Post by Rugs on Oct 25, 2010 22:31:17 GMT -5
Name: Asyr (ah-SEER) Yevor (former surname- Noallin)
Race: Echani
Age: 28
Birthplace: Eshan
Allegiance: Self
Status: Smuggler/Occasional Pirate
Rank: N/A
Height/Weight: 6'1"/202 lbs
Eye Color: Pale Silver-Blue
Hair Color: White
Appearance:
Asyr is handsome, and he knows it. He stands tall and his build, while slender, is phenomenal, nearly the peak of physical perfection. His body is hard and very muscular, with a physique that--from top to bottom--looks as though it could have been carved from stone. And with a body fat as low as his is, there's nothing to hide his muscle, giving him an incredible amount of definition and very impressive vascularity. His hair is a snowy white, his eyes a pale silver-blue, and his skin is just a bit on the pale side, as his Echani heritage dictates.
As far as clothing goes, he's often in a long red and black over coat that has an armorweave lining on the interior for protection. There's always a black shirt underneath that's a bit tight, but short of being snug or form fitting. His pants are a dark grey, and durable, and his boots are black.
Asyr's often armed in some fashion, though the situation tends to dictate how heavily. He always has one knife hidden up the each sleeve of his shirt, and is quite capable of putting them into action at a moment's notice. Most of the time, he'll have his heavy blaster on him, as well as at least one of his short swords. If the situation allows, they hang from his waist, but if the need to appear unarmed arises, he can hide the weapons in his coat. However, when the need for more firepower arises, he'll add his slugthrower (hand cannon) to that, the second short sword to the other side of his waist, and his sword, which hangs from a sheath on his back.
When on raids, he'll often don a suit of electromesh armor. Link
Though, ever one for looking nice, he's been known to wear his coat over the armor as well.
Personality: Easy-going. Philandering. That's Asyr, more or less. He's friendly, and easy enough to get on with, if you can deal with his mannerisms, and has got a pretty long fuse, temper wise. Asyr has a way of giving people pet names, whether they like it or not, and often times, the less they like it, the better. He often gets or acts familiar with people, perhaps too familiar in some cases, but that's the way he is.
More than that, he's hedonistic. He's a pretty big smoker, loves to drink when he's able, and is a huge flirt. Sometimes it gets him in trouble, sometimes it pays off, but it's something he always does when there's a pretty lady around.
Despite his lax ways and his tendency to be borderline lazy at times, Asyr can roll up and sleeves when it's time to do his job. Working on the Bohemian keeps him fed and puts some money in his pockets, as did working with the other crews he's worked with before. He's not stupid; getting kicked off for not contributing won't do him any good. Even so, he likes to push the limits with Lordura when he can, but he knows his place, and won't go past them.
Ships/Vehicles:
Equipment:
x1 Sword - durasteel, cortosis weave.
x2 Short swords durasteel, cortosis weave, vibro-emitter
x4 Knives (keeps two in sleeves, one in each boot)
x2 Heavy Blaster Pistols
x1 Revolver
Multiple Cigarras
x1 Lighter
x1 Datapad
Depending on the mission and the stores available on the Bohemian, he's been known to carry various grenades and other similar munitions
Stats:
Strength - Superior
Agility - Superior
Intelligence - Above Average
Charisma - Average
Combat Training:
Echani Martial Arts - Master(master of the three tiers; very skilled in the the precognition that comes with learning the Echani martial arts and the ability to read movements to predict what's coming. This has also made him very good at reading people through body language in general)
Teras Kasi - Expert
Bladed Weapons (swords/short swords/knives) - Expert
Pistols - Expert
Other Training:
Freighter Piloting - Adept
Minor Repairs - Apprentice
Thought Shield - Expert
Languages:
Basic- Duh
Bocce- Fluent
Huttese- Moderate (understands well, is not the greatest at speaking it)
Smuggler's Cant
Bio:
Asyr Noallin was born into a fairly wealthy, and very well respected Echani family on Eshan. His father, Asidim, was a respected general among the forces of the Echani people. Selande, his mother, was a teacher at a local arms academy. Both of his parents were fierce fighters, as might be expected within Echani society. Due to his father's high position, their life was lavish, their house large, and all of their needs met. And that's the life Asyr was born into.
Asyr was good enough as a young child. He was easy, didn't fuss much. He was the pride and joy of his parents, and they expected great things from him, especially his father. Perhaps, in that, they were setting themselves up for disappointment.
Asyr's education began when he was young. It started in the home, where his parents taught him basic things, but more than that, taught him, or tried to teach him, virtue. Asidim was, as has been mentioned well respected, both among his peers in the military and among the people of Eshan. The Noallin family had many friends in high places on the world, including a fairly warm relationship with the ruler of Eshan and his family. For the general, it was a huge, nearly unbelievable step up from the merchant's son he'd been so long ago, and maintaining the honor and the respect he'd worked so hard was paramount, coming only after his job as a general and caring for his family.
It was the values that he valued so dearly that Asidim tried to instill into Asyr: honesty, integrity, a strong work ethic, among other things. Those things, as he often said, were the things the Noallins were known for, and Asyr, being a Noallin, would become known for them as well. Asyr would follow in his footsteps, of course, and would one day become one of the greatest generals Eshan had ever seen. That was Asidim's hope. That was Asidim's dream. And while his intentions were good, it would wind up being Asidim's failure.
For the mean time, though, all seemed to be well. By the time Asyr was five, he stared to liven up a bit, and become a bit more of a troublemaker, but his parents expected as much. His father put him back in line when he stepped out of it, though sometimes, Asyr acted again, seeming to act out in defiance as if on purpose. Such things were quickly corrected, or so his parents thought.
Asyr also started to learn how to fight shortly after the time he turned five. His mother instructed him in most of those lessons, being the combat instructor that she was. They were very basic, of course, with a very big emphasis on just teaching him the bare foundations of things that he would need to learn in order to learn more, but it was still the beginnings of learning Echani, the martial art named after their people.
This was also about the time Asyr started his formal education, and was enrolled in a private school. He performed well, or as well as such young students can be expected to do, and was the subject of a good deal of praise from his teachers. But even so, there was always mention of the occasional burst of troublemaking from him. It was a bit concerning to his parents, but they worked on it, and figured it'd pass as he grew older.
For the most part, they were right. Asyr mellowed out a bit as he continued to grow. He was consistently near the top of his class, even as a young boy, and many of his peers, who were also from families of high position, liked him. Everything seemed to be going great; Asyr was on track to become the son Asidim hoped so dearly that he would always be.
It wouldn't last. Asyr's deviance wasn't gone, not by any stretch of the imagination. Instead, it was merely slumbering. It would reawaken in time.
The routine for Asyr changed as he neared his tenth birthday.When Asyr was seven, and a new school year was beginning, he met a friend. Tieres Ryal was the boy's name, and he was the son of a wealthy weapons merchant. Tieres' family had moved across the planet to come to live in the capital city, and so the current school year was the first for Tieres in the new location. He didn't know anyone, and no one knew him, but Asyr talked to him. The two established a rapport with each other that quickly led to the forming of a friendship, and before too long they were best friends, and nearly inseparable.
They were similar some ways, different in others. Tieres was very intelligent, though a bit more reserved than Asyr, and as they got older, he'd grow to be a sort of voice of reason for the sometimes-impetuous Asyr. Both could fight, of course, and as time went by they would often spar together, pushing each other to get better through a budding friendly rivalry. When fighting unarmed, the duo would grow to be relatively equal at fighting without a weapon. However, Asyr was much better than Tieres at using a sword, and Tieres was superior to Asyr with a staff. When they just sparred with one of the weapons, one of them got blown out by the other, but when they both used their respective instruments of expertise, they had some of their finest matches. It was another area where the two were roughly even. Sometimes the balance would shift one way or another for a few matches, and then the loser would push themselves to get better, bridging the gap again.
