Born in 2261 on the Klingon home world of Qo'nos, Kr'aat'ch completed his rite of passage/coming of age and immediately entered the Klingon military. Ranking high in every field of training necessary, he quickly gained the attention of all the right people. His ferocity in battle, combined with his ability to keep a cool and calculating head under duress, earned him great honour and respect from peers and tutors alike.

Excelling in hand-to-hand combat and the martial arts, it wasn't long before he was leading his own troops on battle missions. Again exceeding the expectations of his superiors, he routinely returned from these often highly dangerous missions not only successful, but with his entire platoon intact. Soon he found himself serving under those who would become great names on a galactic level; General Mar'tok and even the soon to be High Council Leader K'mpec.

After almost eighty years of loyal service to the empire, the short-lived civil-war took it's toll on a fine officer. When his superior officer, having sided with the Duras family, ordered the execution of a house loyal to Gowron, Kr'aat'ch and his best were sent to carry it out. Having despatched the guards they entered the main building and proceeded to butcher the residents. When all but the young children remained, Kr'aat'ch called a halt and requested further orders from his commander. The order came through to kill everyone even the children. Kr'aat'ch would not allow the slaughter of innocents but could not react fast enough to keep his men from carrying out the death sentence.

Madder than hell itself at the sight of the mutilated little corpses, he turned on his own troops and cut them down to the last man. Filled with remorse for his failure to protect the young ones he wandered through the household looking for any possible survivors, knowing it to be futile. He was to be proven wrong by the wailings of a small child. Following these sounds he came to the nursery and found a baby, no more than one year old (klingon years).

Lifting her from the crib as gently as his blood soaked hands could muster, he swiftly wrapped her in a blanket and fled the scene in shame never to return to his homeworld. Since then he has travelled the galaxy, freighter to freighter, planet to planet, taking jobs as bodyguard, bouncer, mercenary, whatever he could find. And always the child, now his adopted daughter, was his first priority.