Anzati Respect Thread: Ten-In-One Special

[Darth Durin's Baneling]

This RT will cover both general hype for the species and feats accomplished by more typical examples of Anzati, as well as sections featuring ten specific Anzati of particular prowess: Torgo Tahn, Saljé Tasha, Sint and Nakia Yoru, Rath Kelkko, Kell Douro, Akku Seii, Mischa Vorfren, Dannik Jerriko, Nikkos Tyris, and Volfe Karkko.

The Anzati are a very interesting species with a lot of unique strengths. Space vampires are cool. Respect them!

Thanks to Ethan and deegatherer for helping me find some of the rarer sources.

Table of Contents:

• Anzati Species (Part 1)
  
• Anzati Species (Part 2)
  
• Torgo Tahn - Aurra Sing's teacher (Dark Horse Annual)
  
• Saljé Tasha - Valorum's assassin (Republic)
  
• Sint and Nakia Yoru - Lovely couple that almost kills Cade Skywalker (Legacy)
  
• Rath Kelkko - Leader of the Separatists' band of master assassins on Saleucami (Republic)
  
• Kell Douro - Agent of the One Sith, tasked with tracking down Jaden Korr (Crosscurrent)
  
• Akku Seii - Renowned master assassin, Tholme's stealth tutor (Republic)
  
• Zesi Phinx - Spectre of the Coruscant underlevels, older than the Republic itself (D20)
  
• Mischa Vorfren - Dark Jedi in forced servititude (D20)
  
• Dannik Jerriko (Part 1) - Thousand-year-old bounty hunter who feeds only on the best (ANH)
  
• Dannik Jerriko (Part 2)
  
• Dannik Jerriko (Part 3)
  
• Nikkos Tyris - Founder of the Jensaarai Order and murderer of Nejaa Halcyon (I, Jedi)
  
• Volfe Karkko - Dark Jedi with a hunger for Jedi essence, preserved for a thousand years in stasis by the Jedi Council of his time (Republic)
  

A TL;DR is supplied at the end of each character's profile.

[Darth Durin's Baneling]

It lends us to legend. It makes us of myth. It shapes of us demons of dreams: Don’t misbehave or an Anzat will catch you and suck all your blood away.

General

C-Canon

General

The Anzati are made into legend and myth throughout the galaxy due to their fearsome habits.

This is what I live for, what I fish for, what I hunt. The scent of soup, then the soup itself, running hot and fast and sweet in the confines of the veins, the vessels, the brain. In the confines of the flesh.

It lends us to legend. It makes us of myth. It shapes of us demons of dreams: Don’t misbehave or an Anzat will catch you and suck all your blood away.

Every culture has legends of dark spirits that come in the night and suck the life from the living: vampires. In Star Wars, those spirits are the Anzati. Creatures of single-minded purpose, they spend their long, long lives surviving from one meal to the next–in the process, depriving living beings of their own lives. For an Anzat, each meal consists of life essence. For the poor creature chosen as the meal, the Anzat is death.

Thousands of worlds across the galaxy have legends of the Anzati, yet no culture’s creation myths include facts about the species’ origin. To some, this implies that the Anzati have been around longer than any other known species. Whether this is true remains a mystery.

There are as many myths and rumours concerning the Anzati as there are species in the galaxy. Most exoanthropologists, xenobiologists and other scientists and intellectuals know these creatures exist, while others mistakenly dismiss them as legend.

SOUP SUCKERS
Ever since they first began to travel from their homeworld of Anzat and make their presence known throughout the Old Republic, the Anzati have been one of the most hated, loathed and despised species in the galaxy.

A species closely resembling humans, but with a terrifying anatomical twist. Beside an Anzat’s nostrils were fleshy pockets that hid proboscises that could be uncoiled and inserted through victims’ nostrils into their brains to suck out their life essence, or “soup” as the Anzati called it. This vampiric fashion of feasting created many myths and legends about the long-lived Anzati. To an Anzat, beings with more luck tended to have more flavorful “soup.”

Almost every culture in the galaxy has a legend about immortal creatures that lurk in the shadows, existing only to feed upon the unwary. They have roamed the galaxy for eons, cunning predators hidden amid the crowd, capable of invisibly and efficiently tracking, killing, and feeding on their prey, taking nourishment from their victims’ life energy contained within the gelid substance they call soup.

The Anzati are among the deadliest species in the galaxy. Very little is known about them or their homeworld because of that, as curious scientists tended to disappear.

Although they resemble humans, the Anzati are a deadly predator species with tubular appendages coiled in their cheek pockets. Anzati kill by uncoiling the appendages from their mouths and inserting the tubes into a victim’s nostrils. The tubes pierce the victim’s brain, allowing the Anzati to drink his or her blood.

Thousands of worlds across the galaxy have legends of the Anzati, yet no culture’s creation myths include their origin. To some, this implies that the Anzati have been around longer than any other species, or that they survived, by thousands of centuries, the only other species to share their homeworld. Others believe that the Anzati evolved simultaneously with humankind, somewhere beyond the knowledge of sentient races, only to enter galactic society at large when hyperspace exploration put the Anzati homeworld within reach of the Republic.

Where that world might be is anyone’s guess. No one has ever discovered a planet full of Anzati–or atleast, discovered it and lived to tell of it. The Anzati simply dwell among the sentient species of the galaxy, blending into the dizzying myriad of cultures–invisible because, until one reveals its true nature to a victim, an Anzat is just another alien. And, of course, once the victim sees the Anzat, it is too late to warn anyone else.

The Anzati are among the deadliest and most mysterious species in the galaxy. They appear human, save for two prehensile proboscises they keep coiled in pockets in each of their cheeks. Predators who mesmerize victims through a mild telepathic control, they uncoil these proboscises and insert them in the victim’s nostrils to suck out the brain matter.

Because Anzati are roamers, they are often considered a myth, and it has been difficult to determine the true location of their homeworld. Scientists who have traveled to a world reputed to be Anzat have simply disappeared without a trace. Little has been documented concerning the species, and this account by Yarna d’al’ Gargan–a former slave dancer from the palace of Jabba the Hutt on Tatooine–is exemplary of the few recorded encounters with an Anzati.

Some beings regard Anzati as mythical creatures, concocted to scare younglings and superstitious fools. They are, in fact, among the deadliest predators in the galaxy.

The Anzati are one of the deadliest and most mysterious species in the galaxy. Because Anzati are roamers, they are often considered mythical, and for a long period of time the true location of their homeworld was a mystery. Scientists who traveled to the world reputed to be Anzat simply disappeared without a trace, although some reports place it on the outskirts of the Mid Rim, near the Perlemian Trade Route. Believed to be one of the first of the spacefaring races, they are human in appearance, ranging in height from 1.5 to 1.7 meters with grayish-hued skin and bulbous noses. While scientists have had little opportunity to study Anzati, the sketchy medical reports found on the species seem to indicate that they have no natural biorhythm–no pulse. Given that fact, it is a complete enigma as to how their circulatory system functions.

Because Anzati were roamers, it was difficult to determine the true location of their homeworld. Scientists who traveled to a world reputed to be Anzat simply disappeared without a trace.

The Anzati are mythical, legendary, inescapable – the most fearsome creatures in the galaxy, in large part due to the untraceable nature of their murders.

The droid paused a moment, summoning up the contents of his computer brain. “Yes, Master Hoole. There are many accounts of mysterious deaths such as this. In each case, the report lists no known cause of death. However…” Deevee paused.

“Yes?” Hoole demanded.

"... many of the reports suggest that the cause of death is the Anzati.”

“The Anzati,” one of the treasure hunters repeated with a shudder.

The Anzati, Tash thought. They were myths. Legends. No one knew what the Anzati looked like; no one had ever seen one and lived. No one was even sure they existed. But everyone agreed that if they did exist, they were the most terrifying creatures in the galaxy. They were assassins. The Anzati killed but left no mark. Their victims simply died.

No one could stop them. No one could escape them.

They had seen Dannik kill Domisari in a matter of seconds without leaving a mark. They had looked into the eyes of one of the galaxy’s most frightening species. That same creature now chased them down the tunnel.

An Anzati was after them.

Anzati are very long-lived, not reaching puberty to around a hundred years old and often living for many hundreds of years. Their youngest are ancient and their eldest live for eons – some are older than the Republic itself.

The youngest of the Anzati are ancient. The ages of the eldest can be measured in eons. They roamed the galaxy when the Republic was just a dream of The Core Worlds.

Anzati can live for millennia, sustained by the life essence they draw from others. An Anzat who does not feed at least once every few days merely grows hungry. Lack of sufficient meals has no more of a supernatural aging effect on an Anzat than it has on a Human.

According to most reports, Anzati are loners who wander throughout most of the galaxy, returning to Anzat only to find mates and reproduce. They do not reproduce often, and an individual may live for many centuries. Youthful Anzati reach puberty at approximately one hundred years of age and leave Anzat to hunt for sustenance, which they call “soup.”

Anzati have exceptionally long lives, reaching adulthood by age 100. Particularly crafty Anzati can live to be several centuries old.

Age in Years: Child 1-12; young adult 13-99; adult 100-649, middle age 650-799; old 800-950; venerable 951+.

Anzati are incredibly long-lived. Some may number amongst the oldest creatures in the galaxy. They usually live and ‘work’ alone. This is as much because of the way they find and take their sustenance as because of the dark legends that surround them.

A long-lived people, who only reach puberty at the age of 100, the Anzati are best known for the horrific pleasure they take in drinking the ‘soup’ – the life force – of other creatures.

According to anecdotal evidence offered by sentients lucky enough to survive their encounters with Anzati, they are loners who wander throughout the galaxy, returning to Anzati only to find a mate and reproduce, and in some cases to train with Anzati master assassins. They reproduce infrequently and usually live for many centuries. Parents do not typically give their children names, instead allowing them to seek names that best blend in with their chosen prey. Youthful Anzati reach puberty at approximately one hundred standard years of age, and leave Anzat to hunt for “soup” to continue their “eternal” existence.

Youthful Anzati reached puberty at approximately 100 years of age, and left Anzat in search of “soup.”

The Anzati exist to cull the galaxy’s strong along with the weak.

The youngest of the Anzati are ancient. The ages of the eldest can be measured in eons. They roamed the galaxy when the Republic was just a dream of The Core Worlds. They exist because sometimes, to maintain a balance, the strong must be culled, along with the weak.

It is theorized that the early dark side philosophy of the Sith people, which later evolved into that of the Sith Lords, originated in an encounter with the Anzati.

Some historians have speculated that the attitudes of the early Sith people were owed to a prehistoric encounter between their species and the vampiric beings known as the Anzati. Volfe Karkko, a rare Anzat Jedi known for his prolonged study of one of the Jedi Temple's rare Sith holocrons, was fond of reminding his fellow Knights that the Anzati "remember the very first Sith." Beyond the anecdotal, though, there is no solid evidence to support this theory.

Encounters with the Anzati and the Rakata during the time of King Adas proved to the Sith that they were not the only ones among the stars the Force had animated. This offended their pride and inflamed their fury. The Massassi were unleashed on neighboring worlds to snuff out all life and to expand the Sith Empire. Did those beings regret their pacifism? Did they rue the democracies and social constructs that offered no protection when invaders burnt their homes? Their dead tongues do not speak.

Hundreds of Years Before 30 BBY

The Jedi Council was reluctant to train Volfe Karkko because they were inherently apprehensive of training any Anzati in the use of the Force.

Many decades before the Battle of Naboo, this Anzati Dark Jedi was a student of the Force at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, despite the Jedi Council’s underlying apprehension at training an Anzati.

32 BBY

Even in Mos Eisley, the Anzati are regarded as an especially unusual and vile species.

30 BBY

The degenerated Anzati of Kiffex unleash “death to everyone” with a series of deadly, mind-sucking attacks.

Death to Everyone
After helping to avert a galactic attack by the Witches of Dathomir, Quinlan Vos was sent to his homeworld by the Jedi Council to investigate a spree of mysterious deaths. His investigations revealed that mind-sucking Anzati had been behind the attacks. This brought back painful memories of the death of his parents at the hands of the vicious species. Quinlan was helped in his mission by his Master, Tholme, as well as the blind Jedi Master Zao and T’ra Saa – the local Jedi watchman. Danger came from an unexpected corner, however, when Aayla appeared, intent on killing Quinlan.

Even after seeing firsthand what the Jedi are capable of, Villie questions their sanity in pursuing the degenerated Anzati. These Anzati are lacking in individuality and Force connection, making them unlike a typical Anzat.

19 BBY

Taunt references the Anzati as something he wouldn’t feel safe sleeping next to in order to exaggerate his point about his reservations about the Colicoids.

Taunt hadn’t had personal dealings with the Colicoids, but he knew fellow criminals who had, back when the insectoids had attempted to assume control of Kessel’s spice trade and had sought to take over a spice factory on Nar Shaddaa, only to learn the hard way that a former slaver would prove to be more deadly than they were.

“It’s something about their posture,” Taunt said, his anxiety triumphing over his pride in the Second Chance. “I can stomach Ruurians, Kamarians, even a Geonosian or two, but there’s just something about their … concavity that makes them seem more aggressive.” A shudder passed through him. “I’d feel safer sleeping with an Anzati.”

“They are more aggressive,” the Gossam said. “And your … how should I put it? Your healthy corpulence is bound to excite them to hunger.”

44 ABY

Jesmin Tainer is momentarily appalled that her cover identity is an Anzat.

“No joke. Jokes around here usually involve stealing your clothes. You’re still dressed. No, there’s a real, ongoing investigation by the army, and a big one. Anyway, also in this Wraith Squadron, there’s a bounty hunter named Zilaash Kuh.”

“Wait a minute.” Jesmin looked as startled as Scut had. “I’m Zilaash Kuh. Or I was, for a couple of years. It’s a cover identity.”

“Well, this cover identity is supposed to be a woman who trained as a Jedi until she was kicked out because they discovered she was only masquerading as a human. She was Anzati.”

Jesmin looked appalled. “A brain eater?” Then her expression cleared. “Actually, that would explain a lot. That’s a good addition to her background.”

S-Canon

General

An Anzati Elite has 4 Cost and 2 Icons.

Stealth/Combat Skill

C-Canon

General

Anzati are very often hired as assassins for their masterful hunting skills and stealth abilities, which they have been trained in by master assassins before leaving their homeworld. They prefer this profession because it easily allows them to hunt for their food.

One art that does fuel their interest enough to participate in, though, is stealth. Anzati are master hunters, incredibly sly and crafty, and difficult to capture. Because of their secrecy, hunting skills, and training, Anzati are often employed by organized crime factions as assassins.

Adventurers: Due to their predatory nature, Anzati find themselves drawn to the professions of assassin and bounty hunter, which better enable them to hunt for nourishment. It is the rare Anzat that does not shun the morality of the Jedi Knights, although Force adepts are not uncommon among the Anzati.

Long-lived, ruthless and nearly indistinguishable from humans, the Anzati were sought out as highly paid assassins and mercenaries. They would stun their prey with a telepathic blast and then feed on their life essence.

Anzati hunt sentient beings of all shapes and sizes.

Being natural predators, Anzati prefer to hunt sentient races of all shapes and sizes, and they possess two prehensile proboscises that they keep coiled in their cheek pockets for feeding on unsuspecting victims in a rather unique way.

Anzati assassins are among the most feared in the galaxy.

Anzati assassins were among the most feared in the galaxy.

Anzati martial arts are deadly.

Aayla aided Tholme by committing her troops to serve as backup, and going undercover as an itinerant mechanic named Jayzaa. The investigation led to Saleucami, where the Separatists were engineering a cloned army of their own, made up of savage Morgukai warriors trained in deadly Anzati martial arts.

Anzati have much time to develop different talents across their long lifespans, but stealth is invariably the one to keep their attention the most.

But though it is easy to picture the Anzati as heartless predators, that is no more true of them than it is of any species that eats another species to live. With their long lives, Anzati have time to develop and pursue all manner of interests; many are devoted patrons of the arts. A few have even produced works of art of their own: books, music, paintings, sculpture, films, and holos. Few have created more than one example in any given medium, however. For a being so long-lived as an Anzat, perfection at a craft is pointless; reaching the pinnacle of an art is no real accomplishment if its only other practitioners died off a thousand years ago.

Perhaps the only art they truly find worth mastering is the art of stealth. The Anzati are accomplished hunters, tracking their quarry silently, invisibly, and efficiently. Their abilities serve them in avoiding notice as well. Despite occasional noticeable individuals, all Anzati diligently maintain as low a profile as possible, disappearing into the galaxy’s crowds as soon as anyone appears to notice their activities, abilities, or longevity.

A common misconception among those who study tales of the Anzati is that they are hyper-developed scholars, experts in fields of knowledge and craft long since forgotten by younger species. While Anzati can remember things that happened centuries earlier, they have little or no interest in pursuing mastery of any given area of expertise or knowledge–other than feeding. To the Anzati, the important skills to pass on to their offspring are the arts of stealth and the kill; everything else is just amusing diversion, hardly worth the effort of committing to memory.

With their long lives, Anzati have time to develop and pursue various interests. Many are devoted patrons of the arts. A few have even produced works of art of their own: books, music, paintings, sculpture, films, and holos. Few have created more than one example in any given medium, however. For a being so long-lived as an Anzat, perfection of a craft is pointless, as reaching the pinnacle of an art is no real accomplishment if its only practitioners died off a thousand years ago.

The only art that most Anzati find worth mastering is the art of stealth. Anzati keep low profiles, disappearing as soon as anyone appears to notice their activities, abilities, or longevity.

So long-lived are the Anzati that they grow bored of the distractions civilizations can provide. There have been Anzati artists, writers, performers and so forth, but they are very rare. The only talent that members of the species take true pride in is the ability to hunt and kill with consummate skill.

Despite their long life span, few Anzati are expert scholars, and although they indulge in different pastimes throughout their lives, Anzati rarely pursue skills that do not directly relate to the hunt.

Anzati are stealthy and patient hunters.

Personality: Anzati are stealthy, patient hunters. They rarely keep the company of others and tend to travel alone, mingling with their own kind rarely, and usually only on the Anzati homeworld. Anonymity is an Anzat’s only friend.

~52 BBY

Many people, including Pethros and Quian Vos, both Kiffu Guardians, were murdered by Anzati as they came to Kiffex.

By holding his mother’s emblem, Quinlan learned that his parents had intercepted a ship of Anzati who were trying to land on Kiffex. His parents attempted to arrest the Anzati, but despite their Guardian training they were unable to overcome an attack from the thirsty beings. The shock of seeing the Anzati feast on his parents’ essence was beyond overwhelming.

At a very young age, Quinlan lost his parents when they were brutally murdered by the vampire-like Anzati.

Before 36 BBY

Wallanooga the Hutt requests that Aurra Sing be trained by the Anzati to become an elite killer from the Anzati assassin’s guild. The guildmaster, Anis, initially refuses flatly to train her, as he disbelieves in the ability of any non-Anzat to keep up, asserting that the Anzati brain-diet goes hand-in-hand with the assassin career. After conceding due to the magnitude of the favor he owes Wallanooga, Anis jokes that Aurra will become the most dangerous dancing girl on Tatooine.

Anzati master assassin Torgo Tahn cuts apart a young Anzati student, Puloh, with his vibro-whip in a training demonstration, speaking to the unforgiving nature of the training that all Anzati undergo before leaving for the wider galaxy.

Aurra Sing’s Anzati training played a major role in her transformation into the remorseless and skilled Jedi-killing bounty hunter she is during the films, teaching her all the “really useful stuff”.

The life of a pirate agreed with Sing, as she was able to focus her aggression. She learned martial and hunting skills while living on the fringe. Ill fortune caught up with Sing when a Hutt crime lord took her captive. Wanting her turned into a deadly assassin, the Hutt apprenticed Sing to a group of vampiric Anzati. Aurra underwent a transformation, stripping away any vestiges of compassion she had left. She emerged from her training a deadly, remorseless killer, seeking revenge for all who had wronged her in the past. The Anzati even affixed her with a Rhen-Orm biocomputer sensor implant, which not only increased her situational awareness, but also transmitted a simulated sensation of the fear the Anzati preyed upon.

Aurra became an independent bounty hunter specializing in Jedi hunts. She collected at least six lightsabers from her fallen foes as grim trophies, and brandished her own scarlet-bladed Jedi weapon. She armed herself with twin blaster pistols and a long projectile rifle. For her primary surface conveyance, Sing relied upon an outdated but highly modified swoop.

With countless enemies on all sides, the chances of a bounty hunter living to old age are low, but the grizzled Klatooinian Castas was determined to beat the odds. He’d already lost the use of his left eye while on a job, and had adopted a more cautious approach by the time he was offered employment by the enigmatic Aurra Sing. He’d worked with Sing in the past, though never fully trusted the eerie woman. In shadowed corners of noisy cantinas, tales were told of Sing’s complicated past. Some said she was trained by the vampiric Anzati, while others believed her a tool of the Hutt Wallanooga. Still other wild claims persisted that she had even been trained as a Jedi once long ago. The few occasions he’d prodded her about her past, Sing neither confirmed nor denied the rumors, instead smiling wickedly at her own infamy.

22 BBY

Learning that the assassin after their charge is an Anzati is grim news to Ahsoka Tano and Jedi Master Taria Damsin. Anzati are born predators, and even better at hunting prey than Togrutans.

Taria’s eyes were half closed, her lips tight with concentration. “Now, Ahsoka, we proceed with extreme caution. The sentient watching her—I still don’t see him, but I think he’s Anzati.”

Oh. Well. That wasn’t good. Anzati were born predators, even better hunters and trackers than the Togruta. Highly sought after as criminal assassins. He’d be difficult to shake off.

“The good news,” Taria added, “is that he hasn’t spotted us.”

Ahsoka grimaced. “Yet.”

One hand resting on the hilt of her lightsaber, the other under Mata’s elbow to help her along, Ahsoka crushed every flicker of alarm as they made tracks for their groundcar.

I’ve smashed battle droids and SBDs, I’ve flown starfighters and STAPs. I’ve faced down evil Sith henchmen—and women—and I’m Anakin Skywalker’s apprentice. One Anzati is no match for me.

Even so, her heart beat like a drum.

“I think we’ve lost him, don’t you?” she asked Taria, trying to sound unworried.

Taria reached into the Force. “Not exactly,” she murmured. “He’s still there, though he’s a long way behind us and definitely confused. But it’s better than nothing. To be on the safe side, let’s pick up the pace.” She glanced at the old woman between them. “Sorry, Mata. It’ll be over soon. I promise.”

The Anzati assassin nearly kills both Jedi, but is eventually “beaten back” despite his ferocity and captured.

And they were, until they hit the last section of exit ramp—where everything went wrong.

Their only warning was a red screaming in the Force, half a heartbeat before the Anzati attacked.

“Hold on!” Taria shouted, slamming the brakes as he leapt lightly from the level above onto the exit ramp directly in front of them. He carried two heavy concussion grenade launchers and fired them as he landed. One volley missed and exploded the small groundcar behind them. The death of its driver flared brief and bright in the Force. The other concussion charge clipped the side of their groundcar, bounced onto the close-by ferrocrete retaining wall, and erupted into gouts of crimson flame.

Its systems overwhelmed, their groundcar’s shielding collapsed.

“Ahsoka!” said Taria, with one single, burning look. “Alive, remember? Stick to the plan! Mata, stay where you are. Don’t you dare move. Ahsoka?”

In perfect harmony they Force-jumped out of the groundcar, lightsabers igniting as they speared through the air. Smoke and flames and screaming and klaxons, horns blasting, feet running. Chaos and madness.

Plunged into the harsh otherworld of combat, Ahsoka was dimly aware of Taria fighting beside her, a brilliant tawny gold flame in the Force.

Alive. Alive. If we end up confronting him, the plan is to take him alive.

The Anzati was Force-sensitive but he hadn’t been trained. He was working on instinct and years of bloody practice. Ferociously swift and heavily armed he fired again and again until there was so much smoke and fire around them it was hard to breathe or see. But even so they were beating him back, deflecting his lethal concussion grenades, dousing his raging hunger for their deaths with the light side of the Force.

“Ahsoka!” Taria cried again. “Get ready!”

What? Get ready? What did she—

And then she saw it, the Force showed her, the way it showed Anakin things all the time and showed her not so often. She saw the split second where their desperate battle could turn.

Yes. Now. Leaping forward and across, she drew the Anzati’s eager fire, her lightsaber a blurring whirl designed to frighten and defend. And in that tiny moment of his uncertainty, Taria lowered her own guard and leapt directly at him. Using the Force to pluck the concussion grenade launchers from his hands, she flipped him upside down to strike his back to the ferrocrete ramp with a brutal finality.

He shouted his pain once, then fell silent.

Giving him no chance to recover, Taria leapt again, planted her booted right foot on his heaving chest, and pointed the tip of her green lightsaber at the hollow of his throat. His grayish skin had paled with shock; his cheek proboscises were unfurled and lying limp across his shoulders. His eyes were open, his lips peeled back in a snarl.

This was an exceptional performance from both Jedi.

Shaking, Ahsoka heaved great gasps of filthy, stinking air into her lungs and stared at Taria, who was gasping just as hard—even as she grinned.

“Stang, Padawan. You are good!”

Ahsoka grinned back. “You’re not exactly a slouch yourself, Master,” she replied. “I think—”

“What?” said Taria. Then she stopped and dragged the back of her hand across her face. The bright red blood leaking from her nose and eyes smeared her skin, mixing with the smoke and sweat from the fight.

Taria pushed her spoon around her soup, then finally swallowed a mouthful. “Anakin’s lucky to have you, Ahsoka. You handled yourself brilliantly against that kriffing Anzati.”

“Oh.” Embarrassed now, she pulled her bread to crumbs. “I just followed my training. I mean, I’m lucky to have him, Taria. If you could see him in battle—or even when he’s just sparring with Master Kenobi—he’s—he’s—”

20 BBY

The mission to Anzat is the first during the Clone Wars that is to be trying enough that Tholme feels he needs to use mechanical grafts to repair his arm from his duel with Dooku in advance.

On seeing a vision of a female Anzati, Quinlan concludes that she’s “probably” an assassin.

Around half a dozen of Akku Seii’s students nearly kill Tholme as part of their training, again speaking to how much it tests those who undergo it.

[...]

Tholme returned to Anzat to speak with Akku Seii after he learned that Sora Bulq had been making regular trips to Anzat during the Clone Wars. Akku Seii refused to discuss the matter, as it was business between the Anzat and the Weequay. He forced Tholme to fight his way through a group of assassins to prove himself worthy of obtaining the knowledge. When Tholme defeated his opponents, Akku Seii revealed that the entire battle had simply been a training session for his students.

Everyone who discusses the Separatist plot to train Morgukai warriors in Anzati assassination techniques agrees it would be devastating against the Republic, even if it were only a handful of warriors and with them being taught only the basics. The Anzati teachers themselves are extremely dangerous.

It's within these caverns that Separatists hatched their bold cloning program. Using accelerated cloning techniques, the Separatists engineered Morgukai clones trained by deadly Anzati assassins.

19 BBY

Rath Kelkko mocks Bok’s Morgukai clones for being much slower to pick up the Anzati fighting techniques than the Anzati themselves.

Dooku assigns the Anzati master assassins the task of killing (a distracted) Oppo Rancisis.

Rath Kelkko and around half a dozen other Anzati master assassins sneak past the elite clone trooper sentries guarding Oppo Rancisis’s quarters. Oppo anticipated them, however, and is ready to fight back, though exhausted. Oppo defeats them, but the Anzati’s deaths provide Sora Bulq the diversion he needs to ambush and kill the Jedi Master.

[...]



[...]

0 BBY

Dannik Jerriko attributes his ability to negate even luck and chance with his overwhelming speed and skill to his Anzati heritage.

He is good, is fast, is willing to step off the edge; and so he does step: leaping, lunging, lurching … but no one is better or faster than I, and I have unraveled the net. Chance and Luck, thus mated, are dismissed in my presence: I am after all Anzati.

S-Canon

General

All Anzati possess the Stealth feat and +3 to Move Silently.

Bonus Feats: Anzati gain the bonus feats Force-sensitive, Infamy, and Stealthy.

All Anzati possess the Stealth and Survival skills.

Hunter’s Instincts: Stealth and Survival are class skills for Anzati.

An Anzati Elite has a Block Number of 50 - 4 of 6.

Anzati Trackers have 15 Attack at Level 1, and 26 Attack at Level 10 (max).

Anzati Hunters have 27 Attack at Level 1, and 54 Attack at Level 15 (max).

Anzati Stalkers have 60 Attack at Level 1, and 176 Attack at Level 25 (max).

Anzati Assassins have 179 Attack at Level 1, and 668 Attack at Level 35 (max).

0 ABY

A random Anzat challenges the Star Wars Missions player character (this character is a bounty hunter currently hired by Darth Vader for a particularly dangerous mission – this character could be an established character like Boba Fett or IG-88). The Anzat may disarm them, and if they’re any other character than Boba or IG-88, begin to drain their life force. The fight might take a long while before the player character is able to overcome them. If the character is someone other than Boba Fett or IG-88, the Anzati may kill or incapacitate them such that they fail the mission.

“Hey there!” a voice yells at you. Turning, you see a tall female step toward you. Clothed in a dusty leather uniform, a long cape hangs from her broad shoulders. “You call that a landing? Get your junky ship out of my docking bay before I call in the Espos!”

As the woman gets closer, you notice her cheeks are bulging. It looks as if she’s trying to contain some squirming thing in her mouth. Instantly, you realize she is not a human at all. She is an Anzati.

Although they resemble humans, the Anzati are a deadly predator species with tubular appendages coiled in their cheek pockets. Anzati kill by uncoiling the appendages from their mouths and inserting the tubes into a victim’s nostrils. The tubes pierce the victim’s brain, allowing the Anzati to drink his or her blood.

For some reason you’re not afraid of the alien – you just want to get rid of her. You also wonder if she might be willing to give her cape to you. Wearing a long cape would be a good way to hide your weapons from the eyes of any security police.

