For Waz’zoguf Cimkuwec, life had never been easy, specially with a name that long. Ever since he had memory, all he knew was the slave camp, he grew up in there and became who he is by going through those troublesome times.
Where was he? The planet was Rishi, a planet on the Outer Rim. A lawless place where pirates and smugglers were more common than decent drinks - and his slave camp was way up north of it. Deep inside it’s mountains, he and a few hundred captured slaves worked nearly all day and night to obtain minerals and resources that would then be processed and sold for absurd prices. Profitable for them that their workforce did their deeds in exchange for what could barely pass as potable water and edible food - don’t even mention a comfy bed.
Did Waz ever meet his parents? He was no memory of them, only of growing under the rule of the slavers. And to be honest, the twi’lek wasn’t the best slave out there. Unruly and with a fighting spirit, he would defy his masters at every chance that got on his hands. They we’re not amused, and each punishment became harsher. Having no water for a day, having no food for two, laying on the floor for the night, electrocution, blunt hits, being forced to work for ten hours straight with no rest.
The only respite he ever had were the moments of solitude, being thrown back to his cell. A small room, 1x2 metters of space that he had to share with broken down droids waiting to be recycled. His only company, the broken machines that could barely even speak, but was fond of. In the calm nights, even though he was lying on top of solid rocks and the dirt, he could finally close his eyes and sleep peacefully.
His body however, was barely holding on together. And when he was shoved inside the medical room for his injuries, is when he noticed something change within himself. The medical droid, a clearly salvaged and stolen machine from the republic, went close to him, inspecting his wounds. Cuts, bruises, he was bleeding after a rock fell on him and it was getting everywhere.
“Young Waz, treatment will be delivered in a moment.”, said the droid as it went back into the medical closet, picking the needed supplies. Waz just closed his eyes, exhausted. He relaxed, knowing that for whatever the treatment would last, he was at least save and in good hands, the machine wasn’t armed and held no ill intentions. His eyes remained closed for a good minute, his mind at peace, only to be disturbed by said droid. “Oh my. There seems to be some sort of malfunction on my visual scanners… You don’t seem to be wounded at all, now.”, said the machine.
Waz opened his eyes. Although he still had bloodstains on his head and hands, he didn’t feel any pain. The wounds vanished, the exhaustion wasn’t there either. And for all intentions, the droid seemed just as confused. “There seems to be a major malfunction on my systems. I will require further examination. You’re free to go.”, said the medical piece of work as he grabbed his hands and accompanied him to the door and into the custody of the slavers. What happened? He didn’t understand, and the slavers just though the medical droid did an splendid work, so he was pushed back into the mines.
He didn’t have many that you could call a friend on that place. Waz didn’t socialize much, specially after that happened. He asked others, but no slave believed him. “You just pushed yourself over the limit, Waz. You probably just… Collapsed and dreamed it all.”, they said. And so he believed for a good while, but the evidence was there. The harder he pushed himself on that mine, the better he woke up the next day. The exhaustion, the pain, the wounds he ended up picking up by the badly made tools and lack of protection on such a place, it would vanish after a long, peaceful rest. And he finally brought himself to a conclusion that other slaves agreed upon after seeing him being that healthy despite the tiresome work of everyday.
Waz had to be possessed. There’s no way that’s normal. At least, that’s what he believed. From that day, he often snuck off from his cell in search of said medical robot. He wanted to know more, he wanted to replicate the first time it happened, as to understand how could it be possible. The droid, named ZJ-312B, wasn’t having any of that. Amazed and flabbergasted, it knew no answer for any of it… Other than the force. Said machine was reprogrammed, but never got it’s memory whipped. While it now held complete loyalty to that slaver scum, it still had records of similar stuff, done by Jedi.
The young twi’lek was surprised by the stories of the droid. At the same time, the droid kept on analyzing Waz’s strange healing powers. A mutual benefit exchange, one heard of stories about people like him and what those powers seemed to be from the eyes of a droid, while the droid understood his medical condition as to better grasp it’s limits. Waz even picked up on things about said machines, learning to understand their strange droid speak. The years went by, and Waz learned that this “Force” was some sort of mystical weapon wielded by strange warriors named “Jedi”. People who used their blades made of pure light and bright colours to bring peace to the world. However, if they did bring peace to the world… Where are they? How come they haven’t saved him and the rest of slaves from that despicable rock? He had doubts about if what he was being told was a 100% real, or parts of it were fabricated by the clearly deteriorated mind of the droid.
That didn’t stop him, though. And with time, he learned how to control that healing power. He was able to use it at will on his own, at times even being able to heal others by mere accident. Not wanting to rely on something he couldn’t always get to work on others, Waz decided to learn the basics on medicine by ZJ-312B. It’s not like he was a master of it, he didn’t even feel like a proper medic, but he became a symbol of hope in that slave colony. Other slaves saw him as the only one who wouldn’t give up on getting out of there, as someone who wouldn’t collapse no matter what. And by that point, Waz knew what was right to do.
The slaves deserved a better life, and the slavers were his real obstacle. A crafty twi’lek that he was, he managed to smuggle a couple of things to his dusty cell. When the day was right, and thanks to the distractions of ZJ-312B, he put his plan in action. Going through the dangerous ventilation tunnels, he reached the control room. A strange mix of republic and sith technology, all salvaged from the ruins of ships from both sides of a seemingly never ending war. He didn’t quite understood computers, but it couldn’t be that difficult… Could it? He raced through the machine and in sheer desperation, managed to open all of the doors in the makeshift colony. Being at the cliff of a mountain, and with the nearby valley filled with rancors, smuggled there to be free for the only reason of eating anyone who ever tries to run away, Waz knew the only way he and the slaves could get out of that rock; a ship.
