My mother was a cantina dancer, and my father was…someone. We were slaves belonging to the Sith Lord Redtail. From his family I received my namesake. We served the Redtails in various sundry entertainments and lavish parties that Sith royalty sometimes threw in their machinations and political maneuvering. My mother danced, and I served. Lord Redtail made a gift of us to Barada the Hutt when an alliance with the crime lord became advantageous. Thus we came to Nar Shaddaa.
Barada was decadent and cruel, even by Hutt standards. At least Sith society demanded certain structures and forms; with Barada, only pleasure mattered. He was capricious and unpredictable. As I grew and matured, Barada’s eye turned towards me. The Hutt would finally require of me the unthinkable, but that was too much for my mother. She intervened before the Hutt could fulfill his desire, and I escaped. I do not know what became of her.
I spent two years on Nar Shaddaa’s lower levels, growing thin from hunger. I learned to do what survival necessitated, often stealing to eat. I felt ashamed, but grew accustomed to the practice. I saw my chance to leave the hated planet, and stowed away on a smuggler’s ship, hiding amongst the cargo. I did not care where I went at the time, but I see now that the Force was guiding me.
The smuggler’s ship brought me to Coruscant of all places, where one of the first things I did was try to steal from a Jedi Knight. A Jedi! I can’t believe I was stupid (or desperate) enough to try that. Of course, the Jedi caught me. Though my attempted theft irritated him, the Jedi recognized the Force in me. Instead of turning me over to the Republic, he brought me to the Jedi Order and became a kind of master I never knew possible.
Master Cyphus was like a father. Training me could not have been easy: my time on Nar Shaddaa’s streets developed in me a sarcastic outlook unbecoming of a Jedi, and my time as a…slave…has left me wary of authority, a habit of thinking I struggle to control still.