Choose to combat the Anzati or to persuade her not to contact the Espos. If you choose to persuade, choose to persuade with Power or without Power. If you choose to combat, choose to combat with or without a weapon. Whatever you choose, don’t let the Anzati get too close to your nostrils.

To persuade the Anzati not to contact the Epos (using Power)*: Choose your Perception Power, Hypnotism Power, or Deception Power: (One of its uses must be to alter the behavior of an enemy.) Your Power’s mid-resist# + your charm# + your Power#+1 is your confront#. Roll the 6-dice to convince the Anzati she should not contact the Corporate Sector Authority security police.

If your confront# is equal to or more than your roll#, add the difference +3 to your MP total. Under the spell of your Power, the Anzati poses no threat to you or your ship. Borrowing the Anzati’s cape from her shoulders, you may now proceed.

If your confront# is less than your roll#, subtract the difference from your MP total. The strong-willed Anzati is not persuaded. Proceed to combat the Anzati without a weapon (below).

*Note: This counts as one of three Power uses you are allowed on this Mission.

To persuade the Anzati not to contact the Epos (without Power)*: Your charm# +1 is your confront#. Tell the Anzati you’re on Bonadan to collect some money. If she watches your ship, you’ll pay her 50 credits. Roll the 6-dice to get her response.

If your confront# is equal to or more than your roll#, add the difference +4 to your MP total. The Anzati agrees to watch your ship and gives her cape to you as part of the deal. You may now proceed.

If your confront# is less than your roll#, subtract the difference from your MP total. Ignoring your financial offer, the Anzati’s hungry eyes glance at your nostrils. Proceed to combat the Anzati, either with or without a weapon (below).

To combat the Anzati (with a weapon)*: Choose your weapon. Your weaponry# + your weapon’s close-range# is your confront#. Roll the 6-dice to stun the Anzati into submission.

If your confront# is equal to or more than your roll#, add the difference +3 to your MP total. The Anzati is knocked unconscious. You steal her cape and proceed.

If your confront# is less than your roll#, subtract the difference from your MP total. Before you can fire, the Anzati knocks your weapon from your hand and leaps upon you. Pinning you to the docking bay floor, she opens her mouth and uncoils her bloodsucking appendages. If you are Boba Fett, your helmet prevents her appendages from entering your nostrils. If you are IG-88, you do not have any nostrils at all. If you are not Boba Fett or IG-88, subtract 1 Life Point from your Life Point total for your new Life Point total. If your new Life Point Total is 0 (zero), subtract 200 MP from your MP total and begin this Mission again as a different character. If your new Life Point total is 1 Life Point or more, you must proceed to combat the Anzati without a weapon (below).

To combat the Anzati (without a weapon)*: Your strength# + 7 is your confront#. Roll the 12-dice to throw a devastating uppercut to the Anzati’s jaw.

If your confront# is equal to or more than your roll#, add the difference +4 to your MP total. Your punch smashes the bloodsucking alien into the docking bay wall. Removing the cape from the unconscious Anzati, you may now proceed.

If your confront# is less than your roll#, subtract the difference from your MP total. The Anzati is even stronger than you’d imagined. Add +1 to your confront# for your new confront#. Roll the 12-dice to throw another punch at the alien.

If your new confront# is equal to or more than your roll#, add the difference to your MP total. The Anzati’s bloodsucking appendages are outside of her mouth when your first strikes her jaw. After she lands unconscious on the docking bay floor, you grab the alien’s cape and may now proceed.

If your new confront# is less than your roll#, subtract the difference from your MP total. The Anzati is putting up a mean fight. Repeat this confront with your new confront# until you have landed a punch. Once you have defeated her, you may proceed.

Draped around your shoulders, the Anzati’s cape hangs almost to the ground. Knowing that your weapons are now concealed and your starship is safely parked, you exit the docking bay and hit the arid streets.

[Darth Durin's Baneling]

Physical Ability

C-Canon

General

The Anzati must be stronger than even their exceptionally strong prey, so Anzati tend to be “exceptionally” strong and “startlingly” fast. Physically, the Anzati are at their strongest with the very strongest humans in the galaxy, while the Anzati at their very weakest are still on par with an ordinary human. This comparison is very impressive when one remembers the comparative sample sizes – humans being the most common sentient creatures in the galaxy, while the Anzati are among the rarest.

Because the Anzati prey upon those whose life force is strong, they must be stronger. While Anzati tend to possess exceptional might and often startling reflexes, they are not supernaturally endowed. At best, they reflect the pinnacle of Human athletic ability; at worst, they merely have the attributes of an ordinary Human.

The Anzati typically use their raw strength to restrain their victims. They tend to be “surprisingly” strong and “nightmarishly” fast.

Physically, they are deceptively strong and nightmarishly fast. Older, more experienced Anzati can indeed mesmerize their prey with soft words, and a heavy gaze. Mostly, however, Anzati will rely on surprise and physical strength to hold a victim long enough to begin to feed.

As with Zabraks, Kell, an Anzat, has two hearts, giving the species greater circulation and redundancy in case of serious injury.

Kell grunted with satisfaction as he devoured potential futures, as the human’s lines ended and Kell’s continued. Kell’s eyes rolled back in his head as his daen nosi lengthened and he temporarily became one with the soup of Fate. His consciousness deepened, expanded to the size of the galaxy, and he mentally sampled its potential. Time compressed. The arrangement of daen nosi across the universe looked less chaotic. He saw a hint of order. Revelation seemed just at the edge of his understanding, and he experienced a tingling shudder with each beat of his hearts.

The droid’s words rooted Kell to the deck. Despite himself, Kell’s twin hearts doubled their beating rate. Adrenaline flowed into his blood. The feeders in his cheeks spasmed. He inhaled, focused for a moment, and returned his body to calmness, his hormone level to normal.

30 BBY

The degenerated Anzati of Kiffex, with none of the skill or subtlety of a regular Anzat, forced a door off of its hinges and killed two Kiffu Guardians, and come close to killing Quinlan Vos through ferocity and brute force alone. It is only with Jedi Master Tholme’s aid that Quinlan is able to drive them off.

An army of primitive Anzati overwhelm the Kiffex compound, taking several people captive, and gives the Jedi Quinlan Vos, Tholme, and Zao some difficulty.

[

A handful of primitive Anzati ambush Quinlan Vos, Tholme, Zao, and Villie on their speeders. They give the Jedi a fight, even capturing Quinlan.

The Anzati harass Quinlan Vos, Tholme, Zao, and T’ra Saa, herding them to the temple and posing enough of a threat that Tholme, Zao, and T’ra are forced to remain behind to combat them while Quinlan goes to battle Karkko.

22 BBY

The Anzat assassin who battles Ahsoka and Taria Damsin is “ferociously swift” and attacks them so quickly they only have “half a heartbeat’s” anticipation through the Force.

And they were, until they hit the last section of exit ramp—where everything went wrong.

Their only warning was a red screaming in the Force, half a heartbeat before the Anzati attacked.

“Hold on!” Taria shouted, slamming the brakes as he leapt lightly from the level above onto the exit ramp directly in front of them. He carried two heavy concussion grenade launchers and fired them as he landed. One volley missed and exploded the small groundcar behind them. The death of its driver flared brief and bright in the Force. The other concussion charge clipped the side of their groundcar, bounced onto the close-by ferrocrete retaining wall, and erupted into gouts of crimson flame.

Its systems overwhelmed, their groundcar’s shielding collapsed.

“Ahsoka!” said Taria, with one single, burning look. “Alive, remember? Stick to the plan! Mata, stay where you are. Don’t you dare move. Ahsoka?”

In perfect harmony they Force-jumped out of the groundcar, lightsabers igniting as they speared through the air. Smoke and flames and screaming and klaxons, horns blasting, feet running. Chaos and madness.

Plunged into the harsh otherworld of combat, Ahsoka was dimly aware of Taria fighting beside her, a brilliant tawny gold flame in the Force.

Alive. Alive. If we end up confronting him, the plan is to take him alive.

The Anzati was Force-sensitive but he hadn’t been trained. He was working on instinct and years of bloody practice. Ferociously swift and heavily armed he fired again and again until there was so much smoke and fire around them it was hard to breathe or see. But even so they were beating him back, deflecting his lethal concussion grenades, dousing his raging hunger for their deaths with the light side of the Force.

0 BBY

Dannik Jerriko attributes his ability to negate his victims’ luck and chance with his overwhelming speed and skill to his Anzati heritage.

He is good, is fast, is willing to step off the edge; and so he does step: leaping, lunging, lurching … but no one is better or faster than I, and I have unraveled the net. Chance and Luck, thus mated, are dismissed in my presence: I am after all Anzati.

41 ABY

The Anzat killed by Kell Douro survived multiple of his feeding sessions, suggesting some level of resistance against their own draining technique.

His mind drifted on clouds of memory. He thought of the other Anzati he had met through the centuries. They did not see the daen nosi. One had thought Kell mad. In return, Kell had slowly consumed his soup for a standard month, keeping him alive until the very end.

Kell was not mad. He was blessed, unique, chosen to see the truth of existence as written in the lines of the universe’s fate. And soon he would have its cipher.

S-Canon

General

Anzati have a natural +2 Strength ability modifier.

Ability Modifiers: +2 Strength, -4 Charisma.

Anzati can see their enemies in low-light conditions.

Low-Light Vision: Anzati ignore concealment (but not total concealment) from darkness.

Anzati Trackers have 40 Health at Level 1, and 66 Health at Level 10 (max).

Anzati Hunters have 68 Health at Level 1, and 134 Health at Level 15 (max).

Anzati Stalkers have 137 Health at Level 1, and 368 Health at Level 25 (max).

Anzati Assassins have 375 Health at Level 1, and 1264 Health at Level 35 (max).

Force Power

C-Canon

General

Force adepts are comparatively common among the Anzati.

Adventurers: Due to their predatory nature, Anzati find themselves drawn to the professions of assassin and bounty hunter, which better enable them to hunt for nourishment. It is the rare Anzat that does not shun the morality of the Jedi Knights, although Force adepts are not uncommon among the Anzati.

Anzati hypnosis is a form of Jedi mind trick.

Jedi who have encountered the species have suggested that Anzati mind control is a type of Force manipulation; they can sense the Force and use it to bewitch their victims in a way akin to the famous Jedi mind trick. To lure in unsuspecting targets, Anzati mesmerize them with this form of telepathic control that strengthens at close range. Once a subject is in their power, Anzati will uncoil their proboscises from their cheek pouches and insert them into a victim’s nostrils to suck out brain matter.

22 BBY

The Anzati assassin who fights Ahsoka and Taria Damsin is Force-sensitive, but untrained in its use.

The Anzati was Force-sensitive but he hadn’t been trained. He was working on instinct and years of bloody practice. Ferociously swift and heavily armed he fired again and again until there was so much smoke and fire around them it was hard to breathe or see. But even so they were beating him back, deflecting his lethal concussion grenades, dousing his raging hunger for their deaths with the light side of the Force.

S-Canon

General

Anzati are Force-attuned as a species.

Bonus Feats: Anzati gain the bonus feats Force-sensitive, Infamy, and Stealthy.

An Anzati Elite is Force Sensitive, with 3 Force Icons.

Drain

C-Canon

General

The Anzati have the ability to quickly use their proboscii to telepathically paralyze then drain the life force of their victims. This maintains their long lives, and lends them to mythological status.

It is simply and quickly done with the manifest efficiency of my kind: prehensile proboscii uncoiled from cheek pockets, first inserted, then insinuated through nostrils into brain. It paralyzes instantly.

I eat his Luck. I drink his soup. I let the body fall.

Jerriko is one of the predatorial species known as the Anzati. Tall, gaunt, and largely humanoid in appearance, the Anzati have prehensile proboscises coiled in cheek pockets. When they have captured their prey, Anzat uncoil these proboscises, inserting them in the victim’s nostrils and piercing their brains. The Anzati are long-lived; Jerriko himself is 1010 years old.

Closely resembling humans, this species has one addition to their anatomy that sets them apart and makes them almost mythological. Beside their nostrils, Anzati have fleshy pockets that hide a prehensile proboscis that can be uncoiled and inserted through victims’ nostrils into their brains to suck out their life essence, or “soup,” as the Anzati call it.

The Anzati feed by drawing Luck out of wherever it resides in a victim. (The precise location varies by species; in most humanoid species, it lies within the brain cavity.) To reach it, the Anzat extends thin proboscises–normally kept coiled in cheek pockets located on either side of its nose–and inserts them into the victim, often through the sinus cavities. Almost of their own, the proboscises seek the victim’s soup, and begin draining it into the Anzat. The victim can struggle, though often the Anzat’s attack is so sudden, so perfect, that it is too late.

The Anzati are among the deadliest and most mysterious species in the galaxy. They appear human, save for two prehensile proboscises they keep coiled in pockets in each of their cheeks. Predators who mesmerize victims through a mild telepathic control, they uncoil these proboscises and insert them in the victim’s nostrils to suck out the brain matter.

STEALING THE ESSENCE: Humanoid in appearance, the Anzati live by feeding off those who have a strong life essence. The more “alive” the force of the being they steal, the more power they can absorb. The Anzati can detect a potent life force by scent – often over long distances – and extract it with the use of a pair of coiled proboscises. These extend to reach through the victim’s nostrils to the brain.

The mysterious soup the Anzati drink is the gelatinous suspension in which the life essence, or luck, is stored. The Anzati have two needle-sharp proboscises hidden in cheek pouches on either side of their nose. Seeming almost to have a life of their own, these spender invaders enter the victim, usually through the nostrils, and worm their way to the soup. It is rare for the drained victim to survive.

Humanoid in appearance, at least at first glance, the Anzati are born with powerful telepathic abilities, which they use to subdue their victims before inserting long proboscises – tendrils that they unfurl from their cheeks – into the brain cavities of these hapless individuals. So adept have the Anzati become at carrying out these attacks, and so unremarkable are they physically, that in many parts of the galaxy they are thought to be merely the subject of ghost stories.

To lure in unsuspecting targets, Anzati mesmerize them with this form of telepathic control that strengthens at close range. Once a subject is in their power, Anzati will uncoil their proboscises from their cheek pouches and insert them into a victim’s nostrils to suck out brain matter. They call this meal “soup,” “luck,” or the “Sea of Memory”; in their tradition, the term refers to the life essence, or spiritual power, of the victim. It is reputed that Anzati can keep victims alive for several feedings, enjoying the fear and terror their prey feels throughout the ordeal. Some Anzati believe feeding on living vessels in this way gives them eternal youth and energy. This belief can be traced to the Silent Voices, luminescent bands of gases that glow in the Anzat atmosphere at night, and which ancient Anzati thought were the life essences of their ancestors. Although such a possibility is not scientifically viable, it illustrates the level of importance that “soup” plays in Anzati culture, mores, and belief structures.

This technique is quick, and untraceable without careful examination.

They will not know when they find him; they never know at first. That comes later, after, and only if someone cares enough to run a scan on him. I knit my own nightmare, make my own mythos. A quick, clean kill; no fuss, no muss.

The Anzati inherit the traits of their victims through draining them.

Make me no predictions. Write me no prophecy. Permit me to take what is best of you, what is best in you.

Let me liberate it. In me you will live forever.

Anzati target particularly powerful beings because their soup is more satisfying. It would take a dozen typical sentients a day to keep an Anzat going. They are particularly fond of the soup of Force users. Any Anzat to make a meal of an especially experienced Jedi would be a “terrible creature indeed”, but this has occurred before, if rarely.

Anzati feed on a substance they refer to as “Luck.” The actual substance they drain out of living beings–the gelid mucoid medium for the Luck–they refer to as “soup.” Anzati believe that Luck governs a living being’s personal presence. Thus, the more presence a being has, the more potent the Luck is likely to be. Particularly fortunate individuals are tasty meals for the Anzati.

Though life essence and luck are manifestations of the Force, the Luck upon which Anzati feed is only peripherally related. Certainly, beings who are particularly gifted in the Force are appetizing to an Anzat, but this is usually because their close connections with the life energy of the universe present the appearance of great personal presence. Of course, experienced Jedi usually have both powerful personal life essence and a close connection with the universe’s through the Force. The Anzat who makes a meal of such a Jedi is a rare and terrible creature indeed.

The Anzati, of course, consider such discussions academic. “The Force is a concept developed by younger species. It is a concept Anzati do not recognize as any more correct than any of a dozen theories before. They know only that weak-willed beings are as unsatisfying as table scraps. To subsist on the average sentient, an Anzat would have to feed on a dozen beings every day. And since the meal rarely survives the feast, the Anzat would leave a trail of corpses. On a world without sentient beings, or in a place where Luck is in short supply, an Anzat could easily starve to death. Most of the galaxy, however, is unfortunate in this regard: the Anzati are not liable to die off so easily–sentient beings are plentiful enough to feed a legion of them.

Anzati roam the galaxy for one reason: to devour the “soup” of other sentient beings. To an Anzat, “soup” embodies presence and life energy, which is stored in the gelid, mucoid brain fluids of sentient beings. Beings with strong connections to the Force are particularly appetizing, although most Anzati consider any hypothetical correlation between “soup” and the Force academic.

STEALING THE ESSENCE: Humanoid in appearance, the Anzati live by feeding off those who have a strong life essence. The more “alive” the force of the being they steal, the more power they can absorb. The Anzati can detect a potent life force by scent – often over long distances – and extract it with the use of a pair of coiled proboscises. These extend to reach through the victim’s nostrils to the brain.

The Anzati feed off other beings by drinking what they call ‘luck’ or ‘the soup’ from others, but not from just anyone. The life essence the Anzati seek is particularly desirable and nourishing if taken from a being of considerable presence. The average individual will barely sustain a single Anzati. Of course, the stronger, more accomplished, more ‘alive’ the individual, the more difficult they are to track and to kill, and the more likely they are to be missed. Still, time is a resource the Anzati have in abundance.

~52 BBY

Anzati drain the life forces of many people, including Pethros and Quian Vos, before killing them.

32 BBY

Ars Veruna compares the Sith’s ability to grow in power on overseeing death to that of the Anzati.

"But you are, Your Majesty. A celebrated ancient poet once said that every death lessened him, for he considered himself to be a brother to every living being. I, on the other hand, have come to understand that every death I oversee nourishes and empowers me, for I am a true Sith."

"No... better than... an Anzati."

"The brain eaters? What does better than mean to those of us who have passed beyond notions of good and evil? Are you better than Bon Tapalo? Are you better than Queen Padme Amidala? I am the only one fit to answer the question. Better are those who do my bidding." Plagueis placed his hand atop Veruna's. "I'll remain with you for a while as you meld with the Force. But at some point, I will have to leave you at the threshold to continue on your own."

30 BBY

The degenerated Anzati of Kiffex drain two Kiffu Guardians.

A primitive Anzati drains a Gamorrean.

Per Jedi Master Zao, the “soup” of the Anzati is synonymous with the Force. The more midi-chlorian rich the brain-blood of the victim, the more powerful the Anzati feaster becomes.

S-Canon

General

Anzati can drain a target of their character levels – permanently weakening them and taking away their skills a considerable amount for each turn, until it reaches zero and they are killed.

Anzati feeding drains character levels from the victim. Each round after the Anzat has inserted its proboscises, the victim loses two character levels, suffering a corresponding loss of experience points, Vitality Points, skill ranks, attack bonuses, saving throws, feats, and maximum Force Points. If the Anzat’s attack reduces the victim to zero levels, the victim dies. Survivors of the assault have enough experience points to put them at the middle of their new (lower) level and may regain lost levels through accumulation of experience as normal.

Anzati can drain an incapacitated target for 1 hit point per turn unless interrupted by a threat to their life.

An Anzat can drain energy and replenish their own HP from a grabbed enemy once a turn.

Soup Drinking: As a swift action once per round, an Anzat can use its proboscis to drain energy from a grabbed target, moving the target -1 step on the condition track as a persistent condition and granting the Anzat bonus hit points equal to 5 + half the Anzat’s level. The Anzat can repeat this action each round until the target escapes the grab or until the target is rendered unconscious. If the target survives the feeding attempt, the persistent condition is removed after the target rests for 8 hours.

Anzati Trackers can drain a Humanoid enemy for 20% of its current Health.

Anzati Hunters can drain a Humanoid enemy for 25% of its current Health.

Anzati Stalkers can drain a Humanoid enemy for 25% of its current Health.

Anzati Assassins can drain a Humanoid enemy for 30% of its current Health.

Telepathy

C-Canon

General

The Anzati have extrasensory organs that allow them to “sense” their prey.

But physical strength is only a small part of the equation. To sense the presence of Luck in others, they have highly developed sensory organs unknown in other sentient species. And to physically drain Luck’s connection from living beings, they must be physically adapted to do so. For the Anzati, these things are interconnected.

STEALING THE ESSENCE: Humanoid in appearance, the Anzati live by feeding off those who have a strong life essence. The more “alive” the force of the being they steal, the more power they can absorb. The Anzati can detect a potent life force by scent – often over long distances – and extract it with the use of a pair of coiled proboscises. These extend to reach through the victim’s nostrils to the brain.

Anzati track their prey by scent much of the time. They can smell their victim’s ‘essence’ over considerable distance.

The Anzati use a powerful form of mind control to paralyze their victims while they are drained. This ability becomes more potent with age. Jedi who meet Anzati say that this ability is a type of Force mind trick.

The Anzati are among the deadliest and most mysterious species in the galaxy. They appear human, save for two prehensile proboscises they keep coiled in pockets in each of their cheeks. Predators who mesmerize victims through a mild telepathic control, they uncoil these proboscises and insert them in the victim’s nostrils to suck out the brain matter.

Mesmerized: As well as hunting down their prey and attacking them with brute force, older Anzati can also ensnare their victims with the use of a specific tone of voice and a hard, hypnotic stare.

Older, more experienced Anzati can indeed mesmerize their prey with soft words and a heavy gaze.

Humanoid in appearance, at least at first glance, the Anzati are born with powerful telepathic abilities, which they use to subdue their victims before inserting long proboscises – tendrils that they unfurl from their cheeks – into the brain cavities of these hapless individuals. So adept have the Anzati become at carrying out these attacks, and so unremarkable are they physically, that in many parts of the galaxy they are thought to be merely the subject of ghost stories.

Jedi who have encountered the species have suggested that Anzati mind control is a type of Force manipulation; they can sense the Force and use it to bewitch their victims in a way akin to the famous Jedi mind trick. To lure in unsuspecting targets, Anzati mesmerize them with this form of telepathic control that strengthens at close range. Once a subject is in their power, Anzati will uncoil their proboscises from their cheek pouches and insert them into a victim’s nostrils to suck out brain matter.

Long-lived, ruthless and nearly indistinguishable from humans, the Anzati were sought out as highly paid assassins and mercenaries. They would stun their prey with a telepathic blast and then feed on their life essence.

Jedi developed techniques over the centuries specifically tailored to counter the telepathic prowess of the Anzati – their natural mental barriers weren’t enough.

Over the centuries, the Jedi had developed techniques to counter the telepathic skills of the Anzati, but Karkko used the Force to enhance these skills, and had rendered the Jedi techniques ineffective. This knowledge only added to Vos’s anxiety, while his fear of this particualr Anzati was compounded by his concern for his estranged apprentice Aayla and what the fallen Karkko might be doing to her.

Around 52 BBY

Anzati hypnotize Kiffu Guardians Pethros and Quian Vos before killing them.

22 BBY

An Anzati assassin is able to track his mark without any visual, based on sensing them through “scent.”

Casually, they made their way through the market throng. Like a shadow under bright water, the Anzati slipped after them. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t spotted them. He had Mata’s scent and he wasn’t letting go.

“Blast,” Taria murmured. “This is exactly what I didn’t want to do.”

This was use the Force to blur their presence in the crowd. Ahsoka felt the ripples around them. Felt the sensitive sentients in the marketplace jostle as reality twisted, ever so slightly.

~20 BBY

The Anzati claim to hear their ancestors speaking to them in their minds.

Anzati master assassin Akku Seii states that Tholme can’t extract information from him because although the Anzati cannot leverage their telepathic influence against Jedi, Jedi cannot use their mind tricks on the Anzati either.

S-Canon

General

Anzati can track prey with the See Force ability. The stronger the target, the more they stand out.

An Anzat uses his or her sense of personal presence to hunt, detecting prey’s Luck. When using the Track feat, the Anzat may use the See Force skill, rather than the Survival skill to locate and follow quarry. Though an Anzat can track using Survival, the Anzat gains a situation bonus to his or her See Force check equal to the target’s character level. The stronger the target’s soup, the more the target stands out to the Anzat’s senses.

Anzati Tracking: When using the Track feat, an Anzat may use the See Force skill, rather than the Survival skill, to locate and follow quarry (provided he has ranks in the See Force skill). Though an Anzat can track using Survival, the Anzat gains a bonus on his See Force check equal to the target’s character level. The stronger the target’s presence, the more the target stands out to the Anzati’s senses.

Presence Sense: The Anzati’s acute senses enable them to sense a person’s Luck. When making a Survival check to track a living creature, an Anzat gains a species bonus equal to the quarry’s Force Point total.

Anzati can hypnotize their prey via telepathy, if in close range.

Mesmerize: As a standard action, an Anzat can make a special attack against the Will Defense of a single target within 6 squares of the Anzat. The attack modifier is equal to the Anat’s character level plus his or her Charisma modifier. If the attack is successful, the target lsoes its standard action for its next turn. If the attack fails, the target is immune to this effect for 24 hours. This is a mind-affecting effect.

Anzati Trackers can stun a Humanoid enemy for a turn.

Anzati Hunters can stun a Humanoid enemy for a turn.

Anzati Stalkers can stun a Humanoid enemy for 2 turns.

Anzati Assassins can stun a Humanoid enemy for 2 turns.

Summary

The Anzati are considerably faster and stronger than most humans. They are very stealthy, and any (most) to become assassins are automatically among the galaxy’s top killers.

More, they can drain their opponents’ lives… not only killing them, but absorbing their Force energy for their own. They have a telepathic Force that makes resistance nearly impossible, and defends them from Jedi mind tricks against them. The Jedi had to develop techniques specifically against the Anzati to protect themselves from their depredations.

Force sensitivity is very common among the Anzati – even made out to be ubiquitous in some sources.

The Anzati are the nightmare of any regular species. Respect them![/quote]

[Darth Durin's Baneling]

The kill is only one of your objectives. Without the other cornerstones of infiltration, drama, and evasion it is clumsy…

Combat Skill/Stealth

C-Canon

Before 36 BBY

Torgo Tahn, as one of Aurra Sing’s primary Anzati teachers, taught her many of the skills that would transform her into the remorseless and skilled Jedi-killing bounty hunter she is during the films, tutoring her in all the “really useful stuff”.

The life of a pirate agreed with Sing, as she was able to focus her aggression. She learned martial and hunting skills while living on the fringe. Ill fortune caught up with Sing when a Hutt crime lord took her captive. Wanting her turned into a deadly assassin, the Hutt apprenticed Sing to a group of vampiric Anzati. Aurra underwent a transformation, stripping away any vestiges of compassion she had left. She emerged from her training a deadly, remorseless killer, seeking revenge for all who had wronged her in the past. The Anzati even affixed her with a Rhen-Orm biocomputer sensor implant, which not only increased her situational awareness, but also transmitted a simulated sensation of the fear the Anzati preyed upon.

Aurra became an independent bounty hunter specializing in Jedi hunts. She collected at least six lightsabers from her fallen foes as grim trophies, and brandished her own scarlet-bladed Jedi weapon. She armed herself with twin blaster pistols and a long projectile rifle. For her primary surface conveyance, Sing relied upon an outdated but highly modified swoop.

Torgo Tahn kills guildmaster Anis, and cuts down both of his Anzati accomplices when they act out of line.

Tahn slaughtered and consumed many Anzati in his search for Aurra Sing.

Physical Ability

C-Canon

Before 36 BBY

Anzati master assassin Torgo Tahn dodges Anzati trainee Puloh’s blaster bolt and closes the distance to cut the student’s head off with a vibrowhip.

Summary

Torgo Tahn is responsible for teaching Aurra Sing the art of stealth. Aurra, in her main appearances at this time, was treated very consistently as a legitimate threat to members of the Jedi Council in a fight.

Torgo has faster reflexes than even most Anzati, proving himself capable of dodging a blaster bolt at close range, and taking advantage of this to kill many other Anzati – in his search for Aurra, for demonstration, or merely when he feels like it.

[Darth Durin's Baneling]

We all have needs and… hungers.

Combat Skill/Stealth

C-Canon

21 BBY

It was Saljé Tasha who set up the explosion that killed Chancellor Valorum.

After she was tracked down by Quinlan Vos, Tasha revealed that she had been the one who arranged for the murder of former Supreme Chancellor Finis Valorum.

20 BBY

Dexter Jettster is able to identify Saljé Tasha based on her name and description, suggesting a strong reputation.

Saljé Tasha contends with Quinlan Vos, coming close to killing him a few times, and temporarily deactivating his lightsaber with her Cortosis gauntlets.

Telepathy

C-Canon

20 BBY

Saljé Tasha is able to stonewall Quinlan Vos’s telepathic advances.

Drain

C-Canon

20 BBY

Saljé Tasha comes close to draining Quinlan Vos’s life Force while he is trying to use psychometry to determine her client. Only Khaleen’s interference saves his life.

Equipment

C-Canon

20 BBY

Saljé possesses a pair of gifted cortosis gauntlets that can deflect and even deactivate a lightsaber.

Summary

Saljé Tasha is one of the galaxy’s foremost assassins, as evidenced by her being the one hired for the all-important job of assassinating Valorum. She is able to use her cortosis gauntlets to great effect to counter Quinlan Vos’s lightsaber, and her mental powers to block any of Quinlan’s attempts at telepathic influence, allowing her to give Quinlan a legitimate battle. The moment Quinlan lets his guard down, Saljé is able to use her own telepathy to break his will down, and would have killed him if he hadn’t been saved by Khaleen.

[Darth Durin's Baneling]

You’re my husband, Sint, and I adore you – but you know never to come between me and my prey!

