Narir Solus
SWRP Writer
- Joined
- Dec 15, 2018
- Messages
- 214
- Reaction score
- 64
Narir Solus had been busy in the backgrounds of the war for months now. Fighting to secure areas against growing witch infestations on Dathomir had slowly eaten up what was first weeks and then months. It had been a mess started by some odd ritual that had burned down half the forest. In the aftermath, Narir had led a group of Mandalorian raiders to clean up the remaining problem causers in the area, but the process had been slow and painful.
When the news of what had happened at Mandalore had reached him, he had felt physically ill. It was even worse that Raz was dead and he hadn't been there. He. Hadn't. Been. There. One of his childhood friends and half of his people scorched, and he'd been off securing other territory. Now, as he looked down at the burned remains of the planet, he could feel his jaw trembling, a lump growing in his throat, and a rage. It was the kind of rage that he knew he couldn't do anything with. No matter how many Sith he killed it wouldn't go away. It would only grow and fester.
He turned away from the viewport and took a deep breath. Channeled rage, he told himself. A pointless, directionless anger wouldn't help anyone and he'd watched it consume other men before. He feared it might do the same to him. He was thankful for any distraction as he heard the doors to the bridge hiss open because he knew that hearkened the beginning of his meeting with a man who would know his anger and perhaps then some. It seemed like it had been ages, but he was glad to see his old badger friend. @Painus
When the news of what had happened at Mandalore had reached him, he had felt physically ill. It was even worse that Raz was dead and he hadn't been there. He. Hadn't. Been. There. One of his childhood friends and half of his people scorched, and he'd been off securing other territory. Now, as he looked down at the burned remains of the planet, he could feel his jaw trembling, a lump growing in his throat, and a rage. It was the kind of rage that he knew he couldn't do anything with. No matter how many Sith he killed it wouldn't go away. It would only grow and fester.
He turned away from the viewport and took a deep breath. Channeled rage, he told himself. A pointless, directionless anger wouldn't help anyone and he'd watched it consume other men before. He feared it might do the same to him. He was thankful for any distraction as he heard the doors to the bridge hiss open because he knew that hearkened the beginning of his meeting with a man who would know his anger and perhaps then some. It seemed like it had been ages, but he was glad to see his old badger friend. @Painus