Joran Del-Finn
Smuggler by day. Snuggler by night.
[member="Deisa Vesz"]
An alarm rang throughout the cargo freighter as it entered real space above Dantooine, waking the ship’s only inhabitant, Captain Joran Del-Finn. Captain Del-Finn begrudgingly rolled off the couch he ended up falling asleep on, joints popping and muscles straining as he stretched out the night’s tension. Chills ran up his body as his bare feet touched down on the cool metal floor of the ship as he left his bed and made his way to the refresher, Joran cupped his hands, collecting water from the sink, splashing on his face in an attempt to wake himself up. Staring himself in the mirror he could see the years etched on his face. Barely older than thirty the captain wore the hardships of his life on his face giving him the look of someone almost ten years older.
Joran finished himself in the refresher, he had showered, shaved and brushed his teeth and had moved on to his quarters, beginning to get dressed. The day called for formal wear and Joran would not disappoint. He dressed himself in a suit made of the finest Nubian silks, all black pants, a black jacket with gold trim, a golden undershirt and a silver tie. Joran looked absolutely dapper, if looks could kill, he would be pure weapons grade handsome.
In the time it had taken him to get dressed the auto pilot had taken him down into the atmosphere to be contacted by planetary security. Joran sent his landing codes and waited to be hailed back.
“everything checks out, Perseverance. Glad to have you back, Captain Del-Finn.”
Joran chose not to respond instead just landing his ship. He hated being back on Dantooine. It was a place he tried to be rid of more than once in the past, and today would be the last day he set foot here again, he told himself over his breakfast of a piece of bread and two bottles of Nubian wine.
Located in the outer rim Dantooine was a serene, peaceful, olive, brown, and blue world far removed from the hustle and bustle of the main trade lanes. Two moons floated in the skies above the savannahs of lavender and yellow grasses.
Separated by spiky blba tree forests, the people of Dantooine maintained individual family estates largely isolated from each other on the main continent which was identified by its various geographical regions. To the southeast, there were the Rielig Steppes, with the Burad Hills at their southeastern corner. The Northeast section was identified as the Fields of Banir, which held the ruins of an ancient Jedi temple. To the Northwest, there were the Arissi Plains, with the Mosa Rishin region and Taikaha Hills connecting to the southwestern Darjani Plains.
The people of Dantooine made their living as farmers for the most part. A simple life for simple people and Joran hardly thought of himself as simple and he was certainly not a farmer. He had no place here, it was place he was born but it wasn’t home and the faster he was gone the better.
Joran took a cab to the cemetery. Taking a deep breath and taking a swallow from his flask, Joran got out of the speeder and took measured lingering steps into the graveyard. It wasn’t difficult to see where he was suppose to go, there was an open grave and a crowd of people, Joran made is way over and found her amongst the crowd. He did not go over to her however, he lingered in the back listening as the holy man gave some words of comfort before having the casket lowered into the ground.
The crowd began to disperse going back to their normal lives and Joran finally went over to her. He eyes lit up when she saw him with a big beautiful smile across her face, Joran was beaming as well, he bent down to wrap her up in a big hug.
“It’s good to see you mom.” in the way that Joran wore all his hardships on his face, looking older than he was, his mother was the complete opposite. She would be sixty years old in a few years but you would never be able to tell by looking at her. She was tall, athletic and looked fifteen years younger.
“Have you been drinking boy?” she was stern. Every mother thinks no matter how old their children are they can still punish them.
“No Momma, the mouth wash I have has alcohol in it.” and Joran still never wanted to disappoint her.
“It’s a shame Selonna isn’t with you.” but sometimes it was unavoidable. His mother had only met Selonna a handful of times but she had adored the woman her son had married. It had hit her almost as hard as it hit Joran when she left.
“Yeah.” he mumbled in response. He did not like taking about his wife. He knew she left because of him and that if he had stopped for just a second and listened to her, he would probably still have her and his daughter to come home to. Karking hell did he need a drink.
“Love you, Ma. Sorry about granddad. I’m going to Merrick’s.” he loved his mother but these last few years had been hard on Joran and he wasn’t overly comfortable around her or anyone that knew anything personal about him.
“Need more mouthwash?” as she said it she placed a hand on Joran’s cheek. She didn’t necessarily approve of her son’s life but she still loved him and he knew it.
Joran kissed his mother on the cheek and left, walking to Merrick’s and finishing his flask on the way. By the time he had gotten to the bar his steps were a bit shaky but nothing too noticeable.
Joran took a seat at the bar and gave a quick look around the place. The décor was simple but well received by the population. It was not very busy now, but then again it was only about eleven in the morning. Later when the farmers had all their work done the bar would be full, it always had been when Joran had worked here but that was years ago. The way his mother tells it though the place is still doing very well.
It had been almost fifteen years since the bar’s original owner and Joran’s mentor Merrick had died. In the time since the bar passed to Joran’s mother who showing surprising business acumen absorbed three other local bars and even started her own brewing company which produced one of the most popular beers on the whole planet. She was even talking about getting it distributed as far away as Coruscant.
Joran ordered one of his mother’s beers, she called it the widow maker. It was clean and smooth, easy on the hops and easy on the palate; the light bodied ale had a surprising depth of malt flavors with pleasant hints of a smoky molasses. Joran drained his glass and ordered another.
He said he wanted to get off the planet as soon as possible, but now that he was back in Merrick’s and enjoying his beer he may just stay and see if Dantooine had anything to offer.
