding epic heists like stealing the ISD Shadowstone and an Imperial Star Galleon, surviving as the lone survivor of a Black Sun ambush at Nar Shaddaa, inventing the death-defying “Chitose Maneuver” to escape the Raptor Pirates in hyperspace, and eventually claiming the pirate crown of Eidola after some very dramatic leadership changes.
When questioned about Squall’s location Carl Warrington reported that Squall has permanently retired on to a quiet Outer Rim dustball under a blazing sunset. The Warlord reportedly walked off into retirement the only way he knows how: hand-in-tiny-hoof with the true love of his life, a smelly, long-suffering Ugnaught who has somehow put up with the noise, the notches on his blaster, and probably a few awkward doctor’s visits. When asked what her final words to Squall were upon his retirement, the Pirate Queen Syn stated: “Clear skies and smooth hyperspace, Squall. You’ve earned the quiet life. We’ll miss you, old friend. If you start any more pandemics we still aren’t footing the bill.”
In parts unknown – as the sun dipped low, painting the sky in glorious oranges and pinks, arm draped over the stocky shoulders of his questionably smelling bride, Squall ponders the itching in his loins, takes in the sun on his visor, and drops out of sight beyond the dunes with his beloved at his side, muttering “a pirate’s life for me.”
The galaxy won’t be quite as loud, chaotic, or… contagious… without him.