Combat Skill/Stealth

C-Canon

137 ABY

Sint and Nakia, along with Ku Vrat, are the Black Sun Vigo Lun Rask’s best assassins.

Sint and Nikia compete for their kills, and are around even. They are most competitive over “Force soup”, suggesting some experience in consuming it. Nakia was more than able to shoot Cade Skywalker and Gunn Yage, but opted not to in order to give herself and Sint a chance at their soup.

Ku Vrat also missed all his shots, but he was trying to hit his targets, suggesting that Nakia is a much better shot. Sint stalemates Ku Vrat in battle. Nakia mocks Vrat as being ignorant of the duo’s capabilities, and states that there is no escaping them, as they are Anzati whose assassin heritage stretches back millennia.

Cade Skywalker gets a powerful impression of hunger and danger from the Anzati. Sint threatens to feed Ku Vrat to Nakia.

Sint and Nakia come close to killing Cade and Gunn. Sint has killed a Jedi before and taken their lightsaber, and uses it to fight an unarmed Cade. Even after the fight has begun, Sint and Nakia are both very confident in their ability to kill both their opponents. However, Cade quickly kills Sint after he brings out his own lightsaber. Despite this, Nakia gets the better of Gunn would have killed her if not for Cade. Once Cade kills Sint, however, Nakia changes her attention to him and defeats him before she is stunned by Gunn from behind.

Force Sense/Telepathy/Farsight

C-Canon

137 ABY

Nakia hypnotizes and drains Bushman Krentz.

Nakia can sense Cade’s strong imprint on the Force nearby.

Nakia incapacitates Gunn Yage then Cade Skywalker through hypnosis. Both are defenseless before her, individually, even though both went into the fight fully aware of their enmity with her and the life-and-death nature of the situation.

Drain

C-Canon

137 ABY

Nakia hypnotizes and drains Bushman Krentz.

Physical Ability

C-Canon

137 ABY

Silth deflects a blaster bolt at close range.

Summary

Sint and Nakia are two of the three most competent assassins in Lun Rask’s employ, and are consistently presented as a greater threat than the third. They are about even in their competition for victims drained, and Sint has killed (and very likely drained) at least one Jedi. They are deadeye marksmen, but truly shine in close quarters combat, where they nearly spell the end of Cade Skywalker. Sint dodges a blaster bolt at close range, but is not fast enough to keep up with Cade once the Skywalker has his lightsaber in hand. Even at that point, Nakia is able to break through Cade’s defenses, much like Tasha with Vos, and would have killed him had they been alone.

[Darth Durin's Baneling]

I’m not amazed your race is all but extinct.

Combat Skill/Stealth

C-Canon

19 BBY

Kelkko exchanges insults with Bok, suggesting that he believes he would win if it came to blows.

As one of the Separatists’ hired Anzati assassins, Rath Kelkko is “deadly.”

It's within these caverns that Separatists hatched their bold cloning program. Using accelerated cloning techniques, the Separatists engineered Morgukai clones trained by deadly Anzati assassins.

Dooku assigns Rath Kelkko and his other Anzati master assassins the task of killing (a distracted) Oppo Rancisis.

Rath Kelkko and around half a dozen other Anzati master assassins sneak past the elite clone trooper sentries guarding Oppo Rancisis’s quarters. Oppo anticipated them, however, and is ready to fight back, though exhausted. Oppo slays the other Anzati before Kelkko seems to last some time by himself. He is defeated as well, but his and the others’ efforts provide Sora Bulq the diversion he needs to ambush and kill the Jedi Master.

[...]



[...]

Summary

Kelkko is the leader of the Anzati master assassins hired by Dooku to train up an army of Morgukai warriors, suggesting that he numbers among the best master assassins the planet had to offer. He proves himself a superior combatant to each of the other hired master assassins, and seems to last nearly as long or longer by himself against Oppo Rancisis than the rest of his team did, although in the end he is defeated without too much difficulty by the exhausted Jedi High Councilor.

[Darth Durin's Baneling]

Kell was not mad. He was blessed, unique, chosen to see the truth of existence as written in the lines of the universe’s fate. And soon he would have its cipher.

Combat Skill/Stealth

C-Canon

41 ABY

Kell Douro is entrusted with the One Sith’s mission to discover the secrets on Fhost by Darth Krayt himself.

Kell rubbed his eyes, as if erasing them of the remembrance of pain. “Why me?” He gestured out into the darkness. “Why not one of them?”

“Because it is the Master’s will that the One Sith remain quiescent. Therefore, we must use intermediaries.”

Kell had had enough of Wyyrlok’s therefores. “To whom shall I report what I learn?”

“You will report back to me,” Wyyrlok said. He frowned, as if struck with a thought, and said, “The Master believes it likely that the Jedi have received a similar vision. The Force is moving in this matter. They may, therefore, interfere. You should not allow interference.”

Kell put his hands on the hilts of his blades. “I understand. What form will the sign take?”

Wyyrlok shrugged. “The Master believes you will know it when you see it. He believes in your ingenuity. And your desire to find the one that you seek.”

Kell is hundreds of years old, and has defeated, killed, and drained at least one other Anzati.

His mind drifted on clouds of memory. He thought of the other Anzati he had met through the centuries. They did not see the daen nosi. One had thought Kell mad. In return, Kell had slowly consumed his soup for a standard month, keeping him alive until the very end.

Kell was not mad. He was blessed, unique, chosen to see the truth of existence as written in the lines of the universe’s fate. And soon he would have its cipher.

Kell beats Khedryn close to death, shattering his face.

At first Jaden did not think he was seeing clearly, thought, perhaps, that his mind had retreated into dreams while he died. He saw Khedryn materialize beside the Anzat. Blood dripped from Khedryn’s shattered nose, and his eyes were so swollen Jaden was surprised he could see at all. He held the BlasTech E-11 in his hands, the blaster they had seen in the armory off the barracks. He had its barrel pressed against the Anzat’s head.

The Anzat’s feeders started to retract from Jaden’s nose.

“Thank you?” Khedryn said, stress raising his voice an octave higher than usual. “Frag you.”

He squeezed the trigger and turned the Anzat’s head into a fine red mist. The Anzat’s body fell to the floor, blood pouring from the neck stump. The feeder appendages, severed from the nearly vaporized head, still dangled from Jaden’s nose. Jaden sagged, wobbled. Khedryn steadied him.

“Are you all right? Jaden?”

Khedryn’s voice sounded from far away. But it was drawing closer and Jaden was returning to himself.

“I am all right,” he said to Khedryn. “Thank you.”

Khedryn smiled. “That is a thank-you I’ll accept.”

Wincing, Jaden jerked the feeders out of his nose and dropped them on the Anzat’s body. Nausea seized him and he vomited onto the floor. Khedryn put a hand on his shoulder and nodded at the Anzat’s corpse.

“That thing got to me before it got you. What is it?”

The two of them watched as Douro moved deeper into the abandoned cloning facility. They saw him beat a human male and leave him lying there, his face shattered, bleeding.

“He is not dead,” Nyss observed.

“Indeed not,” Wyyrlok said, knowing that the human male ultimately killed Douro.

“That was a mistake,” Nyss said.

“More than you know.”

Jaden and Khedryn separate, and Khedryn encounters and is badly beaten by Douro. Rather than kill Khedryn, Douro continues obsessively stalking Jaden as prey.

Physical Ability

C-Canon

41 ABY

Kell Douro overmatches the strength of his human captive.

Kell leaned forward, took the human’s doughy face in his hands. The human shook his head but was no match for Kell’s strength.

“Please,” the Corellian said. “Why are you doing this? Who are you? What are you?”

Kell watched all of the human’s daen nosi, all of his potential futures, coalesce into a single green line that intersected Kell’s silver one, where it … stopped.

“I am a ghost,” Kell answered, and opened the slits in his face. His feeders squirmed free of their sacs, wirethin appendages that fed on the soup of the sentient.

The human screamed, struggled, but Kell held him fast.

Force Sense/Telepathy/Farsight

C-Canon

41 ABY

Kell Douro can see the threads of fate/the Force surrounding the galaxy. He senses the One Sith’s presence on Korriban, and sees that his destiny will soon be intertwined with theirs.

He settled Predator, a CloakShape fighter modified with a hyperspace sled and sensor-evading technology copied from a stolen StealthX, into low orbit. The roiling cloak of dark energy that shrouded the planet buffeted Predator, and the ship’s metal creaked in the strain. Kell attuned his vision to Fate and saw the hundreds of daen nosi—fate lines, a Coruscanti academic had once translated the Anzati term—that intersected at Korriban, the planet like a bulbous black spider in a web of glowing potentialities. The past, present, and future lines of the galaxy’s fate passed through the Sith tomb-world’s inhabitants, threads of glowing green, orange, red, and blue that cut it into pieces.

Space–time was pregnant with the possible, and the richness of the soup swelled Kell’s hunger. He had first seen the daen nosi in childhood, after his first kill, and had followed them since. He thought himself unique among the Anzati, special, called, but he could not be certain.

Thinking of his first kill turned his mind to the food he kept in the cargo hold of Predator, but he quelled his body’s impulse with a thought.

His own daen nosi stretched out before him, the veins of his own fate a network of silver lines reaching down through the transparisteel of the cockpit and into the dark swirl, down to the tombs of the Sith, to the secret places where the One Sith lurked. He had business with them, and they with him. The lines of their fates were intertwined.

Kell first awakens then calms one of his captives down as he feeds on his soup, overpowering the man’s terror.

He glided from one freezer to the next, brushing his fingertips on the cool glass that separated him from his prey. His captives’ daen nosi extended from their freezers to him, his to them. He stopped before the middle-aged human male he had taken on Corellia.

“You,” he said, and watched his silver lines intertwine with the green lines of the Corellian.

He activated the freezer’s thaw cycle. The hiss of escaping gas screamed the human’s end. Kell watched as the freezer’s readout indicated a rising temperature, watched as color returned to the human’s flesh. His hunger grew, and the feeders nesting in the sacs of his cheeks twitched. He needed his prey conscious, otherwise he could not transcend.

He reached through the daen nosi that connected him to his meal.

Awaken, he softly projected.

The human’s eyes snapped open, pupils dilated, lids wide. Fear traveled through the mental connection and Kell savored it. The freezer’s readout showed a spiking heart rate, increasing respiration. The human opened his mouth to speak but his motor functions, still sluggish from stasis, could produce only a muffled, groggy croak.

Kell pressed the release button, and the freezer’s cover slid open. Be calm, he projected, and his command wormed its way into the human’s mind, a prophylactic for the fear.

But growing terror overpowered Kell’s casual psychic hold. The human struggled against his mental bonds, finally found his voice.

“Please. I have done nothing.”

Kell leaned forward, took the human’s doughy face in his hands. The human shook his head but was no match for Kell’s strength.

“Please,” the Corellian said. “Why are you doing this? Who are you? What are you?”

Kell watched all of the human’s daen nosi, all of his potential futures, coalesce into a single green line that intersected Kell’s silver one, where it … stopped.

“I am a ghost,” Kell answered, and opened the slits in his face. His feeders squirmed free of their sacs, wirethin appendages that fed on the soup of the sentient.

The human screamed, struggled, but Kell held him fast.

Be calm, Kell projected again, this time with force, and the human fell silent.

The feeders wormed their way into the warm, moist tunnels of the Corellian’s nostrils, and rooted upward. Anticipation caused Kell to drool. He stared into the human’s wide, bloodshot eyes as the feeders penetrated tissue, pierced membranes, entered the skull cavity, and sank into the rich gray stew in the human’s skull. A spasm racked the human’s body. Tears pooled in his wide eyes and fell, glistening, down his cheeks. Blood dripped in thin lines from his nose.

Kell grunted with satisfaction as he devoured potential futures, as the human’s lines ended and Kell’s continued. Kell’s eyes rolled back in his head as his daen nosi lengthened and he temporarily became one with the soup of Fate. His consciousness deepened, expanded to the size of the galaxy, and he mentally sampled its potential. Time compressed. The arrangement of daen nosi across the universe looked less chaotic. He saw a hint of order. Revelation seemed just at the edge of his understanding, and he experienced a tingling shudder with each beat of his hearts.

Show me, he thought. Let me see.

The moment passed as the human expired and Kell let him drop to the floor of the bay.

Revelation retreated and he backed away from the corpse, gasping. He came back to himself, mere flesh, mere limited comprehension.

He looked down at the cooling body at his feet, understanding that only in murder did he transcend.

Kell sees a rich soup in Darth Wyyrlok I, many threads of fate and the destiny to strangle the galaxy.

Kell waited under Korriban’s angry sky, surrounded by the tombs of Korriban’s dead Sith Lords. Checking his wrist chrono from time to time, he attuned his senses to his surroundings and waited on Krayt’s pleasure.

Footsteps sounded behind him, barely audible above the rain. He changed his perception as he turned, and saw a thick network of daen nosi that extended through the present to the future, wrapping the galaxy like a great serpent that would strangle it.

[...]

“Darth Wyyrlok,” Kell said as he turned. The honorific came with difficulty to his lips. Both Wyyrlok and Krayt had adopted a title once carried by beings of greater stature.

The Chagrian Sith Lord’s mouth formed a tight smile, as if he sensed the meat of Kell’s thoughts. Wyyrlock stood as tall as Kell, and the left horn on his head extended half a meter more; the right horn, lost some time ago to accident or battle, was a jagged stump only a few centimenters long. To Kell, it looked like a rotted tooth. The line of a scar extended the length of the Chagrian’s face, a seam connecting the ruined horn to the corner of his mouth. Wyyrlok’s robe, as black as a singularity and soaked with rain, hung heavily from his broad shoulders. The hilt of a lightsaber at his belt peeked out from under the folds.

Kell imagined the insight he could gain by devouring a soup so rich as Wyyrlok’s. A cyclone of daen nosi whirled around the Chagrian. The feeders within Kell’s cheeks squirmed reflexively.

“Anzat,” the Sith said, with a faint nod.

Kell feels the presence of more Sith, outside the range of his other senses.

Thunder rumbled. Kell felt others in the darkness around them. More Sith. Servants of Wyyrlok.

“Naga Sadow walked this ground,” Wyyrlok said, his clawed hand gesturing at the brick walkway. “And Exar Kun after him. Then, no crippling Rule of Two limited the power of the Sith. Wisely, Darth Krayt has undone the mistake of Bane. Therefore no Rule of Two limits the One Sith today.”

Kell said nothing. He cared little for the intricacies of the Sith religion. And the Chagrian’s incessant use of therefore drove Kell to distraction.

Kell’s ability to see the threads of fate is unusual among the Anzati.

His mind drifted on clouds of memory. He thought of the other Anzati he had met through the centuries. They did not see the daen nosi. One had thought Kell mad. In return, Kell had slowly consumed his soup for a standard month, keeping him alive until the very end.

Kell was not mad. He was blessed, unique, chosen to see the truth of existence as written in the lines of the universe’s fate. And soon he would have its cipher.

Kell is able to sense the power inside Jaden Korr.

“You have done well, Kell Douro,” Wyyrlok returned. “Therefore the Master smiles upon your efforts from his journey in dreams.”

Kell ignored the praise. “Once I enter the Unknown Regions, I will be out of contact except via subspace burst. If I need to report to you, I will do so on the following subspace frequency.” He tapped in the frequency and sent it.

“Received. Name the Jedi you have encountered.”

“Jaden Korr.”

Saying the name recalled to Kell’s mind the power of Korr’s soup. His feeders leaked partway from his cheeks, but he retracted them.

Finding an exhausted and injured Jaden Korr, Kell is able to send words into his mind, and paralyzes him against his will to drain him. Kell is only stopped by Khedryn’s sudden arrival and intervention.

Wrung out from his battle with the clone, Jaden raised his mental defenses too slowly and the Anzat projected his will into Jaden’s mind.

Be still.

The words bounced around in Jaden’s mind, found purchase in the ancient reptilian structures in the deepest part of his brain. His higher functions screamed for him to act, to defend himself, but the Anzat’s mental projection lodged like a leech on Jaden’s brain stem, froze his voluntary muscles and chained his will. He felt as if he might be dreaming, his mind in the grip of a nightmare, his body too paralyzed to react.

The Anzat’s eyes flashed, the nostrils on his slightly upturned nose flared. He leaned in close, his face only a centimeter from Jaden’s, but not quite touching, as if denying himself for a moment some treat he’d longed for. The Anzat’s eyes impaled Jaden. He fought against the Anzat’s hold on his mind, trying to dislodge the mind leech, but his mind, depleted from the battle with the clone, could not get free.

The Anzat sensed his failed struggle and smiled.

“I am Kell Douro,” the Anzat said, his voice thick with an accent that Jaden could not place. “You are my salvation, Jaden Korr.”

The Anzat took Jaden by the shoulders and the cables of the alien’s appendages burrowed into Jaden’s nostrils, the sharp point of the tip slashing sensitive tissues. Pain exploded in his mind, setting off a spark shower of agony before his eyes, but he could not move.

Kell inhaled deeply as he drove his feeders into the blood-slickened tunnels of Jaden’s nostrils. He shuddered each time they pierced a membrane or slashed tissue. The lines of their daen nosi swirled around them, their motion rapid, chaotic, a reflection of Kell’s own excitement. They became so tangled he had trouble distinguishing the silver of his own lines from the red and green that denoted Jaden’s potential futures. His legs weakened at the thought of consuming the Jedi’s soup, of understanding at last, after centuries of seeking, the map of the universe and his purpose in it.

He watched his lines enmesh Jaden’s, strangle them, wipe out whatever future the Jedi might have had. His feeders pierced a membrane and squirmed for the Jedi’s brain, his soup. Jaden’s body shuddered.

Kell stared at the daen nosi, expecting to see Jaden’s green and red end, overcome by the silver net of Kell’s future.

Instead he saw Jaden’s lines endure, saw his own lines knotted off and consumed by the dull gray strands of another. The three sets of lines resolved into a noticeable pattern. Behind the pattern, within the pattern, Kell saw the meaning of life, his purpose.

A blaster barrel pressed up against his temple. He felt it only distantly, thickly.

“Thank you,” he said.

At first Jaden did not think he was seeing clearly, thought, perhaps, that his mind had retreated into dreams while he died. He saw Khedryn materialize beside the Anzat. Blood dripped from Khedryn’s shattered nose, and his eyes were so swollen Jaden was surprised he could see at all. He held the BlasTech E-11 in his hands, the blaster they had seen in the armory off the barracks. He had its barrel pressed against the Anzat’s head.

The Anzat’s feeders started to retract from Jaden’s nose.

“Thank you?” Khedryn said, stress raising his voice an octave higher than usual. “Frag you.”

He squeezed the trigger and turned the Anzat’s head into a fine red mist. The Anzat’s body fell to the floor, blood pouring from the neck stump. The feeder appendages, severed from the nearly vaporized head, still dangled from Jaden’s nose. Jaden sagged, wobbled. Khedryn steadied him.

Reaching the heart of the facility, Jaden finds a Spaarti cloning cylinder filled with butchered, decomposing bodies. Alpha, one of the hybrid clones, evidently grown from Kam Solusar’s DNA, confronts Jaden. Jaden duels with Alpha, and though he loses three of his fingers to the clone’s lightsaber, Jaden defeats the insane warrior. Exhausted and wounded, Jaden is then set upon by Douro and nearly becomes a victim of the Anzati. Despite his injuries, Khedryn has followed Douro and blasts the Anzati, saving Jaden.

Kell determines the meaning of life and foresees his own death in the threads of Jaden Korr’s future

Kell inhaled deeply as he drove his feeders into the blood-slickened tunnels of Jaden’s nostrils. He shuddered each time they pierced a membrane or slashed tissue. The lines of their daen nosi swirled around them, their motion rapid, chaotic, a reflection of Kell’s own excitement. They became so tangled he had trouble distinguishing the silver of his own lines from the red and green that denoted Jaden’s potential futures. His legs weakened at the thought of consuming the Jedi’s soup, of understanding at last, after centuries of seeking, the map of the universe and his purpose in it.

He watched his lines enmesh Jaden’s, strangle them, wipe out whatever future the Jedi might have had. His feeders pierced a membrane and squirmed for the Jedi’s brain, his soup. Jaden’s body shuddered.

Kell stared at the daen nosi, expecting to see Jaden’s green and red end, overcome by the silver net of Kell’s future.

Instead he saw Jaden’s lines endure, saw his own lines knotted off and consumed by the dull gray strands of another. The three sets of lines resolved into a noticeable pattern. Behind the pattern, within the pattern, Kell saw the meaning of life, his purpose.

A blaster barrel pressed up against his temple. He felt it only distantly, thickly.

“Thank you,” he said.

Drain

C-Canon

41 ABY

Kell drains a victim of his life force. It makes him feel closer to revelation.

“Please,” the Corellian said. “Why are you doing this? Who are you? What are you?”

Kell watched all of the human’s daen nosi, all of his potential futures, coalesce into a single green line that intersected Kell’s silver one, where it … stopped.

“I am a ghost,” Kell answered, and opened the slits in his face. His feeders squirmed free of their sacs, wirethin appendages that fed on the soup of the sentient.

The human screamed, struggled, but Kell held him fast.

Be calm, Kell projected again, this time with force, and the human fell silent.

The feeders wormed their way into the warm, moist tunnels of the Corellian’s nostrils, and rooted upward. Anticipation caused Kell to drool. He stared into the human’s wide, bloodshot eyes as the feeders penetrated tissue, pierced membranes, entered the skull cavity, and sank into the rich gray stew in the human’s skull. A spasm racked the human’s body. Tears pooled in his wide eyes and fell, glistening, down his cheeks. Blood dripped in thin lines from his nose.

Kell grunted with satisfaction as he devoured potential futures, as the human’s lines ended and Kell’s continued. Kell’s eyes rolled back in his head as his daen nosi lengthened and he temporarily became one with the soup of Fate. His consciousness deepened, expanded to the size of the galaxy, and he mentally sampled its potential. Time compressed. The arrangement of daen nosi across the universe looked less chaotic. He saw a hint of order. Revelation seemed just at the edge of his understanding, and he experienced a tingling shudder with each beat of his hearts.

Show me, he thought. Let me see.

The moment passed as the human expired and Kell let him drop to the floor of the bay.

Kell has drained at least one other Anzati.

His mind drifted on clouds of memory. He thought of the other Anzati he had met through the centuries. They did not see the daen nosi. One had thought Kell mad. In return, Kell had slowly consumed his soup for a standard month, keeping him alive until the very end.

Kell was not mad. He was blessed, unique, chosen to see the truth of existence as written in the lines of the universe’s fate. And soon he would have its cipher.

Kell drains a badly beaten Jaden Korr, and is only stopped from killing him by his own death.

Kell inhaled deeply as he drove his feeders into the blood-slickened tunnels of Jaden’s nostrils. He shuddered each time they pierced a membrane or slashed tissue. The lines of their daen nosi swirled around them, their motion rapid, chaotic, a reflection of Kell’s own excitement. They became so tangled he had trouble distinguishing the silver of his own lines from the red and green that denoted Jaden’s potential futures. His legs weakened at the thought of consuming the Jedi’s soup, of understanding at last, after centuries of seeking, the map of the universe and his purpose in it.

He watched his lines enmesh Jaden’s, strangle them, wipe out whatever future the Jedi might have had. His feeders pierced a membrane and squirmed for the Jedi’s brain, his soup. Jaden’s body shuddered.

Kell stared at the daen nosi, expecting to see Jaden’s green and red end, overcome by the silver net of Kell’s future.

Instead he saw Jaden’s lines endure, saw his own lines knotted off and consumed by the dull gray strands of another. The three sets of lines resolved into a noticeable pattern. Behind the pattern, within the pattern, Kell saw the meaning of life, his purpose.

A blaster barrel pressed up against his temple. He felt it only distantly, thickly.

“Thank you,” he said.

At first Jaden did not think he was seeing clearly, thought, perhaps, that his mind had retreated into dreams while he died. He saw Khedryn materialize beside the Anzat. Blood dripped from Khedryn’s shattered nose, and his eyes were so swollen Jaden was surprised he could see at all. He held the BlasTech E-11 in his hands, the blaster they had seen in the armory off the barracks. He had its barrel pressed against the Anzat’s head.

The Anzat’s feeders started to retract from Jaden’s nose.

Reaching the heart of the facility, Jaden finds a Spaarti cloning cylinder filled with butchered, decomposing bodies. Alpha, one of the hybrid clones, evidently grown from Kam Solusar’s DNA, confronts Jaden. Jaden duels with Alpha, and though he loses three of his fingers to the clone’s lightsaber, Jaden defeats the insane warrior. Exhausted and wounded, Jaden is then set upon by Douro and nearly becomes a victim of the Anzati. Despite his injuries, Khedryn has followed Douro and blasts the Anzati, saving Jaden.

Equipment

C-Canon

41 ABY

Kell brings with him cortosis-laced daggers and blasters, and a mimetic suit.

Kell rose, slid into his mimetic suit, checked the twin cortosis-coated vibroblades sheathed at his belt, and headed for Predator’s landing ramp. Before lowering it, he took a blaster and holster from a small-arms locker and strapped them to his thigh. He considered blasters inelegant weapons, but preferred to be overarmed rather than under.

Kell’s mimetic suit can make him close to fully invisible, even at close range.

Feeding tendrils hung from the Anzat’s cheeks, their ends a vicious nail of keratin. For a moment, it seemed as if the Anzat’s head floated free in space, detached from any body, but Jaden realized that the creature wore a mimetic suit and had thrown back the mask and hood. The rest of his body simply blended in with the background, even up close.

Summary

Kell Douro’s equipment allows him even more options in infiltration, and his cortosis blades directly counter lightsaber users. He is able to dismantle other skilled combatants like they’re nothing at all. Kell Douro has exceptionally strong telepathic ability for even an Anzat. He uses this to quickly overwhelm Jaden Korr’s mental defenses.

[Darth Durin's Baneling]

The lesson is ended. Back to your studies.

Combat Skill/Stealth

C-Canon

20 BBY

It is through the stealth techniques taught to him by the Anzati master assassin Akku Seii that Tholme is able to sneak up on his former master. Though his stealth skills are said not to have declined, they haven’t improved from his training, either.

Akku Seii questions if Tholme lost his eye to Katichak, a former student of his, and Tholme doesn’t dismiss that question out of hand.

Around half a dozen of Akku Seii’s current students nearly kill Tholme as part of their training.

[...]

Tholme returned to Anzat to speak with Akku Seii after he learned that Sora Bulq had been making regular trips to Anzat during the Clone Wars. Akku Seii refused to discuss the matter, as it was business between the Anzat and the Weequay. He forced Tholme to fight his way through a group of assassins to prove himself worthy of obtaining the knowledge. When Tholme defeated his opponents, Akku Seii revealed that the entire battle had simply been a training session for his students.

Rath Kelkko regards Akku Seii as one of the truly great Anzati master assassins, and attributes his training of Tholme to be the reason why Rath himself, the other Anzati assassins, and the dark Jedi Sora Bulq and Tol Skorr have failed to locate him within their base on Saleucami.

This elderly Anzat was a noted teacher in the art of assassination, and was once a mentor to Jedi Master Tholme.

Summary

Akku Seii is admitted to be one of the “truly great masters” by Kelkko – seemingly an admission of inferiority from the other Anzati master assassin. He instructed Tholme, one of the Jedi Order’s best fighters and their best stealth operative – thanks to Seii’s training. Seii's half-baked students are able to give Tholme a decent challenge as a group, and a single one of his fully trained students is enough of a threat that it's plausible that they took Tholme's eye. Seii is the only Anzati we’ve seen with white hair, meaning, more likely than not, Seii has more than a millennium of experience as an assassin.

[Darth Durin's Baneling]

Zesi Phinx spends her nights observing the decadence at the Outlander nightclub, and any heroes who visit that establishment may find themselves stalked by a vampiric killer older than the Republic itself.

General

C-Canon

General

Phinx is millennia old, older than Coruscant’s cityscape and the Republic itself, but still resembles a late-20s human.

Even older than the ancient cityscape through which she hunts, Zesi Phinx is an Anzat killer who haunts the shadows of Coruscant’s entertainment district. She resembles a slim Human female in her late twenties, evidencing none of the puffiness around the nose found on most Anzati. She still possesses nasal proboscises, however, and feeds on sentient beings at least twice a month. Those who encounter Zesi Phinx when she isn’t hungry will find her a personable yet mysterious figure, telling oblique tales of the great schism between darkness and light and Coruscant’s long-forgotten glories. If the evidence is to be believed, Phinx has survived on the capital planet for millennia and is responsible for murders numbering in the hundreds of thousands. Zesi Phinx spends her nights observing the decadence at the Outlander nightclub, and any heroes who visit that establishment may find themselves stalked by a vampiric killer older than the Republic itself.

S-Canon

General

Phinx is a level 12 character with Challenge Code F.

Combat Skill/Stealth

C-Canon

General

Phinx feeds on sentient beings at least twice a month, and has personally fed on hundreds of thousands throughout her life.

Even older than the ancient cityscape through which she hunts, Zesi Phinx is an Anzat killer who haunts the shadows of Coruscant’s entertainment district. She resembles a slim Human female in her late twenties, evidencing none of the puffiness around the nose found on most Anzati. She still possesses nasal proboscises, however, and feeds on sentient beings at least twice a month. Those who encounter Zesi Phinx when she isn’t hungry will find her a personable yet mysterious figure, telling oblique tales of the great schism between darkness and light and Coruscant’s long-forgotten glories. If the evidence is to be believed, Phinx has survived on the capital planet for millennia and is responsible for murders numbering in the hundreds of thousands. Zesi Phinx spends her nights observing the decadence at the Outlander nightclub, and any heroes who visit that establishment may find themselves stalked by a vampiric killer older than the Republic itself.

S-Canon

General

Phinx has a Defense of 19, a +12 unarmed attack modifier, a +11 ranged attack modifier, +10 Disguise, +15 Hide, +4 Move Silently, +4 Force Stealth, Skill Emphasis in Hide, Low Profile feat, Stealthy feat, Martial Arts feat, and proficiencies in blaster pistols and simple weapons.