The routine for Asyr changed as he neared his tenth birthday. Selande introduced weapons into Asyr's combat training; weapons that were both ranged and melee, though there was an obvious emphasis on the use of swords. Asyr loved it. He was pretty decent for his age at fighting unarmed--as one might expect of from the son of a combat instructor, and he took to using the (dulled) blades with an incredible enthusiasm, sometimes at the cost to his focus on fighting without a weapon, until his mother corrected that.
Additionally, Selande began to teach him what was known as the Thought Shield; the technique to keep his mind shielded against the prodding of Force users and their mind tricks. It was a technique many Echani knew how to do, and while Selande made sure to tell the boy that they had no problem with Force-sensitives like the Jedi, it was imperative that he know how to keep his thoughts and motives hidden and protected from those who might have more dubious intentions. It was hard to grasp the technique at first. As with learning many things, patience and persistence would prove to be what Asyr would need to learn how to do it, and as the years went on, he'd grow to understand it; after a while, it would just become second nature to him.
But even beyond that, lay his interest in something else: guns. Pistols, specifically. They weren't used too terribly often in the fighting styles of the Echani, but his mother taught him a bit of how to properly use them, believing that it was best to be prepared for any situation.
There was something about them that grabbed the boy. Perhaps it was from watching holovids, where the good-lookin', smooth-talkin' pistol-totin' hero saved the day with his near-flawless aim and flashy gunplay. Perhaps it was just the innate want to use something different than what so many of his peers focused on, but Asyr liked them a lot. But it was hard to fit in extra time to practice with a gun, when the main focus of his fighting studies was so squarely on fighting up close, never mind with the workload that came from school. Perhaps when he was older, his mother would always tell him when he complained about it, but he had other things to set his mind on. Asyr (reluctantly) complied.
That was largely how the early part of Asyr's life continued on; go to school, come home to train with mother, and then homework. He was pushed to succeed in every asset of his life by his parents, particularly by Asidim. Not just for his own sake, the general would tell his son at chats around the dinner table, but because Asyr was a Noallin, and one day, he'd be a general. It was a line Asyr heard hundreds, if not thousands, of times as he grew. There were variations on it; variations that often came when Asyr inquired as to why his bed had to be so straight, or his room so clean, or why he had to be such a stickler for being on time. "Because you're a Noallin," the answer came, in one form or another.
And when he entered his early teens--when he entered that curious phrase of life called puberty when hormones begin to rage--that answer would start to wear Asyr's nerves thin.
Rebelling Years 14-17
The age of fourteen found Asyr moving to high school. It was still a private school, of course, and prestigious, but it was in a different area of town than the school he'd been attending, and it drew students in from a larger area. It was big. It was foreign. To the young Echani boy, it was almost like moving to an entirely new world. It helped that Tieres made the move with him, but even so, Tieres was only one person in a school that was much larger than the one they'd been attending, and he still had to find his own way in the 'new world.'
He spent the first few weeks of school floating around with that sort of wide-eyed cluelessness that comes with going through such a change. He adjusted quickly, though, and soon he was making new friends and figuring out where he fit in. For a time, everything seemed to be going great. Asyr continued to stay near the top of his class, even among increased competition from his classmates. His teachers liked him. Some of the girls around the school even thought he was handsome (which, as you may be able to imagine, was an incredible confidence booster for the teenager)even if he was a bit shorter than the other boys, since he'd not really had much of a growth spurt yet.
However, things wouldn't remain that way. While Asyr continued to do well at school, things in the Noallin home were starting to change, and not for the better. While he continued to do well with his combat training with Selande, even mastering the first tier of Echani and moving on to the second, things between Asyr and Asidim started to grow strained.
Asidim continued to push Asyr, always telling him that he was a Noallin, giving the same old speeches and reasoning Asyr had heard for so many years. Perhaps it was the rebellious air that can come with being a teenager, or perhaps there was something deeper to it, but as it went on, he found himself getting more and more irritated with it all. As he thought more and more about it, he started to realize that he didn't care about doing things just because he happened to be a Noallin, nor did he care about being general, or even being in the military for that matter. No, Asyr realized that if he was going to do something, he was going to do it because he wanted to do it, not his father.
But, if that was the case, what did he want to do?
That question was one he didn't have an answer to, at least not yet. But in the mean time, Asyr--being driven by emotion, as teenagers have a way of being at times--dug his heels in, and rebelled.
At first it just started with little things: not putting up as much effort to do the menial tasks that his father set out for him, dropping subtle hints that he didn't want anything to do with being a military man. It didn't help. Instead, Asidim only redoubled his efforts to make Asyr the type of man he thought he should be, which only led to an Asyr that was regularly irritable.
Sparring helped, both with his mother and with Tieres. But as time rolled by and he continued to convince himself that he was right in his thinking, it spread to other things. He became a bit less outgoing, unless he was chasing after girls, as young men are prone to do, and his irritability led to a number of outbursts. His grades started slipping, and that was what grabbed the attention of his father, who cracked down even more, growing almost militaristic in his efforts to get Asyr back under control.
That didn't help at all. Asyr pushed back in his own way, continuing to rebel in the home as his progress in school continued to slide. Around the mid-point of his second year in high school, he found himself making friends with classmates that felt similarly to him--rebellious, in some form or other. While none of them were stupid, none of them were the sort of people that Asyr normally hung out with, and many of them weren't the sort that Asidim would approve of his son hanging out with. As far as Asyr was concerned, that was all the impetus he needed.
They weren't the sort that Asyr needed to be hanging around if he was going to be the reputable man his parents wished him to be. Asyr didn't care. They were people he identified with, or thought he identified with, and so he was fine with them. Besides, he had decided, in infinite 16-year-old wisdom, that he didn't care about how the crap about 'being a Noallin' and doing things just because they made his family look good. He was his own individual, with his own ambitions, even if he didn't quite know them, but he knew there was no way they would involve the military.
His new friends welcomed him into their circle, and before long, it was almost as if they'd been friends all along. Asyr stuck with them, and as they grew closer, he started to grow more and more distant with his older friends, the ones who still tried to reach out to him and keep him on the 'right' path. He started to drink, dabbled in smoking, and still, his performance in school suffered.
Only two things remained relatively unchanged; he stayed as focused as ever on his fighting lessons, making tremendous strides in unarmed fighting and very strong progress in fighting with a blade. He'd moved past the second tier of Echani and was now beginning to learn the third. As he moved on, Selande introduced another martial art style to the young Asyr: Teras Kasi. It was different than the style he was used to fighting with, and the adjustment proved to be a bit of a hump to get over at first, but he worked at it with the same doggedness that he'd used to tackle all of his other training up to that point. The practice sessions often went long, but Asyr pushed himself hard, both to learn the actual moves that came with the fighting and the other, more passive techniques--like learning how to shut his mind off from Force-sensitives to shield himself from mental attacks. Thankfully, his work with learning the thought shield proved to make that simple enough, though it was something he was still practicing. But seven years of practice made for quick strides in that field. He also had to learn how to anticipate the movements of his opponent, though that proved to be relatively simple, since it was such an essential part of the Echani form of martial arts. It would take of practice to become dangerous with Teras Kasi, of course, but Asyr knew he could get there with hard work.
Selande, true to her word so many years ago, started to work in ranged combat as well, teaching Asyr how to properly use and care for a pistol, though the lessons didn't come often, due to the increasing focus that unarmed and melee combat was getting. Asyr ate those lessons up, when they came. He loved it all, and when he got the chance, he'd just use the shooting range to practice by himself, though the times when he got to do that weren't as often as he might have liked; working on two martial arts, in addition to his practice with weapons, had a way of eating up a lot of time.
