- "He has all the ferocity of a starved Krayt Dragon, he only needs to be unleashed."
- --Emperor Trajan on Feralis mentality in combat
Kharenairen was called Ren by most all within the clan. He might have been a normal zabrak except for a number of differences, firstly he was the only solid white zabrak in the clan. Secondly, he was the son of a retired Commando & Republic hero. Third, he was born sickly and small yet by age 10 he would be the same size as adults and at 18 he would be 6'4" of solid muscle. He was a mild mannered child, no different from others...aside from size and appearance, however he excelled at combat. In the required combat training all Iridonian zabrak go through, he was always the best fighter and eventually he would overwhelm the instructors with sheer strength and ferocious resolve. In spite of his strength, he was kind and giving. He would help the elders and the women of the clan as often as possible, whether it be tackling an escaping Bukk or moving boulders from the newly developing gardens.
He was...well, would have been a kind and fair man had it not been for his fathers influence.
His favorite relative, aside from his young sister and mother...was his mothers brother. He was a bit of a cast out of the clan, as he was a "disgraced" jedi...Ren never knew the exact occurrence but rumors were there was some scandal with his uncle, the weaponsmaster and a fairly attractive human librarian and something about defiling the academy meditation pool. Regardless, he never asked. His uncle recognized the force potential in Ren, but never directly addressed it. He taught him to focus, to meditate and to employ this sensitivity in combat as enhancing his speed, instinctual sense of danger and power. Following his uncles teaching Ren would learn to read peoples emotions and understand their perspectives. Rens uncle died when he was 8 years old and if he had his way he would have contacted the jedi order in order to have Ren become a powerful jedi...had it not been for his fathers influence.
His father was a famous hero of the Republic, off the record he was discharged for conduct unbecoming an officer...but on the record he retired following a long and illustrious career training commandos in the Republic. Having survived numerous suicide details against slavers and battles against the Empire that never officially happened, he leaned much about warfare. He was particularly well known for understanding the psyche of species engage in warfare...and a master of the art of psychological warfare. Hand to hand combat techniques such as Tera Kasi and Echani methods of fighting he taught to the clan and to his son. Much of this knowledge he passed onto his oldest son, Ren...when he was both sane and sober.
The constant threat of attack and lack of being able to trust anyone new caused the commando to gradually detach from reality and would lead him to suffer sporadic fits of madness. He could not disconnect the past horrors he'd committed and witnessed...the visions of his soldiers both superiors and friends dying gruesome deaths...the enemies last gasp for breath as his hands closed around their throats. Eventually the visions and episodes became so bad that only losing himself in the drink would lessen the pain. Over time, however...the drinking became an issue of its own. He was highly skilled, highly intelligent and highly well trained in warfare and combat. He became abusive of his family, first it was his wife...then his son the white one called Ren...eventually it included his toddler daughter.
One afternoon when Ren was about 15 he returned home to find his mother inconsolable with grief and rage, he entered the home to see a scene that caused him to become violently sick. His toddler sister was dead, he head had been bashed open after being flung into the wall. His father had been drinking heavily, the table and chairs overturned as he stumbled through the hut swinging his arms fighting against the unseen demons in his mind. Ren took his mother to the neighbors and went before the Elder council who convened immediately and held a tribunal.
The Republic ambassador to Iridonia was summoned in and to save alot of time and legalist jargon, the outcome...in Ren's mind was that no punishment would be "permitted" without losing the required Republic resources (food, medicine and other needed items that the harsh world of Iridonia refused to supply)...the Republic chose not to tarnish the legacy of this mad hero by upholding justice. It was on this day that Ren learned his first lesson...never be dependent on another person. He tried to help his father over the next few weeks...in addition to grieving over his little sister and attempting to console his mother who was near paralytic with grief. However, his actions infuriated his father who beat him...very, very severely. only when the local authorities arrived to physically restrain his father did he relent in beating Ren.
