"The Beast of Nar Shaddaa"

Bast was born a slave, like many Nikto. His parents served a mighty Hutt on Nar Shaddaa. The Hutt was cruel, but Bast's early years were not. Within the compound, the slaves looked out for each other. They cared for each other. A Twi'lek dancer taught the sweet, sensitive child to sing and dance. A Devaronian chef would slip him sweet treats when no one was looking. His parents, guards like most of the Nikto, protected the other slaves from the Hutt's worst impulses. Bast knew kindness. He knew love. He knew peace.

Peace ended. The Hutt went to war against another. The Hutt lost, badly. The compound was overrun. The Hutt was executed. The guards were killed, his parents included. The rest of the slaves were rounded up, valuable spoils of battle. The Twi'lek dancer took Bast by the hand and tried to escape. With their escape route cut off by the invading enforcers, she got him to a sewer entrance. Too small for her, but just big enough for a child. He heard her being captured as he slid down into filth and darkness.

Every day is a struggle on the streets of Nar Shaddaa. That struggle is made worse when you are small, when you have no people. He fought. He learned. He grew. Kindness, love, and peace became a distant memory. At night, during those rare times when he felt safe and alone, he would sing, maybe dance, and think of better times.

Years passed. He learned the way of survival and violence. An anger grew inside him toward the strong who preyed on the weak. Bast was still small, but growing each day. Some day he could fight them. Not yet, but soon.

Bast learned the trick of avoiding cutthroats and robbers. He knew that sometimes you could follow them as they stalked their next victim. After they took down their mark, they'd strip the body of valuables but they might leave something behind. Maybe a belt, or a comlink secreted in a hidden pocket. Once, a credstick in the sole of a shoe. The trick was to get there right away, before the other scavengers.

There was a man, clearly an offworlder. A very foolish man to walk these streets and this time of night. Bast almost felt sorry for him. The bandits trailed him, and he trailed them. They all waited for their moment. The bandits' moment came first. They pounced. They missed. The foolish man lashed out with some sort of laser sword, his blows impossibly fast and precise. Bodies rained down. It was over in an instant.

The stranger surveyed the alley then continued on his way. Dangerous but still clearly a fool, as he took nothing from the fallen. Bast waited until the man rounded the corner, then leaped down from his perch. The thugs' weapons could keep him safe. Their credits could keep him warm and fed.

He heard the footfall too late. Other scavengers, a gang of them. He stood and his mind raced between fight or flight. Then, behind him, a voice. "Be on your way," it said. "There's nothing for you here."

"C'mon," the scavenger leader said to the others. "There's nothing here." They left.

Bast turned to face the fool. "Hungry?" the man asked. Bast nodded. "Come." Bast did.

The man saw Bast fed. He brought him to his haven. He seemed to be some sort of outlaw, just like everyone else on Nar Shaddaa.

"You can stay here if you'd like," he said. "I won't harm you."

Bast believed him.

Bast slept like the child he was, like he hadn't since before the war. In the morning, he thought maybe he'd stay the day then move on.

Years passed. Master taught him. How to move, how to see, how to fight, and how to know when not to fight. Master taught him how to work past his anger, to let it go.

Then, the Empire came to the Smuggler's Moon. They were looking for outlaws like Master. They found Master, and then he was gone.

The Empire left. Bast was alone. His only comforts were Master's teachings and his rage. He tried the way of peace, but Nar Shaddaa abhors peace.

Bast grew. He fought. He tried to follow the Master's path, but he failed often. He felt shame with every rage. He counted every death.

Rumors grew in the lower levels of a great hulking creature. A beast of a man who preyed upon the wicked. Some said it was a Nikto, but others scoffed at that. The popular theory was that it was some Wookiee escaped from a Hutt menagerie. Every time Bast heard these tales of "The Beast of Nar Shaddaa" his shame grew.

He left Nar Shaddaa. He left the rumors. He could not leave the violence. It followed him everywhere. It seemed to infuse every part of the galaxy.

Bast went far, far away.

Enlightenment
Help the Helpless

56
Compassion/Hatred

A great hulking brute of a Nikto.