Physical Ability

S-Canon

General

Phinx has a +2 Initiative modifier, 52 Vitality Points, 12 Wound Points, +5 Fortitude modifier, +10 Reflex modifier, a Strength of 17, Dexterity 14, Constitution 12, +11 Enhance Ability, and Heroic Surge feat.

Force Power

S-Canon

General

Phinx is a Level 4 Force Adept, with 6 Force Points, 9 Dark Side Points, and the Force-sensitive, Alter, Control, and Sense feats.

Telekinesis

S-Canon

General

Phinx has +4 Move Object.

Telepathy/Force Sense

S-Canon

General

Phinx has +10 Affect Mind, +11 Empathy, +6 Enhance Senses, +13 See Force, and +5 Telepathy.

Tutaminis

S-Canon

General

Phinx has +5 Drain Energy.

Summary

Zesi Phinx has at least 25,000 years of experience as an Anzati Force adept, and all the deadliness that comes with that, including a deep expertise with telepathic attacks. She has personally killed, and presumably drained, hundreds of thousands of people.

[Darth Durin's Baneling]

I want to be free. I want to kill him. I can’t, because if I do, an explosive in my chest goes off and I die. Free me, and I’ll help you!

Force Power

S-Canon

~20 BBY

Mischa is a level 14 character, with 6 levels in a Force sensitive class. He has 3 Force Points and 4 Dark Side Points, as well as Force feats in Alter, Attuned, Control, Rage, and Sense.

Telekinesis

S-Canon

~20 BBY

Mischa has +5 to Force Strike and +3 to Move Object.

Force Sense/Telepathy/Farsight

S-Canon

~20 BBY

Mischa has +7 to Empathy and +3 to Telepathy.

Mischa can hypnotize enemies in close range, taking a DC 25 Will save to resist.

Healing

S-Canon

~20 BBY

Mischa has +6 to Self Heal.

Drain

S-Canon

~20 BBY

Mischa can stun his victims by draining their “soup” if an opponent is defenseless or fails a DC 25 Fortitude check. This diminishes their Constitution one point at a time until they die, unless Mischa is interrupted by external factors.

Lightsaber Combat Skill/Stealth

C-Canon

~20 BBY

Vorfren engages a Living Force Campaign hero in melee combat with his lightsaber.

When he is engaged in melee combat, Vorfren says (loud enough that the hero can hear, but not loud enough for Mon to hear), “Ionize my chest. I’ll give you the bloody lightsaber if you’ll just ionize my chest.”

S-Canon

~20 BBY

Mischa has +6 Initiative and the Improved Initiative feat, a Defense of 23, a +20 unarmed attack modifier (doing 3d4+7 damage with critical blows on 18-20), a +19 lightsaber attack modifier (doing 2d8+5 damage with critical blows on 19-20), a +16 heavy blaster pistol attack modifier (doing 3d8 damage), +4 to Move Silently, +4 to Hide, +11 to Battlemind, and Advanced Martial Arts, Defensive Martial Arts, Dodge, Lightsaber Proficiency, Improved Martial Arts, Stealthy, Unarmed Focus, and Weapons feats.

Physical Abilities

S-Canon

~20 BBY

Mischa has 135 Vitality Points and 16 Wound Points, a Strength score of 20, Dexterity score of 14, Constitution score of 14, a Fortitude modifier of +13, a Reflex modifier of +9, and +21 to Enhance Ability.

Wisdom/Intelligence/Knowledge

C-Canon

~20 BBY

Vorfren has had the willpower to resist Mon’s control over him to some degree, and is able to think of a strategy to free himself, while Mon’s other enslaved lieutenant, the Bloodcarver Ke Len, is too broken to think of a strategy.

When he is engaged in melee combat, Vorfren says (loud enough that the hero can hear, but not loud enough for Mon to hear), “Ionize my chest. I’ll give you the bloody lightsaber if you’ll just ionize my chest.” Sense Motive (DC 15) reveals that he’s serious. If the heroes have figured out anything about the explosives in the chests of the slaves, this should make sense to them. Otherwise, Vorfren may have to continue to defend himself and give them the short explanation. (“I want to be free. I want to kill him. I can’t, because if I do, an explosive in my chest goes off and I die. Free me, and I’ll help you!”) There are no ion weapons allowed on the ship, because Mon knows that he might not be able to control his people if they were not subject to the constant threat of death if he were killed.

Ke Len hasn’t thought of this tactic. She’s more “beaten”, psychologically, than Vorfren. However, if her chest gets ionized, she pauses, apparently stunned – and then, the next round, turns on Mon and opens fire.

S-Canon

~20 BBY

Mischa has an Intelligence score of 12, a Wisdom score of 10, a Charisma score of 6, a Will modifier of +7, and a Jedi Lore Knowledge modifier of +7.

Summary

Mischa Vorfren is a very strong dark Jedi on top of being an Anzat. He poses a very real threat to both the Living Force campaign’s player characters, and Phylus Mon, his slavemaster. He is more intelligent than the other slaves, and is able to improvise quickly. He makes effective use of his species-inherent traits and his array of Force powers, as well as an expansive expertise with various weapons and martial arts.

[Darth Durin's Baneling]

I am Anzat, of the Anzati. You know me now as Dannik Jerriko, but I have many names.

You knew them all as children, forgot them as adults. Legend is fiction, myth unreal; it is easier to set aside childish things in the false illumination of adulthood, because the fears of childhood are always formed of truths. Some truths are harder than others. Some folktales far more frightening.

General

C-Canon

General

Dannik makes it a practice to only devour the soup of those who have already passed a “screening process” that devours any without a greater-than-typical “measure of wit, talent, ability, of significant physical prowess” on top of considerable luck. This luck has invariably run out upon meeting Dannik.

He is not a fool, not completely; fools die long before meeting those such as I, which saves us some little trouble. Better by far to let life handle the screening process. By the time folk come to Tatooine, the true fools are already dead. Those who have survived to come have some small measure of wit, talent, ability, of significant physical prowess—and a greater portion of Luck.

An intangible, is Luck; an attribute one can neither buy, steal, nor manufacture. But it is finite, and wholly fickle. Only you never know it.

Only I know it. I am Dannik Jerriko, and I am the Eater of Luck.

Dannik has created a nightmare and a mythos around himself, following in the wake of many quick, easy kills. Dannik prioritizes friendless, dangerous killers. He is exterminator, terminator, assassin’s assassin. His “Eater of Luck” title is well known in underworld circles.

They will not know when they find him; they never know at first. That comes later, after, and only if someone cares enough to run a scan on him. I knit my own nightmare, make my own mythos. A quick, clean kill; no fuss, no muss.

But assassins by trade have no friends, and no one to care enough. This is why I kill the killers.

Exterminator. Terminator. Assassin’s assassin.

Soup is soup is soup, but sweeter from the container sitting longest on the shelf.

—oh—it is sweet—

But sweet—like Luck, like Chance—is finite. Always. And so the cycle begins, ends, begins again, and ends; but there is always another beginning.

Despite an almost human appearance, this tall and gaunt Anzati is a predator who would just as soon suck some of the life force out of a victim as say hello. Like others of his species, he has a proboscis coiled in his cheek pockets; in an attack, he uncoils this flexible organ, inserts it into a victim’s nostrils, and pierces the brain of his prey. Jerriko not only drinks his victims’ blood, he sucks up what he calls the “soup” of their future. He attacks and kills mainly fellow bounty hunters and assassins, scum that few would miss.

An assassin and bounty hunter, the Anzat Dannik Jerriko is an occasional employee of Jabba the Hutt. He takes assignments whenever it suits him to do so, for Jabba is one of the few who know Jerriko’s true nature and keeps him well fed. Between jobs, the Anzat preys upon other killers and assassins–not out of any professional jealousy, or even a sense of morality or justice. Jerriko simply knows that the families of the innocent dead frequently search for their loved ones’ killers. Those who hire killers rarely blink when their employees turn up dead.

He chose his victims carefully. He preferred to kill bounty hunters and assassins, scum that hardly anyone would miss. It annoyed him that he was unable to give up his t'bac addiction – a weakness he had picked up when bad times had forced him to drink the soup of one of Mos Eisley's unremarkable residents. However, Tatooine and Mos Eisley had their advantages.

At some point in the distant past, Jerriko realized that bounty hunters often offered the most appetizing soups. They risked everything in their job. Ultimately, they only served themselves and lived life to the fullest. Tatooine, a border world on the edge of the galaxy, was teeming with such creatures and magically attracted Jerriko. Jerriko and Jabba the Hutt eventually crossed paths.

An Anzati assassin over 1,000 years old, Jerriko was known in the underworld as the Eater of Luck. He was a predator who would just as soon suck the life force out of a victim as say hello. Like others of his species, he had a proboscis coiled in his cheek pockets. In an attack, he uncoiled this flexible organ, inserted it into a victim’s nostrils, and pierced the brain of his prey. Jerriko not only drank his victims’ blood, he sucked up what he called the “soup” of their future.

As an Anzati, Jerriko operated with almost total anonymity; thus, he preferred to work for people who needed other bounty hunters, killers, and assassins taken out.

An Anzati bounty known as the ‘Eater of Luck’. Dannik preyed on numerous opponents and charged quite a bit for his services.

A nickname for the infamous assassin, Dannik Jerriko, the Eater of Luck was a feared member of the galactic underworld.

Dannik introduces himself as Anzat of the Anzati, apparently asserting that he is the greatest of his kind. His legend has given him many names, and he states that the reader knew them as children (perhaps suggesting that his tale is known throughout the galaxy). The only reason his existence is dismissed is because it is too terrifying to acknowledge as truth.

Dannik warns against presuming anything about what will happen on meeting him, for the danger he represents is too much for luck, chance, or prophecy to avert.

He desires targets of skill or virtue because he inherits their best qualities on draining them, preserving them forever in himself. He will have become only more dangerous with the passage of time.

I am Anzat, of the Anzati. You know me now as Dannik Jerriko, but I have many names.

You knew them all as children, forgot them as adults. Legend is fiction, myth unreal; it is easier to set aside childish things in the false illumination of adulthood, because the fears of childhood are always formed of truths. Some truths are harder than others. Some folktales far more frightening.

Let there be no fear. Fear is not what I crave, neither what I desire. It is corrosive to the palate, like vinegar in place of wine.

Let there be courage, not cowardice; let there be arrogance aplenty. Self-confidence, not self-doubt; security in one’s skills. And the willingness, the restlessness, the boundless physicality of the only constant: the testing of one’s limitations. Assumption of risk, not reticence. The challenge of Chance.

Make me no predictions. Write me no prophecy. Permit me to take what is best of you, what is best in you.

Let me liberate it. In me you will live forever.

Unlike the childhood creatures of myth, Jerriko not only drinks the blood of his victims, he eats their Luck, sucking down what he calls the “soup” of their future. Even if they live on–and some do–without Luck, the hapless victims rarely survive long. This is why Jerriko chooses to feed mainly on the Luck of killers and assassins. Who other than their employers would care to miss them?

Mos Eisley is Dannik’s preferred hunting ground because it houses many of exceptional individuality and character for Dannik to cull.

This is his vacation. For work, Dannik is an assassin for hire. His fee is too exorbitant for many to be able to hire him, or even know of him as an option. Dannik has become fabulously wealthy through this line of work, and has, more importantly, been able to dine on the soup of many satisfactory victims.

It is a mother lode, Mos Eisley, a powerful concentration of entities of all gender, gathering on private business that now is also mine. Between jobs, it is vacation, holiday, opportunity to hunt for myself. To track and find the vessel most capable of satisfying my palate. Call me gourmet, if you will; I see no reason not to please myself between those assignments that, in their completions, in the method of their completions, serve to please my employers.

I have time. I have wealth. I am in fact quite rich, though I say nothing of it; credits are a wholly vulgar topic. If you cannot afford to hire me, you do not even know I exist.

Only one employer, my first, complained about my prices. He was a hollow man of small imagination… I drank his soup for it, but he left me unsatisfied; the entities who hire me are usually cowards themselves, incapable of anything beyond the desire for power and financial reward, and their soup is dilute. But it served, that death; no one ever again complained.

Loyalty, like Luck, cannot be purchased, only borrowed for a precontracted space of time in which I serve myself even as I serve others in furthering the ambitions—or settling the petty squabbles—of myriad entities. It is altogether a wholly satisfactory arrangement: My employers have the pleasure of knowing a certain “annoyance” will no longer annoy, I drink the soup of the fallen foe, and my employers pay me for it.

Jerriko has been a bounty hunter and an assassin for many years, making money doing what most of his hunter race do for free. His work is meticulous, his prices steep. “If you cannot afford to hire me, you do not even know I exist,” he has said more than once. Only one employer–his first–complained about his price. The Anzar drank his soup, and the man died. No one ever complained again.

Jerriko has worked for Jabba the Hutt, consuming the failed assassins the slug didn’t feed to his rancor. Between assignments, the Anzat returned to Tatooine and its Mos Eisley spaceport, drawn by the incredible mixture of Luck centered in the killers and Rebels. Here would be good eating. Here would be a gourmet feast.

Lawless places controlled by Jabba are perfect hunting grounds for Jerriko.

For some, Mos Eisley is just an accumulation of some. For others, it is the ideal place to conduct their business.

As an Anzati, Jerriko operated with almost total anonymity; thus, he preferred to work for people who needed other bounty hunters, killers, and assassins taken out. While stopping over on Tatooine, he visited Mos Eisley. There, he knew, he could get some of the best soup from some of the galaxy’s most notorious criminals.

Dannik is Mos Eisley’s most evil citizen, a monster.

MOS EISLEY’S MOST EVIL CITIZEN
There was a monster that haunted Jabba's palace and the maze of streets of Mos Eisley, but Dannik Jerriko, a being who thrived on happiness, was not always one of the lucky ones himself.

Dannik separates himself from other Anzati by clarifying that he only ever busies himself with the best the galaxy has to offer. The other Anzati live small lives and drink from “unworthy vessels” instead, gaining only temporary satiation.

But what the entities do not realize is how transitory my bondage: It is only the soup to which I am loyal, and the purposes of extraction.

Other Anzati bind themselves to small lives, lives wholly focused on hunting. But there is more, so much more; one need only have the imagination to see what lies out there, and to find a way to take it.

Let them bind themselves. Let them live their small lives, drinking soup from unworthy vessels. Let me take the best instead. A heady brew, such soup, far more intoxicating—and therefore longer-lasting—than the temporary measures that other Anzati rely on.

And meanwhile I am paid to do what I must do.

Yes. Oh, yes. The best of all the worlds.

It is too much to hope the cantina owner might install more lights, or improve his Queblux Power Train, identifiable by its lamentable lack of efficiency and a low, almost inaudible whine. Such repairs would be at odds with Chalmun’s nature, which is dictated by distrust; deals are done at dusk, not under the fixed, unmitigated glare of Tatoo I and Tatoo II, conflagrations of eyes in the countenance of a galaxy that is, much as the Emperor’s face, shrouded within a cowled hood.

Ah, but there is more here, inside, than relief from sand, from heat. There is the scent, the promise of satiation.

—soup—

It is thick, so thick—at first I am overwhelmed; this is better than I remembered: so many layers and tastes, the hues, the tints, the whispers … here I may drink for endless days, replete with satisfaction.

Ahh.

So many entities, so many flavors, so much Luck to eat. Chance is corporeal here, variety infinite. It is a symphony of soup running hot and fast and wet, like blood ever on the boil beneath the fragile tissue of flesh.

I am not droid, the detector says; I am welcome in Chalmun’s cantina. And I laugh in the privacy of my mind, because Chalmun, contented by his bias, doesn’t know there are things in the world more detestable than droids, which are on the whole inoffensive, unassuming, and more than a little convenient. But leave a man his bigotry; if they were all like the Rebel Alliance, so intransigent in honor, the soup would be weak as gruel.

—soup—

In cheek pockets, proboscii quiver. For an instant, only an instant, they extrude a millimeter, overcome by the heady aroma detectable only to Anzati; the others, despite races and genders, are in all ways unaware. But nothing is earned without anticipation; it is a fillip wholly invigorating, and worth the self-denial.

Accordingly proboscii withdraw, if resentfully, coiling back into the pockets beside my nostrils. I brush a film of sand from my sleeves, tug the jacket into place, and walk down the four steps into the belly of the bar.

Soup here is plentiful.

Patience will be rewarded.

Dannik compares the Tatooine’s twin suns to the Emperor’s face, suggesting that he knows the Emperor’s appearance, perhaps as that of a past client.

It is too much to hope the cantina owner might install more lights, or improve his Queblux Power Train, identifiable by its lamentable lack of efficiency and a low, almost inaudible whine. Such repairs would be at odds with Chalmun’s nature, which is dictated by distrust; deals are done at dusk, not under the fixed, unmitigated glare of Tatoo I and Tatoo II, conflagrations of eyes in the countenance of a galaxy that is, much as the Emperor’s face, shrouded within a cowled hood.

Dannik pays no mind to learning what coin Jabba the Hutt, Darth Vader, or the Emperor would pay. It’s stated prior that he has had Jabba as a past client, giving us something to work with in puzzling why he is uncurious about the depths of the Empire’s pockets.

If not, as I am not—save I recall the old days, the even older ways—it matters not at all. Unless you care to count the coin Jabba would pay, or others, including Darth Vader.

Including the Emperor.

When Jabba needs a silent assassination, Dannik is his go-to.

Jabba’s agents were legion. The bounty hunter Aurra Sing was often in his employ, and the ambitious Twi’lek Bib Fortuna acted as his majordomo. Dannik Jerriko, a thousand-year-old Anzati, performed Jabba’s silent assassinations. But a Chevin gunrunner named Ephant Mon was Jabba’s only true friend. Since Hutts rarely esteem anyone outside their own species, the friendship between Jabba and Ephant Mon was unusual and–to some in Jabba’s court–inexplicable.

Dannik’s only self-acknowledged weakness is his inherited reliance on nic-i-tain, from tainted soup he tasted. Though not a positive in itself, it speaks both to the retentive potency of the Anzati drain ability and the relevance of Dannik’s selective palate to his dangerousness compared to other Anzati.

There is weakness in vice—and I, after all, should know. In the freedom of my lifestyle there is also captivity. There are no bars, no mesh, no energy fields, no containment capsules. There is instead an imprisonment more insidious than such things, and as distasteful to an Anzat as soup drunk from a coward.

I drank tainted soup from a tainted man, and assimilated his vice: the daily need for a proscribed but oft-smuggled offworld substance known as nic-i-tain, its vector named t’bac.

I am Dannik Jerikko. Anzat, of the Anzati, and Eater of Luck.

But I never said I was perfect.

Dannik recognizes the sound of an ignited lightsaber, meaning that he has seen Jedi in action before and possibly even fought them.

Then a wholly unexpected sound is born, a sound such as I have not heard for a hundred years: the low-pitched, throbbing hum of an unsheathed and triggered lightsaber.

Though even for an Anzat he doesn’t look it, Dannik is over a thousand years old. He has traveled much of the galaxy in that time and remembers the “older ways” that were before the Empire.

Then a wholly unexpected sound is born, a sound such as I have not heard for a hundred years: the low-pitched, throbbing hum of an unsheathed and triggered lightsaber.

The boy has earned my study. If they have true business together it is information worth knowing. If the old man has taken a pupil there is indeed cause to fear—if you are part of the Empire, and recall the old ways.

If not, as I am not—save I recall the old days, the even older ways—it matters not at all. Unless you care to count the coin Jabba would pay, or others, including Darth Vader.

Including the Emperor.

I can wait. I have always waited, when necessary. It is a gift. A power.

I am a thousand and ten years old, and I can wait forever.

Jerriko is one of the predatorial species known as the Anzati. Tall, gaunt, and largely humanoid in appearance, the Anzati have prehensile proboscises coiled in cheek pockets. When they have captured their prey, Anzat uncoil these proboscises, inserting them in the victim’s nostrils and piercing their brains. The Anzati are long-lived; Jerriko himself is 1010 years old.

Jerriko operates mostly on the Outer Rim. Over a thousand years old, he has wandered much of the galaxy, but finds frontier locales like Tatooine and Nar Shaddaa perfectly suited to his needs, in that the authorities rarely bother to autopsy the dead. Thus, Jerriko’s victims go unnoticed as the work of an Anzat.

Patient Robber: Dannik Jerriko paid attention to his appearance and didn't look his 1010 years. The passage of ten centuries had taught him the virtue of patience. It meant nothing to him to wait a few years in the hope of meeting Han Solo Wielder. Working for Jabba the Hutt gave him the chance to stay in the palace and meet someone from Jabba's entourage.

Dannik Jerriko – Gaunt, blood-sucking alien over a thousand years old

SUMMARY – Dannik Jerriko, a thousand-year-old Anzati vampire, coolly eyes potential prey in the Mos Eisley cantina. His hungry gaze lingers on Luke Skywalker and Han Solo, but they depart before he can strike.

Dannik has no need to resort to braggadocio, as his truth is more than any of the cantina’s regulars would expect or even imagine.

Braggadocio. It is a staple of such places, the ritual boasting of entity to entity to save face, or to build face; to request a place in the world, or to make a place; an attempt to create of oneself something more than what one is.

There are those who are indeed more—as Anzat I am far more than anyone might suspect (or comfortably imagine)—but only rarely do they resort to braggadocio, because everyone else knows who they are and what they have done. To say anything at all is redundancy, which dilutes the deeds.

Dannik Jerriko’s life is sustained by the soup he drinks, tying his long life to his success in hunting, as well as vice versa.

It isn’t the essence I want, or blood, nor is it flesh, which is, after all, no more than cast-off casing. It is soup I want, I need; soup to save my spirit, to keep alive my casing.

I take them as I choose, with manifest efficiency, commendable in expediency: this one, that one, another; will you dance with me, and die?

Dannik is a very dangerous Anzati. Even the nastiest of the Cantina’s other patrons keep their distance.

Dannik hunts down and drains some of the most dangerous beings in the galaxy.

As an Anzati, Dannik constantly hungered for the life essence of other beings. He commanded a high price to hunt down and drain some of the most dangerous individuals in the galaxy.

~50 BBY

Dannik discreetly killed a Force wizard as his first job for Jabba the Hutt, and has been kept on retainer by the Hutt ever since.

Jabba the Hutt first attracted the meticulous Jerriko in Hutt Space, where the Anzat was able to dispose of a certain troublesome Force wizard without attracting undue attention, either to himself, or to Jabba. Though Jerriko’s prices were high, Jabba hired the Anzat again and again, never complaining. The Hutt had heard about Jerriko’s first employer, who had objected to the Anzat’s steep fee, but had not survived the renegotiation meeting.

0 BBY

Dannik laughs internally at Chalmun’s bias against droids when himself, a much more dangerous and offensive being, is given freedom to roam the cantina.

I am not droid, the detector says; I am welcome in Chalmun’s cantina. And I laugh in the privacy of my mind, because Chalmun, contented by his bias, doesn’t know there are things in the world more detestable than droids, which are on the whole inoffensive, unassuming, and more than a little convenient. But leave a man his bigotry; if they were all like the Rebel Alliance, so intransigent in honor, the soup would be weak as gruel.

Dannik thinks of killing his employer, Jabba the Hutt. A large reason for his dismissal of this is simply because it might be difficult to locate the Hutt’s brain in all his mass.

It has been a long time. There have been countless other employers in all sectors of the galaxy, but Jabba is … memorable. Perhaps it is time I sought a second assignment; there are always failed assassins the Hutt wants killed. He does not suffer incompetence.

I consider for a moment what it would be like to drink his soup … but Jabba is well guarded, and even an Anzat might find it difficult to locate within the massy corpulence the proper orifices into which to insert proboscii.

Kabe, the Chadra-Fan pickpocket, briefly considers Dannik Jerriko as a mark for her theft, but senses the danger in the sound of his vibrations, and decides against it with a shudder.

She’d be all alone. Kabe took a deep draft of juice, thinking of her small, secret hoard—so secret that even Muftak didn’t know about it. It wouldn’t last long … a tenday, maybe. And then what? No doubt about it, trouble was coming, unless she found a way to distract the Talz.

A tall, thin humanoid down the bar was puffing away on a hookah. Expertly, she located his credit pouch. Easily accessible … but something, she wasn’t sure what, held her back. Ears twitching, she strained to pick up his vibrations. For some reason she couldn’t define, he sounded wrong. When his gaze brushed hers. the fur on the back of her neck crawled suddenly, as if someone had draped something limp and dead across her shoulders.

Not him, Kabe thought, shuddering. Definitely not him.

The vibration-sensing Gotal, Trevagg, detects that Dannik is the most dangerous hunter in the Cantina, with a “dark and terrible” aura and a coldness that made Trevagg too fearful to ask him any questions.

Meantime, his hunter senses roved the dark forms, seeking another hunter.

The two tall human females drinking by the bar were a maybe: They sparkled with danger, a flamelike brightness that some assassins had. But the color of their aura wasn’t quite right. The Rodian at another card table, with his small earlike antennae swiveling nervously in the noise of the room—yes. Definitely a killer, though Trevagg wasn’t certain he could take on Predne Balu. The Wolfman, yes; he looked big enough, tough enough, to take on the human and win. The brown-haired human talking quietly with an enormous Wookiee at another booth—maybe. The edge was there, but not the darkness. The thin man smoking a hookah at the bar—absolutely. His aura was dark, terrible, but there was a coldness about him that made Trevagg wonder if he could be approached at all. That was one, he thought, who killed for a huge sum … or for his own pleasure. Nothing between.

Dannik marks Han Solo as his target, and delays killing him then and there only for the purpose of increasing his fulfillment when the day comes, without regard for Han’s own skill or that of the loyal Wookiee accompanying him.

I need only to go and to get it, to drink it, to embrace as Anzati embrace, to dance the dance with the Corellian whose soup is thick, and hot, and sweet, sweeter by far than any I have tasted for too long a time—

Now.

Now.

But haste dilutes fulfillment. Let there be time, and patience.

—such soup—

The band wails on. There is the sharp scent of smoke; the acrid tang of sweat; the smut-dusty stench of dune sand, of city sand; the blatancy of blaster death but newly encountered, redolent of the Rodian’s cowardice and stupidity. It was a poor death worth no comment; he will not be mourned even by the entity who hired him.

He is—[/i]was[/i]—the Hutt’s, of course. Need you ask? There is none other who would dare to hire assassins in Mos Eisley, on Tatooine.

None but Lord Vader, and the Emperor.

But they are not here. Only Jabba.

The Hutt is in all things; is of himself all things, and everywhere, on Tatooine, in Mos Eisley, in Chalmun’s cantina.

—such soup—

A final inhalation of t’bac, sucked deep inside and savored, as is the moment, the knowledge, the need itself savored. A brief glare of searing sunlight illuminates the interior as the Corellian pirate and his Wookiee companion depart with alacrity Chalmun’s premises, wary of Imperial repercussions. It is Jabba’s spaceport in all but name, and that name is the Emperor’s, who need know nothing of such dealings as the Hutt’s; or who knows, and does not care.

It is dusk again inside. They will clear the body away; and someone will report to Jabba that his hireling is dead.

Has reported; he knows it by now, and by whose hand it was done.

—such soup—

But what sense in paying for it of my own pocket? Jabba’s is deeper.

Indeed, the Hutt will pay well. But it is I who will drink the soup.

—such soup—

Proboscii quiver as I exhale the twinned smoke-stream slowly, steadily, with quiet satisfaction and the frisson of my own soup as it leaps in anticipation.

—Han Solo’s soup—

Ah, but it will be a hunt worth the hunting … and soup such as I—even Dannik Jerriko, Anzat of the Anzati, Eater of Luck, of Chance—have never, ever known.

0 ABY

Dannik is identified as threatening even to a group consisting of Mammon Hoole, an accomplished Shi’ido operative, and the future Jedi Knights Tash and Zak Arranda – viewing them not as a dangerous target, but as a potential meal.

“They don’t seem that friendly.” Zak pointed to another small camp.

“Look at that guy.”

The camper sat in the midst of his supplies. His body was as thin as a blade, and his face was very long, but his cheeks puffed out and were slightly red. He seemed to be contemplating something private. Then, as if feeling Zak’s eyes on him, the man turned his head and looked at them. Tash shuddered. He looked at them as though he was looking at his dinner.

Zak wrinkled his brow. “He looks familiar.”

“A newcomer,” ForceFlow said. “Like Domisari, he arrived only recently. Come along. I’ve set up my equipment in a small room right down this hallway.”

When Mammon Hoole announces his willingness to combat Dannik with his shapeshifting abilities if necessary, demonstrating his options by transforming into a towering, clawed Wookiee, Dannik becomes more interested, rather than worried or intimidated.

Dannik locked eyes with Hoole. “Do not threaten me.” Hoole’s gaze did not waver. “That is not a threat.” Suddenly, the Shi’ido’s entire body seemed to quiver. The skin seemed to crawl across his frame, and a moment later, Hoole had vanished. In his place stood a tall, shaggy Wookiee, who flexed and unflexed the claws of one massive hand. When the Wookiee spoke, its voice growled, but it still sounded like Hoole. “It is a promise,” he said.

The fact that Hoole was a shapechanger made most people nervous.

When he changed into something ferocious, most people quickly backed down. But Dannik seemed to become excited. His eyes flashed, and for a moment Tash thought he was going to attack Hoole. But then Dannik yawned and said, “Very well. You may threaten or promise or whatever you like, but the fact remains I did not kill those people.”

Dannik killed Domisari right before she could kill Tash and Zak Arranda. Domisari, as the assassin hired to eliminate Mammon Hoole, Tash, and Zak, was chosen by Darth Vader himself to accomplish this important mission.

Dannik nodded. The tiny tendrils poked out of their hidden pockets in his cheeks, then retreated. “I was there. I was hired to reach Nespis 8 before you.”

“Who hired you?” Tash asked.

Dannik said nothing.

She tried again. “Why did you kill Domisari?”

“I was hired to save you from another hired assassin,” the Anzati replied.

Zak nearly choked. “Save us?”