Weak, bloody, half-conscious and barely alive he crawled from the hut to the clan temple where he rested where clan law disallowed speech or interaction. After a few days of rest and healing, he returned home to find his mother gone...but a new blood stain on the wall. He asked around for hi mother, but no one had seen her leave...however, after a brief search he noticed a small blood trail leading throughout the hut...through the back alley and all the way to the cliff...instinctively, he knew...his father beat her head against the wall and then threw her body off the cliff to hide his newest murder.
His mind reasoned that his father was sick...but his soul screamed for justice for his murdered family...this man, no...this monster had taken everyone he cared about. Something furious broke loose deep within his soul. His very being became fire designed to consume all in his path. Red haze clouded his vision and time itself slowed down as he charged his drunken father. using fist, elbow, knee and head he continued his assault on the drunken commando. Even inebriated, his father was an accomplished fighter with instincts and reflexive attacks and defenses honed over a long career and life of war. Both sustained heavy injuries, but eventually the youth, strength and durasteel willpower to avenge his family overcame the older commando.
After the short but brutal confrontation, he restrained his father and went to bring the authorities...again...still hoping they could not overlook his crimes...he would be proven wrong again. The authorities decided there was not enough evidence to support Ren's claim, even the Republic ambassador claimed that his fathers admission of guilt could not be believed because of his obviously insane state of mind caused by the savage beating that Ren had inflicted. The ambassador had Ren arrested and imprisoned for 14 days. Here he learned the second and final lesson of the Republic that he needed to know...the Republic law existed only to further its own agenda...for all the protestation of protection, freedom and justice...all lies. The Republic refused to prosecute its own but would not hesitate to hold an entire clan hostage over resources if they proceeded with enforcing justice. he decided at that moment...in time he would send Republic a message that they were no longer welcome in Clan Ja'Che.
He was released weeks later, fully healed and full of a fury that seemed to radiate outwards. People stared as he passed, some in awe of the near physical change that had set in. His jaw set, his eyes burning coals and even his normal slow moderately slow pace became a furiously hulking march on some fel purpose that none would care to witness. He would not sit idly by while the republic turned loose its mad dogs on the civilians and innocents of his clan, simply because he used to be important. During his short incarceration he decided that his father did not need to suffer anymore. The man who taught Ren everything about warfare, deceptive tactics, strategy and psycho-emotional aspects of conflict had died...long ago. The body had just not followed the man to the grave...but Ren would send it there.
It is a strange thing, to plan the release of your fathers spirit. He had no sympathy, but some slight pity. Undoubtedly none could argue the heroics his father performed, he had saved multiple thousands if not millions time and again...however, that man was gone...to allow this shell of his former self to exist and bring disgrace on himself would be cruelty.
His father was asleep when he entered the hut, Ren drew his dagger and plunged it into the chest of the drunken commando. Slamming a harsh fist into the fathers throat to stifle his cries and breather Ren placed his face, contorted in a mask of rage and tears, inches from his fathers only to watch the life flicker from existence.
His fathers last words Finally, death finds me.
The strongest clan on Iridonia had come seeking the resourced the Republic brought to the Ja'Che. They demanded all of it, the weak old clan elder was all to happy to offer it to avoid slaughter...that was when Ren lost control of his emotion, shouted the elder down and challenged the invaders. The offended elder declared this situation to be Renners Res Selenoren...of course, he anticipated unavoidable failure on Rens part. He was nervous, he had never led more than scouting parties but he was confident in his own abilities. The weapon he chose was a large double headed axe. He felt his brute strength would serve him best and the image would provide some psychological advantage even before blows began.
The next morning, as Zabrak custom dictates, the two warparties-nearly 2000 men in total- met on the plain outside the city about 50 yards apart. The invading war party was beginning their numbers check, they were very traditional and Ren knew all of their traditions.
He decided on instinct. He sprinted towards them with a feral roar as he ran. By the time they registered what was happening the large, white zabrak had cleaved 4 in half with a single swing. He was in the third row off invaders, dodging spears, hammers, swords and axes. He sidekicked one particularly fat zabrak while his massive axe lopped the head offf another, the blood sprayed nearly 4 feet above his shoulders from the force of two hearts. Another foe wielding spike collard fist weapons grazes his back, causing blood to run from the wound, but Ren never felt it. His eyes were blood red, he had succomed to bloodlust. A trait few Zabrak ever experienced but those who did...were never forgotten.
