Born on Trandosha, he was amongst few hatchlings that made it, even fewer that lived through his father’s harsh ways. He despised how advancements in tech made the Trandoshans weak and lazy. Making sure his three remaining sons weren’t coddled by tech or outside influence, he trained them within the deep jungles. Dismemberment, pain without reasons and rage without cause was the life of Nrrax and his two brothers. And when limb grew back, the father taught the same lesson again.
Years passed, and though his brothers faded to memory from the harsh methods, Nrrax stood tall. A day of harsher training, he had enough. In a fit of rage, unbecoming of the calm yet vicious young man, he slew his father, hunted everything he could find for days until he finally calmed. A first taste of the sweet temptation rage and wrath brought. Years passed, he hunted, fought and raised his score. The bigger the kill, the bigger the score. A perfect example amongst the Trandoshan hunters. The only thing he avoided like the plague… Slavery. For a people that enslaved and captured so many… the teachings of the Scorekeeper spoke that death was preferred to ever being captured. Why would he bring such humiliation upon his foes? He couldn’t agree with it. Along with many thoughts regarding their faith.
And as even more years passed, he had his hunts, his friends and allies… even closer relationships which ended with two sons surviving the harsh childhood, and even to pass their coming of age hunts. Sccarak and V’nraxx. A matter Nrrax himself never did, beyond the slaughter of his father. Both eager and faithful to the Scorekeeper, they aimed their tasks at the slave trade, going along whatever bands of slavers sought young talents…
Despite trying to talk (and beat them out of it) he couldn’t change their minds. A older, wearier Dosh, he had given up on the Scorekeeper. Hearing about a intended mission to capture slaves on a widely known republic colony, Nrrax beat both his sons down again, hoping they’d realize the flaws, the risks of the mission. And yet, when he heard the news that the trandoshan ship had simply been blasted down from orbit, he only felt regret. Both had been strong. Both could have been so much more. But the loud words of a single officer, proclaiming the glory of the score, of the scorekeeper had been enough to convince them both. And realizing that, he felt that rage, the bubbling wrath he kept in check return. Nothing would bring them back. They were memories of his mistakes, a failure of a father like his before him… But the taskmaster had not been on the ship.
Heading into the jungle, he found their encampment after much searching, tracking and many creds and favors spent. Leaking their location to the Republic, he struck as they did. Their attempt to save the enslaved and captured. He felt that rage rise to a point beyond anything else as he headed inside. Quiet and lethal, his two blades made short work on mercs that relied on numbers and blasters. Trembling with that anger, he headed deeper… Yet at the outskirts… he saw a pitiful figure. A young woman, covered in bites from insects, sweaty and almost delirious as she walked out into his path. Feverish with spots of blood staining her jumpsuit. Shaking and stuttering as she spoke. “Have you… H-have you heard the voices?” Terrified, as she stared to him. Looking from her to the chaos ahead. The screams of combat and warcries as all fought and bled… He faltered. His failures and mistakes a memory as he saw this weak thing barely holding on to life, not collared and most likely delirious from how she acted. She would die.
A struggle. He wanted to give into the wrath, the rage and bloodlust. But before he knew it, he lifted the girl up and turned. Never once looking towards where his target was most likely fighting for his life, where he needed to be to exact vengeance… and started running to escape the jungle, to find help for her. “Ssshk. Hold on. We’re getting you help small one…” A hiss as he clutched the weak creature to his chest. A soft whisper from the weakened human. “I-It’s Scrap…” Passing out from exhaustion and fever as he ran. This one he could save.
