Nyxar Raventis

Nyxar Raventis
Biographical Information
Race	Zabrak
Homeworld	Dathomir
Clan	Nightbrothers of Dathomir
Marital Status	Single
Born	Year -6 Day 53
Languages	Dathomirian, Zabraki, Galactic Basic, Paecian
Religion	Nightsisters of Dathomir
Physical Description
Gender	Male
Height	1.87 meters
Weight	182 kilograms
Eye Color	Green
Political Information
Affiliation	Mining Guild Authority

A native Zabrak who hails from the world of Dathomir. A planet ruled by the matriarchy, where the Dark Side of the Force flourishes and the mysterious and ever so illusive Magicks dominate the land. A broad and meaty figure, who makes a strong, yet calm impression. A serious look locked on his face with an inquisitive glimmer playing in the Zabrak’s emerald eyes.

A Warrior Culture

At the age of 10, Nyxar would be dragged out of his home by his father. Ever since that day, Nyxar would be sparring with the others in his village. His days now only consisted of one thing. Hurting. Both him getting hurt and him inflicting pain on others. Nyxar wasn’t the exception, all the other children in the village were also present, for it was mandatory. The Zabrak culture was that of a warrior culture. Training the perfect soldier, training the perfect… Killer. Ranging from hand-to-hand combat to fighting with sharp and blunt weapons. Learning the advantages and disadvantages of each weapon. It was as his father had explained to him on that faithful day when he turned 10 years old. The Nightbrothers had provided for him, and now they expected to see profit from their investment. The Clan needed Nyxar to prepare for when the Nightsisters would come.

The Crucible

By the time the young Zabrak had 18 years to his name, he was an expert in close-quarter combat. At this moment in time, a creature, the Zabrak had never seen before made its appearance in the village. This creature was bipedal, pale, slender, and had markings covering her from head to toe. In many ways like his brothers, yet it was something fundamentally different from them. This creature was named Yemeslari. She announced that she was a Nightsister and had come to find a suitable mate. The words seemed to echo through the empty streets of the village and then a silence fell upon all who were present, heavily. Some of the ‘Brothers looked at each other and others couldn’t help but shuffle. The female’s gaze was set on them, making them uncomfortable. And yet her gaze wasn’t aimed at them, it was as if she was looking through them. A few more minutes the silence lingered, and then she announced that there would be a triumvirate of trials. Nineteen. That was the number of males that the Nightsister had dubbed as ‘potential mates’. This female didn’t even give the head of the Nightbrothers the light of day. No matter what advice he gave, she just did as she wanted.

Test of Fury

Nyxar and the other suitors trailed a path that followed the mountain’s ridge. The end of this path led to an open area that passed the mountain, a place that was unknown to the yellow Zabrak. The open area was naturally closed off by ridged spikes that seemed to pierce the sky. At the center of this area a rock formation was formed, on top stood the Nightbrothers' Clan Head alongside the one who called herself 'Yemeslari'. At the bottom of this pillar, they had placed racks adorning all kinds of weapons. The Clan Head's voice carried over the entire platform. "Chosen ones, welcome you are gathered here at what the Nightsisters call the Crucible. An arena where the chosen will be tested by not only their physique but also their wits! The first trial is the Test of Fury. This test demands blood. Nineteen of you will start this test, but only half of you will live to see the end of it." The Clan Head paused a moment as he looked upon each of the candidates before continuing. "Before you are displayed an arsenal of weapons, please choose your weapon." One by one the males chose their weapons. As soon as all of them had chosen he continued. "I hope all of you chose carefully. These weapons will make the difference between killing or being killed... Let the test begin!" As soon as he had spoken the last words the elder Zabrak tapped with his spear on the ground. At that sound, the brothers started attacking each other. Before the Zabrak on his left could react, Nyxar had planted an axe in its skull. Quickly following up with a kick, the now lifeless body thudded on the ground. The blood mingling with the sand. The Zabrak had always been broader than most of his brethren, which made stand out. Yet, the swiftness with which he had killed the unsuspecting Zabrak on his left had shocked three others who stood the closest to him. Quickly they had recovered from their initial shock and wordlessly decided to team up against the

The Meaning of Life… Or the Lack of It...

Years passed by and Nyxar was miserable. Was this what his life would look like? Was this what the Dathomirian had bled and killed for? All the obstacles he overcame only to be treated like cattle. For whenever his mistress would call upon him and perform the rite to create offspring. Offspring, the word filled Nyxar with anger. With every fiber in his body, he detested this ‘wretch’. Yet, he couldn’t do anything. Nyxar may have been deadly to any other creature on the Red Planet, but this woman wielded powers beyond his comprehension. She controlled powers that could only be described as sickly green, mist. Or how Yemeslari would name it ‘Magicks’. Refusal would lead to certain death and no matter how miserable he felt, the Zabrak did not have a death wish. So he did what he had to and bid his time.