Additionally, his interest in the opposite sex only continued to grow, to the point where chasing after pretty girls became a 'hobby' of his.
Asyr often got in trouble with his father. His continually falling grades became the subject of a great deal of anger and frustration for his father, as did the way that Asyr just didn't seem to care. He cracked down. Asyr got worse. It continued on and on, until things reached a peak one winter night, when Asyr was 17.
Asyr was returning home from a party, and was sorta drunk, when he happened upon Tieres, who he hadn't had more than a passing conversation with in a long while. Tieres stopped Asyr, and the two had a chat for a while. It was a pleasant enough talk, until Tieres brought up the way Asyr had changed. When Asyr inquired into what he meant, he spoke of how Asyr had once been one of the brightest students in the school, but now he was near the bottom of the class. He talked about how Asyr had left his old friends for a new group that didn't care about him. He was going to go on, until Asyr told him to be quiet and stood, turning to leave. Tieres, for better or for worse, decided to keep pressing Asyr, telling him that he wasn't the person he'd been before. Asyr once again told him to stop, through a clenched jaw. Then Tieres told Asyr to open his eyes and stop being too stubborn or stupid to see what was happening to him.
Asyr exploded, yelling at Tieres and telling him that he was tired of hearing talk like that from his own parents. Again, Tieres didn't back down, and instead moved closer to Asyr, telling him that he needed to listen to someone before he ruined himself. Now, Asyr was, as mentioned, a little drunk; that, coupled with the always lurking annoyance at his father, had done a great deal to shorten his normally fairly lengthy fuse. He made a threat, telling Tieres to leave before he made him leave.
Maybe, if Asyr had been thinking straight, he would've remembered that Tieres could be stubborn as an ox when the thought the time was right. And to the other Echani youth, watching his friend destroy himself seemed the perfect time to dig his heels in. He didn't back down; he even went so far as to say that if Asyr wouldn't listen to sense, then beating it in might be the only to do him some good. Needless to say, Asyr attacked.
The fight that followed was short. Asyr was a skilled fighter, a master of the first two tiers of Echani, and making decent progress through the third. However, Tieres was just as much an Echani as Asyr was, and he was a very respected martial artist himself. On a normal day, the two were roughly equals. On a bad night, when Asyr was angry and inebriated, Tieres could make a fool out of him.
That is, more or less, what happened. Tieres didn't really hurt Asyr, but he didn't waste any time showing him who was in control of the fight. They went back and forth for a few moments, with Asyr making big sloppy attacks that would have made his mother shake her head in embarrassment and nearly stumbling over himself as he tried to defend before Tieres put him on the ground, face down in the snow, pinned under him with one of Asyr's arms twisted behind his back. Tieres told Asyr one final time to open his eyes, to see that what he was doing would catch up with him sooner or later and then he let his arm go, leaving Asyr lying in the snow.
Asyr limped home and waved off any questions his parents asked him about what had happened to him. He didn't Liston to Tieres, though he fumed over the way he'd been beaten so easily. They didn't talk again, but as Asyr's eighteenth birthday approached, he continued on the way he had been.
Perhaps, had he listened, he could have avoided the disaster that was quickly approaching.
Passage Year 18
The days rolled into weeks and the weeks into months until finally, Asyr's eighteenth birthday arrived. It would be a special day for him. It would be a special day for anyone, but it was a day of tradition for the Noallin line.
Even before Asidim rose to the rank of general and took the family to prominence with him, there had been a tradition within the Noallin family. On a child's eighteenth birthday, they would have to prove their strength and ability in combat, and once that was done, they would be presented with a gift. It was a tradition that ran back as far as anyone in the family could remember. There was a story that said the Noallin line had once been some of the most revered warriors among the Echani long, long ago, but no one was sure. Whatever the case, the tradition remained, and was done for son and daughter alike.
The months leading up to his birthday had been a flurry of activity for Asyr. He'd more than redoubled his training efforts, straining himself to the limit to reach mastery of the third tier of Echani in time for the date. It wasn't a requirement, but it was something he wanted to do. All that was required of him was to show that he could hold his own as an Echani warrior would be expected to, but he wanted to go above and beyond. Maybe it was to prove to his father that he was worth something, despite his ways. Or perhaps the spark for it had come from his defeat at the hands of Tieres.
Asyr's reasons might have been none of those, or it may have been a mix of the two. Whatever the reason, his progress over that span of time was nothing short of incredible. Even for someone who was in as exceptional shape as he was, Asyr pushed his body hard, nearly to the point of injury, and might have gone further, if Selande didn't step in to make him ease up.
But now the day had come. Asyr awoke early that morning to head down to sparring room of the Noallin manor, where his test would occur. For a long time, he just stayed there, kneeling in the middle of the room and reflecting on things. Tieres' talk had left a mark on Asyr, even though he didn't like to think about it. Part of him knew that his friend (or former friend, rather)was right about him changing for the worse. Part of him also knew that doing the things he did to spite his father was wrong.
But, truth be told, Asyr liked the way he'd turned out to be.
There was a certain likableness to the more hedonistic lifestyle, in doing what he wanted to do because he wanted to do it. Not because his father wanted him to do it. Not because his mother wanted him to do it. Asyr was living for himself, and that was all he wanted. Or so he thought.
After a while, he shook those thoughts away and returned to the coming test. Selande never gave him a straight answer when he asked if he'd mastered the third tier of Echani, but he knew that he was close, at the very least. That was good, both for his pride and for practicality's sake; he'd need to be at the top of his game for whatever his parents had in store for him. The tests differed from child to child, but he'd heard that they were always difficult--as they should have been, if they were to truly be tests.
Finally, the time came. Both of his parents entered the room, greeting him and congratulating him on reaching his eighteenth year. The pleasantries soon ended and he was told of what his test would be. What he was told stunned him and nearly had his jaw on the floor.
Asyr had been expecting a fight against a better opponent. He wouldn't even have been surprised to find that he would have to fight against one of his parents. He was spot on in that regard, but it went further than he'd been expecting.
In order to complete his passage into adulthood, Asyr would have to prove himself not against one of his parents, but both of them. It was a monumental, nearly crazy task, but his parents--especially his father--seemed to believe in him. They knew what he could do, and they expected his best.
Asyr didn't back down from the challenge. He couldn't, and even if he could, his pride wouldn't allow him to. Even though he knew the odds of actually beating both of his parents (especially Selande, who, through being his teacher, knew all of the weaknesses and holes, small as they were, in Asyr's form) were nearly nonexistent. But point of the test was not to win. It was to show that the youth could fight as an Echani warrior would be expected to fight, and to prove that they would give everything they had until the bitter end, even in the face of seemingly-impossible odds.
The challenge was accepted, and the fight began. To an outsider, it might have looked like the three were engaging in a very fast, very fluid dance as the moved about, flowing through their battle with an extraordinary grace. They were not fighting, however. The three Noallins were fighting, mother and father against son, and despite that, the blows were real.
Difficult could not even begin to describe the nature of the test. Despite all of his talent and ability and grace, Asyr struggled mightily early on. Anyone would in his situation. Asidim and Selande were both master warriors--taking them on in single combat would be challenge enough; both at once was crazy.
Blow after blow befell the young Echani and he quickly realized that if he was to have any hope of succeeding, he'd have to find a way to separate his parents. Push one back and press the attack on the other, even if it was short-lived. That was easier said than done. His parents could predict what he was going to do, and he could do the same to a degree with them, but even if he could see what was coming, it was very hard to keep up when he was being pounded from both sides.
