The Zabrak That Could, And Would

[Sirak Kolar]

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Sirak calmed his mind as he walked through the deep roads of Coruscant. His hood slipped over his eye's in repetition to his steps, heavy set and loud, positively forcing his presence over the crowd near him. His size alone was enough to intimidate, and intimidate it did. Standing over two meters tall, the horned Zabrak dwarfed the majority of the surrounding crowd. It was few and far between that others matched or outdid the giant, but the few would come along, only to meet Sirak with a daring stare.

The roads he walked reeked of blood and grime, permeating his still sensitive senses with the perverted smell. His boots squished, and Sirak was out of his wits end. When he had awoken a few days before, he had noticed that both his lightsabers had been stolen from him. All of Sirak's material possesions he actually cared for were taken from him, and as sure as he was about the sun rising, he was sure he'd get them both back.

 

[Sirak Kolar]

As vents pushed their clouded muck into the air, and the ground glistened with a soft dampness, Sirak veered into a lit alley. The crowds avoided it, with only one other man to be seen on the other end. A large scraggly looking wookie with a blinded eye and scars running across his face. Sirak gritted his ground down and sharpened teeth, drawing blood from his own lip, it's flavour filling his mouth with an iron and copper mask.

The wookie on the far end of the near empty ally called out to Sirak, the iconic call the Wookiee's were known for echoing throughout as he lifted his hand for the Zabrak to stop. Despite his motion, the cloaked and garbed Jedi continued to walk towards him. It wasn't until they were only a few feet from one another that the Wookiee took a step forward.

 

[Sirak Kolar]

Sirak's Zabrak blood betrayed his Jedi training, a violent outburst forming as he violently smashed a clenched fist into the guards furry jaw, sending his head reeling. Another kick to the back of the leg knocked the creature to his knee's before the Jedi gripped him into a tight headlock,wrapping either of his legs around his waste in one fluid motion. His face strained with effort, the large, heavily haired creature fighting back with resounding strength. It stood, despite Sirak's weight, and threw him against the wall behind him, knocking the air out of the padawan. Even so, he refused to loosen his grip, his mouth pooling with further blood from the pressure of his jaw.

Moment passed, the struggling of the Wookiee slowing to a mere unconcious jostle. Sirak rolled, waiting for a moment as he recollected his composure and his breathe. Standing up took effort, but he was able to manage, cocking his head before extending his hand to the door. He called on the force, and the force followed, sliding the air tight bulkhead to the side with ease.

 

[Sirak Kolar]

A blackness laid in wait for Sirak as he stepped in, spitting blood on the floor as he looked around. His eye's took a moment to adjust, and soon he saw he was in a storage room, like the one he had woken up in before. The Jedi grinned, his eye's closing as he focused on the familiar structure of his blades. As he felt one near, he lifted and pulled it close, the extended hilt of the double edged sword landing in his hand with a smile. The other lifted and flew towards him, knocking over a presumably ancient jar from Sirak's carelessness with the force. He grunted, grabbing it and attaching it at his hilt.

In a moments notice, light flooded the thin hallway, the opposite end of the room's door opening with a sudden rush as a disgruntled mandalorian man rushed out. He howled with anger, saying something in a heavy accent that Sirak didn't care to understand. He pulled out a Vibroblade, sprinting at the Jedi with unrelenting speed.

 

[Sirak Kolar]

The Padawan ignited his double edged sword, grinning as he dropped into a low stance. One good block knocked the mandalorian off balance, only to have Sirak reign down on him with a flurry of blows using his mild Shien training as a foundation for his move set.

The man was felled, and Sirak stood. His lightsaber made a formal whirring noise as it quit, falling back to his belt like he was so used to. He scratched his face and walked back out the bulkhead he had entered, the soft artificial rain forming again above him. Sirak lifted his hood, covering his face once more as he moved to blend into the crowd...

A large group of rodian bounty hunters ran into the alley shortly after, yelling at eachother in short and precise words before one threw his gun on the ground at the sight of the missing Sirak. They struggled to catch up with the Padawan, and Sirak would make it no easier for them to find him.