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"There has never been a time in my life when I haven't had to fight to survive. Sometimes I just hoped for death to escape the dullness that this nature has become. Now that I'm no longer fighting, well...I wouldn't wanna change a thing"
Name: Gaspar Proctor
Faction: Imperial Knights
Rank: Knight
Species: Human
Age: 60
Gender: Male
Height: 6'7
Weight: 268 lbs
Eyes: Blue
Hair: White
Skin: White
Distinguishing marks: Area around his left eye is mildly burnt.
Force Sensitive?: Yes
Strength: In his older age, Gaspar moreso relies on his incredible connection to the force and a bulking figure (no matter how sagging it could get in advanced years) than actual strength.
Dexterity: Gaspar is incredibly large, and clunks around clumsily like a broken droid more than he does actually duck, dodge, dip, dive and dodge in combat.
Constitution: Except for the various diseases he lived through as a slave, Gaspar has an incredibly strong immune system and doesn't get sick often. Though, again, aging has brought down his immune system some, though it is still as strong as if he were a thirty year old man.
Intelligence: He's not dumb. He's not learned or able to look at a contraption and be able to take it apart and rebuild it almost immediately, but a long life of fighting and surviving has led him to pick up a lot of knowledge that many other book smart fellows might now know, and he has held on to that knowledge like a preacher to an ancient tome of some sort.
Wisdom: In his many years of living and almost being killed by things and people he had never actually deserved to be killed by, many different sparks of wisdom and knowledge have flown through his brain and been trapped there like a body without a jetpack in a sarlaac pit. A scary thought indeed.
Charisma: This is where Gaspar shines. Although he was considered the greatest warrior on Dal'Hutta, he was also considered to be the most dangerous and likely to lead a revolt. Why? Because he can rile people up like no other, and can get even the most reluctant of people in to do some dirty work just to be able to free themselves from whatever it was he wanted to fight.
Force Powers:
Core powers
Force choke
Force stasis
Skills:
Lightsaber combat/sword combat
Rallying everybody together (psyching them up for battle and such)
Farming
Lightsaber forms:
Master of Shii-Cho
Strengths and Weaknesses:
+Incredibly built, perfect fighter's body
-Hates fighting
+Good speaker
-Hates people
Gear:
Brown cloak
Light armor
Ship:
Mutiny!
Personality:
Gaspar is a firm believer in destiny, fate, the future and how everything would play out. Mainly it was because of his slave background, and just wanting something to believe in. He grew up all of his life knowing nothing but fighting those that were either stronger than him, weaker than him, or as strong as he was. For a while, he enjoyed nothing more than fighting as much as he possibly could. It was all he knew, and for all he knew, that was all any man his age did.
But as the young man grew older, a sudden hatred for what had once been his passion developed. For two decades straight and a little more he fought just about every day of his life. Eventually, he just couldn't take it. The need to be free rang through him, and eventually, he won his freedom. The first of any slave on Dal'Hutta to ever do so.
His life as an Imperial Knight...didn't go so well. Not many friends were there for him, and one thing kept him in place: Princess Lana. She kept him from going off the wall and killing as many people as he could before he would himself. Princess Lana, and Balthazar. She was Balthazar's mate, basically, they were together from the time Gaspar arrived to the time he left. And every moment she didn't spend sleeping with Gaspar, she spent with Balthazar.
It only happened once, but it was a moment that the aging fighter would always carry with him in his heart. Alongside that the guilt messing around with Lana and on Balthazar, the only two people he could call his friends. To boot, he was caught by a man not particularly taking on him. The resulting chance of being found out led Gaspar to make what he claimed to be the greatest of many mistakes in ending the man's life, as well as his own career as an Imperial Knight.
From there, he moved to Concord Dawn, a lonely, bitter, even older fighter. Every day he thought of Lana and Balthazar, and the guilt he held to himself. It killed him more than the decades old wounds he suffered in the arena were killing him. Because that pain was only physical.
Along with his heavy amount of guilt for betraying his only two friends, Gaspar carries around the guilt of having tipped into the dark side way too many times. While it hasn't turned him into a Sith, or even a bad guy at all, admitting that one tapped into the dark side is a pretty bad experience when they claim to be one of the good guys.
Biography:
Part 1:
Slave
Lana always told me I should keep a journal. I...don't exactly know what happened to her, but I guess just being able to say her name out loud is good enough reason for me to be doing this twenty years after the suggestion.