He fought on though, as the fight quickly turned into a one-sided beating. More and more he found himself fighting less to try to break their tempo and force them back, but to fend off the merciless assault that was falling on him, and even that was a losing battle. The hits fell everywhere--his stomach, his ribs, chest, legs, everywhere they could hit him, they hit him.
For a time, it looked as though the test would be over before Asyr could mount any effective counter to the onslaught. All he could think about as pain exploded through his body was that all of his work, all of his training had been for nothing. Even worse, he'd fail his passage, and wouldn't be considered an adult until he passed it. The thought of it all was terrible. But what could he do?
Desperation, luck, or some combination of the two came through for him, and he was able to find an opening. He took it, catching a punch from his mother and flipping her hard to the ground before he spun to attack his father. They fought for a few moments, and Asyr even managed to get a few good hits in before his mother rejoined the fray by grabbing his ankle and pulling him down. Even then, when he was on the ground, he didn't give up. He kicked and clawed at her, striking out at Asidim when he was able, even though he knew didn't have a chance at winning.
And so the fight went until finally, Asyr could fight no longer. He'd given all that he could, and there had been a few times when it seemed he was on the verge of turning the tide, but it just wasn't enough. Maybe, against one of them, he could have triumphed, though it would have been a hard fought struggle, but two was too much. He fought until the bitter end, though, and as his father helped him to his feet, letting Asyr lean on him to remain standing, he took his hand and congratulated him.
Asyr was surprised at first, given his seemingly poor performance, but Selande went on to tell him they never expected him to 'succeed' at the test. They knew he'd get beaten, and badly, but the object of the test lay in seeing just how badly he'd get beaten and how his resolve would hold in the face of such overwhelming odds. And, just as they'd hoped, Asyr had fought back admirably, refusing to give in until he simply could not push himself any more. And in doing so, he'd proven himself to them. If he could last against the two of them for as long as he did, they had faith that he could meet any challenge down the road, if he put himself to it.
With the hard part out of the way, Asyr was presented with his gifts. The first was from his mother, and was a pair of short swords, with beautifully crafted hilts and sheaths. The blades were strong and sharp, with a cortosis weave inlaid into them. They were magnificent weapons. Asidim's gift was a single sword. It was a large thing, slightly curved and just as beautifully crafted as the two short swords. Asyr loved it. He loved both of the gifts and thanked his parents for them.
Then he was taken off to have his injuries treated and wrapped up. There was a party later in the day, of course.
All things considered, it was a pretty good birthday.
Even with the beating.
Unfortunately, it would be the last real time of such warmth and happiness for Asyr with his family.
Fall from Grace Year 18
Time rolled by past that day and things settled back into their usual pattern. As the days went on, it became clearer that that one day, that one moment of happiness and rapport between the Noallins--more specifically, between Asyr and his father--had been the exception, rather than the rule. Grateful he may have been, but Asyr was stuck in his ways, and he went back to them with little hesitation, much to his father's chagrin.
The end of Asyr's time in high school was quickly approaching, and he'd fallen from one of the top five students in his class to floundering around in the middle. It wasn't the worst that could happen, no, but for a boy who'd shown such incredible promise, the drop was shocking. Or, rather, it was shocking to everyone except Asyr, who didn't seem to care. Girls. Partying. Smoking. Drinking. Fighting. Those were the only things that he seemed to really have any interest in. A man Asyr might have been by tradition, but in Asidim's eyes, he still had a lot of growing to do.
A few weeks after his eighteenth birthday, Asyr was invited to a party one of his peers was holding. It should go without saying that he would be attending. there was one thing that made this party different than most others, however.
While yes, most of Asyr's peers were the children of those that held high places within Echani society, the girl that was having this party was different. Her name was Astelle, and she was more than just the daughter of some wealthy person or diplomat, or something of the like. Astelle was the daughter of the ruler of Eshan himself. The Noallin family was on fairly friendly terms with the family of the ruler; Asidim actually knew him pretty well, through his work. Asyr had spoken with Astelle a few times before, and he liked her well enough. So when the invitation came, he accepted it gladly.
The night of the party came, and Asyr arrived to a thriving scene. Astelle's family owned a larege-ish house on the edge of a beautiful lake. Music was booming throughout the manor, and Asyr saw a number of his friends there. To put things simply, he had a great time.
But, though he'd come to have a good time, he came with other motives as well. Asyr still had his way of chasing after pretty girls, though he'd yet to 'score' one. As the evening gave way to night and alcohol started to settle into his system, he became determined to get with someone before the night was done.
So after a while, he found himself talking to none other than Astelle. They settled down at a table and talked for a long while over drinks. Then the party paused for a little while so the gift-giving festivities could commence. Once that was done, they drifted back together, and continued talking. As the night went by and the number of drinks consumed by both of them continued to rise, Asyr found himself growing bolder in the game (as it were) that he was playing with her. She wasn't necessarily backing down, though. It had already been established earlier in the night that he found her attractive, and she thought the same of him. Once they got going, all it took was time.
After a few hours, Asyr found himself being led away to a more private place, where they might be able to be alone. One thing led to another, and before his alcohol-laden mind could fully realize it, he was in bed with her.
The rest of the night passed in a blur, and the party went on nearly until the sun broke the horizon the next morning. Asyr left the place hugely satisfied, with his pride swelling. To the young man, it seemed that nothing was out of reach. He could do anything. Life was good.
It wouldn't last.
A few weeks later, a rumor got out. Word had it that Astelle was pregnant. Word also had it that her father was furious. Asyr knew it was only a matter of time until the trail led to him.
He was right. The day after he first heard the rumor, Asidim pulled Asyr aside and asked him about the party. The pride that had been growing so strong within Asyr suddenly deflated, and he lied. He told Asidim that he didn't do anything there. Asidim believed him, told him he'd known Asyr would have known better than that.
The next day, Astelle sent for Asyr herself. He was taken to the ruler's estate to meet with her and her family, with Asidim and Selande in tow. It was there that he confessed.
He'd lied to Asidim. He was the one that slept with her, and the child was his. To say his parents were shocked would be an understatement. Asyr looked up to meet the eyes of Astelle's father, and when he did, he felt more afraid than he'd ever felt of anything in his life. A mask of contained fury the man's face might have been, but there was pure, absolute hatred in his eyes.
The Noallins were dismissed once the meeting was over, though Asyr was informed that he would be sent for again within the near future. When they arrived home, Asyr's world started to fall apart.
Nearly the second the door closed, Asidim rounded on Asyr and exploded on him. For years, the general had tried to deal with Asyr--had tried to correct him from his deviant ways--and for years, he held his frustration deep within him as all of his efforts failed or blew up in his face. Asyr's latest screw up, along with the fact that he'd lied to Asidim about it, proved to be the thing that pushed him past his breaking point.
He went on and on about how Asyr always refused to see things in the right light, and how what he'd done would blacken the Noallin name for years to come. Asidim went on, counting over example after example of example of Asyr's moral failures over the years. But worst of all, worse even than the situation Asyr had put himself in, was the lie. That made Asidim angrier than anything else.
He told Asyr that he was no son of his. Asyr could never fit into the Noallin family, and because he seemed so intent on not being a Noallin, he would never be a Noallin. Asyr was kicked out of the house and told never to return. He had no place there.
And that was how a stunned Asyr found himself on the street, suddenly without a place to call home or without a family to rely on. Never in a thousand years did he think he'd ever get disowned by his father. He wandered around in a listless daze for a while, until one of the rulers messangers found him near nightfall, telling him that he'd been summoned.
When he arrived, he was greeted by the ruler and told to follow, so they might have a conversation. Asyr followed, of course, but there wasn't any talking. Instead, the man led him through the estate in silence, until they came into a large room. There they stopped, and as the door closed behind them, the ruler turned around to face Asyr.
