Atiniir Starrider
Mando'ad Draar Digu
[member="Isley Verd"]
Atiniir Starrider trudged off the shuttle with his head spinning. No less than half a day ago he had discovered that his father, who he had never known, was a mercenary, and not just any mercenary, but a Mandalorian Supercommando.
I don't even know what a Mandalorian is! Atiniir thought to himself, as he looked once more at the coordinates to the cantina provided to him by his father's best friend, a man who only called himself Hunter. He supposed that he could blame his mother for never telling him about his father, though he had been only two years old when she'd died. But he still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that his mother had tried to keep the Mandalorians away from him. Even when she'd known it was his father's last wish for him to be a Mandalorian, she'd still run off and gotten herself captured. Then she'd died.
Atiniir was glad that he had Hunter though. Hunter, if that was even his real name, had told him lots of stories about his father; the stories had been one of the reasons Atiniir had decided to go against his mother's path and follow that of his father. He wanted to be like the vibrosword swinging, face-punching bad*** his father was. Hunter had unfortunately said little about Mandalorians themselves, but he had been late for a rendezvous with a convoy he was escorting, so had had to leave. Now all Atiniir had was a set of coordinates to a cantina that hopefully had a Mandalorian in it, and a head swimming with so many questions it was nearly unbearable.
Finally, Atiniir reached the cantina, a relatively decent joint on Nar Shaddaa's Promenade called the Slippery Slopes, and began looking around for someone in armor carrying a big gun. Atiniir was bareheaded, his toussled black hair with teased up bangs free to move. He wasn't wearing the armor he put on for pirate raids, instead he was wearing a basic shirt, pants, and a closed vest with pockets. A blaster pistol and long vibrosword were strapped to his hips. His piercing blue eyes scanned the area, leaving no rock unturned. It was about time he got some of his questions answered.
Atiniir Starrider trudged off the shuttle with his head spinning. No less than half a day ago he had discovered that his father, who he had never known, was a mercenary, and not just any mercenary, but a Mandalorian Supercommando.
I don't even know what a Mandalorian is! Atiniir thought to himself, as he looked once more at the coordinates to the cantina provided to him by his father's best friend, a man who only called himself Hunter. He supposed that he could blame his mother for never telling him about his father, though he had been only two years old when she'd died. But he still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that his mother had tried to keep the Mandalorians away from him. Even when she'd known it was his father's last wish for him to be a Mandalorian, she'd still run off and gotten herself captured. Then she'd died.
Atiniir was glad that he had Hunter though. Hunter, if that was even his real name, had told him lots of stories about his father; the stories had been one of the reasons Atiniir had decided to go against his mother's path and follow that of his father. He wanted to be like the vibrosword swinging, face-punching bad*** his father was. Hunter had unfortunately said little about Mandalorians themselves, but he had been late for a rendezvous with a convoy he was escorting, so had had to leave. Now all Atiniir had was a set of coordinates to a cantina that hopefully had a Mandalorian in it, and a head swimming with so many questions it was nearly unbearable.
Finally, Atiniir reached the cantina, a relatively decent joint on Nar Shaddaa's Promenade called the Slippery Slopes, and began looking around for someone in armor carrying a big gun. Atiniir was bareheaded, his toussled black hair with teased up bangs free to move. He wasn't wearing the armor he put on for pirate raids, instead he was wearing a basic shirt, pants, and a closed vest with pockets. A blaster pistol and long vibrosword were strapped to his hips. His piercing blue eyes scanned the area, leaving no rock unturned. It was about time he got some of his questions answered.