3 more enemies fell before him, one lost a left arm at the shoulder, the blood soaked into the powder like red dirt, the second was missing his lower jaw, the moans that escaped his through would haunt the survivors for a while. Ren had been stabbed in the lower back by the mans sword and he turned with a devastating spinning forearm catching the mans chin just right, tearing flesh and muscle cleanly removing the jaw so it dangled about his neck by a flap of skin.
He heard his men crash into the lines of the enemy, he realized he had been alone until this moment, nearly 12 had fallen before him. Another 3 jumped in to attempt to take the devsta'rak (dangerous beast) out. The first attempted a typical stab, Ren grabbed th mans rist pulling him in violently to head butt the man. The man lifted his head to avoid the damage slightly, but Ren's frontal horn entered the mans eye, causing blood to run down both faces followed by an ear shattering scream as he fell to the ground, Ren stomped on his throat while the other two attacked. One with a spear and the the other with an axe and shield. The spearman attacked first with a thrust at his midsection, he used the axes handle to parry, the axe weilder attack took a large chunk of flesh from Rens shoulder. Something erupted inside of him, a power he had never felt. he was not angry, he wasn't furious he just was...he knew what was going to happen, where they would strike. he threw his weapon down and as the axe wielder attacked towards his thigh, he grabbed the mans wrist in his right hand and with his left arm, shattered the mans elbow. He grabbed the man by his rib cage, diggin his fingers in as deep as he could, blood running down his arm, lifted him high into the air and turning to his right just as the spear wielder attacked, the spear entered the man and Ren pushed him deeper onto the spear. The spearman dropped his spear and tried backing up, but Ren grabbed him first. The man punched and kicked at the white beast...attempting to delay his impending doom...
Looking back, he could only imagine the sight he was...at least a head taller than anyone else on the battleplain, solid white, streaked in the wet, thick blood of his enemies.
As the man fought desperately to fend off the assault, Ren grabbed the man by the throat with his right hand, lifted him high above his head and squeezed, the mans hand grappled at Ren's but to no avail. A new challenger arrived on his left with a spear in hand. However, Ren was too focused on the choking man to notice, a mistake that cost him dearly as the spear entered his left abdomen just above his hip. The pain caused Ren to fall to his left knee, releasing the corpse from his right hand. The spearman raised it high above his head as he kicked the mans knee backwards with a sickening crunching sound. The man fell towards the ground and Ren's knee caught the man full in the face with a wet smacking grunt. More blood sprayed the ground at Ren's feet and his further soaked his pants with slippery red blood. He had become transformed into a blood red zabrak, glistening in the sun the only part of him not red were the white of his eyes, however, these bloodshot eyes were trying their best to match his body.
Another enemy lunged towards Ren, without a weapon, as he grabbed Ren by the throat, Ren placed a large hand on each of the mans temples and began to squeeze his hands together. The man growled, yelled and clawed at his face. The mans nails caused the skin on Rens face to tear and bleed but he continues to squeeze until a disturbing and sickening snapping sound came from inside the mans head. He began to bleed from his nose, eyes and ears. Ren kept squeezing until the mans face seems to cave in on itself as the facial bones snapped under his force. THe man was not dead, however, he moaned and attempted to scream but the lack of a formed faces caused sounds to be similar to an amused newborn infant. It would not be difficlult to pity a man in that condition, were it not for him being an enemy. Just as he were beginning to gather himself he was grabbed around the throat in a strong headlock, attempting to to choke him into unconsciousness. he reached up and foudn the mans face, he gouged his thumb deep into the mans eye socket, hooking it from behind and violently ripping out, the mans grip convulsed allowing him to twist around and lacking any other weapons he bit the mans neck, taking a large mass of flesh and muscle, he spat the mans flesh at him as he tried to stop the gaping hole in his throat. Ren punched the man and as he fell back Ren scrambled atop the mans chest and began to punch the man repeatedly with both fists until the mans head was indistinguishable form bloody soup. he did not stop his assault until pieces of brain matter, bone and vast quantities of blood surrounded the mans physique. He collapsed back to one knee holding his side, the power that was in his chest burned with a fury that he thought, briefly, that he were dying. He heard his warparty yell a rallying cry but they were far ahead of him...he realized that was no rallying cry...it was a victory chant!
