Soliath Devin Talith
Family Man
Moridin stood within the back of a light freighter surrounded by eight or nine other people. None of these people were soldiers, or guards, or even remotely associated with the Sith. In fact if one looked upon them all one would guess that they were either tourists, refugee's, or maybe a little of both. The Dreadlord was no exception. Instead of his usual tribal robes and garb he wore a t-shirt and a regular pair of cargo pants, above this he wore a black field jacket with no markings or insignia’s.
Within the jacket hung a short lightsaber hilt hidden from view and on the outside of the Jacket on his left shoulder was a large knife, whose sheath had been stitched into the jacket to hold it in place. All in all Moridin appeared to be just another traveler, ready to guard himself and see the sights of the galaxy. The Transport that they were in was headed towards a world known as Mandalore, the planet did not often receive Tourists or Refugee's as it was a harsh world, but it was not uncommon for one or two Freighters to appear a day filled with...well Mandalorians.
Recently a call had gone out, one that called back to Mandalorians across the galaxy to come home. They Mandalorians like everyone else were trying to rebuild, a sentiment that The Dreadlord actually understood quite well. He sighed slightly as the ship shook, showing the signs of entering an atmosphere.
He was not here as a refugee or a man seeking a new beginning, quite the opposite. He was here to collect a debt. A man, a Mandalorian owed him something. It was not a large debt, but it was one of significance to the Sith Lord, one that he needed fulfilled before he could do anything else.
With another heavy shake and a slight banking the Freighter came in for a landing. It took almost another thirty minutes before finally an announcement was made and the passengers were allowed to disembark. Among them was Moridin.
“Now. Where do I find you.” The Dreadlord said to himself as he stepped off of the freighter and onto the starport. Mandalore was a massive world, home to almost three millions residents....although that figure might have been slightly out of date. He shrugged, he would go to a bar first.
Within the jacket hung a short lightsaber hilt hidden from view and on the outside of the Jacket on his left shoulder was a large knife, whose sheath had been stitched into the jacket to hold it in place. All in all Moridin appeared to be just another traveler, ready to guard himself and see the sights of the galaxy. The Transport that they were in was headed towards a world known as Mandalore, the planet did not often receive Tourists or Refugee's as it was a harsh world, but it was not uncommon for one or two Freighters to appear a day filled with...well Mandalorians.
Recently a call had gone out, one that called back to Mandalorians across the galaxy to come home. They Mandalorians like everyone else were trying to rebuild, a sentiment that The Dreadlord actually understood quite well. He sighed slightly as the ship shook, showing the signs of entering an atmosphere.
He was not here as a refugee or a man seeking a new beginning, quite the opposite. He was here to collect a debt. A man, a Mandalorian owed him something. It was not a large debt, but it was one of significance to the Sith Lord, one that he needed fulfilled before he could do anything else.
With another heavy shake and a slight banking the Freighter came in for a landing. It took almost another thirty minutes before finally an announcement was made and the passengers were allowed to disembark. Among them was Moridin.
“Now. Where do I find you.” The Dreadlord said to himself as he stepped off of the freighter and onto the starport. Mandalore was a massive world, home to almost three millions residents....although that figure might have been slightly out of date. He shrugged, he would go to a bar first.