Atiniir Starrider
Mando'ad Draar Digu
[member="Brent Warnel"] [member="Anija Betna"]
To say that Atiniir Starrider was in a good mood right now was like saying Gamorreans didn't have anger issues. The young mercenary was sitting in a dingy cantina on Nar Shaddaa, drinking a glass of the strong tihaar ale he had heard of was a signature Mandalorian drink. Atiniir had drank before, being on a pirate crew assured that, but this tihaar was something else. Not that it was bad it was just...strong.
Atiniir was about as down in the dumps as you could get. He had expected to come into the Mandalorians and get great training, some cool armor, and really a place where he belonged, but so far he had only completed a single bounty hunting job that only paid a few thousand credits, barely enough to get him more ammo and a ride to Nar Shaddaa. He still had a wampa pelt that he could sell if need be, but he didn't really want to. He had no armor, no training, no clan, and no luck.
So now he was here, trying to drown out his sorrows like a Mandalorian would have. He sat at the bar, guzzling his drink, trying not to fall over with every sip. Man, some Mandalorian he was. He wished for the thousandth time his father was here to teach him. Or even to just tell him what to do. Unfortunately, Atiniir had never known his father. For Pete's sake he didn't even know where his father had died! If he did, he could go there, finally see his father, however dead and gone he may be, and maybe even get the armor that he was sure his father would have left to him.
But, he needed information for that, and right now, he had neither the credits nor conviction to go looking for it.
To say that Atiniir Starrider was in a good mood right now was like saying Gamorreans didn't have anger issues. The young mercenary was sitting in a dingy cantina on Nar Shaddaa, drinking a glass of the strong tihaar ale he had heard of was a signature Mandalorian drink. Atiniir had drank before, being on a pirate crew assured that, but this tihaar was something else. Not that it was bad it was just...strong.
Atiniir was about as down in the dumps as you could get. He had expected to come into the Mandalorians and get great training, some cool armor, and really a place where he belonged, but so far he had only completed a single bounty hunting job that only paid a few thousand credits, barely enough to get him more ammo and a ride to Nar Shaddaa. He still had a wampa pelt that he could sell if need be, but he didn't really want to. He had no armor, no training, no clan, and no luck.
So now he was here, trying to drown out his sorrows like a Mandalorian would have. He sat at the bar, guzzling his drink, trying not to fall over with every sip. Man, some Mandalorian he was. He wished for the thousandth time his father was here to teach him. Or even to just tell him what to do. Unfortunately, Atiniir had never known his father. For Pete's sake he didn't even know where his father had died! If he did, he could go there, finally see his father, however dead and gone he may be, and maybe even get the armor that he was sure his father would have left to him.
But, he needed information for that, and right now, he had neither the credits nor conviction to go looking for it.