Dal'Hutta is a terrible place, where that rotten Hutt rules with an iron fist that his own subordinates have to curl together while he laughs at the sick and the dying. It is a polluted planet that was one beautiful, but now reeks of all the people who have lost their lives in the arenas, either fighting non-sentients or fellow, thinking, human beings.
I fought in those rings for sixteen years. From the time I was fourteen to the time I was thirty. But the force always gave me an advantage. All those years I had no idea what it was, but Balthazar quickly taught me the ropes while I became another top prospect for the Imperial Knights. That and the fact that I'm almost seven foot tall is the reason why I'm not buried in a shallow grave of other rotting bodies and old bones. And I'm very glad that it kept me alive all these years, through the crap I've seen.
To tell the truth, I wish I had been killed. For the first five years or so, I loved every second in it. Basking in the glory of being the strongest, especially considered how young I was. Even then, a lot of people lived to be thirty-five, forty. But most of those people were the women and the crippled men who were forced to act as sideshow entertainment while all the killing good fun was going on.
By around ten years in, I was completely sick of it. But I wasn't just going to let myself be killed, or crippled even. I may complain about living a life of boring hack and slash movements, but hell, it's better than dying and finding out there's nothing after but darkness. And even then, you don't find out, cause you're dead, and there really IS NO AFTERLIFE.
Boy would I be pissed.
When I was thirty years old, I was just sick of it all. Sick of living the way I was living, I bolted. I didn't know if there was a way off, or even how the hell I'd get out of the Coliseum-like building I'd lived in for, heck, all of my life! But I ran, and I ran like hell, and nobody I had tried to take with me would come with me. It was a good thing they didn't, because I was caught in the first hour of my escape.
But I negotiated with Adipos. My freedom if I could best his two best monsters in the arena. The old Hutt didn't like the sound of it, but I was by then a legend. Nobody would kill me in the ring, ever, and I would finally give a show to those coming to see me fight, instead of me just destroying everybody who came upon me in the first five minutes.
Two Rancors were a lot more than what I could handle, but the nasty old slime-ball decided to give me a weapon. A rusty old vibroblade that looked like it would break in two swings.
It was all I had, so I took it with gratitude.
The arena for fighting beasts and the like was much more luxurious than the arena I was used to fighting in. The man vs. man arena was barren. Thin layer of sand spread out over what I assumed was durasteel every match. Though they only changed the sand every month or so. It could get pretty hard to move around in, and especially hard to fight in. The arena for fighting animals was filled with trees and bush and even grass. It was all real, albeit in totally poor shape. Like it hadn't been hedged or trimmed or even looked at for a few years.
The Rancors hunted me for little over an hour before any real action happened. Here and there I would roll out of the way of one of their lumbering sweeps or jump over the sweep or something. They did a lot of those lumbering sweeps, like it was their only attack. I took it, because it was easy to predict.
When I had worn them down a little bit, I went straight in for the kills. No nonsense, no nothing. Over the years, the force, or as I called it my "mysterious servant" helped me throw people around the arena without even so much as grabbing them, if I concentrated hard enough. Though mostly I just used it to predict when attacks were coming and where at.
I ran at the beast closest to me, and climbed up its body. The other didn't attack, like they had been close all their lives and didn't want to hurt one another. Using that to my advantage, as the Rancor whose back I now used as a couch tried to reach around and grab me, I plunged the vibroblade into its neck. To my surprise, the thing didn't snap when I stabbed it in. However, not to my surprise, it all but shattered into pieces as I attempted to pull it out.
If the other Rancor had no more reason to kill me besides food before, it had definitely had one now. Its brother, its best friend, its whatever, now lay bleeding out with a knife in its throat, on the ground. And, even worse, I didn't have a weapon to kill it with.
It grabbed me before I even had a chance to call upon my mysterious servant to guide me in my next fight, and brought me toward its mouth. With nothing but my own incredibly large build and my mysterious servant to fight back against it, I pushed back with all my might as it attempted to hurl me into its mouth. Breaking free of its grasp, I leaped onto the Rancor's head as it wondered how I had broken free. Climbing down, out of the way of its hand as it tried to grab me again, I grabbed a hold of one of its teeth and pulled as hard as I could.
From the push to the pull, I had exhausted nearly all my strength, but with luck and the force on my side, the tooth pulled from its mouth. As the beast began to cry in agony, it met the same fate as its brother. I jammed the tooth into its throat and dropped down to the ground, the tooth running down its body with me a ways until I pulled it out and continued to the brush below. The Rancor fell to the ground, and the crowd that had gathered and placed bets on the Rancors booed. The very few who had bet against the odds and bet on me cheered and clapped. And I felt like doing the same, for I now had my freedom. My win over those two beasts assured me the Hutt wouldn't try to reneg.
