a critical role star wars au
here’s all the background no one asked for of my critical role star wars au
Grog’s a Mandalorian. Disgraced, of course; a mando from the old regime who dared fight back against his clan, who picked a side that wasn’t Us and cannot return home. His armor is a second skin, grey and black, the tattoos he wears across chest and back and head mirrored in paint on the slate-colored durasteel, heritage proudly displayed despite being Nobody from Nowhere, clanless and unclaimed. (His uncle is a monstrous man, a soldier gone mad with warring; his cousin has a good head on his shoulders and for that lacks respect, until traveling brings Grog back home, brings him back to tear down the one who banished him, and the peace reached is one of the old Mandalorian honor, not the groveling, senseless violence of Kevdak’s Stormherd Clan.)
That means Pike’s Mandalorian too, sort of. She’s a medic of New Mandalore, who believes in peace and honor and freedom, and who knows how to break bones as well as mend them. Her armor, gold and blue, is painted with the signs the ancient Protector she honors, who spoke of the balance between redemption and justice. Her Clan, Trickfoot, has an unfavorable reputation––they’re not Mandalorian by blood; they’re known for thievery, trickery, deceit; they’re Gnomish and therefore untrustworthy––but she was raised away from them by her grandfather, learned pride and honor and mercy from him, old soldier turned convert, mellowed by time and age and hopeful for the future of Mandalore.
Keyleth is a member of the Ashari, thought to be an insular group of zealots by most of the galaxy. In fact, they’re a sect of Force-sensitives, much like the Dathomir witches or the Baran Do sages; they swear their service to the galaxy, to protect the places where the fabric of the universe is weak and places of great change, with particular skill at sensing shatterpoints. (Keyleth, aware of the importance of her actions, terrified of making the wrong choice, who keeps her lineage a secret as much as possible and does the best she can; give me that story.)
The twins are mercs working in the Outer Rim, children of a woman so lowborn she has no family name to claim and a passing ambassador for the Republic. They were born on a Rim planet, some place outside the laws and propriety of the Republic, and when their ambassador father learned of his mistakes (he never calls them that, of course, but they know what he means) he whisked them away, lest they further ruin his reputation. But the rim is in their blood; they were born in the freedom of the untamed frontier and are not so easily dragged away. (Syldor’s on Coruscant when they run away; it’s a standard week before he learn’s they’re gone, and by then they’ve vanished into the wide, waiting galaxy.)
But the Empire comes, of course, and when they steal their father’s ship and fly home they discover it gone, razed, a blip wiped from the map––it was never anyplace important anyways, and no one notices its absence. (They make a few modifications to Sylor’s ship, then, and learn as they go how to live this mercenary life. Vex’s droid Trinket comes later, a “gift” from a crew of slavers. They strip that ship and leave it dead in space, just like the people aboard.)
Percy’s planet held strong against the Separatists, a bastion of the Republic, distant but loyal, only to crumble when the Empire stabbed them in the back. The regional governor arrived, all pomp and circumstance and the outstretched hand of friendship; within twelve standard hours the royal house was wiped out, all but the youngest slain, and Percy escaped on a limping cargo freighter that was in too bad a shape to tempt even the most desperate pirates. If not for the lucky (though, luck had nothing to do with it) passing of a fisher skiff mining an old nebula within a dozen parsecs he’d have starved to death within the week. As it is, he puts his not-inconsiderable knack (it’s not just a knack) for mechanics to work and pays for passage by keeping their ship up and running as he slowly pieces together a plan for how to strike back against Governor Briarwood and her husband. (Cassandra he sees sometimes on the holonet vids, a mouthpiece for the governor and the Empire, and it sets his blood to boil; all that rage and hatred makes for strong fuel, tempered like the metal he knows so well into a deadly weapon.)
Scanlan’s a spice smuggler, simple as that. One of the twins oldest friends, actually, and technically their boss but that’s more of a formality at this point. He can talk his way out of any situation; he’s in good standing with the Hutts and the Empire, and everyone owes him a favor. Claims he’s just a traveling musician––which is plenty true; he can play anything you put in his hands (it makes for a great party trick)––but he’s got that Gnomish intuition, that faint touch of the Force that left his people near wiped out by the Empire, and it’s kept him alive this long. His only shortcoming is that he can’t gamble to save his life––which he discovered while gambling for his life. It ended poorly for everyone involved but makes for a great story, and when you get down to it that’s what he’s all about: the thrill of sailing the galaxy and a good story afterwards.
Tiberius is a historian, careless of the galaxy collapsing around his ears except for his anger at the history lost to the pounding boots of the Empire. He makes it his business to collect and save priceless artifacts, which gets him in trouble with just about everybody, but his father’s a rich and important official somewhere and can leverage enough power to keep him safe enough to keep on this quest (until Tiberius gets too reckless and is called home to cool off and reconsider his options; while he is there the Empire strikes––they claim to be putting down a burgeoning rebellion, but the planet’s nobility gets caught in the crossfire and, well, at least they died in the service of the Empire, as good citizens should).
(This is the last straw, and when Vox Machina enters the fight, not members of the Rebellion but their own brand of revolutionaries, determined to burn the Empire to the ground.)