A Teller of Many Tales
It was the season of war, or at least it seemed like it to the lupine considering recent events. He slipped along the streets, his hands in his pockets, taking a look around as he went. It seemed to him this particular faction was better than most at taking care of its people. The streets were clean, the air too, but the cynical side of his nature wondered where they buried the bones. He had anticipated simply getting accepted and starting to work, but was told a meeting place and the name of the one who was to meet him.
Gerwald Lechner. The flavor of the name was interesting, but finding information on the man? He’d have sooner luck walking naked through a blizzard on Hoth. He had no contacts here and no one he had casually asked would speak. Quite impressive, but it did beg the question of just who was this person. Were they high on the food chain? He supposed he could resort to the Holonet, but instead he just let it be. Honestly, it was nice to be ignorant, it gave his mind something to chew over.
He was used to going into most situations like this prepared. He usually knew who and what he’d face and knew what to say to appeal to the one he met. This time he was walking into territory that was unscouted and he enjoyed the anticipation. The place he was meeting at was some classy little brewery, he paused to look up at it and sighed inwardly. When he walked in it looked spotless, but there was no smell of the brews. He looked along a wall of glass and saw the metallic prisons confining the smells within.
A woman walked up and smiled. “Mister Eris I presume?”
One eyebrow rose and he tilted his head with a smirk. “I guess I am.”
“Mister Lechner will meet you up top, just go up the stairs and it's the first door on the left.”
He shifted to look to where she had pointed and followed instructions. Upstairs was a more private venue, a place for v.i.p’s or for whatever. Meticulously cleaned like the rest and when he walked into the room he leaned against the table. He had no desire to be sitting when the stranger walked in, he assumed they had given the girl the picture he had applied with. Not that the application had required much. What had been interesting was when he’d been asked if he was force sensitive. He’d been asked what ideology he trained under and when he’d told the application droid there had been some confusion. After all, he had trained under none.
He supposed this could be the only hang up, which begged the question, was who he was meeting another follower of the Force? His original teacher had been Jedi, till he’d become disillusioned. He had gone to the Sith and subsequently the ‘dark side’ till even they had left him tasting salt. In the last season of his life he ran into himself and taught him what he’d learned. He’d been a bit crazy by that point, spending his time shaping the landscape around him. Mostly out of extreme paranoia that both sides still hunted him and wanted what he knew. Vanir of course never saw any evidence of it, but learned what he could till the old man passed on.
Now he dabbled here and there with his own projects wandering for his own reasons. Furthering his education, such as it was, on his to-do list though he tended to err on the side of ‘when that moment is right, the Force will decide’ rather than his own choosing. Right now he’d settle for employment. It wasn’t that he was hard up for credits, he had enough to live on for a good year or two. That however would dry up and having a predictable job, insofar as his duties likely would be less than, appealed. He had termed himself as ‘support’ in terms of his force talents. While he could park himself in field triage, he was better supporting a team with his skills and healing their wounds.
He was better roaming and doing what he could for a small party, not spending himself dry on a conveyor belt of wounded. No. There were already healers and medics more suited to that kind of job. An odd position to take to be sure, but he also had a bad habit of ignoring faction lines and healing any injured he came across. In the end it was better he treat only faces he was assigned to, doing otherwise generally pissed other people off. Only reason why it never caused too much problems was because he could be quite persuasive and repentant. He could walk whatever line he chose, wear whatever mask he needed, if it got him to where he chose as his point to be.
Gerwald Lechner
Gerwald Lechner. The flavor of the name was interesting, but finding information on the man? He’d have sooner luck walking naked through a blizzard on Hoth. He had no contacts here and no one he had casually asked would speak. Quite impressive, but it did beg the question of just who was this person. Were they high on the food chain? He supposed he could resort to the Holonet, but instead he just let it be. Honestly, it was nice to be ignorant, it gave his mind something to chew over.
He was used to going into most situations like this prepared. He usually knew who and what he’d face and knew what to say to appeal to the one he met. This time he was walking into territory that was unscouted and he enjoyed the anticipation. The place he was meeting at was some classy little brewery, he paused to look up at it and sighed inwardly. When he walked in it looked spotless, but there was no smell of the brews. He looked along a wall of glass and saw the metallic prisons confining the smells within.
A woman walked up and smiled. “Mister Eris I presume?”
One eyebrow rose and he tilted his head with a smirk. “I guess I am.”
“Mister Lechner will meet you up top, just go up the stairs and it's the first door on the left.”
He shifted to look to where she had pointed and followed instructions. Upstairs was a more private venue, a place for v.i.p’s or for whatever. Meticulously cleaned like the rest and when he walked into the room he leaned against the table. He had no desire to be sitting when the stranger walked in, he assumed they had given the girl the picture he had applied with. Not that the application had required much. What had been interesting was when he’d been asked if he was force sensitive. He’d been asked what ideology he trained under and when he’d told the application droid there had been some confusion. After all, he had trained under none.
He supposed this could be the only hang up, which begged the question, was who he was meeting another follower of the Force? His original teacher had been Jedi, till he’d become disillusioned. He had gone to the Sith and subsequently the ‘dark side’ till even they had left him tasting salt. In the last season of his life he ran into himself and taught him what he’d learned. He’d been a bit crazy by that point, spending his time shaping the landscape around him. Mostly out of extreme paranoia that both sides still hunted him and wanted what he knew. Vanir of course never saw any evidence of it, but learned what he could till the old man passed on.
Now he dabbled here and there with his own projects wandering for his own reasons. Furthering his education, such as it was, on his to-do list though he tended to err on the side of ‘when that moment is right, the Force will decide’ rather than his own choosing. Right now he’d settle for employment. It wasn’t that he was hard up for credits, he had enough to live on for a good year or two. That however would dry up and having a predictable job, insofar as his duties likely would be less than, appealed. He had termed himself as ‘support’ in terms of his force talents. While he could park himself in field triage, he was better supporting a team with his skills and healing their wounds.
He was better roaming and doing what he could for a small party, not spending himself dry on a conveyor belt of wounded. No. There were already healers and medics more suited to that kind of job. An odd position to take to be sure, but he also had a bad habit of ignoring faction lines and healing any injured he came across. In the end it was better he treat only faces he was assigned to, doing otherwise generally pissed other people off. Only reason why it never caused too much problems was because he could be quite persuasive and repentant. He could walk whatever line he chose, wear whatever mask he needed, if it got him to where he chose as his point to be.
Gerwald Lechner