The Anzati pursed his lips. “Apparently, someone high up in the Empire hired an assassin to track you down. I was hired to kill the assassin before she got to you. But I was unsure of her identity and had to wait. I got to her right before she shot you.”

Tash’s head was spinning. “You’re saying that Domisari was a hired assassin, and that she was going to kill us?”

Dannik nodded. “That was my assignment, and I have fulfilled it. I was just about to leave when I heard something down in the library. I found the Shi’ido and the droid here just before you arrived. There are no signs of life.”

Gog recovered himself and said calmly, “That is, there is something peculiar about Hoole’s niece and nephew-especially the niece. They are worth further study.”

Vader scoffed. “You tried using them with your Nightmare Machine project and failed. Now they threaten everything.”

“But-“

“The order is given,” Vader interrupted. “I have already sent an assassin to find them.”

With that, Vader whirled around and strode away. Somewhere out there, his ship and his soldiers lurked.

4 ABY

Dannik is a nightmare in the darkness.

Angry that he had missed the opportunity, the Anzat put a plan into motion. If he could infiltrate Jabba’s palace, perhaps he would be there when Solo was eventually brought in. Dannik Jerriko waited, a nightmare hiding in the darkness.

Dannik has increased his depredations with several victims leading up to his stay at Jabba’s Palace.

Heat.

And sun.

And sand.

And dead bodies. Or dying.

Bodies with blood yet in them, with none spilled into Tatooine dust, onto sun-flayed Mos Eisley brick, nor staining sweat-wet clothing bought a thousand planets from here. Not so much as a drop glistening upon flaccid lips, pooling from fragile throats, nor even a delicate tracery feathered at their nostrils.

For those of them who have such attributes as nostrils, or blood.

They need not be humanoid, none of them, for me to drink their soup. They need only have the chemistry to manufacture the substance within the brain beneath the skull, inside the carapace, the gelid, mucoid mass.

—pain/pleasure—

—pleasure/pain—

His/hers/its.

Mine also, always.

I take them in the city, in what is Jabba’s domain: this one, that one, another … and leave, as I always leave, no proof in the killing of them. No method, no means, no clues. Merely bodies, unmarked, empty of life, but worse: empty also of soup, of that which, when a brain is drained, leaves the body empty of its essence. Of the means to live.

Jerriko was so frustrated at sensing Solo's delicate soup so close and yet so far away that he resorted to desperate measures. He hoped to be able to get Solo out of the carbonite. He began to deter Jabba's court by murdering some of its members and intimidating others. But before Dannik's efforts were successful, Solo's friends attempted a rescue. They were able to free him from the carbonite, but then became prisoners themselves.

Jabba's Court: Jabba the Hutt's wild parasites offered Jerriko a variety of victims that no one would miss. Almost unnoticed, he waited for the day when fate would bring him Han Solo.

Dannik expects that even Jabba, in the seat of the Hutt’s power, will be afraid when he knows that Anzat of the Anzati is after him.

But this time I do it for the death, for the cast-off casing; for more than soup this day, this place, this planet, even to save my spirit. They are beneath me, this dead and dying trio scattered across Mos Eisley spaceport—here, and there, and there—merely minions and not assassins, hollow, servile beings of weak and tasteless soup … but their deaths will serve a purpose if not my preferences. I want them dead of my hands with no mark at all upon them, for my kind leave no visible sign by which an entity might know.

But one entity will know, this time he will know—because I take pains that he must.

My employer, my betrayer.

“Anzati,” they will whisper. “Anzat, of the Anzati.”

—pain/pleasure—

—pleasure/pain—

I take them and others, all of them in his service, and leave them, derelicta, to be found. Where they are found, and reported. To Talmont, the Prefect; to Lady Valarian, the queen who wants to be king; to Jabba himself.

Talmont and Valarian rejoice: those I have killed were Jabba’s.

The Hutt himself will be irritated, is irritated—and is turning no doubt already to laying blame on the nearest of enemies; of impossibly innumerable enemies, conspiring against him more often and regularly than a humanoid draws breath.

But no blame on Dannik Jerriko. Not yet. Until I choose.

And I will choose. I must. So he will know.

Jabba.

Know, and be afraid.

Dannik finds his way into Jabba’s Palace unchallenged.

By the time the bodies are found, are reported; by the time they are, at last, scanned for the truth, and the truth made into rumor, and rumor into romance, I am inside the palace. Ask not how I arrived, nor how I managed entry; I am what I am, and we are selfish in our secrets.

Dannik had taken up the bounty on Jabba’s head, from not one, but two influential clients, suggesting confidence in his ability to get past Jabba’s guards (and find his brain) to drink his soup.

But Jabba would die soon.

Fortuna’s preparations were nearly complete: securing the final sets of codes to Jabba’s scattered bank accounts, testing the loyalty of the last few he needed to stand by him during the coup. He had little left to do. But besides his own plot, Fortuna knew of fourteen others against Jabba’s life, plots he would not stop now. It was always wise to make contingency plans, and he had fourteen sets of plotters doing just that for him. He would simply watch them, and guide them where possible. He hoped he would beat the others and actually have the pleasure of murdering Jabba, but it did not much matter to him, as long as it got done at roughly the correct time. However Jabba’s death came about, Fortuna would end up in charge. He would control the bulk of the fortune.

Some plots were quite entertaining: the Anzati assassin, for instance, in the pay of both Lady Valarian and Eugene Talmont, the Imperial prefect—an amusing confusion of patrons for that assassin. There was Tessek, a fussy little Quarren Jabba wanted killed, who himself plotted to kill Jabba. A simple plot Fortuna favored was that of a kitchen boy who had planned to poison Jabba because several years earlier Jabba had fed his brother to the rancor after a sauce failed. So many here hated Jabba, and Jabba relished their hatred—one of his many great mistakes, Fortuna thought. Jabba believed his acts of cruelty made beings everywhere fear him, and he thought fear protected him. But fear endured for days and months and years turns to hatred. Hatred spawns plots for revenge. Fortuna planned to run things differently.

Dannik’s plot against Jabba is because Jabba betrayed him by making his contract for Han Solo non-exclusive, and allowing Boba Fett to capture him instead. In Dannik’s mind, he is the best for the job, over Boba Fett, to such an extent that Jabba should accept Han’s death as part of the bargain. Dannik promises death to Jabba, Han Solo, Leia Organa, and Lando Calrissian.

It was a personal thing, this story, to begin, innocent of intent beyond a wholly discriminating appetite. A need for soup it was—without it I expire—but also a need for his soup, his soup specifically, the soup of all soups: the essence of a humanoid who knows fear but absolves himself of it; who faces it, defeats it, does not laugh in its face so much as prove himself fragile in flesh but strong in spirit. And who, by overcoming it, manufactures the soup of all soups, sweet and hot and pure.

Han Solo’s soup.

A professional thing, this story, of betrayal and perfidy. Jabba wanted him caught. The Hutt cared little for soup; if he knew of it, he never said. Likely, with his sources, his resources, he did know; but it mattered not in the least. He knew I was inviolable, because I am I, and best. And for the best, the best.

—Han Solo’s soup—

Mine, when captured. Mine to take, to drink. Mine to sip, to savor: hot, and sweet, and pure.

Until Jabba stole it from me. Until I was betrayed.

By Fett. By Calrissian. By Jabba the Hutt himself, goading all of them. Buying all of them.

Buying me, as well. Promising singularity to the best of the best, forever and ever, amen: Dannik Jerriko, assassin’s assassin.

For this, Jabba will die. And the others as well: three in Mos Eisley; more yet, like the Weequay, in Jabba’s palace.

Han Solo, also. And his woman, royal-bred. And the boy of worthless pedigree, yet who promises, unaccountably, to be strong in what was Kenobi’s power.

It is a power I have known as long as I have lived, and that longer than most; we Anzati know many of the secrets of the multiplicity of universes, of galaxies, of worlds. Such power as the boy’s will be, of Kenobi’s, is Vader’s power also, and the Emperor’s.

But twisted in the latter, by them, none of it now of Kenobi, of those who were Jedi Knights. Will they twist the boy’s as well?

Perhaps. No one alive has withstood the Emperor, or Darth Vader.

Or Jabba the Hutt.

But none of them know me, save Jabba. They only know of me, of my kind, the lurid tales told. And it is this I will use: ignorance, and rumor. Let them say what they will. This time, I will use it. Its power is pervasive.

In the palace, which once was a monastery—pure in its existence until polluted first by raiders and later by Jabba himself—there are many for me to peruse, consider, pursue—even to stalk as the stories claim, a manner heretofore disdained but now apropos—and a plethora of races, of species, of soup. From myriad nations, a plenitude of planets. But here nothing matters save the master all of them serve; they are as nothing to him, to me, and as nothing they shall die.

Except to make a point.

Jabba, be afraid. Even you may die.

And the essence of your soup, one may hope, may pray, shall be as rich in its substance as is your flesh in corpulence.

SUMMARY – The ancient Anzati Dannik Jerriko is on the prowl on Tatooine, stalking prey so he can feed upon the blood, brains, and “soup” of his victims. He has had to make do with dregs and reprobates—not the refined meals of those truly gifted with luck or the Force. Skulking in Jabba’s palace, he is responsible for the deaths of Ak-Buz (a Weequay sail barge captain) and the scullion Phlegmin, though no one suspects Jerriko is the true culprit in the murders. Jerriko longs to eat the soup of Jabba the Hutt—or, better yet, Han Solo and Luke Skywalker—but he misses their departure for the Dune Sea.

Gartogg tries not to attract unnecessary attention while nearby Dannik.

The lanky figure stood tall, lean, and broad-nosed; he wore a jacket with a high-necked collar. Even Gartogg held his breath, trying not to snuffle unnecessarily. Dannik Jerriko, an assassin, was the only one in the palace he feared except for Jabba himself. Gartogg had never seen this killer in action, but he had heard all the rumors about how Jerriko conducted his business: he was a snot vampire.

When the assassin had passed, Gartogg covered his upturned snout protectively with one hand and hurried in the other direction.

Gortogg concludes that Dannik Jerriko killed both Phlegmin and a Monk, as Dannik never leaves any evidence of his work. Ortugg, leader of Jabba’s guard, is also fearful of Jerriko.

“Oh—process of elimination. All dead killed by snot vampire!” Gartogg smiled triumphantly.

“Who?”

“Snot vampire!” Gartogg shouted.

Ortugg’s voice dropped to a cautious whisper. “Dannik Jerriko?”

“Aha!” Gartogg yelled again. “Um, go sail barge now?”

Ortugg glared in mystified silence at Gartogg. “Go sail barge?”

Gartogg repeated hopefully.

“And why do you think Dannik Jerriko killed this kitchen boy?”

“No evidence!”

“There is no evidence?”

“And snot vampire never leaves evidence—so he must be guilty!”

Ortugg’s shoulders sagged. “Gartogg, get out of here before I cut your head off for the sand inside it!”

Realizing that Dannik is the killer and had allowed her to see his face the first time, Yarna d’al’ Gargan is confident that she wouldn’t last another day from his Death.

She couldn’t stay here, not now. She wouldn’t last a full day, she knew it. Not long ago, she had seen the face of the Death that was haunting Jabba’s palace, and she knew that he would never let her live to tell what she had seen. Only luck had saved her yesterday. If Ortugg hadn’t come looking for her …

And then they’d found the kitchen boy. Yarna was the only one who understood the significance of the small drops of blood crusted in the victim’s nostrils. She knew how the lad had met his death … and she had no desire to share his fate. Since that moment, she’d been careful never to be alone, even taking one of the servants when she visited the bathhouse and lavatory.

Dannik appears to Yarna as more fearsome than any demon from Askaj’s mythology. She questions Doallyn’s sanity in pursuing him.

Yarna smiled mirthlessly. “Jabba didn’t trust anyone. He—”

She broke off in alarm as they rounded a corner and she recognized a familiar shape silhouetted in the dark corridor. Long, lean, shrouded in shadow … Dannik Jerriko! The dancer gasped and shrank back, as Doallyn, with commendable composure, raised his weapon. “Don’t move, Jerriko!”

The vampire turned his head, and his features came into view. Yarna whimpered with terror. No demon spewed up out of Askaj’s Nethermost Abyss could have looked more evil. Fury contorted Jerriko’s features, and the pouches on either side of his face writhed as if with a life of their own. His mouth opened in a soundless snarl of rage. The Askajian clapped both hands over her mouth to hold back a shriek. Doallyn’s finger must have tightened involuntarily on the trigger of his weapon, for an energy bolt suddenly erupted in a white flash.

The shadowy figure melted into a doorway up ahead.

Yarna had to admire Doallyn’s courage, even as she questioned his sanity. He charged after the alien, and the dancer, against her better judgment, followed.

After failing to kill Jabba, Dannik went on a killing spree, before continuing work as a bounty hunter even as he became most wanted for the bounty hunters who had worked for Jabba in the past. Presumably, including Boba Fett.

Deprived permanently of Jabba’s soup in the explosion of the sail barge, Dannik Jerriko responded by going on a killing rampage throughout the palace. An Anzat who had always prided himself on self-control and elegance, he now was stripped of both by his outrage at losing Jabba. Never before had Jerriko failed to drink an entity’s soup. His reputation forever tarnished, he became a wanted entity himself, and his name now tops the list of such bounty hunters as have worked for Jabba and others.

The predator is now the prey.

But there, and years later in the palace of his sometime employer Jabba the Hutt, he missed his chance to partake of the “soup” of the men–particularly Han Solo–and woman who had become the heroes of the Rebel Alliance. Frustrated, he went on a murderous rampage throughout the palace. As a result, a huge price was put on his head by a number of members of the galactic underworld, and Jerriko has been forced to wander the galaxy as a fugitive.

Jerriko only slowly recovered from this shock. Solo's luck couldn't last forever, he told himself. One day they would meet again. In the meantime, the Anzati went on a raid through Jabba's palace. As a result, members of the underworld placed a huge bounty on his head. Since then, Dannik Jerriko has had to roam the galaxy as a refugee.

After learning that Jabba had perished in the Pit of Carkoon, Jerriko became even angrier, killing anyone he could find in the palace. He then fled and took on a number of bounty-hunting jobs.

12 ABY

Dannik Jerriko is still a top assassin 8 years later, considered as someone that could disappear any target in the galaxy, suggesting that he successfully eluded the clutches of all the bounty hunters sent after him

“The awful thing is,” said Leia softly, “that a day doesn’t go by that I don’t think about doing it.”

She half turned in his grip, her lips set in that cold expression that he knew hid pain she could not show even to him. The years of enforced self-reliance, of not giving way in front of anyone, had left their mark on her.

“I have the lists. I know who worked on the Death Star, who Palpatine hired in his think tanks, who taught at the Omwat orbital training center—and I know they’re out of the Republic’s jurisdiction. But I also know how easy it would be for me to juggle credits and Treasury funds and hire people like Phlygas Grynne or Dannik Jericho or any of those ‘smuggler friends’ they talk about to find these people and just … make them disappear. Without a trial. No questions asked. No possibility of release on a technicality. Just because I know they’re guilty. Because I want it so.”

S-Canon

0 BBY

Dannik Jerriko has an overall character level of 14.

Dannik Jerriko has a Cost of 5.

Dannik Jerriko has a Cost of 23.

Dannik Jerriko has a cost of 5.

Dannik Jerriko, paired with Myo and Amanaman, would defeat Padme Amidala, Sabe, and Captain Typho in a battle with Dannik as the only survivor.

Dannik Jerriko has a cost of 3.

[Darth Durin's Baneling]

Stealth/Combat Skill

C-Canon

General

Dannik Jerriko’s odd habits and potential threat are tolerated by Jabba because his skill as a bounty hunter is almost unmatched. He feeds off of his prey and Jabba’s other employees.

Hunter for Hire
Jerriko was soon persuaded to work for Jabba, but more to support himself from the other employees of the Hutt than to earn a living. Jabba tolerated this because Jerriko's talents as a hunter were almost unmatched. However, the Anzati was a little peculiar when it came to the orders he took on. Jabba preferred to keep an eye on the dangerous Jerriko.

Jerriko worked for Jabba for 50 years. During this time he only took on a few orders. He often hunted those who had disappointed the Hutt. It was inevitable that the Anzati would eventually meet Han Solo.

Dannik Jerriko claims that nobody is better or faster than he is, to such a degree that even unpredictable chance or luck cannot bridge the gap between his prowess and that of his victims, suggesting that he has never run into anyone that would meet that description in all his long life.

He is good, is fast, is willing to step off the edge; and so he does step: leaping, lunging, lurching … but no one is better or faster than I, and I have unraveled the net. Chance and Luck, thus mated, are dismissed in my presence: I am after all Anzati.

0 BBY

Dannik drains the soup from an especially skilled and quick humanoid victim. He allows his victim a moment of recovery to give himself extra challenge and let the extra moments of bravery give the soup a sweeter taste.

—three more steps—

Humanoid. I can smell him—taste him, there, just there; measured in all the ways we measure: a tint, a hue, a whisper, a kiss … a soupçon, if you will, of minor excrescence, the steam off body-boiled soup, undetectable to all humanoid races save my own.

—two more—

He is not a fool, not completely; fools die long before meeting those such as I, which saves us some little trouble. Better by far to let life handle the screening process. By the time folk come to Tatooine, the true fools are already dead. Those who have survived to come have some small measure of wit, talent, ability, of significant physical prowess—and a greater portion of Luck.

An intangible, is Luck; an attribute one can neither buy, steal, nor manufacture. But it is finite, and wholly fickle. Only you never know it.

Only I know it. I am Dannik Jerriko, and I am the Eater of Luck.

—one more step—

—YES—

He is good. He is fast. But I am better, and faster.

An image only; I am too lost, too hungry: the black-blind glaze of shock in his eyes, naked and obscene to those who understand; but he does not understand, he comprehends nothing. He knows neither who nor what I am, only that I am—and someone who has clapped hands across his ears and grasped his skull to hold it face-to-face in an avid embrace.

—hot, sweet soup—

He would fight, given leave, extended invitation. And I give leave, extend invitation—outright terror curdles the soup—briefly, oh so briefly, to make him think he is better than I; that Chance is his confidant and Luck remains his lover. It isn’t fear I want, nor cowardice, but courage. The blatant willingness to step off the edge with a life at risk, your life, trusting skill and Luck and Chance to spread the safety net.

He is good, is fast, is willing to step off the edge; and so he does step: leaping, lunging, lurching … but no one is better or faster than I, and I have unraveled the net. Chance and Luck, thus mated, are dismissed in my presence: I am after all Anzati.

It is simply and quickly done with the manifest efficiency of my kind: prehensile proboscii uncoiled from cheek pockets, first inserted, then insinuated through nostrils into brain. It paralyzes instantly.

I eat his Luck. I drink his soup. I let the body fall.

0 ABY

Dannik disappears from the area of Tash and Zak Arranda as soon as they turn away from him.

Tash caught up with Zak and followed him the rest of the way. The man was exactly as they had left him, sitting serenely amid his stacks of supplies, his face settled into the hint of a sneer. He looked at them as they approached, but did not greet them.

“Excuse me,” Zak said politely, “but I was just telling my sister that you look familiar. Have we ever met?”

The thin man pursed his lips. “No.”

“Oh.” Zak tapped his forehead, pretending to search for some old memory. “Are you sure? Maybe on a different planet? Somewhere like… Tatooine?”

Silence.

Zak started to fidget under the man’s steady glare. Tash jumped in.

“Um, okay, maybe not. Sorry to bother you. My name’s Tash, Tash Arranda.

This is my brother, Zak.”

Silence. Then the man’s thin lips parted and he spoke two words.

“Dannik Jerriko.”

“Great. Thanks. Nice to meet you,” Tash said, turning away. She could feel Dannik Jerriko’s eyes boring into her like laser beams. “Nice going, rancor brain!” she hissed at her brother as they retreated to the other end of the solarium.

“That’s him!” Zak whispered back. “He followed us here.”

“You’re crazy,” she insisted. “But even if you’re not, so what? If Jabba the Hutt wanted to kill us or Uncle Hoole, he would have done it when we were in his palace. Dannik Jerriko is no threat to us.”

Tash said the words with a confidence she didn’t really feel. All of her instincts told her that whoever he was, Dannik Jerriko meant them no harm. But she wasn’t sure she could trust her instincts anymore. After all, she’d learned the hard way that she wasn’t a Jedi and never would be.

Zak shook his head. “Tash, I’m telling you I saw him as clearly as I see him right-” Zak stopped in mid-sentence. He had pointed back toward the thin man’s camp, but Dannik Jerriko wasn’t there. Zak and Tash stood there in silence, wondering where he had gone.

4 ABY

The corridors of Jabba’s Palace made it easy for Jerriko to feed on his targets with no witnesses.

Corridors of Terror: Jabba's Palace, a former B'omarr monastery, made it easy for the Anzati to track down victims with no witnesses. Jabba alone knew what was going on, but tolerated Jerriko.

Dannik evades a blaster shot from Doallyn, an expert hunter, before seemingly disappearing into thin air.

The vampire turned his head, and his features came into view. Yarna whimpered with terror. No demon spewed up out of Askaj’s Nethermost Abyss could have looked more evil. Fury contorted Jerriko’s features, and the pouches on either side of his face writhed as if with a life of their own. His mouth opened in a soundless snarl of rage. The Askajian clapped both hands over her mouth to hold back a shriek. Doallyn’s finger must have tightened involuntarily on the trigger of his weapon, for an energy bolt suddenly erupted in a white flash.

The shadowy figure melted into a doorway up ahead.

Yarna had to admire Doallyn’s courage, even as she questioned his sanity. He charged after the alien, and the dancer, against her better judgment, followed.

S-Canon

0 BBY

Dannik Jerriko has 1 Power (which goes up by the Power of anybody he drains over the course of the battle) and 3 Ability.

Dannik Jerriko has a Defense of 20, an unarmed attack bonus of +14, a ranged attack bonus of +12, +17 Hide, +17 Move Silently, Stealthy feat, and Weapon Group proficiency in blaster pistols, blaster rifles, primitive weapons, and simple weapons.

Dannik Jerriko has 3 Power.

Dannik has a Defense of 17, an Attack of +9, and Damage 10. He gets an Attack bonus of +4 and a Damage bonus of +10 if striking at an enemy caught unaware, and can’t be targeted by most attacks while he has cover and is further than 6 squares away.

Dannik Jerriko has 1 Attack, 3 Defense, and 1 Damage Bonus.

Dannik Jerriko has a Damage score of 6 (out of 10) and a Control score of 8 (out of 10).

Dannik Jerriko has a Block Number of 155, 2 of 6. He stands to turn the tables by turning the advantage of his enemies into that of his allies.

As an Anzati, Dannik constantly hungered for the life essence of other beings. He commanded a high price to hunt down and drain some of the most dangerous individuals in the galaxy.

Dannik Jerriko has a Block Number of 155, 1 in 6. He allows the player to take their opponents’ card into their hand if at a disadvantage - taking the positive attributes of his enemies for himself.

Physical Ability

C-Canon

General

Dannik Jerriko claims that nobody is better or faster than he is, to such a degree that even unpredictable chance or luck cannot bridge the gap between his prowess and that of his victims, suggesting that he has never seen anyone in action that would meet that description across all his long life.

He is good, is fast, is willing to step off the edge; and so he does step: leaping, lunging, lurching … but no one is better or faster than I, and I have unraveled the net. Chance and Luck, thus mated, are dismissed in my presence: I am after all Anzati.

Dannik can choose when he sleeps as needed.

I am of the day, but equally of the night; I take my rest when I choose, not because any biological rhythm insists upon it. And so I am free to wander as I will, throughout the labyrinthine corridors of what once was monastery and now is Jabba’s lair. And it is as I wander that I am certain, at once, there are those within the palace who were not here before.

0 BBY

Dannik Jerriko is faster than one of his victims, who is himself particularly quick. Dannik then physically overpowers him to drain him of his soup before he realizes what is happening.

He is good. He is fast. But I am better, and faster.

An image only; I am too lost, too hungry: the black-blind glaze of shock in his eyes, naked and obscene to those who understand; but he does not understand, he comprehends nothing. He knows neither who nor what I am, only that I am—and someone who has clapped hands across his ears and grasped his skull to hold it face-to-face in an avid embrace.

—hot, sweet soup—

He would fight, given leave, extended invitation. And I give leave, extend invitation—outright terror curdles the soup—briefly, oh so briefly, to make him think he is better than I; that Chance is his confidant and Luck remains his lover. It isn’t fear I want, nor cowardice, but courage. The blatant willingness to step off the edge with a life at risk, your life, trusting skill and Luck and Chance to spread the safety net.

He is good, is fast, is willing to step off the edge; and so he does step: leaping, lunging, lurching … but no one is better or faster than I, and I have unraveled the net. Chance and Luck, thus mated, are dismissed in my presence: I am after all Anzati.

It is simply and quickly done with the manifest efficiency of my kind: prehensile proboscii uncoiled from cheek pockets, first inserted, then insinuated through nostrils into brain. It paralyzes instantly.

I eat his Luck. I drink his soup. I let the body fall.

Dannik slams into Domisari, Vader’s assassin, and overpowers her before she or Zak and Tash are able to properly tell what is happening.

“Children… children…”

It was Domisari. They could see her approaching the tunnels. In one hand she held a glow rod. In her other hand gleamed an object made of black metal.

Tash was just about to call out to the old woman when a shadowy figure darted into Domisari’s circle of light. The figure slammed into her with a jarring thud. The old woman grunted in surprise as she was shoved outside the circle of light and swallowed up by the surrounding darkness. Something clattered to the ground as sounds of a struggle reached them from the shadows.

“What happened?” Tash whispered as they stepped out of the tunnel.

“Where are they?”

“There!” Zak said, pointing toward movement in the gloom.

Tash thrust the glow rod forward and gasped.

What she saw horrified her. A fallen blaster lay on the ground and over it, Dannik Jerriko and Domisari were locked in a struggle. Dannik was holding Domisari’s head between his hands, and pressing his own face close to hers. There was a look of terror on Domisari’s face.

And she saw something even more horrible.

Two small holes opened up in Dannik’s cheeks. Out of each hole slithered a long, wriggling tendril. As Tash and Zak watched, the tendrils wormed their way across the short space that separated him from Domisari. They jabbed into her nostrils and crawled upward into her brain.

4 ABY

Dannik effortlessly restrains Ak-Buz, a Weequay, as he attempts to escape his grip.

Comes a body now, though yet living for the moment, approaching from out of the pallor, the dank and splendid squalor of Jabba’s infamous palace. It is a Weequay, he of pale, leathery flesh, reptilian features, and a warrior’s single tail of hair bound back from shaven skull. I have met his like before in prior dealings with Jabba. A vicious, brutal race; their soup teems with cruel intent. It is thin, sour soup, too acid in its flavor, but his will do. Now. Here. This moment. It will do, indeed.

—pain/pleasure—

—pleasure/pain—

A macabre dance, when one is the victim: an embrace, wholly inescapable, with alien hands clamped to one’s skull and the eyes fixed and bestial, dilated in the darkness. And then prehensile proboscii are extruded from fleshy cheek-pockets beside my nose, to linger coyly, languid and loverlike, at his nostrils—until, no longer patient, they thrust themselves within.

Unloverlike.

To punch through to the brain beyond, seeking the soup of his life.

It is my dance, and so I lead. To me it is neither macabre nor lacking in grace, but is instead ineffably beautiful; the means by which I survive.

He dances, does the Weequay, like all the others dance, attempting to escape as I give him leave to try, for the dance must be quickened so the soup is sweeter. But even dancing, he is trapped, wholly unable to break free. And he knows, is afraid; whimpers and hisses and rattles within his throat. Makes no further sound with his mouth, in his throat, but only with—and in—his eyes. Screaming. Knowing. Dying. And all of it done in silence.

—heat—

In Mos Eisley, incandescent, purely immolation. But not so hot to me as to scald my skin, or bake my bones; the heat is of the soup, of the essence, of the body, regardless of entity.

He sags. Is done. Is discarded near the kitchens, where he is sure to be found.

In a hindered rush, Dannik is still able to easily overpower Phlegmin.

Through the corridors to the kitchens. Where I find a body, though living still; a small, insignificant being of thin and immature soup, but he will do, will do; in my need there is only the soup, anyone’s soup at all.

There is no time, no time—

I clutch him. Turn him. Catch him up in the embrace.

He struggles briefly, too briefly. Proboscii plunge into nostrils, through to the brain.

There is so little soup, and all of it weak.

But it will do. For the moment.

He is discarded quickly, abruptly, proboscii tearing free. I let him fall in a sprawl, ungainly and lacking dignity, against a broken box nearly large enough for his body.

There is blood on the boy’s face. I have left evidence of the means, the method.

There is no time.

It will suffice. It will serve.

Anzat, of the Anzati … loose in Jabba’s palace.

Dannik seems to disappear, evading a blaster bolt.

The vampire turned his head, and his features came into view. Yarna whimpered with terror. No demon spewed up out of Askaj’s Nethermost Abyss could have looked more evil. Fury contorted Jerriko’s features, and the pouches on either side of his face writhed as if with a life of their own. His mouth opened in a soundless snarl of rage. The Askajian clapped both hands over her mouth to hold back a shriek. Doallyn’s finger must have tightened involuntarily on the trigger of his weapon, for an energy bolt suddenly erupted in a white flash.

The shadowy figure melted into a doorway up ahead.

Yarna had to admire Doallyn’s courage, even as she questioned his sanity. He charged after the alien, and the dancer, against her better judgment, followed.

S-Canon

0 BBY

Dannik has an Initiative modifier of +5, 88 Vitality Points, 12 Wound Points, a Fortitude modifier of +6, a Reflex modifier of +9, a Strength of 17, a Dexterity of 12, a Constitution of 12, Endurance feat, and Improved Initiative feat.

Dannik Jerriko has 40 Speed and 5 Health.

Dannik Jerriko has 70 Hit Points.

Dannik Jerriko has 3 Health.

Dannik Jerriko has a Strength score of 6.5 (out of 10) and an Agility Score of 6.5 (out of 10).

