Kos
Forevermore
"The wild cares not for the weak."
Basic Information
Name: Kos
Alias: Black Rat
Faction: N/A
Rank: N/A
Homeworld: Coruscant
Species: Near-Human
Age: Young Adult
Sex: Male
Hair: Short, unkempt brunette
Eyes: Brown
Skin: Sickly Pale
Height: 1.80m
Weight: 63kg
Force Sensitive: Yes, to an extent.
Broken: Kos is a lonely soul. He wears his emotions on his sleeve and reacts quite strongly to the world around him. He often comes off as brash, rude even; however, he tends to avoid direct eye contact via hiding behind a helmet, and at times will seek isolation due to a crippled inability to withstand social situations. People of any variety cause him a great deal of anxiety, but he attempts to cope. This is the result of abuse from an early age, causing heavy dissociation and a deep distrust for strangers.
Untapped: A fire burns within Kos' very spirit, a will to continue and push forward no matter the predicament. Even if it means sacrificing himself in the process, Kos will find every ounce of strength in even the most minuscule of reasons to fight. His need to survive supersedes all of his personal limitations.
PTSD: A plethora of nightmares dwell inside Kos' tainted mind. He was forced to grow up fast, action without context, blame without reason. Exposed to so many things that a child's eyes should never witness. Kos' childhood is forever obscured by a crimson tint of atrocities. His hands were forced to murder, his tongue to remain silent.
Frail: Kos is thin and malnourished, having lived the life of a slave under harsh conditions. Only being fed one meal a day, being forced to fight without reward or any sort of acknowledgement for his well-being. The way he wielded a lightsaber was the only thing that mattered. Killing was what mattered. He did not exist to feast or experience pleasure, but to be used as a tool.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kZk9HCYDawM
Biography:
Chapter 1 - Humble Beginning
In the beginning, life was different. Living among the scum and filth of stench-filled streets was an interesting perspective. Despite such deplorable conditions, bottom-feeders were relatively kind and generous. There was no facade at that point in life, no lies to veil over someone’s eyes. These were the people Kos came to know, the people that helped raise him and attempted to teach him some kind of moral code. Yet, there were also those that dwelled to hide; lurking in deep shadows, committing the wrongs that masses would cast their eyes away from.
They were the ones that caused fear, the nightmares of Coruscant’s bowels.
Kos did his best to keep his distance from them, never risking his own life on a whim. Certain streets became places to avoid, making Kos need to find new routes home through the twisting tunnels and abandoned buildings of old. This sector, the very place that Kos knew like the back of his hand was so far down that nobody even knew it existed. He was beyond the help of authority, nor within the greasy palms of politicians that would deem his realm of existence as primitive and disgusting, probably forcing them off to someplace much worse.
He was a ghost among graves. But this place was certainly all but dead.
Some nights were worse than others. He would huddle with his family in their cramped compartment when the monsters came, or when the various gangs would fight each other over territory. Much blood was spilled on either side, even the innocent souls whom did no evil were massacred and torn apart by blaster bolts or some grotesque mutation. Kos could even recall the times where he would sit with his mother as she tried to comfort him. Her scent typically helped him fall asleep.
The screams of his friends and neighbors... seeing their corpses like that… it wounded him deeply; yet, during those times, he learned to harden himself. Such was the consequence of such a life, and with time he became desensitized to it all.
But then one day, the men in dark robes came. They wore metal over their faces, and sounded like heavy machinery when they forced their way into Kos’ sector in unison. There was one man among all of them whom stood out with an exposed face. His eyes were gone, and his skin was a sickly gray. A certain air surrounded him, a stench even more foul than the streets themselves. Coagulated blood stained his fabrics, and a crooked grin was plastered over his mouth.
But somehow, he could see Kos. He could smell him, taste his aura. The man referred to himself as Varthis, and he made it quite clear that he was seeking to clear out any unwanted pests from his new territory. All except the child. He would be considered… gifted.
During a brief, pathetic struggle with the many squatters and even Kos’ mother and father, the boy was able to witness a demonstration of something otherworldly. He watched as Varthis humiliated his father by taunting his mother, crushing the bones within his body before twisting his neck until his head separated from his torso; his mother following suit soon after. This man… he possessed a power unlike anything else. He wasn’t even touching Kos’ parents, yet he destroyed them and turned them into nothing.
Unable to comprehend anything, Kos’ showed no reaction. His eyes lowered to the ground as he fell to his knees in silence. The darkly cloaked man casually walked up to the boy and placed a hand on his shoulder, explaining how he could feel something living within him. Something that his parents lacked.
The Force, he called it.
A divine tool that only the most gifted of beings could master and call upon. All the while Kos managed to pick his head up to look upon the gruesome remains of his loving family. Their mouths agape in horror, their flesh torn into strands that stuck to surrounding walls and lighting fixtures. Hot tears began streaming down the boy’s cheeks as he shut his eyelids tightly.
And then… the blind man spoke of an offer. A position the young boy could fulfill and hope to gain knowledge in. And that if he grew strong enough one day, he would allow the boy vengeance. But until then, he was worth less than dirt. He was nothing.
Kos had no choice, no means of denying Varthis’ agenda.