I kept the Rancor tooth for something much more important later.
____
Part 2:
Imperial Knight Take 1
I don't want to talk about this much. But I came to be an Imperial Knight due to the intervention of a Knight named Balthazar on a planet I can no longer remember the name of. Sensing the force in me, he spent a week teaching me the basics while he brought me back to the home world of the Knights. I was still pretty young, and I was interested in just not being a slave any more. Also, still believing in fate and luck and even love, I went along with the idea of being a Knight.
For a few years, things couldn't have been better. I wasn't friends with too many other Knights, in fact this one guy named Novik completely despised me. My two closest friends, however, were all I needed. Balthazar, and his lovely bride-to-be Princess Lana.
Oh boy, Princess Lana. There wasn't a bone in her, she'd even go on a date with a Kowakian Monkey-Lizard just to prove that everybody should be given a chance...
Maybe that's why I loved-err-liked her so much. For a while I tried as hard as I could not to give in to her. She was as beautiful as any woman as I have ever seen in my life, and she was one of the first women I had seen who wasn't a slave. Shell shock, I tell ya, was the first feeling I got when I saw her. And when she saw me, I thought I saw disgust. Hatred for Balthazar bringing someone so low as him to meet her.
Boy was she much nicer than that.
It was the best I could do, going so many years without sleeping with her. She told me that while Balthazar was great, she couldn't decide between the two of us. She said she just wanted a taste. That she couldn't hold on any longer either. She knew I wanted it, and I'd be fine with only one serving. That night was the most magnificent night of my life. And it was the greatest mistake I could have ever made.
Novik found out about it somehow, whether he saw it or overheard us arguing over whether or not we should tell Balthazar, which both of us agreed to not do after both of us switched sides multiple times until we were talked out of it by the other, and told me.
"I'm going to tell him. And you'll have nobody left. Nobody at all." He despised me for what I went through and how I had come through it. I never figured out why. I never ASKED why, and at that moment was the first moment I tipped into the dark side as an Imperial Knight.
I knew I had done it as a slave, but I forgave myself, I didn't know any better. But it was great then. When I did it after knowing what it was, and what I had just done when I had done it, I only felt worse for screwing over Balthazar.
Novik's head was driven through two walls before I stopped. Must have been twenty times I bashed it in, again and again, first one side, then when that was bashed through, I went to the other side. As several Knights were taking me into custody, one of them being Balthazar, I even lifted his lifeless corpse and tried to do it again. But then I was sobbing, more broken than I had ever been, and I just wanted to be gone.
In fact, I thought I would be executed. And asked for it more than once. But even more than that I denied to tell Balthazar why I had killed Novik. I lived in a holding cell for three months before I was exiled.
____
Part 3:
Exile To Now
I'm growing tired, and no longer really wish to catalogue my life's story as fast as I can. I moved to Concord Dawn and learned the farmer's trade. It was the happiest and saddest I ever was, at the same time if that even makes sense. Well, some times it would be one, some times the other. Luckily Lana hadn't visited me while I was in jail, and I hadn't been able to take any possessions but my lightsaber (built from the Rancor's tooth I had taken in the arena, with spikes near the emitter for stabbing purposes) along with me. Balthazar still somehow snuck out a picture of him and I.
If Lana had been in that, I would have torn it up there and thrown it in his face, just to make sure the illusion of hatred was given. But I could never hate either of them more than I hated myself.
And I hated myself even more for hating myself, for wallowing in pity for a dozen years when I should have been farming more efficiently. I was dirt poor through my entire life, but still somehow I feel being a dirt poor farmer is worse than being a slave in the arena. Not that I could ever hope to, or want to, explain how that works, but that's just how it feels to me. Sometimes, not all the time at least. So I know I'm not completely crazy.
Every day I would practice my lightsaber forms, Shii-Cho, which is basically a combination of every form, farm work for many hours, and then sit and wallow in my own mind while wallowing even more from a bottle of scotch.
But a call through the force reached me. Or maybe it was just a twang in my ears telling me to return to Dal'Hutta. I donno who is sending it out, or why, but I've nothing better to do than look it up. I sold my farm, my land, my everything, for a new set of armor and a rusty old ship that will get me to where I need to go. And if I die on the way, then good. I won't be a bother to anybody, having to attend my funeral or such. I always prefer not to bother people...