Dannik Jerriko has 3 Health.

Dannik Jerriko has 5 Health.

Drain

C-Canon

General

Dannik Jerriko uses his Anzati proboscises to drain the life force from his victims.

An Invisible Threat

Few noticed the pipe smoker in Chalmun's bar. He was a regular and always sat at the front end. He quietly watched those coming in and only spoke to Wuher, the bartender. Apart from expensive ice water, he drank nothing and minded his hookah.

Despite his almost human appearance, the gaunt Dannik Jerriko was actually an Anzati. Like many of his species, he was a predator who thrived on sucking the life force out of others. There were two proboscises in his cheek pockets. During an attack, he unrolled them and inserted them through the nostrils into the brains of his victims. Jerriko not only drank the blood, but also absorbed what he called "soup" - their life essence.

This Anzati bounty hunter sucks the life force from his victims, devouring what he calls "the soup of their future."

The holes in Jerriko’s face fit his proboscises – fleshy tubes that emerge from his cheeks, enter victims’ noses, and suck out their blood and brains. Ugh!

Hundreds of Years Before 0 BBY

Dannik’s first employer was the only one to ever complain about his prices because Dannik drained his life force as a warning to anyone who might consider hiring him in the future. This warning worked even against Jabba the Hutt.

Only one employer, my first, complained about my prices. He was a hollow man of small imagination… I drank his soup for it, but he left me unsatisfied; the entities who hire me are usually cowards themselves, incapable of anything beyond the desire for power and financial reward, and their soup is dilute. But it served, that death; no one ever again complained.

Jerriko has been a bounty hunter and an assassin for many years, making money doing what most of his hunter race do for free. His work is meticulous, his prices steep. “If you cannot afford to hire me, you do not even know I exist,” he has said more than once. Only one employer–his first–complained about his price. The Anzar drank his soup, and the man died. No one ever complained again.

Jabba the Hutt first attracted the meticulous Jerriko in Hutt Space, where the Anzat was able to dispose of a certain troublesome Force wizard without attracting undue attention, either to himself, or to Jabba. Though Jerriko’s prices were high, Jabba hired the Anzat again and again, never complaining. The Hutt had heard about Jerriko’s first employer, who had objected to the Anzat’s steep fee, but had not survived the renegotiation meeting.

0 BBY

Dannik uses his proboscii to go through the nostrils to reach the brain of a humanoid, paralyzing him before draining his life force and thus replenishing himself and temporarily sating his thirst.

He is good. He is fast. But I am better, and faster.

An image only; I am too lost, too hungry: the black-blind glaze of shock in his eyes, naked and obscene to those who understand; but he does not understand, he comprehends nothing. He knows neither who nor what I am, only that I am—and someone who has clapped hands across his ears and grasped his skull to hold it face-to-face in an avid embrace.

—hot, sweet soup—

He would fight, given leave, extended invitation. And I give leave, extend invitation—outright terror curdles the soup—briefly, oh so briefly, to make him think he is better than I; that Chance is his confidant and Luck remains his lover. It isn’t fear I want, nor cowardice, but courage. The blatant willingness to step off the edge with a life at risk, your life, trusting skill and Luck and Chance to spread the safety net.

He is good, is fast, is willing to step off the edge; and so he does step: leaping, lunging, lurching … but no one is better or faster than I, and I have unraveled the net. Chance and Luck, thus mated, are dismissed in my presence: I am after all Anzati.

It is simply and quickly done with the manifest efficiency of my kind: prehensile proboscii uncoiled from cheek pockets, first inserted, then insinuated through nostrils into brain. It paralyzes instantly.

I eat his Luck. I drink his soup. I let the body fall.

0 ABY

Dannik then consumes Domisari in a matter of seconds, leaving no trace of the murder on the body and confirming his identity as an Anzati.

“Children… children…”

It was Domisari. They could see her approaching the tunnels. In one hand she held a glow rod. In her other hand gleamed an object made of black metal.

Tash was just about to call out to the old woman when a shadowy figure darted into Domisari’s circle of light. The figure slammed into her with a jarring thud. The old woman grunted in surprise as she was shoved outside the circle of light and swallowed up by the surrounding darkness. Something clattered to the ground as sounds of a struggle reached them from the shadows.

“What happened?” Tash whispered as they stepped out of the tunnel.

“Where are they?”

“There!” Zak said, pointing toward movement in the gloom.

Tash thrust the glow rod forward and gasped.

What she saw horrified her. A fallen blaster lay on the ground and over it, Dannik Jerriko and Domisari were locked in a struggle. Dannik was holding Domisari’s head between his hands, and pressing his own face close to hers. There was a look of terror on Domisari’s face.

And she saw something even more horrible.

Two small holes opened up in Dannik’s cheeks. Out of each hole slithered a long, wriggling tendril. As Tash and Zak watched, the tendrils wormed their way across the short space that separated him from Domisari. They jabbed into her nostrils and crawled upward into her brain.

Domisari was dead before her body hit the ground. Her lifeless corpse fell into a heap at Dannik Jerriko’s feet as the killer turned to face the two Arrandas. They watched in horror as the two tendrils retracted. The tendrils were sucked back into the killer’s cheeks and vanished, leaving no marks on his skin.

Tash swallowed. “Zak, you were right.”

“No visible marks,” Zak whispered, remembering Deevee’s story about the Anzati. He looked at Dannik. “You-You are an Anzati.”

“Wait,” Dannik warned, “it’s not what you think. He took a step forward.

Zak and Tash turned and ran for their lives.

Blindly, they plunged into the first tunnel.

“Stop!” Dannik’s voice called from behind. “Let me explain!”

They had seen Dannik kill Domisari in a matter of seconds without leaving a mark. They had looked into the eyes of one of the galaxy’s most frightening species. That same creature now chased them down the tunnel.

An Anzati was after them.

4 ABY

Dannik drains the soup of a Weequay, Ak-Buz.

Comes a body now, though yet living for the moment, approaching from out of the pallor, the dank and splendid squalor of Jabba’s infamous palace. It is a Weequay, he of pale, leathery flesh, reptilian features, and a warrior’s single tail of hair bound back from shaven skull. I have met his like before in prior dealings with Jabba. A vicious, brutal race; their soup teems with cruel intent. It is thin, sour soup, too acid in its flavor, but his will do. Now. Here. This moment. It will do, indeed.

—pain/pleasure—

—pleasure/pain—

A macabre dance, when one is the victim: an embrace, wholly inescapable, with alien hands clamped to one’s skull and the eyes fixed and bestial, dilated in the darkness. And then prehensile proboscii are extruded from fleshy cheek-pockets beside my nose, to linger coyly, languid and loverlike, at his nostrils—until, no longer patient, they thrust themselves within.

Unloverlike.

To punch through to the brain beyond, seeking the soup of his life.

It is my dance, and so I lead. To me it is neither macabre nor lacking in grace, but is instead ineffably beautiful; the means by which I survive.

He dances, does the Weequay, like all the others dance, attempting to escape as I give him leave to try, for the dance must be quickened so the soup is sweeter. But even dancing, he is trapped, wholly unable to break free. And he knows, is afraid; whimpers and hisses and rattles within his throat. Makes no further sound with his mouth, in his throat, but only with—and in—his eyes. Screaming. Knowing. Dying. And all of it done in silence.

—heat—

In Mos Eisley, incandescent, purely immolation. But not so hot to me as to scald my skin, or bake my bones; the heat is of the soup, of the essence, of the body, regardless of entity.

He sags. Is done. Is discarded near the kitchens, where he is sure to be found.

In all Dannik’s time, he has always succeeded in killing his victims, and has always succeeded in disguising his involvement. It is only for the purposes of scaring Jabba that he intentionally makes errors now to clue Jabba into who his enemy is.

I have been what I am: perfectionist in my work. All have died. All. None left to tell the tale.

But now the tale is necessary, and the telling of it. The Weequay, dead of unknown means, will cause consternation, but no certainty. There is a need now for “error”; for what they will take as error. A being left alive. To describe, in infinite horror, of inescapable terror, what monster it was who nearly took its life.

Thus it is time for me to depart the closet of rumor we Anzati too often inhabit.

He does this by controlling his proboscii against instinct, delaying the kill to send his message to Jabba’s court.

Almost, she believes. Twin spots of ruddy color glow in fleshy cheeks. Beneath my hands her shoulders lift. Her mouth parts as I slip my hands from shoulders to neck, from neck to the bones of her jaw, hidden beneath heavy flesh. And then I clamp her skull in the Anzat’s embrace and allow her to see the truth of what I am. Legend come to life.

A whimper. Then rigid, paralyzing fear as I uncoil proboscii. They are discriminating and slower to rouse than usual; their diet has always been soup of the highest sort, and I have profaned them of late with soup of the lower order, from entities who have no courage.

But they rouse, extrude. And the woman whimpers again, trapped by her horror, my hands, by the knowledge.

]—pleasure/pain—

—pain/pleasure—

No. Not this time. Patience is required, and control.

—pleasure?—

Later. Later.

A caress only, the faintest breath of proboscii beneath her nostrils. In my hands she trembles—

A step. A presence. A voice, flatly mechanical, inquiring as to my presence, to my intent.

As she whimpers again, I turn. I permit him to see as I permitted her. There is regret that after so many centuries I must allow the truth to be known, the methods, the means to be comprehended, but it is necessary.

I had meant for her to live. The purpose was for her to see me, to know me, to cry of near-assault. But now he is here as well, armored male in helmet that is also breathing mask; he will do. She will do. They may both tell a tale of terror.

Anzat, of the Anzati … loose in Jabba’s Palace.

For time out of mind, I have been what does not exist, save for imagination. I am folklore. Mythos. Legend. A figment, a fragment, a fleeting dream called nightmare. All one and the same, if known by different labels … but the truth is harsher yet, and far more frightening.

But blighted truth, twisted truth, honesty unknown, can serve a purpose. It has served the Anzati for time out of mind, and me. It serves me still.

It serves me now.

Ah, but the promise of soup, of satiation—

Why wait? I hunger now. For the soup, and victory. The knowledge that I have done what no one else has done.

Jabba’s soup: the excrescence of what he is, what he has become; what he has made of himself. Soup that no one has spilled before, to drink of its strength.

To devour the life of the Hutt while the hulking husk putrefies.

But not so soon, never so soon. He presents a challenge, does Jabba. A wily Hutt well cognizant of how to ward his life. To bring fear into his soul—and set the soup to boiling—will take time. Effort. And the unveiling of my truth.

But I am hungry now, and for more than Jabba’s soup. For Jabba’s fear.

Hear of me, O Jabba, and know yourself afraid.

With Yarna, Dannik paralyzed her so she couldn’t even try to fight back.

“How did you get away?”

“Just as his tendrils touched me, one of the Gamorreans came in. He … the creature … let me go.”

“But Jerriko is no match for you.” Doallyn’s fingers tightened on her upper arm, testing the solid muscle beneath the outer flesh. “You’re twice his size.”

“When he lays his hands on you, and looks into your eyes … you can’t move,” Yarna whispered, feeling her gorge rise. “When you see those tendrils uncoil, you know what’s happening, because he wants you to know. But you can’t move. It’s … horrible.” She gagged, put her hand over her mouth, and fought for control. Moments later, she looked back up at him.

> The day Jabba died I discovered the terror myself. A fellow approached me as I went to my quarters. His name was Dannik Jerriko, and he had been a quiet presence in the palace for several weeks. He addressed me in my own language, speaking in seductive tones. His eyes mesmerized me, holding me motionless. I suddenly sensed something wrong, and then I saw his tentacles–unfurling from his cheeks and dancing toward my face. I realized at that moment he could only be an Anzati, the demon creature of myth. Although I would have been much stronger than he in a struggle, and my bulk would have crushed him, I could not fight back against his power. I felt his hunger.

Quickly and distractedly, Dannik drains Phlegmin.

Through the corridors to the kitchens. Where I find a body, though living still; a small, insignificant being of thin and immature soup, but he will do, will do; in my need there is only the soup, anyone’s soup at all.

There is no time, no time—

I clutch him. Turn him. Catch him up in the embrace.

He struggles briefly, too briefly. Proboscii plunge into nostrils, through to the brain.

There is so little soup, and all of it weak.

But it will do. For the moment.

He is discarded quickly, abruptly, proboscii tearing free. I let him fall in a sprawl, ungainly and lacking dignity, against a broken box nearly large enough for his body.

There is blood on the boy’s face. I have left evidence of the means, the method.

There is no time.

It will suffice. It will serve.

Anzat, of the Anzati … loose in Jabba’s palace.

S-Canon

0 BBY

Dannik Jerriko can increase his Power score by taking that of fallen opponents and adding it to his own (for a cost of 1 Force).

Dannik Jerriko has level 3 Stun, which subtracts 3 Power from his opponent card until the end of the turn and replenishes 1 Health.

Dannik Jerriko fully replenishes his health pool whenever he defeats an enemy. He can deal an extra 10 damage with his proboscises at melee range, and if his attack lands, the victim’s turn is skipped.

[Darth Durin's Baneling]

Force Power

S-Canon

0 BBY

Dannik Jerriko is Force-attuned.

Dannik Jerriko is a Level 4 Force Adept, with 7 Force Points and 2 Dark Side Points, and the Force-sensitive, Alter, Control, and Sense feats.

Force Sense/Telepathy/Farsight

C-Canon

General

It is Jerriko’s supernatural senses that drew him to the Mos Eisley area.

At some point in the distant past, Jerriko realized that bounty hunters often offered the most appetizing soups. They risked everything in their job. Ultimately, they only served themselves and lived life to the fullest. Tatooine, a border world on the edge of the galaxy, was teeming with such creatures and magically attracted Jerriko. Jerriko and Jabba the Hutt eventually crossed paths.

0 BBY

Dannik paralyzes one of his victims with telepathy.

It is simply and quickly done with the manifest efficiency of my kind: prehensile proboscii uncoiled from cheek pockets, first inserted, then insinuated through nostrils into brain. It paralyzes instantly.

I eat his Luck. I drink his soup. I let the body fall.

Dannik uses his proboscii to go through the nostrils to reach the brain of a humanoid, paralyzing him before draining his life force and thus replenishing himself and temporarily sating his thirst.

He is good. He is fast. But I am better, and faster.

An image only; I am too lost, too hungry: the black-blind glaze of shock in his eyes, naked and obscene to those who understand; but he does not understand, he comprehends nothing. He knows neither who nor what I am, only that I am—and someone who has clapped hands across his ears and grasped his skull to hold it face-to-face in an avid embrace.

—hot, sweet soup—

He would fight, given leave, extended invitation. And I give leave, extend invitation—outright terror curdles the soup—briefly, oh so briefly, to make him think he is better than I; that Chance is his confidant and Luck remains his lover. It isn’t fear I want, nor cowardice, but courage. The blatant willingness to step off the edge with a life at risk, your life, trusting skill and Luck and Chance to spread the safety net.

He is good, is fast, is willing to step off the edge; and so he does step: leaping, lunging, lurching … but no one is better or faster than I, and I have unraveled the net. Chance and Luck, thus mated, are dismissed in my presence: I am after all Anzati.

It is simply and quickly done with the manifest efficiency of my kind: prehensile proboscii uncoiled from cheek pockets, first inserted, then insinuated through nostrils into brain. It paralyzes instantly.

I eat his Luck. I drink his soup. I let the body fall.

Dannik is able to sense the nature of the people around him. He uses this ability to get a measure of those in the Mos Eisley Cantina.

It is too much to hope the cantina owner might install more lights, or improve his Queblux Power Train, identifiable by its lamentable lack of efficiency and a low, almost inaudible whine. Such repairs would be at odds with Chalmun’s nature, which is dictated by distrust; deals are done at dusk, not under the fixed, unmitigated glare of Tatoo I and Tatoo II, conflagrations of eyes in the countenance of a galaxy that is, much as the Emperor’s face, shrouded within a cowled hood.

Ah, but there is more here, inside, than relief from sand, from heat. There is the scent, the promise of satiation.

—soup—

It is thick, so thick—at first I am overwhelmed; this is better than I remembered: so many layers and tastes, the hues, the tints, the whispers … here I may drink for endless days, replete with satisfaction.

Ahh.

So many entities, so many flavors, so much Luck to eat. Chance is corporeal here, variety infinite. It is a symphony of soup running hot and fast and wet, like blood ever on the boil beneath the fragile tissue of flesh.

I am not droid, the detector says; I am welcome in Chalmun’s cantina. And I laugh in the privacy of my mind, because Chalmun, contented by his bias, doesn’t know there are things in the world more detestable than droids, which are on the whole inoffensive, unassuming, and more than a little convenient. But leave a man his bigotry; if they were all like the Rebel Alliance, so intransigent in honor, the soup would be weak as gruel.

—soup—

In cheek pockets, proboscii quiver. For an instant, only an instant, they extrude a millimeter, overcome by the heady aroma detectable only to Anzati; the others, despite races and genders, are in all ways unaware. But nothing is earned without anticipation; it is a fillip wholly invigorating, and worth the self-denial.

Accordingly proboscii withdraw, if resentfully, coiling back into the pockets beside my nostrils. I brush a film of sand from my sleeves, tug the jacket into place, and walk down the four steps into the belly of the bar.

Soup here is plentiful.

Patience will be rewarded.

Dannik gets a sense of Wuher’s personality from his scent, dismissing him as a viable source of nourishment.

Courtesy is nonexistent; in Mos Eisley, in Chalmun’s cantina from Chalmun’s bartender, none is expected. “You want what?”

“Water,” I repeat.

Dark eyes narrow minutely. “You know where you are?”

“Oh,” I say, smiling, “indeed.”

He jerks a spatulate thumb beyond his shoulder. “I got a computer back there that mixes sixteen hundred varieties of spirits.”

“Oh, indeed, so I would imagine. But I want the one it can’t mix.”

He scowls. “Ain’t cheap, is it? This is Tatooine. Got the credits for it?”

His soup is slow, and weak, its scent barely discernible. He is servant, not the served, not one who acknowledges edges or assumes risks beyond setting a glass before a patron; he would offer little pleasure, and less satisfaction.

But there are those who would. And all of them are here.

Dannik quickly profiles Luke Skywalker, and catches that he has great potential, but dismisses him as too experienced to be flavorful.

I turn, exhaling evenly; in cheek pockets, proboscii twitch.

—soup—

A flare, abrupt and unshielded, wholly raw and unrefined. It takes me but an instant to mark it, to mark the entity: human, and young. Fear, defiance, apprehension; a trace of brittle courage—ah, but he is too young, too inexperienced. Despite the stubborn jut of his jaw, the flash of defiance in blue eyes, he has not lived long enough to know what he risked. He is as yet unripe.

The young know nothing of life, nothing of its dangers, its small and large hostilities. They know only of the moment, blind to possibilities; it is not courage in the young, only the folly of youth. In males it is worse: a bantha-headed intransigence mixed with hormonal imbalance. Their soup is immature and wholly unsatisfying. It is better to let them ripen.

Jerriko was in the bar as usual, smoking his pipe, observing his surroundings and enjoying the intoxicating aroma of so many delicate soups, when a commotion drew his eyes to where a young farmer was being harassed by two locals. Although the boy clearly had potential, Jerriko rejected him. The soup wasn't ripe enough yet.

Dannik concludes from Ben Kenobi’s discipline and level of resistance against Anzati mind probing that he isn’t only a Jedi, but a Master. He regards Luke once more, and senses immense repressed power. He resolves to pay attention to the boy.

Then a wholly unexpected sound is born, a sound such as I have not heard for a hundred years: the low-pitched, throbbing hum of an unsheathed and triggered lightsaber.

—soup—

I turn instantly, seeking … proboscii quiver, extrude, withdraw reluctantly at my insistence. But they know it even as I know it: Somewhere in Chalmun’s cantina is the vessel I need.

It is a quick, decisive battle, a skirmish soon ended. With but a single stroke of the lightsaber, the Aqualish is—well, unarmed. One-armed, if you will.

The boy hangs back. I scent him again, wild and uncontrolled. But there is more here now, far more than expected, hovering at the edges, tantalizing me with its presence, with the repression of its power … and then I see the old man quietly putting away the lightsaber, and I realize what he is.

A Master despite his reticence, seeking no battles in word or deed; Master of what is, in such times, left wholly unspoken, lest the Emperor suspect. But I know what he is: Jedi. I could not but know. He is too disciplined, too well shielded against such intrusions as Anzati probing, and in that very shielding the truth, to me, is obvious.

I leave it its due: unspoken. I see no need to speak it. Let him be what he is; no one else will suspect. He is safe a while longer.

The boy has earned my study. If they have true business together it is information worth knowing. If the old man has taken a pupil there is indeed cause to fear—if you are part of the Empire, and recall the old ways.

If not, as I am not—save I recall the old days, the even older ways—it matters not at all. Unless you care to count the coin Jabba would pay, or others, including Darth Vader.

Including the Emperor.

It was while in the Mos Eisley cantina that the Anzat smelled a soup so intoxicating that he was taken aback. When two drunks tried to start a fight with a young farm boy, an older man stepped in, igniting his lightsaber.

The Anzat had not seen a man like this for a hundred years. Here was a Jedi, his aura bright with Luck. And yet, Jerriko knew that this was a Master, knew that he shielded himself from Anzati probing, knew that the soup of the old man would be denied him. The young boy–his student?--would bear some watching though.

Jerriko felt his first shock when an old man, whose actions clearly betrayed him as a Jedi Master, intervened in the fight between the local thugs and the boy. Jerriko was drawn to the essence of the old Jedi, but felt he would be risking too much in his pursuit. But as he watched the old man and the boy, he noticed Han Solo.

Dannik divines the characters of Han Solo, Chewbacca, and Greedo to enough precision that he is expectant of Greedo’s death. He sees the extreme amount of luck inside Han’s “soup”, and marks him as prey.

I exhale, feel proboscii quiver, turn slowly to take my measure of the cantina. The direction is easily gained, and as I mark it I cannot help but smile; the old man and his pupil have gone into one of the cubicles. It is not them I scent now, but those with whom they speak: a hulking Wookiee, and a humanoid male.

—soup—

It boils up quickly, powerfully, so quickly and so powerfully I cannot help but mark it. It leaves me breathless.

Not the old Jedi, who is disciplined, and shielded. Not the boy, who is young and unripe. Not the Wookiee, who is passive in all but loyalty. The humanoid. The Corellian.

Anzati are long-lived. Memory abides.

A curl of smoke winds its way from my pipe. Through the wreath of it I smile. He is wanted, as is the Wookiee, but all entities in Chalmun’s cantina are wanted somewhere. Even I am wanted, or would be; no one knows who or what I am, or what I am wanted for, and in that there is continuance.

I am careful in the hunt, always meticulous in those details others ignore, and too often die of; I require confirmation. I commit nothing until I am certain.

In this instance confirmation and certainty need little time and less patience. The Jedi and his pupil depart, but are immediately replaced by a Rodian. He is nervous. His soup is so insubstantial as to be nonexistent; he is servant, not served.

He is coward. He is fool. He is incompetent. He is slow to commit himself. And thus he is dead in a burst of contraband blaster in the hand of a wholly committed and consummate pirate.

—soup—

I exult even as proboscii twitch expectantly. It is here, here—and now, right now, this moment… the hue, the tint, the whisper, the shout, the evanescence of soup incarnate, enfleshed and unshielded, and rich, so rich—

I need only to go and to get it, to drink it, to embrace as Anzati embrace, to dance the dance with the Corellian whose soup is thick, and hot, and sweet, sweeter by far than any I have tasted for too long a time—

Now.

Now.

But haste dilutes fulfillment. Let there be time, and patience.

—such soup—

The band wails on. There is the sharp scent of smoke; the acrid tang of sweat; the smut-dusty stench of dune sand, of city sand; the blatancy of blaster death but newly encountered, redolent of the Rodian’s cowardice and stupidity. It was a poor death worth no comment; he will not be mourned even by the entity who hired him.

He is—[/i]was[/i]—the Hutt’s, of course. Need you ask? There is none other who would dare to hire assassins in Mos Eisley, on Tatooine.

None but Lord Vader, and the Emperor.

But they are not here. Only Jabba.

The Hutt is in all things; is of himself all things, and everywhere, on Tatooine, in Mos Eisley, in Chalmun’s cantina.

—such soup—

A final inhalation of t’bac, sucked deep inside and savored, as is the moment, the knowledge, the need itself savored. A brief glare of searing sunlight illuminates the interior as the Corellian pirate and his Wookiee companion depart with alacrity Chalmun’s premises, wary of Imperial repercussions. It is Jabba’s spaceport in all but name, and that name is the Emperor’s, who need know nothing of such dealings as the Hutt’s; or who knows, and does not care.

It is dusk again inside. They will clear the body away; and someone will report to Jabba that his hireling is dead.

Has reported; he knows it by now, and by whose hand it was done.

—such soup—

But what sense in paying for it of my own pocket? Jabba’s is deeper.

Indeed, the Hutt will pay well. But it is I who will drink the soup.

—such soup—

Proboscii quiver as I exhale the twinned smoke-stream slowly, steadily, with quiet satisfaction and the frisson of my own soup as it leaps in anticipation.

—Han Solo’s soup—

Ah, but it will be a hunt worth the hunting … and soup such as I—even Dannik Jerriko, Anzat of the Anzati, Eater of Luck, of Chance—have never, ever known.

Calmly smoking his pipe, Jerriko watched the Jedi and the Jedi-to-be join a tall Wookiee and a Corellian. Then, the scent erupted. The soup of the Corellian was thick and hot and sweeter than any the Anzat had tasted in far too long.

Jerriko felt his first shock when an old man, whose actions clearly betrayed him as a Jedi Master, intervened in the fight between the local thugs and the boy. Jerriko was drawn to the essence of the old Jedi, but felt he would be risking too much in his pursuit. But as he watched the old man and the boy, he noticed Han Solo.

This incident sparked a lifelong passion for Dannik Jerriko. He became obsessed with Solo. Here was the very best soup. Han Solo escaped from Tatooine before Jerriko could strike, so the Anzati waited in Jabba's palace, hoping that someone would catch Solo because of the bounty placed on his head and bring him to Jabba - and thus to Jerriko.

Excellent Soup: When Dannik Jerriko first saw Han Solo, he realized that the smuggler would be the best victim of all. The Anzati could feel that Han had the very best soup. He vowed to suck him dry as soon as he got the chance. But Solo escaped him and soon left the planet.

4 ABY

Dannik accurately foresees that Han Solo will be returned to Jabba.

A mishap once robbed Jerriko of his best meal in Chalmun's bar. But his instinct that Han Solo would return to Jabba after all and his patient wait paid off a few years later when the bounty hunter Boba Fett delivered the loot that Jerriko was looking for. However, the prisoner Solo was unfortunately frozen in a carbonite block.

Dannik senses right away that new people have entered Jabba’s Palace, and recognizes their scents, matching them to each individual he has encountered previously.

I am of the day, but equally of the night; I take my rest when I choose, not because any biological rhythm insists upon it. And so I am free to wander as I will, throughout the labyrinthine corridors of what once was monastery and now is Jabba’s lair. And it is as I wander that I am certain, at once, there are those within the palace who were not here before.

Abruptly: —soup—

I have known its like before. But this essence, this essence—

—soup—

Oh, it is powerful, overwhelming … I stop where I am in the shadows, transfixed by the awareness, the preternatural knowledge of such soup as I could wish for before all others—

—soup—

Proboscii, denied the sort of soup they prefer for too long, twitch frenziedly within cheek-pockets. They know. I know.

Han Solo. Han Solo, vividly alive; and others nearby, others of similar soup …

How many? Solo, another, another.

—soup—

Through the corridors to the kitchens. Where I find a body, though living still; a small, insignificant being of thin and immature soup, but he will do, will do; in my need there is only the soup, anyone’s soup at all.

There is no time, no time—

I clutch him. Turn him. Catch him up in the embrace.

He struggles briefly, too briefly. Proboscii plunge into nostrils, through to the brain.

There is so little soup, and all of it weak.

But it will do. For the moment.

He is discarded quickly, abruptly, proboscii tearing free. I let him fall in a sprawl, ungainly and lacking dignity, against a broken box nearly large enough for his body.

There is blood on the boy’s face. I have left evidence of the means, the method.

There is no time.

It will suffice. It will serve.

Anzat, of the Anzati … loose in Jabba’s palace.

—soup—

Ah, but it is ecstasy, or will be.

Who?

Along the corridors, shadow-cloaked, prowls an Anzat, but shedding habitual wariness in the quest for fact, for truth—

Oh, rejoice!

—it is here, is here; all of it, here … Solo’s, another’s. Another’s.

I catch myself up short at the corner, on the cusp of Jabba’s audience chamber. For it is there, all of it there: Solo, thawed from carbonite, his soup wild and reckless, tinged with fear, with panic: he is blind, blind and untrusting, but all his instincts are to fight, to fight—

Another’s. Wild and free and boiling.

Frightened as well, that she—

—she?—

—will not be able to get him free despite precautions, despite plans: Chewbacca, Lando, Han; always Han, foremost—

—Calrissian—

Then he is the third.

Solo. The woman. Calrissian.

Betrayer.

Rejoice … oh, rejoice!

But Solo overwhelms them all with his presence, his soup; and in the doing overwhelms me. Proboscii extrude, quivering.

—soup—

She has unmasked, the woman. Unhelmed so he knows her, so he will not be afraid.

No. Let him be afraid, so he might overcome it. And in the fear, in the overcoming of it, the pushing through to awareness and competency and the wild, crazed courage, he becomes what I want, what I need—

—Han Solo’s soup—

Oh, let it be mine!

I will take all of them. One by one.

No. Wait. There is the task first.

—soup—

No! The task.

Possess yourself of patience.

But it is difficult. Self-denial is a discipline I have never learned; nor ever had to learn.

Solo. The woman, royal-bred. And Lando Calrissian.

All it wants is the boy, so rich in Jedi promise.

—Han Solo’s soup—

I fall back. Containment, control is difficult; proboscii rebel as I try to withdraw them, urge them to withdraw. There is war within my skull.

