Cangeson Wolfsbane

Biographical Information
Full Name:	Cangeson Wolfsbane
Homeworld:	Kamino / Corellia
Born:	Year -35
Died:
Physical Description
Race:	Mon Calamari (formerly Human Clone)
Gender:	Male
Height:	1.83m
Colouring:	Brown
Hair Colour:
Eye Colour:	Brown
Trade Federation Service
Status:	Active
Ministry:	Interior
Department:	Operations - Analla's Angels
Position:	Pilot
Prior Service:

Cangeson Wolfsbane, an engineer by trade, from Corellia. Cangeson’s name carried little weight in the galaxy at large, but among veterans and the crews he’d saved, he was remembered as the man who could keep a ship flying when all hope was lost. To his family, he was a man who had seen enough war for a lifetime, and chose instead to build a future among the stars. After the passing of his wife, Cangeson is traveling the galaxy, undertaking oddjobs.

Early Life

MI-4073 was bred on Kamino like millions of his brothers, a soldier in the making for the Grand Army of the Republic. Where most clones excelled in marksmanship and battlefield command, 4073’s aptitude tests showed an unusual affinity for machines and systems. Kaminoan overseers assigned him to combat engineering, a role that would define both his wartime service and his life afterward. Among his batchmates, he earned the nickname “Wolfsbane” for his quiet ferocity when pressed, and for his knack of dismantling enemy droids with ruthless precision.

The Clone Wars

When the war came, MI-4073 shipped out as an engineer attached to clone infantry divisions. He kept walkers running, fighters patched, and comm towers online under fire. His tools were as important as a blaster, and in time, commanders came to rely on him for solutions no standard manual could cover.

Personal Log: Every brother’s blaster jams eventually. Out here, under Separatist fire, it doesn’t matter how well the Jedi plan or how loud the commander shouts — if the gears grind to a halt, the whole machine dies in place. That’s where I come in. My hands may not carry the same weight as a rifle in the charge, but they keep the rifles firing, the walkers stomping, the transports flying. No one sings about an engineer in the trenches, but when the mud swallows your boots and droids pour over the ridge, it’s the unseen wrench that saves the day. I fight so my brothers don’t have to fight alone.

Campaigns

Geonosis

His first campaign saw him crawling through a shattered shield generator with Separatist fire raining down. He rerouted power with bare wires and a half-burnt control board, keeping the shield up just long enough for the Jedi to push the droids back. “Wolfsbane” became more than a nickname that day — it became his reputation for surviving against odds.

Umbara

Wolfsbane watched clones die by the thousands in the darkness. He salvaged wrecked AT-RTs under poison-choked skies, often dragging wounded brothers back with one hand while carrying a toolbox in the other. Umbara left him scarred, not just by battle, but by the betrayal of a Jedi general who saw clones as expendable.

Ryloth

On Ryloth, Wolfsbane worked closely with Twi’lek freedom fighters, turning scrap speeders into armored transports and modifying freighters for supply drops. For the first time, he saw the Republic not just as soldiers, but as liberators. Yet he also saw how fragile those promises were — villages freed one day, bombed the next.

Coruscant

During the assault on the Republic’s capital, Wolfsbane wasn’t in the skies with starfighters — he was in the undercity, rerouting failing power grids to keep civilian evacuation corridors lit. It was brutal, thankless work, but it saved thousands.

After the War

When the Republic fell and the Galactic Empire was born, clones like MI-4073 were “retired.” Some were reassigned to Imperial units for a time, but engineers and specialists were quietly pushed out, their service ended with little more than a credit chit and an order to leave. Many brothers lost their way.

4073 refused to let himself vanish. Taking the name Cangeson Wolfsbane — Cangeson as a chosen identity, Wolfsbane as the only family name he’d ever truly owned — he built a new life.

On Corellia, Wolfsbane thrived among shipyards, smugglers, and freighter crews. His clone training and wartime ingenuity made him invaluable as a freelance engineer and pilot. He could coax life out of ships others would scrap, and he never asked too many questions about the cargo he carried. It was on one such job that he met Marr’ae, a sharp and ambitious Zabrak trader. At first, theirs was a pragmatic partnership — she found the work, he kept the ship flying — but their bond deepened with time. For a man bred for war, she offered something entirely new: choice, companionship, and a future that wasn’t written in someone else’s orders.

Personal Log: Year -17: That’s when Marr’ae came into my orbit. Zabrak, sharp as vibrosteel, didn’t waste words. She hired me to keep her transport flying; I thought it’d be another short contract. But run after run, system after system, I realized she wasn’t just moving cargo, she was building something bigger. And me? I was following, same as I had my whole life. Except this time, no commander shouted orders. Just her voice, steady, certain. She gave me something the Kaminoans never did: choice.

Together, they settled, and when their daughter, Siou, was born, Cangeson finally felt the purpose he’d sought since Kamino. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t a designation, a tool, or a soldier — he was a father.

