The Rebel Faction

A golden protocol droid stumbled awkwardly along the short exit ramp of the CR-90 starship. During a previous minor skirmmish within this ever increasing hostile universe he had become separated from his rotund owner, <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Gorda The Hutt<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->, and he was desperately trying to become reunnited.

A protocol droid without the protection of a master would not last long; probably destined to become just many individual unrecognosable components on a flithy Ugnaught scrap pile. RG-13 knew this, all too well. Gorda The Hutt wasn't the best of owners, but he was certainly protective of everything in his possession and RG-13 would be a lot safer under the villainous Hutt's criminal supervision.

The droid's gold eyes lit up as he surveyed his new unfamiliar surroundings.

"What a desolate place this is," he said to himself.

As he watch the other passengers slowly dissipate into the crowd, Rg-13 didn't have the remotest clue as to where he was.