- Joined
- Nov 29, 2012
- Messages
- 1,885
- Reaction score
- 90
"We're passing the Mandalorian security check. We'll be landing on Roon in a few minutes. You'll have about a day here before my visit has to cut short. I don't like dealing with Mandos." the Smuggler said over the small ship's in-board communications. He was on board some smuggler's vessel, the model he wasn't too sure of, it was nothing he had seen before. Arkantos was never good with ship models, he did know it was a relatively small freighter though. He sat crossed-legged in a room surrounded by different canisters and boxes. It had been some time since Arkantos meditated, at least it felt that way. The Fall of Coruscant was still fresh on his mind, as it was to millions of citizens throughout the Galaxy.
Only five days ago, Arkantos was helping to set up defenses for the final battle, only to leave with scars, both mental and physical. He left Coruscant a rather changed man, one who now realized that his roots were much more important to him now, than ever before. In his younger years, Arkantos was a gifted soldier, one who would join the Mandalorian Special Forces of his clan, Beviit, their specialty. But Arkantos decided that his life was one of Peace, one that the Jedi would help foster. With that, he left the Mandalorians, and joined the Jedi Order. And now, his Order had fallen into shambles, and he would be returning home. Home. He hadn't been to Roon in years, and if his guess was right, most of his clan would be on Coruscant or in other battlefields. He was returning in hopes of finding his mother, or maybe even his sister. It was foolish, but, he missed his family. He also returned for something else: his Mandalorian armor. When he left, he had decided to leave the armor behind, finding no real practical use in his Jedi training. And now? Arkantos was a fugitive Jedi, an outlaw. He figured he could hide himself as a Mandalorian warrior, create a new identity for himself and hide. That is, to find more Jedi, and figure out the next course of action. In the back of his mind, he knew his family might try and convince him to stay, that they'd offer to hide him, but he wouldn't dare be a burden to them now, now that the war was over. To his clan, he was a dar'manda, a souless one, one who was ignorant of their heritage. He was worse than dead. But he only chose not to rally to the Mandalore's cause, one he could not, philosophically speaking.
The ship rocked, they were breaking through the atmosphere. Arkantos inhaled deeply one last time, gathering all the built up stress he had gained these past few days. With his exhale, he released it all, allowing the Force to flow more easily through his body. He opened his eyes and stood up as the ship once again rocked, this time he figured, they had landed. "I'll be leaving around this time tomorrow. I'll contact you if anything comes up." the Smuggler said as he walked into the cargo bay where Arkantos was at. Arkantos only nodded to the man, keeping his words at a minimum. The Smuggler got his conformation, Arkantos understood, and he left his ship. He knew his place well, the capitol, Aloriya. He was heading to a small village where most of the farmers lived on the planet, the most fertile soil, Sol'yc Arpat. But to get there, he'd need some transport.
Only five days ago, Arkantos was helping to set up defenses for the final battle, only to leave with scars, both mental and physical. He left Coruscant a rather changed man, one who now realized that his roots were much more important to him now, than ever before. In his younger years, Arkantos was a gifted soldier, one who would join the Mandalorian Special Forces of his clan, Beviit, their specialty. But Arkantos decided that his life was one of Peace, one that the Jedi would help foster. With that, he left the Mandalorians, and joined the Jedi Order. And now, his Order had fallen into shambles, and he would be returning home. Home. He hadn't been to Roon in years, and if his guess was right, most of his clan would be on Coruscant or in other battlefields. He was returning in hopes of finding his mother, or maybe even his sister. It was foolish, but, he missed his family. He also returned for something else: his Mandalorian armor. When he left, he had decided to leave the armor behind, finding no real practical use in his Jedi training. And now? Arkantos was a fugitive Jedi, an outlaw. He figured he could hide himself as a Mandalorian warrior, create a new identity for himself and hide. That is, to find more Jedi, and figure out the next course of action. In the back of his mind, he knew his family might try and convince him to stay, that they'd offer to hide him, but he wouldn't dare be a burden to them now, now that the war was over. To his clan, he was a dar'manda, a souless one, one who was ignorant of their heritage. He was worse than dead. But he only chose not to rally to the Mandalore's cause, one he could not, philosophically speaking.
The ship rocked, they were breaking through the atmosphere. Arkantos inhaled deeply one last time, gathering all the built up stress he had gained these past few days. With his exhale, he released it all, allowing the Force to flow more easily through his body. He opened his eyes and stood up as the ship once again rocked, this time he figured, they had landed. "I'll be leaving around this time tomorrow. I'll contact you if anything comes up." the Smuggler said as he walked into the cargo bay where Arkantos was at. Arkantos only nodded to the man, keeping his words at a minimum. The Smuggler got his conformation, Arkantos understood, and he left his ship. He knew his place well, the capitol, Aloriya. He was heading to a small village where most of the farmers lived on the planet, the most fertile soil, Sol'yc Arpat. But to get there, he'd need some transport.