Sargon Vynea
Spencer's guard unicorn
It was the last place Sargon really wanted to go but if he wanted to know how to combat against force user he'd need to learn against a force user. So it was that Sargon found himself wandering about the area of the Pit. It was to his understanding at least where the force users came to train themselves in their combat arts. He felt uncomfortable with the entire idea of coming here, but without doing this he didn't feel he was effective enough on the battlefield. In all truth it wasn't possible for him to stick out more.
He wore full Legionnaire battle armor helmet included with the emblem of the 121st Legion. Strapped to his back was a heavy phrick shield it's face a dull black with the emblem of the 121st towards the bottom and in the right top corner a small picture of Iridonia. On his right hip was his well used blaster rifle and strapped to his left a new vibrosword still unmarred from the factory. He was very close to the text book definition for a beacon of trouble.
He was in an area he didn't belong as a legionnaire, and he just hoped he'd find someone who wouldn't think him a fool. The truth was simple there were just too many force users out there, and too many lightsaber swinging nut jobs to ignore the fact he needed some combat training against such opponents and this was the place to find them. He was not looking forward to walking up with bruises, but he'd learn to live with that long ago. His father had trained him in the Iridonian martial arts every day until he died, and Sargon continued to practice them every day. So at the very least his body was in excellent shape and he knew he could learn a new fighting style.
He wore full Legionnaire battle armor helmet included with the emblem of the 121st Legion. Strapped to his back was a heavy phrick shield it's face a dull black with the emblem of the 121st towards the bottom and in the right top corner a small picture of Iridonia. On his right hip was his well used blaster rifle and strapped to his left a new vibrosword still unmarred from the factory. He was very close to the text book definition for a beacon of trouble.
He was in an area he didn't belong as a legionnaire, and he just hoped he'd find someone who wouldn't think him a fool. The truth was simple there were just too many force users out there, and too many lightsaber swinging nut jobs to ignore the fact he needed some combat training against such opponents and this was the place to find them. He was not looking forward to walking up with bruises, but he'd learn to live with that long ago. His father had trained him in the Iridonian martial arts every day until he died, and Sargon continued to practice them every day. So at the very least his body was in excellent shape and he knew he could learn a new fighting style.