The doors of the station opened. The cells, the cantina, the rooms of the guards, the armories… And also the door to the control room, behind him. A voice catched him by surprise, one he recognized. “It’s this way, Master. Oh, would you look at that, why would you do any of this, Waz?”, said ZJ-312B as he walked in with the slave master of the place. The droid was just following his programming, forced to be loyal to the criminals. He noticed faster than the slavers what was going on and reported it to them. Fear overtook Waz’s minds, so close to freedom and yet so far. The slaver, called Thuk’zar, a trandoshan, took out his weapon. It was an electrical pike, what he used for years to cause him pain, intense pain that Waz only managed to get over with by those healing powers he discovered. The slaver got closer, and with each step, Waz’s heart raced even faster. He knew that he wasn’t going to get out of that predicament by just closing his eyes, he truly feared for his life.
Thuk’zar kicked him, stabbed him with the pike, send painful shocks through his body, but he felt no need to stop. Waz’s body was filled with emotions; pain, misery, agony, but the strongest of them all was fear. Opening his eyes, he looked at his aggressor. He saw no mercy on his eyes, Waz knew very well that he wouldn’t just be thrown back into his cell. The force got him into that predicament, and the force got him out. Lashing out to his attacker in a show of defiance and resistance, knowing that it was all or nothing, he defended himself. After getting the pike of his enemy stuck on the floor, Waz managed to disarm Thuk’zar, only for him to take a blaster out of his holdster. That’s when Waz moved by instinct, taken over by fear. Moving his palm against him, he forced pushed the slave master with great strenght, enough for him to crash into a window that couldn’t support neither the force or weight of it. Thuk’zar felt from said window, overlooking the cliff. His body ragdolled, dead and lifeless after hitting so many rocks on his way down a half a kilometer drop. And once it reached his destination, he was devoured by the same rancor monstruosities he used to take care of his slaves.
Fear overtook Waz, his hand shaking, his heart racing and his vision bluring. Did he meant to kill him? He didn’t want to… Did he? Doubt had set on his mind once he realized that the same power that kept his body together all this time, the one thing he believed to be a miracle and a symbol of hope, had became a horrible weapon that took a life without any mercy. He had someone else’s blood on his hands, he had become a murderer. Was it fair because it was self-defense? Perhaps others would believe so, but Waz was peaceful. He didn’t enjoy violence, and he didn’t intend for anyone to die during the breakout. Too late for that, his mind went back to reality when he heard the blaster fire echoing through the place. The breakout had begun and the slaves had managed to get a hold of the armory. Better armed than the slavers and bigger in numbers, things took a radical change. And he didn’t want to spend any more second in there that he had to.
Blocking his way out, the only thing that stood in between was ZJ-312B. His only real friend, a droid forced to do the dirty work of those criminals. “You killed him, Waz! I must ask you to remain put as I call for the authorities to take control of the situation!”, screamed the droid. Ironic, wasn’t it? It still saw that scum as rightful bringers of justice. However, and while still shaking, Waz decided that he wouldn’t bring himself back to it. He started to fear the force. He realized he himself was dangerous, and decided to just run past him. Could have Waz saved the machine, reprogram it to go back to how it was back on it’s days? It’s likely he could’ve done so, but he knew he had no time. Leaving behind the only friend he believed to ever have, Waz ran through the strange battlefield that had formed. The slavers had lost, overwhelmed by sheer numbers. For each slave they killed, ten more would replace it, and by losing ground they left their space-port open.
Waz had no idea how to pilot that thing, but knew that someone between those slaves would. He stayed on the cargo hold of said ship, hidden in a crate. Still shaking in fear, still taken over by the feeling of guilt. It wasn’t long until the blaster fire stopped, the ship started to move. The slaves had managed to take their lives back, ran away to a planet Waz didn’t recognize or care to do so. Deciding that he could be a danger to the rest, he left the others without saying a word, and from that point, Waz became a free twi’lek. Free to go where ever he felt like, but in no way free of guilt.
Years went by. He had become an adult, or at least he did pass as one. With each planet he visited, his objective stood the same. See the world, live an honest life, find more about the force. Those jedi could, perhaps, help him control the force. Avoid that disaster before it repeats again. He lived most of his time by hunting the wildlife, selling the meat for cheap to the poor, selling the pelts for clothing, and always avoiding blasters. He still feared violence, but he trusted that a hand-to-hand weapon would at least cause damage to the things he intends to damage, a blaster on his hands would probably end up causing harm to someone innocent.
And although he never learned much about those Jedi during his travels along the dangerous Outer Rim, his travels brought him to this planet. Viscara. He didn’t know what made him come here, he just did. Once he landed, once he took off into the woods, he noticed something different. The force felt special in this place, his mind came at some resemblance of peace. Perhaps this was the place destined for him to know more about it, to finally leave that fear behind.
And now, a week has passed since his arrival. Suddenly, he was meet several Jedi. He can feel himself grow, manage to control the force better. After going through the strange trial of that old man, having faced himself in what seemed like an illusion and barely managing to defeat his reflection, he now aims to follow that path. In one hand, a badly put together green lightsaber. On his other hand, an energy shield to defend himself and others from harm. And his mind, set on joining the Jedi Order and be no danger to others anymore.