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A new life

Sargon Vynea

Spencer's guard unicorn
Writer
The still air of the ship filtered a thousand times over was stale in Sargon's nose. His time aboard ships had left a distaste in them in him. They lacked the character of a planet's atmosphere even the harsher ones left a man feeling alive compared to this machine driven air. He didn't bother to complain about it even to himself though he was simply happy to be here. One wrong contract had lead him to sneaking off to his new home in the Fringe. Instead of hiding he had chosen a simpler path legitimacy. It paid less but what use was wealth you had to keep hidden under your bed in the slums?

His steps echoed through empty hallway his legionaries off duty and sleeping through the 'night'. Sargon was still on a different cycle and instead of wasting the effort of tossing in bed he decided it would be better spent getting some gym time in. He'd always figured in the military he'd never lack physical training time but duties kept him occupied in other ways. He did a morning workout with his men but hand to hand combat never really got on the agenda. He understood it most of his men knew only the basics and they really didn't need much more than that. Sargon however had been training in the martial arts since before he could remember under his father's tutelage.

On a smaller ship he would be lucky to find anyone in the gym at this time, but aboard a troop transport of this size there were a half a dozen large gyms and all of them at least partially occupied. The legionaries on board knew at any moment they could be engaged sent to battle ships like these weren't cheap and being assigned to one so close to the border promised action. Despite his distaste for space travel he had to admit he preferred it to garrison duty where parades might be your most exciting duty. Sargon understood enough to know once these types of ships were fully manned you were most likely in for a ride.

The echo of his footsteps went silent as he stepped into the gym nearest to his room. As most of the units in this part of the ship were well into lights out it was sparsely populated for its size but still with enough life to kill the silence. Moving off to a spacious corner designated for combat training a few simple rings, a bit of open space and a variety of bags. A few eyes went his way and a few nods but that was all. He expected the looks he was of average height but average ended there. His dark red skin could be seen clearly against the sterile white walls and while he was no ridiculously large body builder his body was a finely tuned machine which sported little fat.

He'd decided long ago that fat on a body was a sign of three possibilities; disinterest in the physical or simply a sign of wealth and power. Some people simply didn't care about their physical it wasn't even as simple as laziness their pursuits just went in other directions. Others simply had so much excess they could afford physical weakness, and of course there was the lazy but they weren't worth his notice for the lazy would never rise up. Sargon knew his trade though and any disinterest in the physical simply meant he would die young. Being a Zabrak it was even more of a waste though his second heart increasing his endurance beyond what many species simple were capable of.

As his thoughts lingered on the physical he stepped before a wall of mirrors. Some thought these walls were for vanity but the trained knew their true purpose. Stretching out Sargon could watch his forms and check them for error self awareness was a strength one always needed. His bright purple eyes burned like a flame against the dark color of his skin the color nearly matched the color of his blood. His facial tattoos stood out as they circles under his eyes and flew out like wings under his horns.He was quite proud of his horns. The had shaped neatly into a v like pattern the center horn just above the middle of his forehead curved towards the back and had grown in long.

Moving into his first forms he battled invisible opponents each movement precise. In combat reaction had to be instantaneous divorced of thought and hesitation. As his body flowed through motions that were as second nature as breathing his mind cleared and his thoughts traveled over what was to come. He still wasn't sure what to expect in the Fringe and even more so from his service in the legion. He was enjoying its sense of brotherhood and had risen to his rank quickly but where it went from here he wasn't sure. Was this life for him? His future or simply a stepping stone? As a sheen of sweat slowly formed on him he poured all of himself into his movements. The universe and its troubles forgotten beyond the physical joy of the moment.

((OOC: Eh figured it be a differ kind of intro if anyone would like to enter feel free if not I'll move it to a more formal area))
 
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