Not a word was spoken between them, but Asyr had a growing feeling in the pit of his gut that something bad was coming.
A moment later, the ruler leapt at him. Asyr was too shocked to respond in time, and found himself getting the living daylights pounded out of him. He tried to defend himself; tried to fight back and get the man to stop attacking him, but for all his strength, for all his skill and ability, he was very clearly outclassed. The ruler could read his movements like a book, and everything Asyr tried.
The ruler said nothing over the course of the beating he administered to Asyr. He didn't need to. His actions spoke louder and more clearly than any words could and the message wasn't lost on Asyr, who was having the pleasure of getting the worst beating of his life.
It seemed to go on forever. Asyr was barely able to stand by the time it was over, and he was breathing hard, bruised badly in some places, and bleeding in others. That was when the ruler finally spoke. Asyr was informed that he had three hours to get off of Eshan. He was also told that if he was every found anywhere near Astelle again, he would die. Then he was dismissed.
In the course of a day, Asyr had lost everything. His own father had rejected him, he'd lost the access to the lavish lifestyle he'd grown so accustomed to, and now he couldn't even call his homeworld home anymore. He didn't have a clue what he would do, but he wasn't going to hang around Eshan to test the ruler's resolve. As soon as he could find a ride off of Eshan, he'd be gone, but there was something he had to do first.
When Asidim kicked him out, he'd not given Asyr a chance to take his weapons with him. Asyr's sword and his short swords were both still within the Noallin manor, and he'd be damned if he was going to leave them there.
He limped back to his home, thankful that it was at least night. His familiarity with the place he'd lived in for eighteen years proved to be a boon, and he was able to sneak in, grab his weapons and a cloak, along with some money, and slip out without getting caught.
From there, it was just a matter of making his way to the space port. When he did he found that the only transport that would take him on was one that was bound for Taris, and he only had enough money to pay for the trip there. To a desperate Asyr, who was running out of time, it seemed as good a place as any to try to start a new life.
As the ship took off and flew into the depths of space, Asyr turned back to look one last time at the world that had been his home. Then the blue of hyperspace surrounded him, taking him away to Taris.
Taris Year 19
Taris was not a kind world. Asyr learned this very quickly. Upon arrival, he left the spaceport and went out into the city to see how he might start a new life. He owned nothing but the clothes on his back and the weapons that hung from his body. There was no one that he could call on for help; no family, no friends. Nothing.
One of the first things Asyr came to learn was that his previous standing on Eshan meant nothing on Taris. No one knew the life he'd led before his arrival, and if they did, no one would care. To them, he wasn't the son of a renowned Echani general, but just another urchin to fill the streets. Asyr could be thankful for that much, at least; he didn't like thinking about the fortune that had befallen him enough as things stood. If he could keep other from knowing, then that was all the better.
As those first few hours went by, he abandoned the name Noallin. He abandoned the past, the standing that came with it. Asidim had been right about one thing: Asyr was not a Noallin, and if he would refuse to allow him to be one, then so be it. Of course, he'd have to have a surname, even if it wasn't the one he'd gained by birthright. But what would it be? He ran through a few, but eventually, he settled on Yevor. It wasn't a name that had any particular importance to him, but he liked it.
Asyr Yevor, then. That's who he'd be. And in a world where every face belonged to a stranger, who was there to know the difference?
Now that that was settled, the biggest issue for Asyr became finding a place to stay. Two problems presented themselves at that point.
For one, Asyr didn't know much about Taris. Oh, he knew some general things from his studies, but nothing that would be practical knowledge to help in his current situation.
And secondly, he didn't have any money. It had taken all that he had to pay for his ride of off Eshan and now he was stranded on a strange world with no money. The thought passed that he could sell one or all of his weapons, but that wouldn't do; he'd sooner die than give them up willingly.
So, as those first few hours turned into the passing of a day, Asyr ended up resigning himself to sleeping out on the street... until he was rudely awaken and told to find somewhere else to go. Apparently, the people of the upper city--even though it didn't compare to jewels of the Galaxy like Coruscant--didn't take kindly to the homeless sleeping out in plain sight. Fair enough. He moved down. He worked his way down to the middle city. That worked for a few days. He was even able to scrounge sparse meals together from the generosity of strangers. Eventually, though, he found himself being moved again, down to the lower city. And there he would remain for the vast bulk of his time on Taris.
Now, it should be said that Asyr was not a soft person. Far from it--his parents had been sure to see to that. But, for the general's son, who'd lived a life where his every need had been met, who'd gone without ever having to want for anything, the life he was stepping into was a huge shock. He couldn't always count on having food to fill his stomach at night. Nor could he always count on having somewhere warm to sleep, or hot water to bathe in.
As the days rolled into weeks, Asyr began to learn the hard realities of what his life had become. Life in the crime-plagued lower city was a battle for survival, and he quickly came to the realization that he had to do things he normally wouldn't if he was going to survive.
So he adapted. He learned to steal when he needed to. He learned what areas were controlled by gangs, and off limits. He learned when cantinas and restaurants disposed of extra food, which, as disgusting a thought as it might have been to him only a short time ago on Eshan, was at least a source of food. Thankfully, that didn't have to last too long. One night, as he was searching for food, he happened by the owner of a cantina who was standing outside, smoking.
Jejres was his name. He was a Basilisk; kind, and a bit portly. Jejres had apparently seen Asyr a number of times and told him that if he wanted to, he could stop by the place at night before closing to get a meal. Asyr, who'd grown to be rather scroungy-looking over the course of a few weeks, was stunned, and incredibly thankful.
So the deal worked out. Late each night, after the crowd had left and business had more or less ended for the night, Asyr would stop by Jejres' Cantina to eat from the leftover food. He liked it. He moved his sleeping place to stay near the cantina, though not right outside of it, just to cut down on the journey he'd have to make to get there. It was a bright spot in his life--a life that had, otherwise, turned pretty dark.
One night, as he lay in his usual place, trying to go to sleep, he was attacked. There were three of them; other street urchins, as far as he could tell, wielding crude bludgeons made from pieces of scrap metal. Apparently, they'd been watching him for some time, and they saw the weapons he always had with him. They didn't know how to use them, but they did know that they could make some (maybe even a lot of)money if they sold them.
Asyr wasn't going to let them have them, though. He fought back. He was a bit out of practice, but he was more than capable of handling those three. They fled after it became apparent that they weren't going to be getting their hands on his weapons without taking serious harm, and Asyr thought that episode was done.
He was wrong.
In the mean time, he made an offer to Jejres. He knew the Basilisk was short on security help, so he offered to work as a bouncer for him; after all, Asyr was more than capable of doing the job, and it only seemed right after Jejres had been kind enough to feed him. Jejres agreed, even paid Asyr a little bit, which was nice; but as long as he could keep eating, Asyr was happy.
A few months went by and for a time it seemed Asyr might have been getting to the point where he could make a living for himself. He had a job, though it didn't pay much, and was saving up money to get an apartment for himself. He had a place to eat... His new job even got him some new clothes, since he couldn't be disgusting if he was going to be a bouncer. Life was (relatively) good.
It would all come crashing down, though.
Though he'd been left in peace after the incident where his sword was nearly stolen, the men that tried to take it had not forgotten. One of them joined one of the many gangs that filled the Lower City, and before too long, he'd make himself known to Asyr again.
It happened one night when Asyr was walking 'home' from the cantina. His stomach was full, he had a bit of money in his pocket; he was happy enough. That is, until he found himself surrounded by a group of men. A group of threatening looking men.
He was told that he was to give them everything he had on him. Money, valuables... the weapons. Of course he refused to do that. The men only seemed amused at that, and next thing he knew, he was being attacked.
