Myla Rentallia
New Member
Myla Rentallia was frankly a humble Padawan. One that was never particularly ambitious or in any rush to become a higher ranking Jedi. Nor did she particularly make herself stick out intentionally. She instead stuck to her own devices. The young Amaran occasionally trained, granted at her leisure, and often spent more time in the hangars or engineering bays of the planet. She spent time on utilizing her background to make repairs to ships, weapons, and droids. Especially droids. She often spent her time working on a variety of pet projects, and she often enjoyed utilizing her creative gifts for the benefit of those around her. It was something to keep herself occupied with, and it was something she was good at. The young Amaran however often became discouraged, especially during days like this one.
She had been scolded, reprimanded for not training as much as she should. After the devastation, near apocalyptic assault across the galaxy, she was often told that she ought to be considered lucky to be a survivor, and that there was responsibility to be a peace keeper. To push herself to new heights in order to fulfill that goal. However, she had to ask herself at times. If she was meant to be a peace keeper, then shouldn't she be able to also reap and experience that peace? She grew somewhat concerned also, as she heard that she was going to be reported for her seeming inaction. So, a Jedi may have heard a little something like this about Myla Rentallia.
"Absolutely unmotivated. She spends her time in workshops and shipyards more than she does in the training halls. At this point, I would question if she is ever looking to advance in the order." When visiting young Myla however, or looking up her file, one might find out that she was barely fourteen. Quite literally a child. A small one that stood several feet shorter than most, with a calm gaze. Her quarters had a primitive workshop with smaller projects, tools, and various blueprints. A pair of goggles hung from a hook on the wall nearby. Around her waist hung a mechanic's belt with a utility bandolier over her shoulder, looking more like mechanic staff than a Jedi.
However, her lightsaber hung along that belt. Rising, she bows her head politely, abandoning her current project, turning to the doorway of which her visitor may arrive. "Greetings. My name is Myla Rentallia. How may I assist you today?~"
She had been scolded, reprimanded for not training as much as she should. After the devastation, near apocalyptic assault across the galaxy, she was often told that she ought to be considered lucky to be a survivor, and that there was responsibility to be a peace keeper. To push herself to new heights in order to fulfill that goal. However, she had to ask herself at times. If she was meant to be a peace keeper, then shouldn't she be able to also reap and experience that peace? She grew somewhat concerned also, as she heard that she was going to be reported for her seeming inaction. So, a Jedi may have heard a little something like this about Myla Rentallia.
"Absolutely unmotivated. She spends her time in workshops and shipyards more than she does in the training halls. At this point, I would question if she is ever looking to advance in the order." When visiting young Myla however, or looking up her file, one might find out that she was barely fourteen. Quite literally a child. A small one that stood several feet shorter than most, with a calm gaze. Her quarters had a primitive workshop with smaller projects, tools, and various blueprints. A pair of goggles hung from a hook on the wall nearby. Around her waist hung a mechanic's belt with a utility bandolier over her shoulder, looking more like mechanic staff than a Jedi.
However, her lightsaber hung along that belt. Rising, she bows her head politely, abandoning her current project, turning to the doorway of which her visitor may arrive. "Greetings. My name is Myla Rentallia. How may I assist you today?~"