There are times in your life when you just need to go.  There are other times when that just going is simply a rebellious action meant to hurt someone.   When you grow up the child of parents devoted to the Emperor, what's the easiest way to hurt them?  Run off to Fed space, and work for Hudsons Hard Asses....That is until you find yourself on the outs, and living in the wrong part of the galaxy with the wrong kind of name.  When that time to go came, things got tricky.

Sometimes years pass to slowly.  What feels like a scar to you, can still be a gaping wound to the people you hurt.  Put simply the parental units where still a bit pissed at how I'd been spending my last few years.  So the visit back home didn't last long...

So when you find yourself in a situation like mine, any kind of handy brass ring to pull up on feels mighty fine.  When you find that brass ring is attached to a rocket, you just need to hold on and hope to be out of the blast wake....My brass ring?  E.X.O....

It hasn't been an easy transition... You grow up in a house full of zealots things rub off on you... In particular the over excitement that comes from feeling powerful.... When you find out significant portions of the local populace shrink from the idea of fighting for a cause no matter the cost, you get a little discouraged.  

There are rumblings already of a rebellion.  A reaction to the perceived over reach and callousness of a bunch of thugs.  If wandering the galaxy, being born on one side, and fighting for the other has taught me anything, it's that where dissent comes from out of nowhere, spies are involved...
My calling is clear... I will fight for E.X.O. until the day I can't.  If that means spacing the enemy so be it.  If that means being hated... so be it.... When you find your family has rejected you, your allies have turned on you, and strangers offer you your only solace, what else is there to do but embrace the strange?

And then you start a cult, and the strange just keeps on meowing.