The Last The Last Class The Last War The Last Game “We gather here today to welcome a new student. Whilst most of you have been at school for a year, as you know we do not enforce any age restriction and only run one class at a time, for the four-years we ascribe as necessary, for no more than five students.” That would trigger murmurs. The course was supposed to be inaccessible for those four years, so it was hardly an everyday occurrence that someone had managed to wangle their way into the more exclusive school, onto the most exclusive programs, into the great Professor’s classroom. In this room sat the galaxies future leaders. The children of political magnates, corporate deities, power brokers and ancient, ancient nobility. Who was this new class member? A sixth member was unheard of in the… well, in the very long history of the Program. The Professor nodded, and the ginger haired boy strode into the room, his chin jutting upright in pride. “Allow me to introduce the eldest son of House Palpatine.” His sixteen-year-old smile widened. And so the sixth student joined the class. --- ”Welcome to the Great Dwartii Exchange Program. So named for the great philosophers whose beliefs shaped the Republic, it gathers young minds from the length and breadth of the Republic. Out of trillions of beings, five attend this program at time, and the school is very exclusive for it. Only the richest and wealthiest send their children here, of all species, and indeed all ages, though by their nature the species sent here are usually in their formative years or their later, attending for the novelty. The Professor, his features carefully modified so that his identify were not apparent, ran the class. Such precautions as to the identity of the Professor was tradition in the program, the teacher was always drawn from somewhere else, selected by the school to run the next class. The Professors were replaced as often as the Republic elected the Chancellor – four-year terms, which could not exceed two terms at a time, save for in the case of emergencies, of course. There had even been dark rumours that when a Chancellor was killed by war – inevitably a Sith War, but not since the Battle of Ruusan, of course – that the Professor would be killed too. Why anyone would synchronize the turnover of the teacher to the political rise and fall of Chancellors of the Republic was anyone’s idea. We have had crazier, quirky systems, after all. Oh. I forgot. I am sorry.” Unknown. --- The Sheet, as ever. For the last time. For all time. Name: Age: Species: Keep in mind the Republic’s borders in 66 BBY, which is when the game is set. Gender: Personal Effects: Personal Ship: No larger than a yacht, though it may sit in port for the game’s length as gallivanting off-world is not your teacher’s intention as a rule. Bio: --- Rules: Legends or existing characters in the Epitaph continuity are preferable, but new creations work too.