Aran Finn
Redeemed
-Begin Transmission
My name is Alen Na'Varro. I have conquered worlds, killed Masters, destroyed a Star Destroyer with a mere starfighter, and led vast armies and fleets against enemies. I have rallied great men and women to my banner, spent the night with acidic seductresses with murderous intent and lived to tell the tale. I am an Arbiter of the Fringe. You may have heard of me.
I grow bored in my retirement. I tend to my garden, I love my woman without reservation, I manage my assets and I enjoy all the sights and sounds the galaxy has to offer. It's not the same, however, as killing a skilled and committed enemy. Blood has been on my hands all my life, and so it shall remain, for that is who I am. My body shakes with anticipation as I think of coming to grips with a worthy foe once again. I have tried my best to live a quiet life, but I am not a quiet man. This is so.
To the first man or woman who meets me at these coordinates and can strike me down in fair contest, I offer this:
End Transmission -
That message had been sent to a short list of the most dangerous fighters in the galaxy (they knew who they were). At the appointed coordinates (a forty metre by forty metre circular arena on the Fringe world of Rattatak), Na'Varro waited. Unarmoured as was his custom, and carrying just two lightsabres and a custom knife, there was nothing different about the Sith Lord. Except maybe for the attitude. There was a silence about him, a silence that seems to fold into itself and then expand to eclipse all that surrounds it. It was the silence of man who had forgotten what it meant to be alive ...
[member="Ember Rekali"]
My name is Alen Na'Varro. I have conquered worlds, killed Masters, destroyed a Star Destroyer with a mere starfighter, and led vast armies and fleets against enemies. I have rallied great men and women to my banner, spent the night with acidic seductresses with murderous intent and lived to tell the tale. I am an Arbiter of the Fringe. You may have heard of me.
I grow bored in my retirement. I tend to my garden, I love my woman without reservation, I manage my assets and I enjoy all the sights and sounds the galaxy has to offer. It's not the same, however, as killing a skilled and committed enemy. Blood has been on my hands all my life, and so it shall remain, for that is who I am. My body shakes with anticipation as I think of coming to grips with a worthy foe once again. I have tried my best to live a quiet life, but I am not a quiet man. This is so.
To the first man or woman who meets me at these coordinates and can strike me down in fair contest, I offer this:
- One Imperial-II class Star Destroyer, Eclipse Prime
- One modified Blackbird stealth fighter
- Majority share in the shipbuilding firm, Invictus Aeronautics
End Transmission -
That message had been sent to a short list of the most dangerous fighters in the galaxy (they knew who they were). At the appointed coordinates (a forty metre by forty metre circular arena on the Fringe world of Rattatak), Na'Varro waited. Unarmoured as was his custom, and carrying just two lightsabres and a custom knife, there was nothing different about the Sith Lord. Except maybe for the attitude. There was a silence about him, a silence that seems to fold into itself and then expand to eclipse all that surrounds it. It was the silence of man who had forgotten what it meant to be alive ...
[member="Ember Rekali"]