Name: Gaspar Proctor
Faction: Imperial Knights
Rank: Knight
Species: Human
Age: 60
Gender: Male
Height: 6'7
Weight: 268 lbs
Eyes: Blue
Hair: White
Skin: White
Distinguishing marks: Area around his left eye is mildly burnt.
Force Sensitive?: Yes
Strength: In his older age, Gaspar moreso relies on his incredible connection to the force and a bulking figure (no matter how sagging it could get in advanced years) than actual strength.
Dexterity: Gaspar is incredibly large, and clunks around clumsily like a broken droid more than he does actually duck, dodge, dip, dive and dodge in combat.
Constitution: Except for the various diseases he lived through as a slave, Gaspar has an incredibly strong immune system and doesn't get sick often. Though, again, aging has brought down his immune system some, though it is still as strong as if he were a thirty year old man.
Intelligence: He's not dumb. He's not learned or able to look at a contraption and be able to take it apart and rebuild it almost immediately, but a long life of fighting and surviving has led him to pick up a lot of knowledge that many other book smart fellows might now know, and he has held on to that knowledge like a preacher to an ancient tome of some sort.
Wisdom: In his many years of living and almost being killed by things and people he had never actually deserved to be killed by, many different sparks of wisdom and knowledge have flown through his brain and been trapped there like a body without a jetpack in a sarlaac pit. A scary thought indeed.
Charisma: This is where Gaspar shines. Although he was considered the greatest warrior on Dal'Hutta, he was also considered to be the most dangerous and likely to lead a revolt. Why? Because he can rile people up like no other, and can get even the most reluctant of people in to do some dirty work just to be able to free themselves from whatever it was he wanted to fight.
Force Powers:
Core powers
Force choke
Force stasis
Skills:
Lightsaber combat/sword combat
Rallying everybody together (psyching them up for battle and such)
Farming
Lightsaber forms:
Master of Shii-Cho
Strengths and Weaknesses:
+Incredibly built, perfect fighter's body
-Hates fighting
+Good speaker
-Hates people
Gear:
Light armor
Ship:
Mutiny!
Personality:
Gaspar is a firm believer in destiny, fate, the future and how everything would play out. Mainly it was because of his slave background, and just wanting something to believe in. He grew up all of his life knowing nothing but fighting those that were either stronger than him, weaker than him, or as strong as he was. For a while, he enjoyed nothing more than fighting as much as he possibly could. It was all he knew, and for all he knew, that was all any man his age did.
But as the young man grew older, a sudden hatred for what had once been his passion developed. For two decades straight and a little more he fought just about every day of his life. Eventually, he just couldn't take it. The need to be free rang through him, and eventually, he won his freedom. The first of any slave on Dal'Hutta to ever do so.
His life as an Imperial Knight...didn't go so well. Not many friends were there for him, and one thing kept him in place: Princess Lana. She kept him from going off the wall and killing as many people as he could before he would himself. Princess Lana, and Balthazar. She was Balthazar's mate, basically, they were together from the time Gaspar arrived to the time he left. And every moment she didn't spend sleeping with Gaspar, she spent with Balthazar.
It only happened once, but it was a moment that the aging fighter would always carry with him in his heart. Alongside that the guilt messing around with Lana and on Balthazar, the only two people he could call his friends. To boot, he was caught by a man not particularly taking on him. The resulting chance of being found out led Gaspar to make what he claimed to be the greatest of many mistakes in ending the man's life, as well as his own career as an Imperial Knight.
From there, he moved to Concord Dawn, a lonely, bitter, even older fighter. Every day he thought of Lana and Balthazar, and the guilt he held to himself. It killed him more than the decades old wounds he suffered in the arena were killing him. Because that pain was only physical.
Along with his heavy amount of guilt for betraying his only two friends, Gaspar carries around the guilt of having tipped into the dark side way too many times. While it hasn't turned him into a Sith, or even a bad guy at all, admitting that one tapped into the dark side is a pretty bad experience when they claim to be one of the good guys.
Biography:
Part 1:
Slave
Lana always told me I should keep a journal. I...don't exactly know what happened to her, but I guess just being able to say her name out loud is good enough reason for me to be doing this twenty years after the suggestion.
Dal'Hutta is a terrible place, where that rotten Hutt rules with an iron fist that his own subordinates have to curl together while he laughs at the sick and the dying. It is a polluted planet that was one beautiful, but now reeks of all the people who have lost their lives in the arenas, either fighting non-sentients or fellow, thinking, human beings.
