It's been nineteen years since Kaz fled the Jedi Temple after his master was slain by clones. Nineteen years since he descended into Coruscant's Underlevels, pursued by a squad of the red-trimmed Coruscant Guard. Hours they hunted him, as he delved deeper and deeper, desperate to escape the ever-tightening noose. He's not sure when he realized that he could no longer sense his pursuers, only that he could feel the hunger pangs gnawing at him, worse than he could ever remember. Stretching out with the Force, Kaz began the arduous task of gathering the sparse lichens that his instincts told him were safe. As for the clones who had pursued him, they waited, positioned around the maintenance hatch on Level 1000, one of many entrances to the stratum labeled "The Abyss". Calling for backup, a cordon was put in place, with surveillance droid dispatched to every known entrance to The Abyss within 200 kilometers. After several weeks with no sign, Kaz was presumed dead.

6 months later, and 3 districts away, Kaz squeezed through a half-welded ventilation duct, filthy, ragged, and lean, but alive. Now possessed with the skills and knowledge of the deep underlevels of Coruscant, and needing to stay out of sight, Kaz began renting out his services as an exterminator, salvager, and occasionally, a pathfinder for criminal enterprises who desired more covert routes. Over the next several weeks, Kaz had time to think on the disastrous end to the Clone Wars, and came to the conclusion that while the Republic's collapse was necessary, and the Fall of the Jedi was inevitable, both events had failed to bring about the balance that they should have. Instead of many independent governments, each following the natural cycle of expansion, prosperity, and decline, the process of societal collapse had been hijacked by the Empire, which had imposed its totalitarian grip upon the galaxy. In the case of the Jedi, instead of the stagnant, dogmatic organization splintering, creating many factions who would then develop along different paths, some Lighter in the Force and some Darker, thereby restoring the Balance that was absent so long, they had been wiped out almost entirely, apparently by the so-called "Emperor" Palpatine and his new right hand, both of whom practically drip with Darkness.

With such a devastating blow struck by an enemy hidden within, neither the Republic nor the Jedi stood a chance. With this realization however, any hope of resistance Kaz had felt was crushed. If the full might of the Order had fallen to this foe, which now had the renewed might of the Empire behind it, rather than the Republic's bloated corpse to weigh it down, how could anyone stand a chance. Hope lost, Kaz spent the next two decades ranging the underlevels of the newly-renamed Imperial Center, hunting beasts mutated from chemical exposure, tracking down individuals lost in the urban maze, and clearing out nests of vicious vermin, all the while honing his skills, expanding his tool kit, and augmenting both with his abilities in the Force, until rumours began to reach him. Rumours of an immense battlestation, sighted over the Holy City of Jedha, shortly before it was obliterated. Then, new rumours, of a battle over Scarif. Finally, illicitly distributed by Rebel agents, came sensor data, comms records, even holofootage from flight recorders, of a battle fought above the red-orange gas giant, single-man fighters swarming like gnats across the battlestation's surface until it was just... gone. Seeing that, witnessing it, Kaz knew: if these Rebels, with so little, could wound the Empire in such a way, there was a chance. A chance that it could be hurt, again, and again, until the wounds were too much to bear, falling, like a Rancor, bled from a thousand cuts. In that moment, something long-dead found its way into Kaz once again. For the first time in nearly twenty years, Kaz felt hope.

Creed - Balance Must be Restored
It's not about revenge, or justice. It's about balance. The Republic wasn't perfect. It was corrupt, and bloated with bureaucracy. Something more was needed. But it went too far. The galaxy has only grown colder and darker as the Empire's power has grown, and only after it falls, can balance begin to restore itself.

Morality Score: 50
Moral Strength/Weakness: Independence/Coldness

31 year old Togruta male, agile frame, scarred arms, wary eyes. Wears a drab set of spacer's clothes(cargo pants and a dark green long-sleeve shirt), with a multi-pocketed armored vest, and a heavy thermal cloak draped over his shoulders, both stained with ash and dirt. Carries a variety of survival gear from the load-bearing harness and military-surplus backpack. Rarely goes without a heavily-modified GALAAR-15 Blaster Carbine in his hands, the Explorer's Knife in his right boot, and the Vibro-Machete in its sheath, slung low on his left hip.