Zazu cut his teeth in the fighting pits of Nal-Hutta. The son of mining slaves he was born into slavery and life was cheap. As a pastime some of the children were forced to fight each other, often to the death. Any compassion or remorse that Zazu may have had naturally, was erased by the prolonged and frequent abuse he received.

When he managed to survive time and time again, he eventually caught the eye of the Hutt’s master of spies. Taking the raw material that was Zazu, a mentally damaged, ferocious, pit fighter and converting him into a patient and stealthy assassin, took some doing but they eventually succeeded. The spymaster’s hard work did not go unrewarded. The spymaster had seen more nimble, cunning, and elusive, opratives, but he had never before molded such a lethal assassin. Zazu often left those foolish enough to get in his way, cut in half, or missing a head.

He served as an assassin for the Hutts for many years until one day, his owner, ran afoul of an assassination attempt himself. Apparently one of the rival Hutts didn’t take kindly to his business practices. Zazu heard about the unfortunate death of his owner while he was off world on a mission. With the ensuing power struggle and the warlords grasping for any advantage they could, Zazu simply turned the starship in the other direction, and never went back. No one knew if he was alive or dead, and honestly no one would know his worth, none alive anyway. Trying to find such a cheap and replaceable asset as a killer for hire would be far more trouble than simply getting a new one.

So Zazu, only knowing war, set out to find a new one to fight. He talked to some imperial troopers thinking that the empire may be a good fit but, they seemed bored. There were long periods of time between battles and sometimes you got stuck guarding a trash compactor in the middle of a giant ship or space station. He knew that the systemic xenophobia and bureaucracy of the empire would eventually wear thin. Guess the other side makes more sense, he thought. The rebels tended to let things like morals get in the way of objectives, but because of their much smaller force they needed every available combatant in every fight. If there was a spot that wasn’t in a fight they would ship you off to a different location. This is something I can work with, he thought.

Zazu isn’t suicidal in that he wants to end his life; he is however ambivalent about the possibility of getting killed while on a mission. All he has ever known has been a loosely strung together series of life or death occurrences and there has never been a greater calling, or reason to think that his life should consist of anything else. The adrenalin rush of the hunt, stalking your prey, and feeling their life slip away was an addiction of sorts. This would give him opportunities to do just that as well as provide him with some pocket money for food and entertainment. It was a win-win really.

see obligations box. easier to cut and paste from one spot.

Motivation Conflict, Adrenaline Junky: The most dangerous man is the one with nothing left to lose. Danger isn't a deterrent. Danger is the only way to know you are alive. Zazu has always gone from one life or death situation to another. If he is still alive after this one he will find a way to get himself into the next.

Duty Ground superiority: Zazu is an up close and personal killer. He makes no qualms about it and doesn't hide it. His only request is that command uses his talents to their full potential. He is here to kill the enemy. Although he is happy to help others, he is not here to gather intel, steal supply, or rescue the princess in the tower from the dragon.

Southern Mustifarians are shorter and stockier than their northern cousins. He has a barrel chest and thick powerful legs. His sizable arms end in hands the size of a canned ham. Zazu is heavily muscled and agile with a deadly kind of grace. He does everything with a "devil may care" attitude. He has seen too much to sweat the small stuff, like death.

He is wearing a black armored jumpsuit and has a black anodized 2 handed axe. There is a hairline glimmer of polished steel at the very edge of long sweeping axeblade. A couple of grenades hang from special holders on his utility belt, and his other equipment is all stowed in such a way that it doesn't clank as he moves. There are stim packs in military pouches at the ready. Zazu looks like he is prepared for the worst.

Zazu tends to be brusk and to the point. He occasionally will get the thousand yard stare and generally doesn't make friends very easily. Up until now no one has tried.