I fought in those rings for sixteen years. From the time I was fourteen to the time I was thirty. But the force always gave me an advantage. All those years I had no idea what it was, but Balthazar quickly taught me the ropes while I became another top prospect for the Imperial Knights. That and the fact that I'm almost seven foot tall is the reason why I'm not buried in a shallow grave of other rotting bodies and old bones. And I'm very glad that it kept me alive all these years, through the crap I've seen.
To tell the truth, I wish I had been killed. For the first five years or so, I loved every second in it. Basking in the glory of being the strongest, especially considered how young I was. Even then, a lot of people lived to be thirty-five, forty. But most of those people were the women and the crippled men who were forced to act as sideshow entertainment while all the killing good fun was going on.
By around ten years in, I was completely sick of it. But I wasn't just going to let myself be killed, or crippled even. I may complain about living a life of boring hack and slash movements, but hell, it's better than dying and finding out there's nothing after but darkness. And even then, you don't find out, cause you're dead, and there really IS NO AFTERLIFE.
Boy would I be pissed.
When I was thirty years old, I was just sick of it all. Sick of living the way I was living, I bolted. I didn't know if there was a way off, or even how the hell I'd get out of the Coliseum-like building I'd lived in for, heck, all of my life! But I ran, and I ran like hell, and nobody I had tried to take with me would come with me. It was a good thing they didn't, because I was caught in the first hour of my escape.
But I negotiated with Adipos. My freedom if I could best his two best monsters in the arena. The old Hutt didn't like the sound of it, but I was by then a legend. Nobody would kill me in the ring, ever, and I would finally give a show to those coming to see me fight, instead of me just destroying everybody who came upon me in the first five minutes.
Two Rancors were a lot more than what I could handle, but the nasty old slime-ball decided to give me a weapon. A rusty old vibroblade that looked like it would break in two swings.
It was all I had, so I took it with gratitude.
The arena for fighting beasts and the like was much more luxurious than the arena I was used to fighting in. The man vs. man arena was barren. Thin layer of sand spread out over what I assumed was durasteel every match. Though they only changed the sand every month or so. It could get pretty hard to move around in, and especially hard to fight in. The arena for fighting animals was filled with trees and bush and even grass. It was all real, albeit in totally poor shape. Like it hadn't been hedged or trimmed or even looked at for a few years.
The Rancors hunted me for little over an hour before any real action happened. Here and there I would roll out of the way of one of their lumbering sweeps or jump over the sweep or something. They did a lot of those lumbering sweeps, like it was their only attack. I took it, because it was easy to predict.
When I had worn them down a little bit, I went straight in for the kills. No nonsense, no nothing. Over the years, the force, or as I called it my "mysterious servant" helped me throw people around the arena without even so much as grabbing them, if I concentrated hard enough. Though mostly I just used it to predict when attacks were coming and where at.
I ran at the beast closest to me, and climbed up its body. The other didn't attack, like they had been close all their lives and didn't want to hurt one another. Using that to my advantage, as the Rancor whose back I now used as a couch tried to reach around and grab me, I plunged the vibroblade into its neck. To my surprise, the thing didn't snap when I stabbed it in. However, not to my surprise, it all but shattered into pieces as I attempted to pull it out.
If the other Rancor had no more reason to kill me besides food before, it had definitely had one now. Its brother, its best friend, its whatever, now lay bleeding out with a knife in its throat, on the ground. And, even worse, I didn't have a weapon to kill it with.
It grabbed me before I even had a chance to call upon my mysterious servant to guide me in my next fight, and brought me toward its mouth. With nothing but my own incredibly large build and my mysterious servant to fight back against it, I pushed back with all my might as it attempted to hurl me into its mouth. Breaking free of its grasp, I leaped onto the Rancor's head as it wondered how I had broken free. Climbing down, out of the way of its hand as it tried to grab me again, I grabbed a hold of one of its teeth and pulled as hard as I could.
From the push to the pull, I had exhausted nearly all my strength, but with luck and the force on my side, the tooth pulled from its mouth. As the beast began to cry in agony, it met the same fate as its brother. I jammed the tooth into its throat and dropped down to the ground, the tooth running down its body with me a ways until I pulled it out and continued to the brush below. The Rancor fell to the ground, and the crowd that had gathered and placed bets on the Rancors booed. The very few who had bet against the odds and bet on me cheered and clapped. And I felt like doing the same, for I now had my freedom. My win over those two beasts assured me the Hutt wouldn't try to reneg.
