Lord Achlohr, son of a noble, stepped off of the transport wearing the only items that was left to him; his weapons, his armor, and his life. He casually, but
cautiously, walked through the streets of Mos Eisley. The twin suns of Tatooine beat down on him, but he was used to heat. While walking through the sand, he
felt out of place. He was a human, and was uniquely dressed in his warrior's armor. The obsidian that was set in the leather gleamed in the light.
While walking aimlessly down the rows of shops and other buildings, Achlohr thought of the series of events that has led him to the desert planet.
He had always been the favorite amongst the king's sons. Although he was not the oldest, he was the strongest and the smartest. His planet had no name. It was small and out of the way. Other worlds sent traffic to the planet only to sell goods and trade. Nobody was quite sure why, but the planet was not at all technologically advanced. The people were still ruled by feudalism, and wars were fought with metal swords. Only the most elite of warriors wielded blasters.
For many years, revolution had stirred the people, and rebellion raged. One by one, kingdoms fell to the growing masses. They called for change: they wanted technology and modernization. However, the conservative kings would not have it.
Home of the best soldiers on the world, his father's kingdom was the last to fall. One by one, his sons were killed in battle until only Achlohr was left. He was sleeping when the Last Battle began. Taken by surprise, the unprepared army fell to the hordes of rebels. The castle was seized, and the royal family taken prisoner. Dressed for battle, Achlohr fled before he could be taken and executed. He hid on the first transport that he saw, and waited. When he woke up, he was here.
A sudden chill ran down his spine, despite the blazing heat. Stopping in his tracks, he looked around, but saw nothing that seemed out of the ordinary. But the dark presence remained. He could feel it. A being of great power was nearby.
Concentrating on the dark energy, he found it refreshing. He decided then that somebody wanted him to feel this power. Sitting down and leaning against the first shaded area he came across, he waited to be called upon by the owner of the presence.
While walking aimlessly down the rows of shops and other buildings, Achlohr thought of the series of events that has led him to the desert planet.
He had always been the favorite amongst the king's sons. Although he was not the oldest, he was the strongest and the smartest. His planet had no name. It was small and out of the way. Other worlds sent traffic to the planet only to sell goods and trade. Nobody was quite sure why, but the planet was not at all technologically advanced. The people were still ruled by feudalism, and wars were fought with metal swords. Only the most elite of warriors wielded blasters.
For many years, revolution had stirred the people, and rebellion raged. One by one, kingdoms fell to the growing masses. They called for change: they wanted technology and modernization. However, the conservative kings would not have it.
Home of the best soldiers on the world, his father's kingdom was the last to fall. One by one, his sons were killed in battle until only Achlohr was left. He was sleeping when the Last Battle began. Taken by surprise, the unprepared army fell to the hordes of rebels. The castle was seized, and the royal family taken prisoner. Dressed for battle, Achlohr fled before he could be taken and executed. He hid on the first transport that he saw, and waited. When he woke up, he was here.
A sudden chill ran down his spine, despite the blazing heat. Stopping in his tracks, he looked around, but saw nothing that seemed out of the ordinary. But the dark presence remained. He could feel it. A being of great power was nearby.
Concentrating on the dark energy, he found it refreshing. He decided then that somebody wanted him to feel this power. Sitting down and leaning against the first shaded area he came across, he waited to be called upon by the owner of the presence.
