The galaxy can be a harsh place, and growing up in a harsh place within a harsh place has ways of traveling with you which makes it hard to really leave even after walking away.
Born on Nar Shaddaa during the time of the Empire’s reign, what might have been called a “golden age” for the moon was already a distant memory in drug addled minds. What little could be seen as a silver lining was mostly a luxury that only spacers and the wealthy could afford. My family was neither. When the comforting saying growing up amounted to “at least we don’t live in the Duros Sector,” that should paint a good picture. Dad worked hard, but depression mixed with a warrior’s spirit never ends well, and it is a story that stains the streets and bars of this force-forsaken moon. Between the bars and spice dens, I imagine over half his earnings found their way into their pockets. My first lesson in tracking: finding him finding him after one of his “episodes.” Mom… mom tried. Even when the world felt like it was ending, she remained proud and tried to show that there was something in the messes someone kept getting into.
I guess she wasn’t wrong. Those bars I tracked him to did introduce me to what a bounty hunter was. I started to idealize them in a way. Mostly the part about leaving, fighting, and getting paid for it, but some of the things they used from armor to gadgets to weapons I found intriguing and wanted to learn more about. In hindsight, my interests might have led to a few fights growing-up, but that was largely the norm anyway, so maybe not.
Though he was never much of a gambler, dad’s luck did runout one night. A nightmarish day mixed with a warrior’s spirit and too much alcohol ends the way you’d expect it to. Still don’t know what triggered the fight, but several of his coworkers got into a fight. Three dead, two wounded, and three more maimed. Quite a scene to see when you just walk in not knowing what happened. Mom didn’t take it well. Turned to drugs, but I suppose I should be happy she didn’t have time to go down that same road, and she did teach me something in the end: things from the old Duros Sector sometimes find their way up. I survived for the next few years doing odd jobs and started selling information to bounty hunters. One of them, a Twi’lek named Aroj Mose, started helping me hone those skills I use to use to find dad. I think she mostly had pity for me. Regardless, it got me started, and it wasn’t long before I started trying to understand how to build or modify things like the other hunters I had seen and dealt with. I can only imagine how annoying it was trying to teach an overly ambitious Cathar that had no real idea what he was doing. I know she got tired of the fires from my long list of failures in blaster rifle modification. How she lasted teaching me for four years I’m not entirely sure. Now, my career as a solo hunter starts.

Ambition (Greed): The goal to always have enough to eat, have a place to stay, to replace ammunition, medical supplies, and broken gear is understandable. Though you never know what's coming, so always have enough for anything.

Finish the Job: A strange, and possibly dangerous, combination of pride, professionalism, and wanting a strong reputation.

Favor (Aroj Mose) 5: Learning from someone carries a price even if unstated.

High Risk 5: Watching bounty hunters for so long gives a pretty good idea on what hunters value. Though not necessary the wisest course of action, there is a strong desire to build a reputation quickly.

Obsession 10: Mandalorian armor, illicit weapons, usual gear, and modifying it in new and strange ways, all of it almost constantly eats at his attention.

Gender: Male
Age: 19
Height: 5' 10'' (1.778 m)
Build: Medium
Hair: Black, normally messy
Fur: Mostly gray with streaks of brown and black
Eyes: Yellow with slight green around the iris
Notable Features:
Subrace: Juhani
Small scar on right cheek
Scar of three claw marks on left cheek
Scar on right upper-arm
Scar from a blaster burn on right side