Now, as good as Asyr was, there were limits to the number of people he could fight off with his fists alone. There were too many trying to get him now, and more, they weren't fighting to just hurt him, like in the mugging a few months back. They were trying to kill him. And he would die, if he didn't do something. So out came the bagua dao his father gave him, and Asyr set to work.
Even though his life was in danger, he still fought to disable, rather than kill. Quite simply, Asyr had never killed a man. But as he continued to try to fend off the assailants, when he very nearly got shot, he knew that would have to change. The strike was quick and decisive. Some idiot came in, waving a stun baton at him as if he had a hope of succeeding with it. Asyr's sword was in his gut before he even had a chance to get in range. The blade stayed there for a moment as Aysyr kicked back one man who was trying to attack him from behind, and then he removed the weapon, dropping the man to the ground. Another attacker came, and Asyr struck again kicking him hard in the knee and crushing his trachea with a hard strike as the man stumbled forward.
Two men down in the span of a few seconds. The attack suddenly ground to a halt for a brief moment. Asyr could feel the tension swelling. He could feel genuine anger starting to rise, just from looking at their faces. This wasn't the way they'd expected this to go. Now he'd killed two of their men. If Asyr wasn't a dead man before, he would be now.
That was the time when Asyr made the decision that it would be best to leave. He'd take his cuts and bruises any day over being dead, and so he ran. They followed. Asyr led them on a wild chase, throughout the Lower City, into areas of it he wasn't even familiar with. He lost time of how long the chase went, but he didn't dare stop until he lost them.
After a long while, he finally did lose them, or they gave up. As the adrenaline faded and the pain from the injuries he took in the fight began to set in with weariness that seemed to touch every muscle in his body, he collapsed to the ground. He was alone. He was tired. He was lost.
Worst of all, he'd made a very dangerous enemy.
In the end, Asyr managed to limp to a shelter that was run by an old Twi'lek. He was given care there, cleaned up and fed, and he stayed there for a few days as he recovered. When he was well enough to leave, he was given directions back to Jejres' place and went on his way.
A few more weeks passed in relative calm, though Asyr found that he was being harassed for more than he normally was. Three times did someone try to mug him, and once he was just attacked. Then came the big blow.
The gang had been waiting, planning their revenge on him. One night, as he was working his shift at the cantina, they struck. The flooded into the place as the searched for him, and when he came rushing out to see what was going on, they attacked. Absolute chaos broke loose. People were running and screaming, trying to get out. Jejres stormed out of the back, blaster pistol in hand. Asyr wasted no time, setting into the gang with his two short swords swirling about him; this time, he did not hesitate to strike to kill. But much like the last time, there were simply too many of them. Jejres got shot and went down. Asyr couldn't do anything to help him; he could only keep fighting.
He fought bravely. Quite a few of the gang's men fell to him, but he was too outnumbered. If the fight continued to go on as it was, he would die, or get captured. So, once again, he ran. The front exit was blocked off, but he was able to get out through the back. Once again, they gave chase to him, and this time, he wasn't so lucky. The chase was short, and ended with him surrounded in the middle of the street. Seemingly, he was done for. He stood there defiantly, hold both of his blood-slick swords at the ready.
Then his saviors arrived.
There was a group of them. They were armed. Asyr didn't even notice them until a volley of blaster fire sent some of the men around him crumbling to the ground. The others looked over in surprise, and he wasted little time using the opportunity to attack. With the aid of his newfound helpers, the gang was pushed back, and finally fled, leaving him safe once again. He was bruised, bleeding, and tired, but he was safe.
The leader of the group approached him then. He was a man, looked to be a human in his mid-thirties. He introduced himself as Lance. Lance and what he told Asyr was his crew had been about to leave the Lower city, when they saw Asyr's situation. They couldn't just let the men kill Asyr and so they helped him out.
Asyr thanked them earnestly. They'd saved him, and he was grateful for that. he asked them what they did, and got the reply that they were travelers. Lance seemed to think on something for a moment, and then offered Asyr a place on his crew. Asyr's expression told of his surprise at the offer, and then Lance explained, telling him that he'd seen what Asyr could do, and thought the young man's abilities might be of some use; besides, he could pay him, take care of him, and he'd have a place to live on the ship. Asyr accepted the offer. Anything was better than Taris, and if these encounters with the gang were only going to continue, Asyr knew it was high time he got off the planet.
Before they left, he stopped by the cantina. The place was a mess. The stench of death hung over it. Asyr picked his way over the corpses of the men he'd killed and went to the back, to where he'd seen Jejres fall. The Basilisk was there on the ground. He was dead. A terrible sorrow gripped Asyr at seeing that. Jejres had been good to him, had offered to help him when he had no reason to and when no one else would. Asyr was forever grateful to Jejres for that. And now Jejres was dead, all because of some men who were after Asyr.
He paid his respects briefly and then he had to go. There wasn't anything more he could do for Jejres. All he could do now was look ahead, and start a new life once again.
Race: Echani
Age: 28
Birthplace: Eshan
Allegiance: Self
Status: Smuggler/Occasional Pirate
Rank: N/A
Height/Weight: 6'1"/202 lbs
Eye Color: Pale Silver-Blue
Hair Color: White
Appearance:
Asyr is handsome, and he knows it. He stands tall and his build, while slender, is phenomenal, nearly the peak of physical perfection. His body is hard and very muscular, with a physique that--from top to bottom--looks as though it could have been carved from stone. And with a body fat as low as his is, there's nothing to hide his muscle, giving him an incredible amount of definition and very impressive vascularity. His hair is a snowy white, his eyes a pale silver-blue, and his skin is just a bit on the pale side, as his Echani heritage dictates.
As far as clothing goes, he's often in a long red and black over coat that has an armorweave lining on the interior for protection. There's always a black shirt underneath that's a bit tight, but short of being snug or form fitting. His pants are a dark grey, and durable, and his boots are black.
Asyr's often armed in some fashion, though the situation tends to dictate how heavily. He always has one knife hidden up the each sleeve of his shirt, and is quite capable of putting them into action at a moment's notice. Most of the time, he'll have his heavy blaster on him, as well as at least one of his short swords. If the situation allows, they hang from his waist, but if the need to appear unarmed arises, he can hide the weapons in his coat. However, when the need for more firepower arises, he'll add his slugthrower (hand cannon) to that, the second short sword to the other side of his waist, and his sword, which hangs from a sheath on his back.
When on raids, he'll often don a suit of electromesh armor. Link
Though, ever one for looking nice, he's been known to wear his coat over the armor as well.
Personality: Easy-going. Philandering. That's Asyr, more or less. He's friendly, and easy enough to get on with, if you can deal with his mannerisms, and has got a pretty long fuse, temper wise. Asyr has a way of giving people pet names, whether they like it or not, and often times, the less they like it, the better. He often gets or acts familiar with people, perhaps too familiar in some cases, but that's the way he is.
More than that, he's hedonistic. He's a pretty big smoker, loves to drink when he's able, and is a huge flirt. Sometimes it gets him in trouble, sometimes it pays off, but it's something he always does when there's a pretty lady around.
Despite his lax ways and his tendency to be borderline lazy at times, Asyr can roll up and sleeves when it's time to do his job. Working on the Bohemian keeps him fed and puts some money in his pockets, as did working with the other crews he's worked with before. He's not stupid; getting kicked off for not contributing won't do him any good. Even so, he likes to push the limits with Lordura when he can, but he knows his place, and won't go past them.