Ren wanted nothing more than to lay down and fall asleep but he knew that would mean death. He was badly wounded that he knew, he dare not look at the wounds. He stood, grit his teeth against the shooting pains, and walked towards the warparty...as they saw him approach, every surviving man and boy in his warparty saluted him. Not the informal nod, but a chieftains salute...this salute meant a dedication, a "my life for yours, if needed" sentiment. He had ignored the opposing warlord during the battle but in an retaliatory attack on another enemy, the axe inadvertantly sliced the warlords belly, spilling his intestine on the planet surface. Depending on which zabrak you asked, he single handedly killed between 150 and 200 enemies. The march back to the Clan city seemed far longer than it actually was. In every step he felt the pain, hear the agonizing dying sounds of his victims. In every step he felt that glorious sun burning in his chest, a power of unknown origin or proportion.
The men and women of Ja'Che cheered Ren as he was walking ahead of the army. He felt half alive and when he reached the clan healer they said he would die within hours. The anger inside burned so ferociously he thought he would burn from the inside out. He gathered his anger and his willpower and forged the two, they could no longer exist separately. This new power, he could not describe, his uncle had once told him it was the power of the darkside, which was focused in anger and passion, only the strongest could control and wield this power...this was natural to him, the strongest survive on Iridonia and he had proven to be stronger than any, on this day. On arriving to the Chieftains hut, the chieftain pronounced that "...should you survive Kharenairen Ja'Che, you will be supreme warlord of the Ja'Che tasked with conquering those who surround us. You will drag this clan to victory behind your might." odd, that in a few short months the same chieftain would try to have Renner killed...at that time he would behead the chieftain and take the leadership scythe himself...a few months after that, Renr had united the most powerful clans on the planet. The Chieftain also declared that he be tattooed tracing the dried blood of his foes as a reminder...his brutality and strength won him the day.
Since that day, in every step he carried the wounds of that first violent battle. In every step he felt the wounds inflicted based on his lack of focus. In every step since that day, he followed the power in his chest. In every step since that day he wore the blood stain of that battle...in black ink burned into his skin.
The next few years marked the dramatic rise in Ja'Che power among the powerful clans on Iridonia. Ren, spearheaded the charge up the heirarchy with his ferocious battle tactics, fearless strategies and rutheless tactics. Eventually, the clan was powerful enough to threaten the "balance" between the established powers. Other clans and off-world agents conspired to drug Kharenairen at a victory feast, in order to get him off-world and bring the young Zabrak warriors back under tradition and elder control and to keep them from following the charismatic warrior.
He came to on board a slaver ship bound for a mining station near Dathomir. In a rage he overwhelmed his captors, but then realized he did not know how to pilot the ship. By the time he entered the auto-pilot command from the manual, the shuttle was already well on its way to crash landing.
The ship crashed just a short distance from a small village where a Dathomiri Shaman named Tesla lived with her grandmother. THe two shamn foud Ren and helped the semi-conscious, yet dying, zabrak back to their hut. The shaman Tesla consulted her spirits and was told to heal the zabrak using forbidden rituals. She did so, but the spirit was an ancient Sith Lord who deceived her. The ritual no only healed the large zabrak, but it increased his size, his strength and enhanced his very ferocious nature.
When Ren came to, the small village was surrounded by Imperial forces searching for reports of a crashed vehicle. This is how Ren came into contact with the True Empire. The leader of the force took him captive and back to Nogatan where superiors freed him and placed him in the Academy.