Have I gone so far? Lost so much?

Never have I been so close to the edge.

There must be a death. Now. Soup must be drunk. Now.

I turn. I scrape myself against the walls and retreat rapidly, hearing the echo of Jabba’s laughter. Are they caught, then? Has the Hutt captured them all?

—soup—

Solo. The woman. Calrissian.

All. I will have them all.

Or die in the trying.

As soon as Luke Skywalker unshields his mind, Dannik perceives “power beyond reckoning” in him, and realizes that he will be more powerful than any in many lives.

But that bears its cost. The stupor is deeper than most. The coma nearly complete. So that when roused out of it by something most unexpected, I am as close to walking the edge of madness is as possible, with us.

And so it is madness, and overwhelming, when I am roused abruptly, too abruptly, by the awareness, sharp and painful, exquisitely demanding, of power beyond reckoning. Like Yoda’s, like Kenobi’s. But young yet, still young, still learning its way.

And the way, the precipice of the power, is yet to be understood fully by the one who does and will wield it.

Thus roused, I am angry. And comprehending abruptly, so abruptly: he will be stronger than any in so many lives, this one. Of all of them, nearly extinct. Now alive again, in him.

That boy. Kenobi’s boy, whom I first saw years ago in Chalmun’s cantina. Who did not then know what he is, but knows now, and plainly; knows enough how to use, how to shield.

Here, in Jabba’s palace.

Solo. The woman. Calrissian. The boy.

All of them here. Now.

Why has he unshielded? Why do I know him now? A Jedi excretes power when he chooses; to Anzati, it is obvious. But there is control in it regardless. This time there is none. He is wholly open, unshielded, yielding to some purpose I cannot conceive.

—soup—

Dannik paralyzes Yarna d’al’ Gargan to drain her.

“How did you get away?”

“Just as his tendrils touched me, one of the Gamorreans came in. He … the creature … let me go.”

“But Jerriko is no match for you.” Doallyn’s fingers tightened on her upper arm, testing the solid muscle beneath the outer flesh. “You’re twice his size.”

“When he lays his hands on you, and looks into your eyes … you can’t move,” Yarna whispered, feeling her gorge rise. “When you see those tendrils uncoil, you know what’s happening, because he wants you to know. But you can’t move. It’s … horrible.” She gagged, put her hand over her mouth, and fought for control. Moments later, she looked back up at him.

> The day Jabba died I discovered the terror myself. A fellow approached me as I went to my quarters. His name was Dannik Jerriko, and he had been a quiet presence in the palace for several weeks. He addressed me in my own language, speaking in seductive tones. His eyes mesmerized me, holding me motionless. I suddenly sensed something wrong, and then I saw his tentacles–unfurling from his cheeks and dancing toward my face. I realized at that moment he could only be an Anzati, the demon creature of myth. Although I would have been much stronger than he in a struggle, and my bulk would have crushed him, I could not fight back against his power. I felt his hunger.

S-Canon

0 BBY

Dannik Jerriko has +14 Empathy and +17 See Force.

If he were to fight Padme Amidala, Dannik Jerriko would be able to sense the great Force potential she has.

Intelligence/Wisdom/Knowledge

C-Canon

4 ABY

Dannik speaks the Askajian language fluently to Yarna d’al’ Gargan. As no note of any specialization is made, it seems that Dannik has simply picked up this language of a fairly obscure species over time, begging the question of what else he knows simply by having traveled the galaxy as an assassin for around nine hundred years.

And so it is nothing to me to allow her to walk past me, unseeing, and into the antechamber, unknowing, intent upon release; and so it is as nothing that I follow, step behind her, whisper an endearment in her native tongue.

She whirls, multiple breasts wobbling. There is delight at first in her eyes; was she then expecting someone? But it is I, not he, not she, not it; delight shapechanges to fear.

In her tongue I say she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen; that I have lusted for her, watching from the shadows, the closets of Jabba’s palace, wishing she might so much as glance in my direction. But she has not, and I am bereft, and weak, and cowardly, and only now brave enough, male enough to come forward, to swear to her the truth, to abase myself before her so she will know, must know, how it is with me, a male who sees and desires a female, and such a female as she …

Almost, she believes. Twin spots of ruddy color glow in fleshy cheeks. Beneath my hands her shoulders lift. Her mouth parts as I slip my hands from shoulders to neck, from neck to the bones of her jaw, hidden beneath heavy flesh. And then I clamp her skull in the Anzat’s embrace and allow her to see the truth of what I am. Legend come to life.

> The day Jabba died I discovered the terror myself. A fellow approached me as I went to my quarters. His name was Dannik Jerriko, and he had been a quiet presence in the palace for several weeks. He addressed me in my own language, speaking in seductive tones. His eyes mesmerized me, holding me motionless. I suddenly sensed something wrong, and then I saw his tentacles–unfurling from his cheeks and dancing toward my face. I realized at that moment he could only be an Anzati, the demon creature of myth. Although I would have been much stronger than he in a struggle, and my bulk would have crushed him, I could not fight back against his power. I felt his hunger.

Dannik knows who Yoda and Kenobi are, has seemingly met them both and sensed the depth of their powers, and has matched Kenobi’s name to the Jedi Master he encountered in the Cantina.

And so it is madness, and overwhelming, when I am roused abruptly, too abruptly, by the awareness, sharp and painful, exquisitely demanding, of power beyond reckoning. Like Yoda’s, like Kenobi’s. But young yet, still young, still learning its way.

And the way, the precipice of the power, is yet to be understood fully by the one who does and will wield it.

Thus roused, I am angry. And comprehending abruptly, so abruptly: he will be stronger than any in so many lives, this one. Of all of them, nearly extinct. Now alive again, in him.

That boy. Kenobi’s boy, whom I first saw years ago in Chalmun’s cantina. Who did not then know what he is, but knows now, and plainly; knows enough how to use, how to shield.

Here, in Jabba’s palace.

S-Canon

0 BBY

Dannik Jerriko has an Intelligence score of 8 (out of 10).

Summary

If the Anzati are Vampires, then Dannik is Dracula.

He has been around for over a thousand years, draining life force from the most individualistic, talented, and lucky people he has come across, and accumulating these traits for his own use, as well as prolonging his life even further. This sets him apart from other Anzati, who are less picky, and therefore less powerful and less long-lived. He stalks and overpowers each of his targets with ease, even toying with them and holding back for his enjoyment.

His reputation as an assassin has seen him hired by Eugene Talmont, Lady Valarian, Jabba the Hutt, and perhaps Darth Vader and the Emperor himself as well. His reputation as a monster is widespread enough that the whole galaxy has heard it and brutal enough that few are willing to believe it.

Dannik’s bounty hunting skills are nearly unrivaled. He kills some of the most dangerous beings in the galaxy for work and for sport (including at least one “Force wizard”), defeats other top operatives in a matter of seconds, and believes himself to be better than Boba Fett. Seemingly, he kept a top spot on the list of active assassins for at least eight years after all of Jabba’s former bounty hunters were turned loose against him. It’s unusual that a character is allowed to claim superiority to Boba Fett without being fed humble pie by him, especially when stated to have a bounty Boba is interested in on their head.

He is himself Force-sensitive, having started off with some Force power naturally and accumulating it from the soup of his victims – that’s exactly what the “Luck” of Dannik’s prey is. He, like other Anzati, has a degree of telepathic talent that allows him to paralyze people once he gets close enough, nullifying any physical disadvantage against stronger species.

He is confident in his ability to drain Han Solo in Chewbacca’s presence, and claims to be faster and better than any, while he has seen Jedi fight. It seems that he has personally met Kenobi, Yoda (before the Dark Times), Vader, the Emperor, and Luke Skywalker, and has sensed the extent of their powers to some degree and acknowledges their comparative supremacy, indicating that he is beyond those whom are too blind or too weak to even conceptualize how truly mighty the strongest Force users are.

Dannik Jerriko is Anzat of the Anzati, Eater of Luck, Death. Respect him!

[Darth Durin's Baneling]

An evil smile spread across Tyris’s face as he brought his lightsaber around to display for me the tool of my destruction.

Force Power

C-Canon

22 BBY-19.5 BBY

Nikkos Tyris is the most powerful of the Saarai-kaar, leaders of the Jensaarai Order. He has a knowledge of both the Force’s light and dark sides that contributes to his formidability as a fighter.

The three “Sith” the Jedi faced were in fact fallen Jedi, rumored to have been lost in battle on the world of Baltizaar. They had survived only to fall to the dark side and adopt Sith teachings. Guided by documents and relics found in the archaeological dig, they had uncovered the secrets of the Sith and combined the teachings of the dark side with Jedi traditions. The strongest of the three fallen Jedi, an Anzat named Nikkos Tyris, had been a Jedi Knight when he had vanished. He had guided the others to the dark side.

Tyris’s new dark side skills, combined with his radical fighting style, made him a formidable opponent.

This Anzati was one of the most powerful of the Saarai-kaar leaders of the Jensaarai, who discovered Sith teachings during the Clone Wars. These teachings were the work of one of his predecessors, Volfe Karkko, and described how Karkko had been seduced by the dark side of the Force. Tyris himself was a former Jedi Knight, and his knowledge of the Force, coupled with his unusual style of fighting, made him a formidable opponent. His combination of light and dark teachings became known as the Saarai, or the True Way, and his beliefs led to his leaving the Jedi Order.

The power of Nikkos and the other dark Jedi grows quickly as they study ancient Sith lore, learning many techniques restricted for their evil nature and destructive potency.

Tyris and at least two other Jedi Knights had discovered ancient Sith documents dating back thousands of years. Upon deciphering the cryptic Sith language, they began to absorb the knowledge within. This new information drastically altered their view of the Jedi, inspiring them to splinter off to form their own organization. Digging deeper into the mysterious documents, they learned new and forbidden techniques that the Jedi had deemed highly dangerous or maliciously evil. Their power grew quickly and their resentment of the Jedi began to consume them.

S-Canon

22 BBY-19.5 BBY

Nikkos Tyris and his original dark Jedi followers were the only Jensaarai to reach level 10 or above in the Jensaarai class. Even the future Saarai-kaar only reached Jensaarai level 9. Keep in mind, this is on top of whatever level they’d reached as Jedi before turning to the dark side. It seems probable that Tyris isn’t all too far off of the level cap of 20.

These Sith Secrets give an additional +1 modifier to six distinct Force abilities, making the Jensaarai level 10 a considerable step above level 9.

Telekinesis

C-Canon

19.5 BBY

Nikkos uses telekinesis to enhance a backwards leap, showing great levitation ability.

I caught the acrid stink as some of my hair melted beneath the lightsaber’s lethal caress, but I ducked the blow by a safe margin. Rotating my wrists, I swept my blade back low, through where his legs should have been, but he leaped up and away from my strike. He flipped backward through the air, displaying great ability with levitation, and landed easily four meters away from me.

Nikkos, without gesturing, sends Nejaa stumbling back with a Force push. Then, with only minor gestures for the first two and no gesture at all for the third, he sends three fist-sized stones hurtling at his opponent. The first numbs Nejaa’s arm, hindering him. The second is the only one the Jedi Master is able to successfully anticipate and block. The third knocks Nejaa in the head, disarming and flooring him.

His dark eyes blazed for a moment, then an invisible fist smashed into my chest, knocking me backward. He freed his right hand from his azure blade, and flicked fingers at me with the most casual of gestures. A fist-sized stone shot at me from the ground, clipping me on the left shoulder. Pain shot through my arm, leaving it numb. He laughed and hurled another stone toward me. I deflected it with my lightsaber and smiled, then another rock slammed into the left side of my head.

I went down hard, raising a small cloud of dust when I hit the ground. My lightsaber bounced out of my grasp and I didn’t see where it landed. I shook my head to try to clear it, but pain and a faint ringing made that difficult.

S-Canon

22 BBY-19.5 BBY

Nikkos has an additional +1 modifier to his Force Defense, Force Grip, and Force Strike abilities due to the Sith Secrets he has uncovered.

Force Lightning

S-Canon

22 BBY-19.5 BBY

Nikkos has at least some skill in Force lightning, improved by the Sith Secrets he has uncovered.

Force Cloak

C-Canon

19.5 BBY

Nikkos and his two compatriots use ancient Sith teachings to create a void in the Force that hid any Force probing in the area.

Even on Suarbi, the search went slowly. The locals resisted interference from Jedi. They displayed a curious allegiance to what were presumably Sith disciples living among them. With the assistance of another Jedi, the search eventually narrowed on an area of Susevfi where the Jedi’s Force powers seemed useless, a kind of void in the Force. In a desperate attempt to mask their presence from the Jedi, the new Sith adherents used ancient techniques to conceal their presence, not realizing that the Force void they created would draw the Jedi right to them.

Lightsaber Combat Skill

C-Canon

19.5 BBY

Tyris has an unusual fighting style that allows him easy defense and quick and devastating attacks. This, combined with his Force powers, make him a formidable enemy.

The Anzati, taller than me, darker, entirely humanoid save for the proboscises uncurling in his excitement, ignited his blue blade and closed with me. Nikkos Tyris—his name came easily to me—held his lightsaber in a guard I’d not seen before. He had his left hand on the hilt fairly close to the shimmering blade, but the blade itself extended out and down from the lower edge of his hand toward the ground. His right hand rode the lightsaber’s pommel. Holding the blade out away from his body, with his right hand at the level of his chin, he could waggle the blade back and forth in a triangle of coverage that would ward him well. This triangle style—the thought suddenly came to me like a long lost memory—favored a man who was quick, and would combine sweeping strikes at my legs with a flick of the wrist cut that would open me from groin to chin.

Tyris’s new dark side skills, combined with his radical fighting style, made him a formidable opponent.

Tyris himself was a former Jedi Knight, and his knowledge of the Force, coupled with his unusual style of fighting, made him a formidable opponent.

Nikkos Tyris engages Nejaa Halcyon and nearly ends him with his second strike, singing Nejaa’s hair. He goes on to outmatch and mortally wounds Nejaa.

Nikkos is such a skilled fighter that Jedi Master Nejaa Halcyon quickly realizes that even the combined lightsaber prowess of himself, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Ylenic It’kla (who both quickly defeated their own opponents) would be no match for him, and they would all die unless drastic measures were taken. Obi-Wan later agrees with this assessment.

I knew fear, but the person I was in the dream shunted it away. I held my silvery blade in a simple guard, though I tilted the blade forward, pointing it at his throat. We circled, then he struck. His blade flicked out for my right leg. I swept my blade down to block low right, sparks flying as our blades crashed into each other. He bounced his blade up and over mine, and brought it across in a slash meant to decapitate me.

I caught the acrid stink as some of my hair melted beneath the lightsaber’s lethal caress, but I ducked the blow by a safe margin. Rotating my wrists, I swept my blade back low, through where his legs should have been, but he leaped up and away from my strike. He flipped backward through the air, displaying great ability with levitation, and landed easily four meters away from me.

His dark eyes blazed for a moment, then an invisible fist smashed into my chest, knocking me backward. He freed his right hand from his azure blade, and flicked fingers at me with the most casual of gestures. A fist-sized stone shot at me from the ground, clipping me on the left shoulder. Pain shot through my arm, leaving it numb. He laughed and hurled another stone toward me. I deflected it with my lightsaber and smiled, then another rock slammed into the left side of my head.

I went down hard, raising a small cloud of dust when I hit the ground. My lightsaber bounced out of my grasp and I didn’t see where it landed. I shook my head to try to clear it, but pain and a faint ringing made that difficult.

I could feel blood coating the left side of my face and swiped at it with the left sleeve of my tunic. I heard the crunch of gravel beneath his boots as Tyris approached. Drawing myself up into a crouch, I glanced to my right and finally saw my lightsaber lying there, two meters away. I wanted to call it to my hand, but I knew it would never come. I could dive for it, but his lightsaber would pin me to the ground before I ever got there.

“So, it is true, what they have said about the Halcyon line. You are wingclipped mynocks.” An evil smile spread across Tyris’s face as he brought his lightsaber around to display for me the tool of my destruction. “You are a line of weakness.”

I smiled, knowing what I had to do. “We have our strengths.”

“Do you?” He whisked the blade back around to his left, preparatory to sweeping it through me. “Better summon one swiftly.”

In the second of life he left me, I caught a vision of him standing above me and my dead comrades. Our slain bodies faded away, but his mocking laughter did not. I knew with a certainty as clear and hard as transparisteel that if I did not deal with Tyris, my friends and our mission here would be destroyed. I couldn’t let that happen, so I acted.

I launched myself toward my lightsaber, my right hand reaching for it. My body twisted in the air as I flew. I landed on my back, skidding the last centimeters to where my hand closed on the blade’s hilt. Even as I tightened my grip, even as I started to bring the blade around in a parry, I knew I would be too late.

So did Tyris.

He stabbed his blade down through my chest. The azure blade melted flesh and boiled blood as it went, reducing my heart to sweet smoke and steam. On further it stabbed, exploding arteries and burning through my spine. The lower part of my body went numb, though I barely noticed because of the wave of agony surging up through me and into my brain. It threatened to overwhelm me, letting darkness nibble into my sight. I was dying and I knew it and regrets poured in with the pain.

I knelt in the dirt, cradling my friend’s head in my lap. Desertwind stood by my side, resting a hand on my shoulder. “I think he knew Tyris was a good enough swordsman to get one or the other of us. Nejaa knew he could not defeat him with a lightsaber, so he found another means to protect us.”

Nejaa Halcyon quickly realized that even the Jedi’s combined lightsaber skills could not defeat the Anzati. The Jensaarai would kill the three Jedi, then disappear. Halcyon sacrificed his life to defeat Nikkos Tyris, allowing Ylenic It’kla and the other Jedi to escape.

Shortly after, on Susevfi, Nejaa Halcyon lost his life in a duel against the Anzati Dark Jedi Nikkos Tyris. The Anzati also perished in the battle, turning his Force-using followers, the Jensaarai, against the Jedi Order. The Jensaarai would develop their teachings in secret until being discovered by Luke Skywalker decades later.

Tyris and his companions were eventually located and eliminated by Nejaa Halcyon and Ylenic It’kla, but not before Halcyon was mortally wounded when Tyris drove his azure lightsaber through Halcyon’s chest. Halcyon, though dying, absorbed all the energy from Tyris’s lightning and from it created a fist-like projection with the Force, which he used to crush Tyris.

The duel between Nikkos Tyris and his two compatriots against Nejaa Halcyon, Ylenic It’kla, and Obi-Wan Kenobi was “great.”

The Jedi Order dispatched a trio of Jedi, among them Corellian Jedi Master Nejaa Halcyon and Caamasi Jedi Knight Ylenic It’kla, to either bring Tyris and his band back into the Order or keep them from spreading their heresy any further. Unsurprisingly, the tainted leaders of the Jensaarai resisted. On the plains of the moon Susevfi, there was a great lightsaber duel between the three Jedi against Tyris and the other two fallen Jedi. The three Jensaarai were slain, as was Master Halcyon.

11 ABY

Corran Horn, witnessing the memory of his grandfather, feels second-hand fear at the prospect of dueling Nikkos.

The Anzati, taller than me, darker, entirely humanoid save for the proboscises uncurling in his excitement, ignited his blue blade and closed with me. Nikkos Tyris—his name came easily to me—held his lightsaber in a guard I’d not seen before. He had his left hand on the hilt fairly close to the shimmering blade, but the blade itself extended out and down from the lower edge of his hand toward the ground. His right hand rode the lightsaber’s pommel. Holding the blade out away from his body, with his right hand at the level of his chin, he could waggle the blade back and forth in a triangle of coverage that would ward him well. This triangle style—the thought suddenly came to me like a long lost memory—favored a man who was quick, and would combine sweeping strikes at my legs with a flick of the wrist cut that would open me from groin to chin.

I knew fear, but the person I was in the dream shunted it away.

Nikkos had been the Master of the modern Saarai-kaar, and she uses his fighting style to outduel Corran Horn.

The Saarai-kaar came at me with cold fury, her blade held in the style of the Anzati who slew my grandfather. She aimed a cut across my middle that I danced back from, then she slashed it down toward my trailing leg. The gold blade sliced through my robe and roasted a layer or two of skin off the top of my right thigh, but did no serious damage. I pivoted on that foot and arced my left foot around to catch her in the flank, pitching her across the room to where she crashed against a duraplast chest full of coins.

[...]

I felt a jolt run through my lightsaber, numbing my hands as the blade flickered and died. She recoiled, clutching at her smoking armor, her own lightsaber going out as it fell from her hand. Snarling, she nodded sharply at me, and I heard a rustling. One of her students’ discarded cloaks wrapped itself around my ankles and dumped me unceremoniously on my back. I blacked out for a second, then saw the Saarai-kaar standing over me, her golden blade raised for an overhand blow that would split my head in two.

Without conscious thought, I reacted through the Force. Into her brain I projected an image of Nikkos Tyris lying there in my place.

She hesitated. “Master?”

S-Canon

22 BBY-19.5 BBY

Nikkos has at least some skill in Battlemind, improved by the Sith Secrets he has uncovered.

Physical Ability

C-Canon

19.5 BBY

Nikkos is taller than Nejaa Halcyon, suggesting comparatively long reach. His fighting style favors quick movement, suggesting that he is capable of such.

The Anzati, taller than me, darker, entirely humanoid save for the proboscises uncurling in his excitement, ignited his blue blade and closed with me. Nikkos Tyris—his name came easily to me—held his lightsaber in a guard I’d not seen before. He had his left hand on the hilt fairly close to the shimmering blade, but the blade itself extended out and down from the lower edge of his hand toward the ground. His right hand rode the lightsaber’s pommel. Holding the blade out away from his body, with his right hand at the level of his chin, he could waggle the blade back and forth in a triangle of coverage that would ward him well. This triangle style—the thought suddenly came to me like a long lost memory—favored a man who was quick, and would combine sweeping strikes at my legs with a flick of the wrist cut that would open me from groin to chin.

Nikkos leaps over four meters away from Nejaa Halcyon to evade his strike with a telekinesis-assisted leap.

I caught the acrid stink as some of my hair melted beneath the lightsaber’s lethal caress, but I ducked the blow by a safe margin. Rotating my wrists, I swept my blade back low, through where his legs should have been, but he leaped up and away from my strike. He flipped backward through the air, displaying great ability with levitation, and landed easily four meters away from me.

Intelligence/Wisdom/Knowledge

C-Canon

22 BBY-19.5 BBY

As of the Clone Wars, Nikkos was one of the oldest living Jedi, and therefore likely one of the most experienced.

As the Clone Wars drew to a close, the Jedi Order crumbled under heavy casualties. With many Jedi dead or missing and the future of the order in question, some Jedi began deserting the Order and heading off to survive on their own. One such deserter was a mysterious Jedi known as Nikkos Tyris, an Anzati Jedi who was one of the oldest living Jedi at the time.

Nikkos and the other original Saarai-kaar discovered ancient Sith teachings and holocrons compiled by Volfe Karkko, at least one of which was lent by Count Dooku to lure Nikkos to the dark side.

The three “Sith” the Jedi faced were in fact fallen Jedi, rumored to have been lost in battle on the world of Baltizaar. They had survived only to fall to the dark side and adopt Sith teachings. Guided by documents and relics found in the archaeological dig, they had uncovered the secrets of the Sith and combined the teachings of the dark side with Jedi traditions. The strongest of the three fallen Jedi, an Anzat named Nikkos Tyris, had been a Jedi Knight when he had vanished. He had guided the others to the dark side.

Tyris and at least two other Jedi Knights had discovered ancient Sith documents dating back thousands of years. Upon deciphering the cryptic Sith language, they began to absorb the knowledge within. This new information drastically altered their view of the Jedi, inspiring them to splinter off to form their own organization. Digging deeper into the mysterious documents, they learned new and forbidden techniques that the Jedi had deemed highly dangerous or maliciously evil. Their power grew quickly and their resentment of the Jedi began to consume them. They began taking on students and forming families; eventually they had developed into a community that incorporated Sith  ideas and traditions into traditional Jedi teachings. Eventually, they named themselves the Jensaarai, an ancient Sith word meaning “hidden followers of truth,” and continued to grow in numbers.

Another influential jedi persuaded by Dooku was the Anzati Nikkos Tyris. In exchange for his allegiance, Dooku promised Tyris access to his Sith holocron – the same one that had been accessed by the Anzati Jedi Volfe Karkko.

Thousands of years later, during the Clone Wars, an Anzat Jedi named Nikkos Tyris learned of his predecessor, the Jedi Volfe Karkko, and how he fell to the dark side. Curious, Tyris made a great effort to obtain Karkko's apocryphal teachings in which he found frequent reference to and snippets from Sith tomes. Looking on Karkko as a role model and lured to Count Dooku by his possession of one of Karkko's most cherished Sith holocrons, Tyris was slowly seduced into the darkness. Claiming he'd found the Saarai or "True Way," Tyris split from the Jedi Order, attracting many Jedi to himself, including the infamous Bpfasshi marauders. However, Tyris and most of his followers were slain by Jedi forces.

During the Clone Wars, an Anzati Jedi named Nikkos Tyris left the Jedi Order, allegedly after studying a Sith Holocron he may have obtained from Count Dooku. Evidently, it was from this Holocron that Tyris falsely learned that Jedi had stolen their discipline from the Sith, and had perverted Sith teaching to prevent Force-users from following the true way to the Force. Tyris claimed he had found the Saarai, which translates from Sith as the “true way,” and he attracted other Jedi as his followers. Tyris’s pupils became known as Jensaarai, or “the hidden followers of truth,” and they were united by their belief that the Jedi were evil.

Shortly after the Clone Wars, Ylenic and Nejaa were dispatched to stop Nikkos Tyris, who stumbled upon ancient Sith lore.

This Anzati was one of the most powerful of the Saarai-kaar leaders of the Jensaarai, who discovered Sith teachings during the Clone Wars. These teachings were the work of one of his predecessors, Volfe Karkko, and described how Karkko had been seduced by the dark side of the Force.

Nikkos has knowledge of light and dark techniques, and it’s his teachings that are the foundation of Jensaarai teachings.

His combination of light and dark teachings became known as the Saarai, or the True Way, and his beliefs led to his leaving the Jedi Order.

Authority/Reputation

C-Canon

22 BBY-19.5 BBY

Nikkos Tyris was an “influential” Jedi.

Another influential jedi persuaded by Dooku was the Anzati Nikkos Tyris. In exchange for his allegiance, Dooku promised Tyris access to his Sith holocron – the same one that had been accessed by the Anzati Jedi Volfe Karkko.

Nikkos Tyris is the role model for the Jensaarai, their founder, the creator of the order’s teachings, leader over even the other original Saarai-kaar. It is him who Nejaa Halcyon and the other Jedi were most determined to stop.

“Actually, it’s not that much different from the situation with the Jensaarai that Corran and I ran into on Susevfi,” Luke said. “They didn’t know how to be Jedi, but were still serving the best they knew how.”

“And in the process had gotten themselves so bent around that you were years untwisting them,” Mara reminded him tartly. “Anyway, they at least had the memory of a role model to follow, didn’t they? That what’s-his-name Jedi?”

“Nikkos Tyris,” Luke said, nodding. “Which brings up an even more interesting thought. Maybe you had a role model, too.”

Among the painfully small refugee population, the Caamasi Jedi Y’lenic It’kla perhaps sensed that the end was near. One of Bail Organa’s advisors, as well as a member of the Alliance, the golden-furred Jedi had battled alongside Neeja Halcyon to prevent Nikkos Tyris from using the Sith lore he had discovered. He could do nothing save surrender to the will of the Force.

Around the time of the Clone Wars, Nejaa Halcyon and the Caamasi Jedi Knight Ylenic It’kla left Corellia to search for signs of the Sith. Master Nejaa’s wife and son were left in Rostek’s care. Although the Sith had revealed themselves about a decade ago, the Jedi were no closer to discovering their whereabouts. One clue led to a Dark Jedi named Nikkos Tyris. Though he and his followers had a tenuous connection with the Sith, they were not aware of Darth Sidious’s machinations. The Jedi defeated the leaders of the enclave on Suarbi at the cost of Nejaa Halcyon’s life.

Shortly after, on Susevfi, Nejaa Halcyon lost his life in a duel against the Anzati Dark Jedi Nikkos Tyris. The Anzati also perished in the battle, turning his Force-using followers, the Jensaarai, against the Jedi Order. The Jensaarai would develop their teachings in secret until being discovered by Luke Skywalker decades later.

Thousands of years later, during the Clone Wars, an Anzat Jedi named Nikkos Tyris learned of his predecessor, the Jedi Volfe Karkko, and how he fell to the dark side. Curious, Tyris made a great effort to obtain Karkko's apocryphal teachings in which he found frequent reference to and snippets from Sith tomes. Looking on Karkko as a role model and lured to Count Dooku by his possession of one of Karkko's most cherished Sith holocrons, Tyris was slowly seduced into the darkness. Claiming he'd found the Saarai or "True Way," Tyris split from the Jedi Order, attracting many Jedi to himself, including the infamous Bpfasshi marauders. However, Tyris and most of his followers were slain by Jedi forces.

A second Anzati Jedi, Nikkos Tyris, was responsible for founding a competing order of Force users during the Clone Wars called the Saarai-kaar, later known as the Jensaarai.

The Jensaarai sect of Fore-users came into existence near the end of the Clone Wars and is relatively young compared to other Force traditions. Founded by an Anzati Dark Jedi, Nikkos Tyris, the Jensaarai blend teachings of Jedi and Sith philosophy to form something altogether different. Unfortunately, a short time after Tyris and a band of rogue Jedi split off to form their movement, the Jedi Council dispatched several Jedi Knights to put an end to their rebellion. The Jedi accomplished their mission, killing Tyris and his comrades, but unknowingly leaving behind the families and students of the new Jensaarai tradition.

His combination of light and dark teachings became known as the Saarai, or the True Way, and his beliefs led to his leaving the Jedi Order.

The Force-wielding population of Suarbi 7/5, who were brought up to follow the Saarai teachings of Nikkos Tyris.