Ships/Vehicles:
Equipment:
x1 Sword - durasteel, cortosis weave.
x2 Short swords durasteel, cortosis weave, vibro-emitter
x4 Knives (keeps two in sleeves, one in each boot)
x2 Heavy Blaster Pistols
x1 Revolver
Multiple Cigarras
x1 Lighter
x1 Datapad
Depending on the mission and the stores available on the Bohemian, he's been known to carry various grenades and other similar munitions
Stats:
Strength - Superior
Agility - Superior
Intelligence - Above Average
Charisma - Average
Combat Training:
Echani Martial Arts - Master(master of the three tiers; very skilled in the the precognition that comes with learning the Echani martial arts and the ability to read movements to predict what's coming. This has also made him very good at reading people through body language in general)
Teras Kasi - Expert
Bladed Weapons (swords/short swords/knives) - Expert
Pistols - Expert
Other Training:
Freighter Piloting - Adept
Minor Repairs - Apprentice
Thought Shield - Expert
Languages:
Basic- Duh
Bocce- Fluent
Huttese- Moderate (understands well, is not the greatest at speaking it)
Smuggler's Cant
Bio:
The General's Son
Years 0-13
Years 0-13
Asyr Noallin was born into a fairly wealthy, and very well respected Echani family on Eshan. His father, Asidim, was a respected general among the forces of the Echani people. Selande, his mother, was a teacher at a local arms academy. Both of his parents were fierce fighters, as might be expected within Echani society. Due to his father's high position, their life was lavish, their house large, and all of their needs met. And that's the life Asyr was born into.
Asyr was good enough as a young child. He was easy, didn't fuss much. He was the pride and joy of his parents, and they expected great things from him, especially his father. Perhaps, in that, they were setting themselves up for disappointment.
Asyr's education began when he was young. It started in the home, where his parents taught him basic things, but more than that, taught him, or tried to teach him, virtue. Asidim was, as has been mentioned well respected, both among his peers in the military and among the people of Eshan. The Noallin family had many friends in high places on the world, including a fairly warm relationship with the ruler of Eshan and his family. For the general, it was a huge, nearly unbelievable step up from the merchant's son he'd been so long ago, and maintaining the honor and the respect he'd worked so hard was paramount, coming only after his job as a general and caring for his family.
It was the values that he valued so dearly that Asidim tried to instill into Asyr: honesty, integrity, a strong work ethic, among other things. Those things, as he often said, were the things the Noallins were known for, and Asyr, being a Noallin, would become known for them as well. Asyr would follow in his footsteps, of course, and would one day become one of the greatest generals Eshan had ever seen. That was Asidim's hope. That was Asidim's dream. And while his intentions were good, it would wind up being Asidim's failure.
For the mean time, though, all seemed to be well. By the time Asyr was five, he stared to liven up a bit, and become a bit more of a troublemaker, but his parents expected as much. His father put him back in line when he stepped out of it, though sometimes, Asyr acted again, seeming to act out in defiance as if on purpose. Such things were quickly corrected, or so his parents thought.
Asyr also started to learn how to fight shortly after the time he turned five. His mother instructed him in most of those lessons, being the combat instructor that she was. They were very basic, of course, with a very big emphasis on just teaching him the bare foundations of things that he would need to learn in order to learn more, but it was still the beginnings of learning Echani, the martial art named after their people.
This was also about the time Asyr started his formal education, and was enrolled in a private school. He performed well, or as well as such young students can be expected to do, and was the subject of a good deal of praise from his teachers. But even so, there was always mention of the occasional burst of troublemaking from him. It was a bit concerning to his parents, but they worked on it, and figured it'd pass as he grew older.
For the most part, they were right. Asyr mellowed out a bit as he continued to grow. He was consistently near the top of his class, even as a young boy, and many of his peers, who were also from families of high position, liked him. Everything seemed to be going great; Asyr was on track to become the son Asidim hoped so dearly that he would always be.
It wouldn't last. Asyr's deviance wasn't gone, not by any stretch of the imagination. Instead, it was merely slumbering. It would reawaken in time.
The routine for Asyr changed as he neared his tenth birthday.When Asyr was seven, and a new school year was beginning, he met a friend. Tieres Ryal was the boy's name, and he was the son of a wealthy weapons merchant. Tieres' family had moved across the planet to come to live in the capital city, and so the current school year was the first for Tieres in the new location. He didn't know anyone, and no one knew him, but Asyr talked to him. The two established a rapport with each other that quickly led to the forming of a friendship, and before too long they were best friends, and nearly inseparable.
They were similar some ways, different in others. Tieres was very intelligent, though a bit more reserved than Asyr, and as they got older, he'd grow to be a sort of voice of reason for the sometimes-impetuous Asyr. Both could fight, of course, and as time went by they would often spar together, pushing each other to get better through a budding friendly rivalry. When fighting unarmed, the duo would grow to be relatively equal at fighting without a weapon. However, Asyr was much better than Tieres at using a sword, and Tieres was superior to Asyr with a staff. When they just sparred with one of the weapons, one of them got blown out by the other, but when they both used their respective instruments of expertise, they had some of their finest matches. It was another area where the two were roughly even. Sometimes the balance would shift one way or another for a few matches, and then the loser would push themselves to get better, bridging the gap again.
The routine for Asyr changed as he neared his tenth birthday. Selande introduced weapons into Asyr's combat training; weapons that were both ranged and melee, though there was an obvious emphasis on the use of swords. Asyr loved it. He was pretty decent for his age at fighting unarmed--as one might expect of from the son of a combat instructor, and he took to using the (dulled) blades with an incredible enthusiasm, sometimes at the cost to his focus on fighting without a weapon, until his mother corrected that.
Additionally, Selande began to teach him what was known as the Thought Shield; the technique to keep his mind shielded against the prodding of Force users and their mind tricks. It was a technique many Echani knew how to do, and while Selande made sure to tell the boy that they had no problem with Force-sensitives like the Jedi, it was imperative that he know how to keep his thoughts and motives hidden and protected from those who might have more dubious intentions. It was hard to grasp the technique at first. As with learning many things, patience and persistence would prove to be what Asyr would need to learn how to do it, and as the years went on, he'd grow to understand it; after a while, it would just become second nature to him.
But even beyond that, lay his interest in something else: guns. Pistols, specifically. They weren't used too terribly often in the fighting styles of the Echani, but his mother taught him a bit of how to properly use them, believing that it was best to be prepared for any situation.
There was something about them that grabbed the boy. Perhaps it was from watching holovids, where the good-lookin', smooth-talkin' pistol-totin' hero saved the day with his near-flawless aim and flashy gunplay. Perhaps it was just the innate want to use something different than what so many of his peers focused on, but Asyr liked them a lot. But it was hard to fit in extra time to practice with a gun, when the main focus of his fighting studies was so squarely on fighting up close, never mind with the workload that came from school. Perhaps when he was older, his mother would always tell him when he complained about it, but he had other things to set his mind on. Asyr (reluctantly) complied.
That was largely how the early part of Asyr's life continued on; go to school, come home to train with mother, and then homework. He was pushed to succeed in every asset of his life by his parents, particularly by Asidim. Not just for his own sake, the general would tell his son at chats around the dinner table, but because Asyr was a Noallin, and one day, he'd be a general. It was a line Asyr heard hundreds, if not thousands, of times as he grew. There were variations on it; variations that often came when Asyr inquired as to why his bed had to be so straight, or his room so clean, or why he had to be such a stickler for being on time. "Because you're a Noallin," the answer came, in one form or another.
And when he entered his early teens--when he entered that curious phrase of life called puberty when hormones begin to rage--that answer would start to wear Asyr's nerves thin.
Deviance
Years 14-19
Years 14-19
Rebelling Years 14-17
The age of fourteen found Asyr moving to high school. It was still a private school, of course, and prestigious, but it was in a different area of town than the school he'd been attending, and it drew students in from a larger area. It was big. It was foreign. To the young Echani boy, it was almost like moving to an entirely new world. It helped that Tieres made the move with him, but even so, Tieres was only one person in a school that was much larger than the one they'd been attending, and he still had to find his own way in the 'new world.'
