Ak'lya
That one kid
Standing in the middle of a ring, Strask held the saber in his hand. The curved handle was simple enough. No elegance, nothing like that. Just a simple blade. He had lifted it off a Templar Aspirant, who had been carrying about five at the time. He wouldn't miss it. Hopefully.
The cool metal of the saber rested in his palm. He had asked someone he knew, who had hired him in the past, to teach him. She had never really paid for the virus, but here he was, waiting for her to show. Not that he was entirely looking forward to it. Needless to say, he didn't trust her. Then again, he didn't really trust anyone.
[member="Darth Banshee"]
The cool metal of the saber rested in his palm. He had asked someone he knew, who had hired him in the past, to teach him. She had never really paid for the virus, but here he was, waiting for her to show. Not that he was entirely looking forward to it. Needless to say, he didn't trust her. Then again, he didn't really trust anyone.
[member="Darth Banshee"]