Tyrath Sadow was a Coruscani male and one of the honourary 'Bringers from Darkness' of the Star Wars Combine faction, the Heirs of Ziost (HoZ). He had been a medical student at the University of Coruscant in the planet's Fobosi District before a sudden departure from the planet. He is now a member of the assassin branch of HoZ which he has played a part in developing and has also been involved in the development of other HoZ branches.
Other than knowledge that Talus Kel-Sutra, the boy's father, was one of the Sons of Sadow, all records were wiped from history. As such a large part of Tyrath's DNA is anonymous. This is intensified by the hybridity existent in his DNA from being born as a result of a scientific experiment.
The Beginning Edit
Born in the orbit of Coruscant, the boy was the product of alchemy and research. He was grown from a test tube containing varied DNA, mostly of humanoid origin but unknown traces carbon dated back to ancient times. Three scientists conducted his growth with unknown intentions but when his foetus had reached maturity it was assumed he had been released from an early slaughter. As if perhaps a scientist pitied him and packed him securely into an escape pod, ejecting it toward the planet before the child received its early end.
The child was found wrapped in bundles of blood stained cloth and had been packed securely into an escape pod which crashed close to a Coruscani mansion when household security droids immediately surveyed it for potential danger. After sighting the cloth, one unraveled it to find the child, unharmed and quiet, resting naked on his side. The other took a sample of the still reasonably moist blood on the cloth in tandem. They immediately contacted their owner, Fam Tari-Antar with suspicion. He confirmed that there was no danger and commanded the droids to bring the child before his wife, Silos. Upon sighting the baby the Twi'lek woman was keen to adopt, unaware of the child's genetic heritage. Sighting the smile on Silos' face as she grasped the baby, Fam couldn't help but agree in its adoption, but he advised strongly that a blood test be taken to ascertain who its parents were and if the blood patch on the cloth matched its DNA. He assigned a medical specialist droid to take a blood sample. The scan was sent over the republic holonet to the greater Coruscani hospital (which knew the blood types of most of the known galaxy) and was analysed. Two days later it was confirmed that the child had mostly human DNA with a touch of the ancient Massassi genome and that the blood sample from the cloth around the baby had no resemblance to the DNA of the child. The Tari-Antars were immediately shocked when they concluded the child was the sole survivor of a massacred crew but couldn't convince themselves to let the child go despite the potential for the psychopath to come after them in an attempt to settle unfinished business. They therefore brought it up as if it were their own child despite its obvious humanoid origins as opposed to their Twi'lek origins. In view of its past they choose to call it a withered, wretched name to remind them of the harsh circumstances that brought the child to them and so Tyrath came to be.
Early Life Edit
Over the years Tyrath became well acquainted with prestige and wealth. He knew only power and neglected the humble ways of his adoption parents. He was always eager to engage them in discussion - always having vastly different views about society in general.
The Tari-Antar's were orthodox republican and followed the ways of the old Republic as opposed to Tyrath who hated being governed. He believed in survival and keeping oneself separate from law to strengthen one to their utmost potential. He attended the University of Coruscant where he studied medicine. Whilst his dedication to study was exceptional, his choice of degree was more a result of the Tari-Antar's pushing than a self-desire to become a surgeon. They had hoped Tyrath would become an on-field military surgeon who would support the republic war effort. Tyrath however had other plans and whilst much of his time was spent engaged in medical study, most of his free time consisted of studying ancient history, savage beasts, or physically disciplining himself. He would train hours on end, a sword in hand, picturing beasts around him. He could picture them as bright as day and from reading countless books had ingrained into his mind their instincts and actions. He would know what to anticipate and be ready for whatever faced him.
His study of the ancients along side that of savage beasts evolved his instincts and formed the way he fought. Of particular interest were exploits of the Mandalorians and the ancient Sith. Fierce warriors, dangerous adversaries. This, matched with hard laborsome physical exercise moulded his body into what it became. To a lesser extent, what Massassi was in his blood must have also helped build his physique. It was always apparent that he was different from others. Not having any friends brought potential for his ability to constantly improve himself as did the wealth of his adoption family in eradicating the necessity for him to earn a living. He never seemed to mind such a life, as he cared little for pain in general whether it be emotional or physical. Furthermore he knew that if ever there was a need to develop a means of interacting with others, he could pick this up later.
Tyrath was dogmatic and strong about his opinions. He would rationalise a situation up to the point that few among his company could develop a solid rebute other than state that his views were simply immoral and not fit for noble stock. It is when the family had had enough of their son's savage creature analogies and retelling of vicious ancient tribal stories in public circles that they left their adopted son to wither on the streets. He was left with absolutely nothing other than his upper class garments but he resorted to theft and through picking up some manipulative skills, he learned to survive. It is this quest for survival which made Tyrath strong.
