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Crash Course


The Fist of Nar Shaddaa

It was just past dark, the last lights of the little village turning on in fear of the coming darkness. The small hamlet had come under fire recently by a group of dark people. The Jedi Order had yet to do anything about the mess, stating their hands were full and there was nothing they could do until there were qualified individuals ready to handle it. The villagers had come to their senses after a couple more raids. Realizing the Jedi weren’t going to come until it directly concerned them. The people of the village called out to the stars, hoping for loaded guns to answer their prayers…what they got was one step above that.

Enter MacTavis Vox, five feet ten inches tall, his muscles were toned yet not bulky, his build followed suit, it was his heritage. His people were skilled hunters and it showed in their lean bodies. His tribal tattoos marked his face, though the locals just thought them exotic decoration. His most distinguishing feature was his luscious dreaded locks, bursting from his head like ivy and cascading around his strong features, smelling of rose blossom and spice. The townspeople were quite impressed with him. He had convinced him he was stronger than he was, but that was just business tactics to get them to hire him.

The inn the Kiffar warrior was staying in had a lovely house mead, the sweet honey imported from Naboo, it was the specialty carried from father to son through multiple generations said the bartender, though Tav just figured he was full of bantha droppings and feeding the mercenary the same swill he was selling the rest of the masses. He smiled and nodded anyhow, free beer was free beer after all. There would be plenty of time for practice in the morning, however tonight would be the final celebration before he officially accepted his first legit job since he escaped the Corellian Army.

After he finished his pint, MacTavish arose from his seat at the bar, the entire crowd seemed to stop and take in his actions, they knew he wasn’t a Jedi but they also knew he wasn’t just a mercenary either. They knew a Force User when they saw one and as limited as his powers were, Tav did have some abilities in the living Force. Their eyes followed his footsteps, the silence was so obvious that the Kiffar’s leather boots made the most noise out of anything as they carried the mercenary out of the bar. The people watched his every move, like he was some kind of weather channel that would just know when the raiders were coming.

It was starting to get to him, the stress. He knew he may have become rusty since his last legitimate military operation. Sure he had dueled a few dark beings, but he hadn’t had to defend anyone but himself in quite some time. It was time for him to unwind a bit from the public eye, so the Kiffar took himself about a quarter mile out of town, not too far, but not too close either, far enough out that the only light he needed were the beautiful stars filling the night sky. He wasn’t dumb enough to leave his senses at home, he still held a blaster at his side and two blades in his boots, but the real reason he came was strapped to his back: his accordion.

The tanned musician sat himself under a low tree, it cast a strange shadow under the low light that the stars provided. There was just enough moonlight peeking in for MacTavish to be able to see where the keys were and distinguish their colors. It wasn’t long until the music started to fill the air, breaking the otherwise dead silence the country offered. There was a chance he would attract something in the night air, good or bad.

@[member="Tracyn Ordo"]
(figured this could be my intro to AoL)