Summary

Nikkos Tyris was one of the oldest living Jedi, and as a fully mature Anzat is probably hundreds of years old. This is before joining the dark side. “The Jedi who fall are the most dangerous of all,” and Nikkos was a Jedi longer than almost anybody before turning his back on them. At that point, he learned from ancient Sith teachings, along with the example of Volfe Karkko, and his power grew rapidly, and his mastery of techniques on both sides of the Force as well.

Nikkos developed his own fighting style, which proved effective against more than one opponent. He is put above late-war Obi-Wan Kenobi as a duelist by several characters, including Obi-Wan himself. He handily defeats Nejaa Halcyon, who matches 20 BBY Anakin Skywalker (immediately pre-knighting in CWMMP timeline) in his only other lightsaber duel, and who is treated as a (for the moment) more experienced stand-in for Corran Horn.

Nikkos has all the physical advantages of an Anzat, and uses his speed and long reach to his advantage. He effortlessly incorporates the use of the Force into his fighting style, even without gesturing. When he realizes that Nejaa’s defenses against telekinetic attacks are minimal, he immediately presses this advantage for a quick victory, showing strong adaptability and tactical skill.

Nikkos is a truly devastating fighter in any context. Respect him!

[Darth Durin's Baneling]

And in his pride he fell.

General

C-Canon

~1000 BBY

Volfe Karkko was old even for an Anzati, and had become a great Jedi before turning to the dark side.

Although details of his career as a Jedi were lost long ago, the Anzati Volfe Karkko was another Jedi to have wandered off the true path. Centuries before the Clone Wars, this powerful user of the Force rose to great prominence before becoming corrupted by his own arrogance and sinking into notoriety.

Unfortunately, Volfe Karkko was no ghost and, in his time, he was to wreak havoc within the Jedi Order. He was already old when his Force ability was recognized by a member of the Order. At the time, the injunction against older Jedi was not as strong as it was in the twilight years of the Old Republic, and he was invited to train to become a Jedi Knight. There were many who, wary of the fact that Karkko was an Anzati, protested against this decision, but they were shouted down. Karkko had never tasted the ‘soup’ of another, and therefore he was thought to pose no danger.

For years Karkko provided exemplary service to the Jedi Order. However, as his power in the Force grew, he became increasingly arrogant. Finally, desperate to taste this famed soup for himself, Karkko decided to indulge himself. Believing that tasting it just once would not harm him, he captured an individual and sucked out the victim’s life force.

Volfe Karkko’s fall to the dark side had disastrous consequences.

The Jedi were the guardians of galactic harmony, but it was a heavy burden to carry. Over the millennia, a handful of their number have fallen, with disastrous consequences.

Unfortunately, Volfe Karkko was no ghost and, in his time, he was to wreak havoc within the Jedi Order.

Unlike past adversaries of the Jedi, such as Exar Kun, Volfe Karkko was so confident in his own ability that he challenged the Jedi with neither subtlety nor any backing on his side, believing that he could conquer the entire galaxy with only his personal might. The Jedi are made “fortunate” by this, however it is still a lengthy campaign for the Jedi Order to actually defeat him.

Some who have walked the path of the dark side have done so with great subtlety. Others have gathered together great resources in order to sustain their power base – Exar Kun was a case in point. Fortunately for the Jedi, Volfe Karkko was not like either of these individuals. Boasting a bewildering arrogance, he believed that he could take on the galaxy single-handedly – with neither subtlety nor resources. He was wrong.

It was on the planet Kiffex, in the Azurbani system, that Karkko was finally brought to his knees. However, such was the way of the Jedi at that time, he was not executed but imprisoned in a stasis field – locked inside a temple that could only be entered by other Jedi.

Volfe killed (and presumably drained) many Jedi.

I have tasted Jedi essence: Eventually, the Force proved to be Karkko’s downfall. After all the Jedi he had killed, it was fitting that Karkko should die by the lightsaber himself.

Volfe Karkko posed such a threat on turning to the Dark Side that the Jedi Council was forced to take it upon several of its own members to capture Karkko and imprison him. Their battle was “great”, and Karkko proved a strong adversary, but the Council won “in the end.” Karkko is depicted fighting at least four members of the Council, and is seemingly killing one of them.

When he turned to the Dark Side, the Jedi Council was forced to trap Karkko in a stasis field on the prison world of Kiffex, where he languished for many years.

Though Karkko was imprisoned in a stasis field, his escape was inevitable.

Trapped inside a stasis field, it was only a matter of time before Volfe Karkko would escape and exact revenge upon the Jedi.

30 BBY

On learning of Volfe Karkko’s imprisonment on Kiffex, Mace Windu states that the situation has become infinitely more dangerous than he had first thought, and that Quinlan Vos should be withdrawn as soon as possible.

Zao was drawn to Kiffex by reasons unknown to him by the Living Force. It is suggested that, in bringing Zao there at the same time as Quinlan Vos and Tholme, the Living Force considers an awakened Volfe Karkko to be a threat worthy of the attention of three Jedi, and that a great evil (being Karkko) is approaching. In light of the later arrival of T’ra Saa, and then later Mace Windu, Plo Koon, and Adi Gallia, it is possible that the Living Force considered even three Jedi too few.

T’ra Saa states that Karkko’s darkness is great. Zao states that no one of those gathered could defeat Karkko on their own, but with all five (Quinlan Vos, Tholme, T’ra Saa, Zao, and Vilmarh Grahrk), they might succeed.

Tholme states that Karkko must be stopped. Mace Windu, back on Coruscant, agrees that Volfe must be stopped at all costs. Assuming that Volfe has already killed Quinlan Vos, Tholme, and T’ra Saa (and drained them for their Force energy), he picks out Plo Koon and Adi Gallia as his advance team, and instructs Saesee Tiin to follow behind with as many Jedi as possible.

Volfe Karkko epitomizes Quinlan Vos’s fear, the Anzati. If Karkko were to drain Vos, the consequences would be disastrous.

What Karkko had in his favour was the fact that the first Jedi sent to Kiffex was Quinlan Vos himself. Vos had a deep-seated fear of Anzati that often threatened to overwhelm him and carry him towards the dark side. Karkko was the epitome of these fears.

Volfe plays the role of Emperor Palpatine to Quinlan Vos’s Luke Skywalker and Aayla Secura’s Darth Vader – standing back and watching as his disciple battles with a Jedi, waiting for one to destroy the other and convert fully to the dark side.

Karkko was a powerful Dark Jedi, and Quinlan Vos only barely overcame him.

Quinlan and his Jedi companions tracked the source of the Anzati to a site on Kiffu’s sister planet, Kiffex. There, an ancient Anzati Jedi called Volfe Karkko had long been imprisoned and had been gathering warped Anzati to him. He had also snared Aayla and was trying to turn her to the dark side. When Quinlan arrived at the evil Jedi’s tomb-like prison, Aayla attacked. Eventually, she recognized her Master and ceased her attack. Karkko then attacked, and Quinlan only just managed to defeat the powerful dark Jedi.

Unknown to Vos, Aayla Secura had been drawn to the dark side by a powerful dark Jedi she had awakened from slumber. Volfe Karkko was using Anzati 'vampires' as his foot soldiers, with Secura leading them. Joined by Master Tholme, Quinlan again drifted perilously close to the dark side in his rescue of Aayla and the defeat and death of Karkko.

The help of Zao, T’ra Saa, and Tholme – brought to Kiffex by the Force itself for the purpose of bringing an end to the Anzati Dark Jedi – was needed for Quinlan Vos to strike Karkko down.

Before the outbreak of open war, T'ra Saa served as the Jedi defender of the sector that held Kiffex and Kiffu (after her old friend Tholme abandoned the post to train young Quinlan Vos) and was later instrumental in the defeat of the Anzati Sith magician Volfe Karkko.

In the end, it wasn’t Karkko’s arrogance that proved his undoing, but the Force itself. At the time of his escape, an ancient Jedi prophecy was particularly prominent. It concerned balance being brought back to the Force, although what this actually meant was unclear. Whatever its significance, Karkko evidently had no role in its fulfilment, for in one way or another, Jedi after Jedi were being drawn to Kiffex, helping to bring about his defeat.

The most notable of these Jedi was Master Zao, who had chosen to spend his life at the whim of the Force, in the same way that a leaf is blown by the wind. It was he who helped to harness the powers of other Jedi – Masters Tholme and T’ra Saa – using them to help Quinlan Vos bring the Anzati’s brief tyranny to an end. Karkko was cut in half with his own lightsaber by Vos – perhaps an appropriate end to a life of terror.

I have tasted Jedi essence: Eventually, the Force proved to be Karkko’s downfall. After all the Jedi he had killed, it was fitting that Karkko should die by the lightsaber himself.

Quinlan Vos, with help from his former Master Tholme, killed Karkko and freed Aayla Secura from his Anzati spell.

20 BBY

Volfe Karkko is still legendary among the Anzati a decade after his death.

Force Power

C-Canon

~1000 BBY

Even before turning to the dark side, Volfe had been a powerful Jedi.

Hidden on Kiffex was a Dark Jedi, imprisoned in stasis for a millennium. Volfe Karko was once a powerful Jedi, who succumbed to his Anzati heritage and became a dangerous predator. Consumed by his hunger for blood, Karko turned against the Jedi.

In feeding on the life force of several Jedi, Karkko incorporated some of their connection to the Force into his own being.

Volfe Karkko was arrogant, believing that he could overcome his species’ innate desire to consume the “soup” of another being’s brain. In his arrogance, Karkko told himself that tasting the soup just once would not affect him, but instead it left him longing to feed quite often. He even fed on other Jedi, gathering a measure of their strength in the Force, and eventually used his control of the Force to trap and consume other beings.

30 BBY

Karkko states that he would become “very strong again” if he is able to consume more Jedi, suggesting that whatever boost he’d gotten from the Jedi “soup” he’d consumed a thousand years prior has disappeared by the time of his emergence from the stasis. However, he has presumably consumed the soup of the Kiffex locals brought to him by his Anzati slaves.

Karkko boasts that draining Quinlan, Tholme, T’ra, and Zao (and Vilmarh!) would make him strong enough so that he could never be captured again.

Karkko’s plan is to once again challenge the full might of the Jedi Order, but this time to have collected enough Jedi essence that he can actually win.

If Karkko was ever to face down the might of the Jedi Order, he needed more substantial resources than he had used in the past. Over the centuries, his spirit had drawn other Anzati to Kiffex, and during this time his will had corrupted them, causing them to degenerate into an almost feral subspecies. This process meant that it was easier for him to control them – they were his slaves.

Most disturbingly from the Jedi’s point of view, these Anzati seemed to have been transformed into pack animals whose presence in the Force had almost become non-existent – it was only as a group that Jedi could even begin to detect them.

Karkko’s Plan
On their own, of course, these creatures would never have enabled Karkko to defeat his Jedi enemy. Rather, he saw them as a way of enabling his escape from the remote prison planet, so that he could consolidate his strength elsewhere in the galaxy.

Telekinesis

C-Canon

30 BBY

Karkko telekinetically lifts, then throws Quinlan Vos hard enough into a wall to break it.

Karkko again lifts Quinlan Vos into the air, binding him in place and preparing to drain him. It is only when Tholme, T’ra Saa, and Zao join into a joint meditation that Vos is able to free himself.

Force Sense/Telepathy/Farsight

C-Canon

~1000 BBY to 30 BBY

While trapped in a stasis field, Karkko’s presence and will was still able to draw other Anzati to the planet and use his mind to gain a following, starting a cult around himself, worshiped by the other Anzati.

Quinlan and his Jedi companions tracked the source of the Anzati to a site on Kiffu’s sister planet, Kiffex. There, an ancient Anzati Jedi called Volfe Karkko had long been imprisoned and had been gathering warped Anzati to him. He had also snared Aayla and was trying to turn her to the dark side. When Quinlan arrived at the evil Jedi’s tomb-like prison, Aayla attacked. Eventually, she recognized her Master and ceased her attack. Karkko then attacked, and Quinlan only just managed to defeat the powerful dark Jedi.

If Karkko was ever to face down the might of the Jedi Order, he needed more substantial resources than he had used in the past. Over the centuries, his spirit had drawn other Anzati to Kiffex, and during this time his will had corrupted them, causing them to degenerate into an almost feral subspecies. This process meant that it was easier for him to control them – they were his slaves.

Most disturbingly from the Jedi’s point of view, these Anzati seemed to have been transformed into pack animals whose presence in the Force had almost become non-existent – it was only as a group that Jedi could even begin to detect them.

Karkko was captured and held in stasis for a millennium on the prison world of Kiffex. During his imprisonment, however, his mind remained active, and he was able to draw numerous followers. Over time, his legend grew among the Anzati on Kiffex, who worshiped him as “the Dreamer,” converting his resting place into a sacred temple. Karkko fed his followers’ baser instincts, turning them feral and causing them to prey on the residents and inmates of Kiffex with a ferocity striking even for Anzati.

When he turned to the Dark Side, the Jedi Council was forced to trap Karkko in a stasis field on the prison world of Kiffex, where he languished for many years. The Jedi placed his lightsaber in a smaller stasis field as a warning to other Jedi. However, the dark side energy that surrounded him twisted the local population of Anzati, turning them into feral beings who survived only to do his bidding.

The vulnerable Padawan blamed Quinlan for her loss, and she next fell under the spell of Volfe Karkko, a sinister Dark Jedi held captive on the Kiffex prison moon. Entranced by his dark power, Aayla freed Karkko from his imprisoning stasis field. She also attacked her former master.

Hidden on Kiffex was a Dark Jedi, imprisoned in stasis for a millennium. Volfe Karko was once a powerful Jedi, who succumbed to his Anzati heritage and became a dangerous predator. Consumed by his hunger for blood, Karko turned against the Jedi. He was defeated, and locked in stasis, but his mind remained active. He became an underground legend to other Anzati, who turned his resting ground into a sacred temple. They came to worship at the feet of the Dreamer, proclaiming themselves his spiritual children. Though completely immobile, Karko was able to sap the essence of the Anzati, slowly degenerating them into savage, feral shadows of their previous forms.

30 BBY

Karkko is able to sense and influence Aayla Secura, drawing her to his prison and convincing her to release him. Upon release, Karkko gained total control of both the Anzati population and Aayla Secura, trapping her in a “sea of darkness.” Karkko’s hold on Secura was absolute, and gave her dark side knowledge that enabled her to fight at least on par with her own Master, Quinlan Vos. Had it gone on longer, Karkko would have completely supplanted Aayla’s identity.

Under the sinister influence of Volfe Karkko, Aayla was nearly lost to the dark side forever.

You shall die: Believing that Quinlan Vos was responsible for the death of her uncle, Pol Secura, Aayla, fuelled by the dark side influence of Volfe Karkko, went in search of her mentor. Backed by Karkko’s Anzati associates, she attempted to kill Quinlan.

While on the run, Aayla was inexplicably drawn to the prison moon of Kiffex. There, she fell under the powerful and sinister influence of the Anzati Dark Jedi, Volfe Karkko. Totally bewitched by the power he wielded, Aayla freed Karkko from his imprisoning stasis field, and led his Anzati associates in an attempt to kidnap Quinaln Vos’ mother in revenge for the death of her uncle.

Trial Separation
She also attempted to kill Quinlan. The pair engaged in a hard-fought battle, in which Quinlan was sorely tested. In the melee, Quinlan was able to break Karkko’s spell and bring Aayla back to her senses.

Fortunately for them both, Aayla regained her memories and realized just how far down the dark path she had travelled. Eventually, she reunited with Quinlan against their common foe – Volfe Karkko.

Maladjusted: In thrall of Volfe Karkko, the wayward Aayla had been seduced by the dark side, but, once Quinlan was able to break the Dark Jedi’s spell, the Twi’lek realized how much she had strayed. Once reconciled with Quinlan, the Jedi Council decreed that she should be retrained.

Quinlan and his Jedi companions tracked the source of the Anzati to a site on Kiffu’s sister planet, Kiffex. There, an ancient Anzati Jedi called Volfe Karkko had long been imprisoned and had been gathering warped Anzati to him. He had also snared Aayla and was trying to turn her to the dark side. When Quinlan arrived at the evil Jedi’s tomb-like prison, Aayla attacked. Eventually, she recognized her Master and ceased her attack. Karkko then attacked, and Quinlan only just managed to defeat the powerful dark Jedi.

After arriving on Kiffex in search of Vos, Aayla succumbed to the call of Volfe Karkko, who could communicate with her from inside the stasis field in which he was still imprisoned.

Mind Wash
Karkko had used his telepathic abilities to feed Aayla’s hatred for Vos, and this was stifling the memories that still resided inside her lekku. It was only a matter of time before her mind was wiped clean.

Dark Summons
Desperate to escape, Karkko fed the hate festering inside Aayla and gave weight to her convictions about Vos and the other Jedi. She soon found herself drawn into Karkko’s prison, and released him.

Aayla Secura, still tormented by her damaged memories, accidentally became stranded on the prison world of Kiffex. She freed the fallen Anzati jedi Volfe Karkko from a stasis field, and Karkko rallied an army of his fellow Anzati vampires that overran Kiffex and terrorized the prisoners. Quinlan Vos, with help from his former Master Tholme, killed Karkko and freed Aayla Secura from his Anzati spell. Master Tholme agreed to train Aayla during her long path to recovery.

Terrified by the incident, Aayla fled from pursuing Jedi and fell prey to Volfe Karkko, a Dark Jedi detained on the Kiffexx prison moon. She unwittingly freed him from captivity, spellbound and manipulated by his sinister power.

Even in stasis, Karkko managed to influence Aayla Secura, who traveled to Kiffex to kill her former Master, Quinlan Vos. She released Karkko from his stasis, allowing him to gain complete control over the feral Anzati. Karkko took her as his queen and groomed her to become an extension of his dark side powers.

Still mindwiped, Aayla fled Ryloth and found herself drawn to the presence of Volfe Karkko on the prison world of Kiffex. Karkko took Secura as his queen and groomed her to become an extension of his dark side power. Vos killed Karkko, freeing Secura from his grasp.

The seductive call of Karko beckoned to young Aayla Secura. The amnesia-addled Padawan had voyaged to Kiffex to seek out her former master, but instead found Karko's sepulcher. The frozen Dark Jedi lured Aayla to his tomb, and had her deactivate the stasis shield. She became his pawn in his bid for power. As the feral Anzati "children of the dreamer" ravaged the neighboring prison settlements, Karko waited patiently for more Jedi to come into his reach, so that he could drink from their life essence and grow in power.

Karkko uses telepathy to communicate with Quinlan Vos.

Karkko distracts Quinlan Vos with illusions to land a telekinetic hit, before taunting him further with telepathy.

Karkko was able to tear through Quinlan Vos’s telepathic defenses especially tailored to fight off Anzati.

Over the centuries, the Jedi had developed techniques to counter the telepathic skills of the Anzati, but Karkko used the Force to enhance these skills, and had rendered the Jedi techniques ineffective. This knowledge only added to Vos’s anxiety, while his fear of this particualr Anzati was compounded by his concern for his estranged apprentice Aayla and what the fallen Karkko might be doing to her.

To stay on the light side of the Force in spite of Karkko’s influence, Quinlan Vos needed the support of Jedi Masters T’ra Saa, Tholme, Zao, Mace Windu, Adi Gallia, and Plo Koon.

Vos returned to Kiffex with the Jedi Knights, however, and defeated Karkko in combat. Vos nearly succumbed to the dark side, but the combined contact of Masters T’ra Saa, Tholme, Zao, Mace Windu, Adi Gallia, and Plo Koon gave him the strength to resist the temptation.

Unknown to Vos, Aayla Secura had been drawn to the dark side by a powerful dark Jedi she had awakened from slumber. Volfe Karkko was using Anzati 'vampires' as his foot soldiers, with Secura leading them. Joined by Master Tholme, Quinlan again drifted perilously close to the dark side in his rescue of Aayla and the defeat and death of Karkko.

Force Lightning

C-Canon

~1000 BBY

Karkko conjures a powerful blast of Force lightning during his battle with the Jedi Council.

30 BBY

Karkko nearly kills Aayla Secura with a burst of Force lightning.

Karkko mocks Quinlan’s enraged use of Force lightning, calling himself a master in its use compared to Quinlan’s novice as he easily redirects the lightning strike with some added lightning of his own.

Tutaminis

C-Canon

30 BBY

Karkko channels Quinlan Vos’s lightning through himself without issue, before redirecting it.

Drain

C-Canon

~1000 BBY

Karkko fed on many other beings, including several Jedi. In feeding on the Jedi, he gained some of their connection to the Force.

It was the start of a desperate addiction. With each passing day, his need to indulge his habit became increasingly greater, until he was even draining the life energies out of his fellow Jedi.

Volfe Karkko was arrogant, believing that he could overcome his species’ innate desire to consume the “soup” of another being’s brain. In his arrogance, Karkko told himself that tasting the soup just once would not affect him, but instead it left him longing to feed quite often. He even fed on other Jedi, gathering a measure of their strength in the Force, and eventually used his control of the Force to trap and consume other beings.

~1000 BBY to 30 BBY

Volfe sapped the life essences of all the Anzati in the area - drinking their soups and that of their victims on top of controlling them. Through his mental domination and draining efforts, Volfe is responsible for the complete degeneration of all the Anzati on Kiffex, and the depletion of the Force within them.

Volfe plans to drain the Jedi that arrive to stop him, indicating confidence in his ability to overpower them. After draining them, he would become only more powerful.

If Karkko was ever to face down the might of the Jedi Order, he needed more substantial resources than he had used in the past. Over the centuries, his spirit had drawn other Anzati to Kiffex, and during this time his will had corrupted them, causing them to degenerate into an almost feral subspecies. This process meant that it was easier for him to control them – they were his slaves.

Most disturbingly from the Jedi’s point of view, these Anzati seemed to have been transformed into pack animals whose presence in the Force had almost become non-existent – it was only as a group that Jedi could even begin to detect them.

Hidden on Kiffex was a Dark Jedi, imprisoned in stasis for a millennium. Volfe Karko was once a powerful Jedi, who succumbed to his Anzati heritage and became a dangerous predator. Consumed by his hunger for blood, Karko turned against the Jedi. He was defeated, and locked in stasis, but his mind remained active. He became an underground legend to other Anzati, who turned his resting ground into a sacred temple. They came to worship at the feet of the Dreamer, proclaiming themselves his spiritual children. Though completely immobile, Karko was able to sap the essence of the Anzati, slowly degenerating them into savage, feral shadows of their previous forms.

The seductive call of Karko beckoned to young Aayla Secura. The amnesia-addled Padawan had voyaged to Kiffex to seek out her former master, but instead found Karko's sepulcher. The frozen Dark Jedi lured Aayla to his tomb, and had her deactivate the stasis shield. She became his pawn in his bid for power. As the feral Anzati "children of the dreamer" ravaged the neighboring prison settlements, Karko waited patiently for more Jedi to come into his reach, so that he could drink from their life essence and grow in power.

30 BBY

Karkko stands to benefit from his primitive Anzati slaves by using them as intermediaries to bring him “soup” from sentient creatures to sate his hunger and give him power.

To T’ra Saa, Karkko seems a parasitic weed to the entire planet of Kiffex.

Karkko laughs that Jedi may have protections from being drained by most Anzati, but not against an Anzati Jedi such as himself, and moves to drain Quinlan.

Lightsaber Combat Skill

C-Canon

~1000 BBY

Volfe Karkko defeated many people, including other Jedi, and drained them of their life essence. He came to do battle against several (at least four) members of the Jedi Council, blade-to-blade, and seemingly kills at least one Councilor with his lightsaber.

Volfe Karkko was arrogant, believing that he could overcome his species’ innate desire to consume the “soup” of another being’s brain. In his arrogance, Karkko told himself that tasting the soup just once would not affect him, but instead it left him longing to feed quite often. He even fed on other Jedi, gathering a measure of their strength in the Force, and eventually used his control of the Force to trap and consume other beings.

30 BBY

Volfe Karkko handily fends off an enraged Quinlan Vos, despite only being willing to go for the kill via drain. Only once Quinlan overcomes his fear and is aided by the meditations of Tholme, T’ra Saa, and Zao is Quinlan able to recover and cut Karkko down.

Physical Ability

C-Canon

30 BBY

Karkko easily keeps up with Quinlan Vos, catching Vos’s first strike without any strain.

Karkko simply tanks the initial stages of Quinlan Vos’s lightning attack.

Karkko quickly recovers from Quinlan Vos’s kick to his face.

Intelligence/Wisdom/Knowledge

C-Canon

General

Volfe Karkko is known for his prolonged study of one of the Jedi Temple’s Sith holocrons.

Another influential jedi persuaded by Dooku was the Anzati Nikkos Tyris. In exchange for his allegiance, Dooku promised Tyris access to his Sith holocron – the same one that had been accessed by the Anzati Jedi Volfe Karkko.

Some historians have speculated that the attitudes of the early Sith people were owed to a prehistoric encounter between their species and the vampiric beings known as the Anzati. Volfe Karkko, a rare Anzat Jedi known for his prolonged study of one of the Jedi Temple's rare Sith holocrons, was fond of reminding his fellow Knights that the Anzati "remember the very first Sith." Beyond the anecdotal, though, there is no solid evidence to support this theory.

It was Volfe Karkko’s teachings that inspired Nikkos Tyris to leave the Jedi and establish the Jensaarai Order.

Thousands of years later, during the Clone Wars, an Anzat Jedi named Nikkos Tyris learned of his predecessor, the Jedi Volfe Karkko, and how he fell to the dark side. Curious, Tyris made a great effort to obtain Karkko's apocryphal teachings in which he found frequent reference to and snippets from Sith tomes. Looking on Karkko as a role model and lured to Count Dooku by his possession of one of Karkko's most cherished Sith holocrons, Tyris was slowly seduced into the darkness. Claiming he'd found the Saarai or "True Way," Tyris split from the Jedi Order, attracting many Jedi to himself, including the infamous Bpfasshi marauders. However, Tyris and most of his followers were slain by Jedi forces.

This Anzati was one of the most powerful of the Saarai-kaar leaders of the Jensaarai, who discovered Sith teachings during the Clone Wars. These teachings were the work of one of his predecessors, Volfe Karkko, and described how Karkko had been seduced by the dark side of the Force.

Summary

As an Anzat, the most important thing to keep in mind is that Volfe Karkko’s power is variable. Whenever he drains someone, he gains some part of the Force inside of them. This is much greater when the victim is a Jedi than when it is a non Force user.

Karkko was a “great Jedi” before going on a killing spree and draining many Jedi (making him one of those “rare and terrible” Anzati who had drained Force users). At that point, he believed himself able to fight the Jedi Order on his own, and came too close for the Jedi’s comfort – his battles carried across multiple planets before the end. He was strong enough to fight four or more members of the Jedi Council at once and make it a close fight.

However, a point is made for Dannik Jerriko that Force users’ boosts last “longer” than those of other beings, suggesting that whatever boost Anzati gain from draining Force users is only temporary. This is supported by Volfe’s mission upon revival to be supping on Jedi soup to become “very strong again.”

That being said, Volfe had leeched off of the entire planet’s population of Anzati throughout his entire 1000 year imprisonment, and was brought several sacrifices by Aayla Secura for the express purpose of restoring him. Aayla, after capturing several live victims, had deemed it “enough.” So even though Volfe is seemingly not as strong as he used to be, he is still going to be at least as strong as his base state pre-draining Jedi and pre-stasis – likely a fair bit stronger.

In his modern state, Volfe is able to telepathically dominate Aayla Secura (and all the degenerated Anzati) 24/7. He is repeatedly presented as a foe well beyond any one of the on-planet Jedi (Quinlan Vos, Tholme, T’ra Saa, and Zao), and someone that they all need to work together to defeat.

Indeed, when Quinlan engages Volfe in a fight, he is embarrassed for most of it. Karkko quickly shows superior saber-work, physical prowess, telekinetic ability, telepathy, and Force lightning skill, and has Quinlan within seconds of being drained. Karkko is treated as an Emperor figure, trying to corrupt Vos and Aayla, and unbeatable to Vos in a direct battle.

It’s only when the three on-planet Jedi Masters (and, per some peripheral material, the approaching three Council Members as well), brought to Kiffex by the Force itself to defeat Karkko, lend him their mental aid that Quinlan is able to break out of Karkko’s hold and cut him down.

Volfe, after having drained Vos, is confident that he would be able to kill Tholme, T’ra Saa, and Zao, and take their life energies too, at which point he considers himself to be “unstoppable” – even more powerful than he had been when he had faced the Council the first time and been trapped. His end goal is once again to destroy the entire Jedi Order himself. Mace Windu, working under the assumption that Karkko had already succeeded in feasting on the energies of Vos, Tholme, and Saa, brings with him Plo Koon and Adi Gallia to make sure Karkko doesn’t escape Kiffex, and asks Saesee Tiin to follow behind with as many other Jedi as possible.

Karkko is described as “old” even before his stasis and appears at least middle-aged. For an Anzat, this means that he’s at least several centuries old, possibly even over a thousand. This is time spent as a Jedi, becoming “great”, before turning to the dark side. His betrayal has even more considerable implications than that of Nikkos Tyris.

Karkko is also implied to be generally superior to Tyris in that Tyris modeled his dark side philosophies after Karkko’s – a teacher/follower relationship that can be easily likened to that between Darth Revan and Darth Bane.

Beyond that, Karkko seems more likely to leverage his species-inherent drain and hypnosis abilities than Tyris does. This is what allows him to mind-dominate strong beings and many beings, and he is able to use his drain mid-fight as his killing move. This is also an important part of what makes Karkko as dangerous as he is – upon winning a fight against a Force user, he takes their powers and becomes much stronger in a very immediate sense.

We only see one fight from Karkko in full, but he seems to fight very intelligently. He is not one to hold back on any of his powers – he has great skill with a lightsaber, with telekinesis, with telepathy, with Force lightning, and with drain, and he chains those in quick succession, dominating Quinlan Vos and then switching the playing field before he has any kind of chance to adapt or recover.

Respect the Dreamer!

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