After two months of being a lowly, Tyrath felt it was time to make something of himself. It was an opportune moment on the slums of lower Coruscant where a glare from a spacer convinced Tyrath he was no longer the respected noble he had once been. Without hesitation, Tyrath shot a confronting glare back, indicating a challenge. Angering the recipient, the drifter charged at him. The man was quick but Tyrath managed to dodge his blows. It was as if he had been preparing for this moment his whole life, which theoretically wasn't far from the truth. It was after Tyrath managed to project a fast winding kick to the attacker's belly that the attacker stumbled back and reached for his knife. All of a sudden, this was not a basic fracas, but a life and death situation. Diplomacy was certainly an option, however, they had attracted a small audience who would have been very disappointed had they not received the entertainment they were seeking. Not to mention, the audience too had that menacing look that suggested fight or die. Nonetheless, after a few misses, Tyrath managed to disarm his opponent by pounding a right hook punch throw the spacer's face. His left hand simultaneously grabbed the knife, capitalising on the window of opportunity. The spacer staggered back and tried to flee, however not only was the crowd preventing him, but Tyrath was now 5 times as quick as his semi concussed opponent. Without hesitation he leapt and stabbed the dagger through the spacer's neck. After pushing the body away as to avoid blood spraying over his clothes, Tyrath gazed into the audience to see if anyone else was keen to challenge. Whilst most backed away a Trandoshan smiled before hissing at Tyrath whilst approaching him. The female explained immediately that she was actually stating her approval. She then came close enough to whisper, Tyrath paying attention to her every move to ensure no foul play was at hand. It turned out she had the perfect solution to Tyrath's impoverished situation. She grabbed his forearm and issued without further hesitation, "You come now, before security arrive"
Leading Tyrath down a dark alley and into an abandoned shop she demanded immediately, "Hide clothes! Put on these". The garments looked trashy but it was better than being arrested. He put them on without hesitation. She continued: "I've finally cracked the big time. I say bye bye to this hole. If you want make big bucks from illegal but secret underground tournament, you represent me in my fight tomorrow night with Takkus Zee. It's a death match, so I feel like coward to miss it. However, I have life in front of me, you don't. The first few rounds will be child's play, you'll make little money, but make die some stupid people. Once you've got your hands in blood, you wont be able to expose tournament to authorities" She giggled before continuing "I want you head down hole behind big bin at 152 Megadyv Shad, Fobosi. You will wear my fighting clothes. If you look like me, they'll let you in arena. At midnight, you fight Zee. If you win, you fight next week. If you lose, whole tournament know its you not me and I get hunted down and killed for disrespect. You be my hero, do me proud" Avoiding a peck on the cheek from a Trandoshan, Tyrath smiled and extended his hand instead. She shook her head in disgust, then stormed to the door. Before leaving she turned back to Tyrath "Midnight. Bin at 152 Megadyy Shad. Do not forget!"
Kalythyyan Knife Fighting Edit
...TO BE CONTINUED...
Eventually his talents were analysed by a member of the ISB who offered the youngster a position in the New Imperial Order (NIO). The position aggravated Tyrath who detested the command hierarchy of which he had no influence and he was quick to depart, the possibility of becoming something powerful being a much more desirable destiny. He would consider the exploits of Mandalore or Marka Ragnos and dream of leading a massive fleet of ships, raiding planets for every last resource, acquiring wealth and expanding asset base. Finally, conquering the galaxy. It was such a tongue-teasing prospect but he could always dream, as ineffective and useless as it may be. History showed that dreams focused willpower which enlightened Tyrath to them.
...TO BE CONTINUED...