An alarm rang throughout the cargo freighter as it entered real space above Dantooine, waking the ship’s only inhabitant, Captain Joran Del-Finn. Captain Del-Finn begrudgingly rolled off the couch he ended up falling asleep on, joints popping and muscles straining as he stretched out the night’s tension. Chills ran up his body as his bare feet touched down on the cool metal floor of the ship as he left his bed and made his way to the refresher, Joran cupped his hands, collecting water from the sink, splashing on his face in an attempt to wake himself up. Staring himself in the mirror he could see the years etched on his face. Barely older than thirty the captain wore the hardships of his life on his face giving him the look of someone almost ten years older.
Joran finished himself in the refresher, he had showered, shaved and brushed his teeth and had moved on to his quarters, beginning to get dressed. The day called for formal wear and Joran would not disappoint. He dressed himself in a suit made of the finest Nubian silks, all black pants, a black jacket with gold trim, a golden undershirt and a silver tie. Joran looked absolutely dapper, if looks could kill, he would be pure weapons grade handsome.
In the time it had taken him to get dressed the auto pilot had taken him down into the atmosphere to be contacted by planetary security. Joran sent his landing codes and waited to be hailed back.
“everything checks out, Perseverance. Glad to have you back, Captain Del-Finn.”
Joran chose not to respond instead just landing his ship. He hated being back on Dantooine. It was a place he tried to be rid of more than once in the past, and today would be the last day he set foot here again, he told himself over his breakfast of a piece of bread and two bottles of Nubian wine.
Located in the outer rim Dantooine was a serene, peaceful, olive, brown, and blue world far removed from the hustle and bustle of the main trade lanes. Two moons floated in the skies above the savannahs of lavender and yellow grasses.
Separated by spiky blba tree forests, the people of Dantooine maintained individual family estates largely isolated from each other on the main continent which was identified by its various geographical regions. To the southeast, there were the Rielig Steppes, with the Burad Hills at their southeastern corner. The Northeast section was identified as the Fields of Banir, which held the ruins of an ancient Jedi temple. To the Northwest, there were the Arissi Plains, with the Mosa Rishin region and Taikaha Hills connecting to the southwestern Darjani Plains.
The people of Dantooine made their living as farmers for the most part. A simple life for simple people and Joran hardly thought of himself as simple and he was certainly not a farmer. He had no place here, it was place he was born but it wasn’t home and the faster he was gone the better.
Joran took a cab to the cemetery. Taking a deep breath and taking a swallow from his flask, Joran got out of the speeder and took measured lingering steps into the graveyard. It wasn’t difficult to see where he was suppose to go, there was an open grave and a crowd of people, Joran made is way over and found her amongst the crowd. He did not go over to her however, he lingered in the back listening as the holy man gave some words of comfort before having the casket lowered into the ground.
The crowd began to disperse going back to their normal lives and Joran finally went over to her. He eyes lit up when she saw him with a big beautiful smile across her face, Joran was beaming as well, he bent down to wrap her up in a big hug.
“It’s good to see you mom.” in the way that Joran wore all his hardships on his face, looking older than he was, his mother was the complete opposite. She would be sixty years old in a few years but you would never be able to tell by looking at her. She was tall, athletic and looked fifteen years younger.
“Have you been drinking boy?” she was stern. Every mother thinks no matter how old their children are they can still punish them.
“No Momma, the mouth wash I have has alcohol in it.” and Joran still never wanted to disappoint her.
“It’s a shame Selonna isn’t with you.” but sometimes it was unavoidable. His mother had only met Selonna a handful of times but she had adored the woman her son had married. It had hit her almost as hard as it hit Joran when she left.
“Yeah.” he mumbled in response. He did not like taking about his wife. He knew she left because of him and that if he had stopped for just a second and listened to her, he would probably still have her and his daughter to come home to. Karking hell did he need a drink.
“Love you, Ma. Sorry about granddad. I’m going to Merrick’s.” he loved his mother but these last few years had been hard on Joran and he wasn’t overly comfortable around her or anyone that knew anything personal about him.
“Need more mouthwash?” as she said it she placed a hand on Joran’s cheek. She didn’t necessarily approve of her son’s life but she still loved him and he knew it.
Joran kissed his mother on the cheek and left, walking to Merrick’s and finishing his flask on the way. By the time he had gotten to the bar his steps were a bit shaky but nothing too noticeable.
Joran took a seat at the bar and gave a quick look around the place. The décor was simple but well received by the population. It was not very busy now, but then again it was only about eleven in the morning. Later when the farmers had all their work done the bar would be full, it always had been when Joran had worked here but that was years ago. The way his mother tells it though the place is still doing very well.
It had been almost fifteen years since the bar’s original owner and Joran’s mentor Merrick had died. In the time since the bar passed to Joran’s mother who showing surprising business acumen absorbed three other local bars and even started her own brewing company which produced one of the most popular beers on the whole planet. She was even talking about getting it distributed as far away as Coruscant.
Joran ordered one of his mother’s beers, she called it the widow maker. It was clean and smooth, easy on the hops and easy on the palate; the light bodied ale had a surprising depth of malt flavors with pleasant hints of a smoky molasses. Joran drained his glass and ordered another.
He said he wanted to get off the planet as soon as possible, but now that he was back in Merrick’s and enjoying his beer he may just stay and see if Dantooine had anything to offer.
