Recent content by Cal Fardreamer

The worst was behind them. The Tusken Raiders, the darkness of the night. None of them gave chase. As they reached the spaceport, the sun was already rising. However, no matter how far he went, Cal could not escape the Dune Sea. Tatooine was his home and he was waiting for someone. His real...

“Just shut up and drive!” He shot right back, scowl never leaving his face for even the slightest moment. Cal could not believe his luck, terrible as it always was, to have run into the Mandalorian and now forced to ride behind him like some desperate leech. Not that he planned to chew the other...

Correction: the party was about to reach its end. While Cal was successful in tripping one of the Raiders down the dune with the swing of his staff, the others were not so inclined to meet a similar fate. Settled below and between two Tuskens, they aimed their rifles toward the young man with...

Rather than duck, he turned. Callahan was caught by surprise. He never expected to see another soul in the darkness of the Dune Sea other than from a nosy Jawa or wandering bantha. His surprise turned into shock and agitation as he recognized the voice and armor of the Mandalorian. The one from...

Cal couldn’t sleep. He could not return to a home of empty stomachs with empty hands. His work in the arena left him penniless. The brawl in the cantina left him with a bruise on his temple and a few new enemies. There was no way he could return to that side of the town without running into...

Jolly-blonde-jackass. That was new. Of all the insults and obscene names he was called in his tenure with many drunken or tyrannical employers, Callahan had never heard that before. One eyebrow raised, he scoffed and scowled. There was no reason for him to give the stoned Mandalorian further...

As Cal fled from the hulking Rodian, he heard a voice to his left. Across the bar, through the mess of the ongoing brawl, he noticed an armored stranger. Covered in a rusted Mandalorian outfit, he saw the other man stare directly at him. With a vibroblade in his hand. Failing to recognize the...

The Rodian mercenary on his left lurched forward with a punch across his head, harder than the first strike. He was fast, but Cal was faster. Younger, smaller, and with street reflexes tempered for a decade, he saw what was coming. And with the Rodian expecting an easy fight, even after his...

“Sleemo?” Cal turned around to see three Rodians on the rougher side approach and stare him down. Natural instinct tensed his shoulders and straightened his poise but the strange trio still towered above him and their eyes never once wavered. In no way did the young man want to pick a fight...

The cantina was absolute chaos. Raucous laughter filled the air, the occasional blaster shot roared and stained the ceiling, wall or even another patron. Drinks clinked together, heads butted, lips pursed against the end of hookahs, thick smoke choked the air. The bar was as much of a smuggler’s...

The shove had just about done it. Although he recovered and regained his balance like it was nothing, he was infuriated. While the other young man was ready to unleash the day’s frustrations upon him, Cal was already doing it. He was about done with everything. “I’m standing in the middle of the...

Where was he? On the floor, that’s where. When wrapped in his thoughts, almost ignorant to his surroundings, it was no wonder he failed to see the young man barreling down the stairs. The sound of his every grunt past each step, or the irritated gasps of other audience members, should have done...

“You have to be kriffin’ me.” A voice boomed even among the crescendo of the crowd’s applause and anger with the end of the round. As Cal made a valiant attempt to clean away the shards of glass on the floor, he was suddenly pulled aside by a powerful grip. Already, he knew whose it was...

As the fight continued, so did Cal. The tray in his hands felt like a metric ton. It was a yoke on his shoulders, a chain on his feet, which anchored him to this life of pseudo slavery. His arms were brittle lead as his legs, slow and methodical, shuffled down the staircase. His particular job...

What was honor but a wasted memory on a world as wasted as Tatooine? The Dune Sea and its inhabitants spared no expense in feeling or emotion as long as it meant success or survival. Honor, heritage and respect (self-respect included) were a thing of the past. With the Sith Empire, Imperial...