Teachings left in the university database before Tyrath departed Coruscant: "For years have I looked up at her sky, a terrain of opportunity. Here I dwelled, a lowly, no self pity. But I am not dead despite being raised so ignorantly. I will stagger only because the tares in my calves affect my gait. I used to feel pain, now it is but a memory of my sorry upbringing. It is the privileged who feel pain, and the poor that never understand it. However I am lucky as I know pain but can't feel it. You could say they weakened me, but it is those that never suspect treachory that are weak. I have seen more of Coruscant than either poles could hope to imagine" ... "It isn't hard to accept the fact that you're different. The weak forever make excuses, but the strong embrace the contrast. Being released from the shackles of heritage allows your differences to strengthen. It is a domestic animal that faces the wild and dies but a truly wild animal faces the domesticators and kills them. Note the subtleties, "truly wild" as opposed to "wild". Wild animals can be theoretically tamed, truly wild animals technically can't. A fascinating proposition... Cause death or submit to change? Because in reality a latent problem isn't a solved one. Running is ultimately futile and diplomacy never makes latency benign" ... "If you are listening to this holotranscript, I am already light years from this moody planet. My mood is one temperament. I don't see light and day for their value, they are but distractions. Willpower is but the only emotion that matters, others are merely frivolous. Heed my thoughts and possibly one day may you too be released"
Another record of particular interest was that found in Tyrath’s personal university databank by Barabel technical specialists. It was assumed that rather than merely producing a fictitious prose, and, taking into account an absence of there being any previous record of Tyrath departing the planet before the last departure, it was concluded by inquisitive university professors that this was a recounting of an eventful dream the student had experienced.
"...two Hssiss closing in from behind. I gase forward - shattered stones; the angulated sharpness at the edges torturous like that of my sword. My sword, the implement reflecting the lighting of dim lit torches. All I hear are the grunts of foul creatures travelling in my wake. I can feel the heat of every breath bashing against the rear of my neck. They are but meters away and closing in. Thump, thump, thump! No fear; my blade will pierce their tough hides and turn their skin at the edges. I jump. No emotion. My blade runs along side the left of a lumber vertebra of the beast toward the muddy close. The beast howls. What feels like a hurricane's essence follows. I am flayed onto my back. I skid into the sharp stones. They tear at my back, blood following. Small rivers form in my back. I am suddenly an environment. I feel the drips. They are not unlike sweat whilst their movements are much slower. They are cumbersome and awkward, unlike free flowing sweat. I won't match them. I must not join them. I am agile and accurate.
I face my adversaries closing in. Ugly creatures, the highest order of savagery. I can hear my sword scraping the ground through one beast’s under belly. I have the utmost respect for him, he is a battler. It is unfortunate even given my respect that this fiercesome adversary must die. I don't need to pick myself up, the faster beast does it for me. Horns, jabbing into my side. I'm thrown to the right. The other goes for me. I slowly pick myself up. His speed has failed. I crawl passed him, the sword in my sights. I grasp it and go for a ride. The beast attempts to throw me but fails. I climb the horns of his back before ripping my hilt-clenched hand back, the sword blade simultaneously moving in the opposite direction. His tail becomes two. His liver is divided along with his spleen. He will die. For a moment he still hobbles but soon he is weak and lifeless. I roll away before the blood and poison poors onto me. I can't risk the being's poison touching my blood. The smallest drip of his poison entering my blood would surely kill me. The other creature sees me vulnerable. I have but my sword; this armored reptile charging at me. With all my force I swing it in a sideward motion as it slices through the right side of the beast's face and through its eye ball. It shuffles back and growls angrily. Like me pain has no negative effects on its willpower. Still, pain angers it. I care little for pain. Wounds will heal and even if they are slow to heal I can use my skills to help them along.
This is more a psychological exercise than a physical one. This beast and I are both accurate and strong. Again it charges at me. Brave creature. Another slice follows, this time in the opposite direction. The right eye remains intact however blood drips into it causing the creature to shut its eye from time to time. It charges again but I roll away. Idiot. It charges straight into a sharp stone. The fragment subsequently breaks off and falls to the soil, crumbling a little. Its forehead now bears a gaping hole. I admire its courage; never give up! It staggers back, a little unconscious. Had I been charging at the same pace with human bone as feeble and weak as it is, my skull would have been thrown back through my body and into my pelvis. The creature sways from side to side as it goes for me again. It has no dexterity. A miss! I capitalise on the moment as I plummet the sword through its stomach. It is still alive, however, it is weak. I don't have the strength in my current state to be able to grab the sword and slice through its tough under belly, the angle bears too much difficulty. It is now slow. This, matched with its weakness and lack of dexterity make it a large amount less than a match for me. I could walk away and easily get to freedom but for one I need my sword and secondly this miserable creature would undoubtedly die anyway. There was no way anything could come back from this much of a battering and hope to survive. Ambria is a place where the weak perish.
I pick myself up as I hobble toward the creature. I withdraw my sword, shuffling back due to the force it takes to remove the thing. Blood follows. Alas the creature cripples! I go close to it and speak between pants, "What your species needs is hardened internals. You bear vulnerability; I exploit it; you die." The creature attempts to jerk a horn at me but I step away. I let the hilt base roll across my fingers and the sword blade drop before grasping the hilt tight and plunging the tool through the creatures head. It was the ultimate rescue; I spared it inevitable long-term pain…”