Personal Log: Year -15: Today I held my daughter for the first time. Siou. Fragile, loud, alive in ways clones like me were never meant to be. I looked into her eyes and saw no orders, no war, no designation. Just possibility. For years, I told myself my purpose was in keeping ships alive, in staying useful, in refusing to fade away like the rest of my brothers. But when her hand wrapped around my finger, I knew this was the mission I’d been waiting for. Not survival. Not service. Legacy.

Metamorphosis Plague

In the Year 26: Marr'ae passed away having contracted a blood infection. Marr'ae's final request of Cangeson was to "find our daughter; live your life!" So, he did! He took his freighter, and plotted a course to Austan, to where he'd last heard his daughter was living and working with Ternion Corps. Along the way, he started helping various people out. Delivering freight here, moving ships there, all along the route he was travelling. For the first time in a long time, Cangeson felt free.

Passing through Derra, Cangeson contracted the phenomenon known as the Metamorphosis Plague and over a period of time find his physiology changing, he was no longer human, but Mon Calamari! This was going to take some adjusting to, but it almost felt right. A new body, whilst embarking on a (sort of) new life.

Personal Log: Year 26, Day 168: I’ve seen my share of fevers in the field. Kaminoan inoculations failing in the swamps of Felucia, brothers coughing blood in trenches while medics tried to patch the holes. But this… this isn’t any fever I’ve ever known.

The shakes started two nights ago. By morning, my skin had darkened in patches, rough to the touch like stone dragged across coral. My lungs burn, but not like they’re failing, more like they’re… changing. Breathing feels different, deeper, pulling air in a way I can’t quite place. I catch myself holding my breath longer than any human should, as if my body’s testing its own limits.

They call it the Metamorphosis Plague. Most spacers curse it, pray they don’t catch it, fear what it makes them. But when I look in the mirror and see this face I barely recognize staring back, I don’t feel fear. I feel… release. For the first time since Kamino, no one owns this body. Not the Kaminoans, not the Republic, not the Empire. This is mine.

Marr’ae told me to live. Maybe this is what she meant; to shed the skin of a soldier, of a widower, of a clone, and walk forward as something new. My name is Wolfsbane. My daughter is out there. And whatever I’m becoming, I’ll find her. I’ll make sure she knows her father still fights. Not for orders, not for credits, but for her.”

A Man Alone

It turned out, the information Cangeson had about his daughter was outdated, by nearly a year. She had moved on from Ternion and Austan, and headed north to Leafar, to work with the Jungle Oracle to free Ithor from the shackles of commercialism! However, by the time he arrived, Siou had fallen to the Lost Soul Syndrome. The Jungle Oracle, and those who knew Siou passed on their well wishes to Cangeson, remarking how she was a staunch defender of those who were unable to defend themselves! "How very Siou!" he had responded.

His wife dead and his daughter non-responsive, Cangeson remained around Leafar, getting to know Siou's friends, continuing to help out with projects Siou had had a hand in - a way for him to reconnect with his daughter.

Personal Log: Year 26, day 242: They call it Lost Soul Syndrome. Such a tidy phrase for something so cruel. She still breathes. Still exists. But my daughter, who carried the spirit of her mother and the stubbornness of her father, is somewhere I can’t follow. When the Oracle and her companions spoke of her courage, her devotion to those who couldn’t fight for themselves, I heard Marr’ae’s voice echo in theirs.

The Trade Federation

In the waning days of year 26, Cangeson took on a contract with The Trade Federation's Minister of the Interior, Dred Oodoov, privately. It transpired that the minister had worked with Cagneson's daughter shortly after she first set out into the galaxy, and as a way to honour their relationship, the minister offered him a permanent position.

Personal Log: Year 26, day 297: Funny, isn’t it? Sixty years ago, if you’d told me I’d be under the flag of the Trade Federation , I’d have laughed you out of the mess hall. Back then, they were the enemy. Droids by the millions, marching under their banners, tearing apart Republic worlds. And me? Clone MI-4073, bred and trained on Kamino to stop them at any cost.

But the galaxy doesn’t sit still. Wars end, governments rise and fall, names get scrubbed from the records. The Trade Federation I bled against isn’t the same one I work with now. The old viceroys are gone, their fleets stripped down, their battle droids turned into scrap. What’s left is business — cargo, routes, neutral space where the Empire doesn’t pry too much and the Rebels don’t come knocking.

I won’t lie, the first time I signed a contract with them, my gut twisted. All those years in the mud and the steel, fighting against what they once stood for… it felt like betrayal. But look around now. The Grand Army was disbanded, the brothers scattered, the Empire never wanted us except as disposable tools. Out here, with the Federation, I’m not a number in a line of armor. I’m an engineer, a freelancer, a man with a name.

Maybe that’s the lesson time teaches you — enemies change, but survival stays the same.

Trade Federation Service Record

Dates	Rank	Directorate	Assignment	Work Experience
Y26 D316 - Present			Library Archivist	Started assisting with the updating of the Trade Federation Library
Y26 D316 - Present			Analla's Angels Cadet First Class
Y26 D316			Basic Training Cadet	Passed the Basic Training Standard Exam Took the Trade Federation Oath