Sargon Vynea
Spencer's guard unicorn
Sargon stood in the empty apartment that was his home. It simply lacked everything that made a home a home, from creature comforts to warmth. In truth he didn't even think he'd opened the front door in over a month. It was more like a long term storage facility then a home really. Boxes covered in dust were stacked neatly against a wall, and a few random pieces of furniture were covered in plastic sheeting. Its walls carried no memories of laughter nor shared moments with friends. In fact the only sign of life at were a single set of dishes that he never bothered to take out of the dishwasher.
Not that he ever bothered to cook while he was in. It was simply more efficient to go out or get something delivered then to buy something he'd just end up throwing away. He'd spent the last three months going being shipped from one point in the galaxy to another for the Fringe. He'd enjoyed it if the truth was to be told. The camaraderie, the action, and the continual testing of his own abilities against deadly enemies. When it was over though it led him back here to the reality of his life.
He didn't bother to pretend he cared that he was being permanently reassigned, and a company would be here in a day to move his possessions. In truth most of them still were packed securely inside the very boxes they'd arrived in. He had no neighbors he would miss, in truth he didn't even know their names. So no one would be surprised that by staring into the emptiness that was personal life he felt as empty as his home.
His life had been an odd journey, and he hadn't truly felt like he had a home since his father's ship finally died out on him a year ago. It still lay banged up in a storage facility, and nearly half his pay was tucked away every month to see it patched up and worthy of flight again. The rest paid the bills and piled up in some account he rarely checked. The Fringe provided everything for him on mission, and other then a few rounds of shots he hadn't spent a single credit.
It was a stark difference from the man who'd spent every single credit he had just a short year ago. He'd spent all the money his father left him and every credit he earned doing illicit jobs. He'd paid the bills and kept his ship up, but it never occurred to him to save up for the big things. So when the hyperdrive blew and it caused a system wide electric shock to the entire system he didn't have anything left to cover repairs. He then discovered just how many dings an unshielded ship could take when the one in the pilot seat barely understood the controls.
In the end the repairs were going to cost nearly as much as a new ship would have. This ship was special though, and so he put it in storage by pawning off some of the pretty things he'd bought along his adventure. It would have died there to if not for finding employment within the Fringe. They'd fed him, trained him, and given him a new hope for something in life. In return he fought and killed for them. Perhaps one day he'd have to die for them as well, but he hoped before then to have something to leave behind.
A man was only as good as the memory he left behind in the end, and at the moment he highly doubted anyone would keep his name alive. He had no personal life to speak of, and professionally as far as he was concerned he was simply another number listed as a tool to be used. So he worked where he could with his squads and making them the best they could possibly be. As far as he was concerned they were his only hope of being remembered. Maybe just an echo in another man's life but still it was better then falling to silence.
He felt he had learned a lot since he had started leading his men into battle. The key to it all in his mind was being self aware. You couldn't improve if you didn't know your weaknesses. It was easy to play to your strengths that is what came natural to anyone. To make your weaknesses your strength, that is how you became truly strong. This is where his thoughts lay as he stood in the silence of his apartment. He was learning to be a stronger melee fighter and use his newly acquired shield. The phrick shield had taken a very large amount out his savings to acquire, but it had proved itself in combat already. He'd received a money back guarantee that it would hold against a lightsaber, but it was hard to collect your rebate after you were dead.
He'd taken the lessons he learned in sparring match to heart and now he was arriving at a new problem. The combat style worked for him, but the lack of any ranged counted did not. He'd already discovered that force users had about a half a dozen different ways to attack you from a distance, and he simply didn't have a retort. He'd also been told something he never expected. He was a sensitive to the force and could with training use it. The very group he held in disdain for their self elevated positions above the common man, and he now belonged to them.
His wanted to refuse it spitefully, but the cost of pride could be the death of those he was responsible for. It was an odd thing to feel responsible for other lives. He'd never given thought to such things before. It was simply another sign of how much life could change in such a short time. So to protect and fight against his enemy, he would become them.
Not that he ever bothered to cook while he was in. It was simply more efficient to go out or get something delivered then to buy something he'd just end up throwing away. He'd spent the last three months going being shipped from one point in the galaxy to another for the Fringe. He'd enjoyed it if the truth was to be told. The camaraderie, the action, and the continual testing of his own abilities against deadly enemies. When it was over though it led him back here to the reality of his life.
He didn't bother to pretend he cared that he was being permanently reassigned, and a company would be here in a day to move his possessions. In truth most of them still were packed securely inside the very boxes they'd arrived in. He had no neighbors he would miss, in truth he didn't even know their names. So no one would be surprised that by staring into the emptiness that was personal life he felt as empty as his home.
His life had been an odd journey, and he hadn't truly felt like he had a home since his father's ship finally died out on him a year ago. It still lay banged up in a storage facility, and nearly half his pay was tucked away every month to see it patched up and worthy of flight again. The rest paid the bills and piled up in some account he rarely checked. The Fringe provided everything for him on mission, and other then a few rounds of shots he hadn't spent a single credit.
It was a stark difference from the man who'd spent every single credit he had just a short year ago. He'd spent all the money his father left him and every credit he earned doing illicit jobs. He'd paid the bills and kept his ship up, but it never occurred to him to save up for the big things. So when the hyperdrive blew and it caused a system wide electric shock to the entire system he didn't have anything left to cover repairs. He then discovered just how many dings an unshielded ship could take when the one in the pilot seat barely understood the controls.
In the end the repairs were going to cost nearly as much as a new ship would have. This ship was special though, and so he put it in storage by pawning off some of the pretty things he'd bought along his adventure. It would have died there to if not for finding employment within the Fringe. They'd fed him, trained him, and given him a new hope for something in life. In return he fought and killed for them. Perhaps one day he'd have to die for them as well, but he hoped before then to have something to leave behind.
A man was only as good as the memory he left behind in the end, and at the moment he highly doubted anyone would keep his name alive. He had no personal life to speak of, and professionally as far as he was concerned he was simply another number listed as a tool to be used. So he worked where he could with his squads and making them the best they could possibly be. As far as he was concerned they were his only hope of being remembered. Maybe just an echo in another man's life but still it was better then falling to silence.
He felt he had learned a lot since he had started leading his men into battle. The key to it all in his mind was being self aware. You couldn't improve if you didn't know your weaknesses. It was easy to play to your strengths that is what came natural to anyone. To make your weaknesses your strength, that is how you became truly strong. This is where his thoughts lay as he stood in the silence of his apartment. He was learning to be a stronger melee fighter and use his newly acquired shield. The phrick shield had taken a very large amount out his savings to acquire, but it had proved itself in combat already. He'd received a money back guarantee that it would hold against a lightsaber, but it was hard to collect your rebate after you were dead.
He'd taken the lessons he learned in sparring match to heart and now he was arriving at a new problem. The combat style worked for him, but the lack of any ranged counted did not. He'd already discovered that force users had about a half a dozen different ways to attack you from a distance, and he simply didn't have a retort. He'd also been told something he never expected. He was a sensitive to the force and could with training use it. The very group he held in disdain for their self elevated positions above the common man, and he now belonged to them.
His wanted to refuse it spitefully, but the cost of pride could be the death of those he was responsible for. It was an odd thing to feel responsible for other lives. He'd never given thought to such things before. It was simply another sign of how much life could change in such a short time. So to protect and fight against his enemy, he would become them.