Darren Onyx
Fallen
The bar was where he sat, as always. No matter what his life had thrown at him, Darren Onyx always found himself back at the bar. It didn't matter if it was Tatooine, Coruscant, Naboo... he was always at the bar.
Kuat was no different. If there was a bar, he was there. In all honesty it was his first time being out in public for a long while. He had the habit of going out then disappearing back under the grid. This time he was out and he had one thing on his mind: one last kill on his list. There was only one ghost from his past that haunted him and he wanted her gone.
But with no information he decided to start looking at the best place, the bar. He just sat there. He wasn't hiding who he was, who he really was. It was all there, his original armor he wore years ago when his life as a Sith had began. Black Mandalorian armor with a red pattern on it, blaster marks covered it as well as scratches and burns.
Tucked inside the armor was his black robe, tattered from years of combat and normal tear damage. On his belt was his two lightsabers, a blaster, a few thermal detonators, and finally his mask. The mask, his most prized possession, was fashioned after his ancestors, Darth Revan.
His hood was down and his face was showing. He ripped it off, all the fake grafted skin from his surgery years before. He was covered in scars and bruises, some of his cybernetics showing in his cheek region.
As he took a small sip of the drink that sat before him, he remembered everything from before. He had died once and was revived. He dedicated so much time since then trying to finish what Revan started and, in the process, as well as being blinded by that process, he lost who he was. It took him right up to know to realize that he needed to do end this persons life before he would allow himself to finally die.
But now he sat here, at a bar. He would wait. He knew, better then most, that destiny could walk right in the door...
Kuat was no different. If there was a bar, he was there. In all honesty it was his first time being out in public for a long while. He had the habit of going out then disappearing back under the grid. This time he was out and he had one thing on his mind: one last kill on his list. There was only one ghost from his past that haunted him and he wanted her gone.
But with no information he decided to start looking at the best place, the bar. He just sat there. He wasn't hiding who he was, who he really was. It was all there, his original armor he wore years ago when his life as a Sith had began. Black Mandalorian armor with a red pattern on it, blaster marks covered it as well as scratches and burns.
Tucked inside the armor was his black robe, tattered from years of combat and normal tear damage. On his belt was his two lightsabers, a blaster, a few thermal detonators, and finally his mask. The mask, his most prized possession, was fashioned after his ancestors, Darth Revan.
His hood was down and his face was showing. He ripped it off, all the fake grafted skin from his surgery years before. He was covered in scars and bruises, some of his cybernetics showing in his cheek region.
As he took a small sip of the drink that sat before him, he remembered everything from before. He had died once and was revived. He dedicated so much time since then trying to finish what Revan started and, in the process, as well as being blinded by that process, he lost who he was. It took him right up to know to realize that he needed to do end this persons life before he would allow himself to finally die.
But now he sat here, at a bar. He would wait. He knew, better then most, that destiny could walk right in the door...