With a heavy lump in his throat, Kos looked into the gaping eye sockets of Varthis’ face and felt a deep chill go down his spine. From that point on, Kos never forgot what it was like to see pure madness face-to-face. That smile… the rotten teeth. His pungent breath as he laughed.
It was time for a new life, and a new chapter. A new perspective.
The only home Kos knew was left in silence. The scene of gore and bloodshed remained and attracted vermin and creatures of all varieties over time. This place was dead, and new ghosts now keep it company.
Chapter - 2 Varthis the All-Father
The only thing that mattered was the promise he was given. The very thing he was owed. Kos would go on to rise within Varthis’ circle over time, reassured of the madness they were all plunging deeper into. Varthis considered himself akin to a deity, an offspring of an eternal mother without a name that waited beyond the fabric of all existence. He gave his followers heavy amounts of Banthazolate during sermons to influence them, digging his talons deeper into their hearts and minds in order to give them purpose, or so he would have them believe. They, including Kos, were all mere pawns in his quest for transcendence. To know the astral realm and become one with the cosmos.
Kos lost faith long ago, only indulging in the madness of such zealotry for the drugs at this point. It numbed his mind just enough to not care about what was going on around him. And when they weren’t being mentally violated, it was off to scrounge for useful items and murdering people for their valuables. This was the only life the boy had grown into, the only profession he had time to practice in. His movement was swift, his blade-arm firm despite his aching, malnourished body.
How he made the crimson of his blade dance with such grace, the flow of each strike resonating with the wielder’s soul. There was a beauty to Kos, just not in the conventional sense. During the times he was away from Varthis were the moments he allowed himself to feel and think. He cried each and every day. Every year, every moment he could. His body raged on with pain, his skin was dirty and smeared with blood and grime. He became very familiar with the taste of his own tears, however. The salt, the taste that will forever remind him of the day he lost what little he had.
He could never forget what Varthis had done. But in the end Kos learned something. He learned what it takes to be strong, to mentally fortify himself and adapt to the lowest moments of the human condition. To see the disgusting nature of flesh. To understand himself, somewhat.
And in this process, he studied Varthis too. The man had grown less and less fond of Kos over time, realizing the boy wasn’t as strong with the Force as he had originally thought. He held some merit of potential, but that only appeared to come from his blade-work. Little else.
This gave rise to Varthis becoming aggressive with Kos, becoming visibly distressed and nearly threatening the young man with death, more specifically, the way he murdered his family. For a time, Kos restrained himself until the moment was right. While everyone slept.
He waited, sitting in the cramped chamber where all the other slaves slept. The stench of unclean skin wafted through the air, and even after all this time, it made Kos sick to his stomach. He knew he wasn’t as strong as Varthis, but he had to put an end to the atrocity of his teachings and existence. But most of all, he hungered for revenge. And so he contemplated, counting the hours.
- Dead of Night -
Total silence. Nobody was awake, all eyes were closed and unable to comprehend the schemes of the Black Rat as he prowled the dilapidated halls and confines of the compound they all resided in. With each footfall as light as a dying whisper, Kos happened upon the chamber of the All-Father.
There he sat completely conscious, almost as if he were waiting in the darkness for Kos to make an appearance. Surprised, the young man wasted no time and rushed in to charge Varthis down with a heavy-handed slash which failed, as Kos’ lightsaber was intercepted by the All-Father’s own crimson. The two locked in a fierce duel, Varthis being actually intrigued by the Black Rat’s tenacity and resolve, matching him blow for blow.
Varthis tried for a cheap maneuver by using a Force Push on Kos in an attempt to create distance, and it succeeded. The Black Rat was forced back into a wall, slamming his head which caused some minor disorientation, but not enough to be completely out of the fight. Varthis continued on by adding insult to injury, further rubbing in the fact that he murdered the boy’s only family, the only people whom would ever truly love him or care for him. But then something inside of Kos began to stir, an unrecognized potential to overcome the disadvantage at hand.
Kos clenched his lightsaber firmly in his right hand, mustering all the pain and anger he had endured over the years. Looking at Varthis, the young man reached out his left hand and closed his fingers inward, as if trying to crush the man through sheer will. Varthis began to tremble, his body convulsing and shaking violently as all his bones could be heard snapping and breaking, puncturing internal organs and causing the All-Father to hemorrhage to death. There was no more laughing to be heard or to be had, no more psychotic ramblings of a cosmic deity beyond reality. There was total, peaceful silence now. A tranquility not afforded to Kos before, but was now a privilege he could cherish. After a moment, he began to break down. He fell to his knees and began sobbing heavily, barely able to catch his breath as he slowly reassembled his fractured mind into something resembling closure.
He could never forget anything that happened to him - to the others over those seven years. It was burned into his memory forevermore.
With no other reason to stay, Kos limped away, out of the compound and towards an emergency lift that would allow him access to the higher levels in Coruscant - a useful detail he learned by observing the All-Father in secret.
This was now his time to forge a new path, to claim his own destiny and potentially become a real person in a world he had never witnessed. But at the same time, it would be a world also unfamiliar with Kos and his strife. And with that came a great uncertainty and the fear of the unknown.
The only thing Kos could do is move on and try. Try for his life, and for a better future.
To have hope again.
He would finally get to see the sunshine.