I kept the Rancor tooth for something much more important later.
____
Part 2:
Imperial Knight Take 1
I don't want to talk about this much. But I came to be an Imperial Knight due to the intervention of a Knight named Balthazar on a planet I can no longer remember the name of. Sensing the force in me, he spent a week teaching me the basics while he brought me back to the home world of the Knights. I was still pretty young, and I was interested in just not being a slave any more. Also, still believing in fate and luck and even love, I went along with the idea of being a Knight.
For a few years, things couldn't have been better. I wasn't friends with too many other Knights, in fact this one guy named Novik completely despised me. My two closest friends, however, were all I needed. Balthazar, and his lovely bride-to-be Princess Lana.
Oh boy, Princess Lana. There wasn't a bone in her, she'd even go on a date with a Kowakian Monkey-Lizard just to prove that everybody should be given a chance...
Maybe that's why I loved-err-liked her so much. For a while I tried as hard as I could not to give in to her. She was as beautiful as any woman as I have ever seen in my life, and she was one of the first women I had seen who wasn't a slave. Shell shock, I tell ya, was the first feeling I got when I saw her. And when she saw me, I thought I saw disgust. Hatred for Balthazar bringing someone so low as him to meet her.
Boy was she much nicer than that.
It was the best I could do, going so many years without sleeping with her. She told me that while Balthazar was great, she couldn't decide between the two of us. She said she just wanted a taste. That she couldn't hold on any longer either. She knew I wanted it, and I'd be fine with only one serving. That night was the most magnificent night of my life. And it was the greatest mistake I could have ever made.
Novik found out about it somehow, whether he saw it or overheard us arguing over whether or not we should tell Balthazar, which both of us agreed to not do after both of us switched sides multiple times until we were talked out of it by the other, and told me.
"I'm going to tell him. And you'll have nobody left. Nobody at all." He despised me for what I went through and how I had come through it. I never figured out why. I never ASKED why, and at that moment was the first moment I tipped into the dark side as an Imperial Knight.
I knew I had done it as a slave, but I forgave myself, I didn't know any better. But it was great then. When I did it after knowing what it was, and what I had just done when I had done it, I only felt worse for screwing over Balthazar.
Novik's head was driven through two walls before I stopped. Must have been twenty times I bashed it in, again and again, first one side, then when that was bashed through, I went to the other side. As several Knights were taking me into custody, one of them being Balthazar, I even lifted his lifeless corpse and tried to do it again. But then I was sobbing, more broken than I had ever been, and I just wanted to be gone.
In fact, I thought I would be executed. And asked for it more than once. But even more than that I denied to tell Balthazar why I had killed Novik. I lived in a holding cell for three months before I was exiled.
____
Part 3:
Exile To Now
I'm growing tired, and no longer really wish to catalogue my life's story as fast as I can. I moved to Concord Dawn and learned the farmer's trade. It was the happiest and saddest I ever was, at the same time if that even makes sense. Well, some times it would be one, some times the other. Luckily Lana hadn't visited me while I was in jail, and I hadn't been able to take any possessions but my lightsaber (built from the Rancor's tooth I had taken in the arena, with spikes near the emitter for stabbing purposes) along with me. Balthazar still somehow snuck out a picture of him and I.
If Lana had been in that, I would have torn it up there and thrown it in his face, just to make sure the illusion of hatred was given. But I could never hate either of them more than I hated myself.
And I hated myself even more for hating myself, for wallowing in pity for a dozen years when I should have been farming more efficiently. I was dirt poor through my entire life, but still somehow I feel being a dirt poor farmer is worse than being a slave in the arena. Not that I could ever hope to, or want to, explain how that works, but that's just how it feels to me. Sometimes, not all the time at least. So I know I'm not completely crazy.
Every day I would practice my lightsaber forms, Shii-Cho, which is basically a combination of every form, farm work for many hours, and then sit and wallow in my own mind while wallowing even more from a bottle of scotch.
But a call through the force reached me. Or maybe it was just a twang in my ears telling me to return to Dal'Hutta. I donno who is sending it out, or why, but I've nothing better to do than look it up. I sold my farm, my land, my everything, for a new set of armor and a rusty old ship that will get me to where I need to go. And if I die on the way, then good. I won't be a bother to anybody, having to attend my funeral or such. I always prefer not to bother people...
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