He spent the first few weeks of school floating around with that sort of wide-eyed cluelessness that comes with going through such a change. He adjusted quickly, though, and soon he was making new friends and figuring out where he fit in. For a time, everything seemed to be going great. Asyr continued to stay near the top of his class, even among increased competition from his classmates. His teachers liked him. Some of the girls around the school even thought he was handsome (which, as you may be able to imagine, was an incredible confidence booster for the teenager)even if he was a bit shorter than the other boys, since he'd not really had much of a growth spurt yet.
However, things wouldn't remain that way. While Asyr continued to do well at school, things in the Noallin home were starting to change, and not for the better. While he continued to do well with his combat training with Selande, even mastering the first tier of Echani and moving on to the second, things between Asyr and Asidim started to grow strained.
Asidim continued to push Asyr, always telling him that he was a Noallin, giving the same old speeches and reasoning Asyr had heard for so many years. Perhaps it was the rebellious air that can come with being a teenager, or perhaps there was something deeper to it, but as it went on, he found himself getting more and more irritated with it all. As he thought more and more about it, he started to realize that he didn't care about doing things just because he happened to be a Noallin, nor did he care about being general, or even being in the military for that matter. No, Asyr realized that if he was going to do something, he was going to do it because he wanted to do it, not his father.
But, if that was the case, what did he want to do?
That question was one he didn't have an answer to, at least not yet. But in the mean time, Asyr--being driven by emotion, as teenagers have a way of being at times--dug his heels in, and rebelled.
At first it just started with little things: not putting up as much effort to do the menial tasks that his father set out for him, dropping subtle hints that he didn't want anything to do with being a military man. It didn't help. Instead, Asidim only redoubled his efforts to make Asyr the type of man he thought he should be, which only led to an Asyr that was regularly irritable.
Sparring helped, both with his mother and with Tieres. But as time rolled by and he continued to convince himself that he was right in his thinking, it spread to other things. He became a bit less outgoing, unless he was chasing after girls, as young men are prone to do, and his irritability led to a number of outbursts. His grades started slipping, and that was what grabbed the attention of his father, who cracked down even more, growing almost militaristic in his efforts to get Asyr back under control.
That didn't help at all. Asyr pushed back in his own way, continuing to rebel in the home as his progress in school continued to slide. Around the mid-point of his second year in high school, he found himself making friends with classmates that felt similarly to him--rebellious, in some form or other. While none of them were stupid, none of them were the sort of people that Asyr normally hung out with, and many of them weren't the sort that Asidim would approve of his son hanging out with. As far as Asyr was concerned, that was all the impetus he needed.
They weren't the sort that Asyr needed to be hanging around if he was going to be the reputable man his parents wished him to be. Asyr didn't care. They were people he identified with, or thought he identified with, and so he was fine with them. Besides, he had decided, in infinite 16-year-old wisdom, that he didn't care about how the crap about 'being a Noallin' and doing things just because they made his family look good. He was his own individual, with his own ambitions, even if he didn't quite know them, but he knew there was no way they would involve the military.
His new friends welcomed him into their circle, and before long, it was almost as if they'd been friends all along. Asyr stuck with them, and as they grew closer, he started to grow more and more distant with his older friends, the ones who still tried to reach out to him and keep him on the 'right' path. He started to drink, dabbled in smoking, and still, his performance in school suffered.
Only two things remained relatively unchanged; he stayed as focused as ever on his fighting lessons, making tremendous strides in unarmed fighting and very strong progress in fighting with a blade. He'd moved past the second tier of Echani and was now beginning to learn the third. As he moved on, Selande introduced another martial art style to the young Asyr: Teras Kasi. It was different than the style he was used to fighting with, and the adjustment proved to be a bit of a hump to get over at first, but he worked at it with the same doggedness that he'd used to tackle all of his other training up to that point. The practice sessions often went long, but Asyr pushed himself hard, both to learn the actual moves that came with the fighting and the other, more passive techniques--like learning how to shut his mind off from Force-sensitives to shield himself from mental attacks. Thankfully, his work with learning the thought shield proved to make that simple enough, though it was something he was still practicing. But seven years of practice made for quick strides in that field. He also had to learn how to anticipate the movements of his opponent, though that proved to be relatively simple, since it was such an essential part of the Echani form of martial arts. It would take of practice to become dangerous with Teras Kasi, of course, but Asyr knew he could get there with hard work.
Selande, true to her word so many years ago, started to work in ranged combat as well, teaching Asyr how to properly use and care for a pistol, though the lessons didn't come often, due to the increasing focus that unarmed and melee combat was getting. Asyr ate those lessons up, when they came. He loved it all, and when he got the chance, he'd just use the shooting range to practice by himself, though the times when he got to do that weren't as often as he might have liked; working on two martial arts, in addition to his practice with weapons, had a way of eating up a lot of time.
Additionally, his interest in the opposite sex only continued to grow, to the point where chasing after pretty girls became a 'hobby' of his.
Asyr often got in trouble with his father. His continually falling grades became the subject of a great deal of anger and frustration for his father, as did the way that Asyr just didn't seem to care. He cracked down. Asyr got worse. It continued on and on, until things reached a peak one winter night, when Asyr was 17.
Asyr was returning home from a party, and was sorta drunk, when he happened upon Tieres, who he hadn't had more than a passing conversation with in a long while. Tieres stopped Asyr, and the two had a chat for a while. It was a pleasant enough talk, until Tieres brought up the way Asyr had changed. When Asyr inquired into what he meant, he spoke of how Asyr had once been one of the brightest students in the school, but now he was near the bottom of the class. He talked about how Asyr had left his old friends for a new group that didn't care about him. He was going to go on, until Asyr told him to be quiet and stood, turning to leave. Tieres, for better or for worse, decided to keep pressing Asyr, telling him that he wasn't the person he'd been before. Asyr once again told him to stop, through a clenched jaw. Then Tieres told Asyr to open his eyes and stop being too stubborn or stupid to see what was happening to him.
Asyr exploded, yelling at Tieres and telling him that he was tired of hearing talk like that from his own parents. Again, Tieres didn't back down, and instead moved closer to Asyr, telling him that he needed to listen to someone before he ruined himself. Now, Asyr was, as mentioned, a little drunk; that, coupled with the always lurking annoyance at his father, had done a great deal to shorten his normally fairly lengthy fuse. He made a threat, telling Tieres to leave before he made him leave.
Maybe, if Asyr had been thinking straight, he would've remembered that Tieres could be stubborn as an ox when the thought the time was right. And to the other Echani youth, watching his friend destroy himself seemed the perfect time to dig his heels in. He didn't back down; he even went so far as to say that if Asyr wouldn't listen to sense, then beating it in might be the only to do him some good. Needless to say, Asyr attacked.
The fight that followed was short. Asyr was a skilled fighter, a master of the first two tiers of Echani, and making decent progress through the third. However, Tieres was just as much an Echani as Asyr was, and he was a very respected martial artist himself. On a normal day, the two were roughly equals. On a bad night, when Asyr was angry and inebriated, Tieres could make a fool out of him.
That is, more or less, what happened. Tieres didn't really hurt Asyr, but he didn't waste any time showing him who was in control of the fight. They went back and forth for a few moments, with Asyr making big sloppy attacks that would have made his mother shake her head in embarrassment and nearly stumbling over himself as he tried to defend before Tieres put him on the ground, face down in the snow, pinned under him with one of Asyr's arms twisted behind his back. Tieres told Asyr one final time to open his eyes, to see that what he was doing would catch up with him sooner or later and then he let his arm go, leaving Asyr lying in the snow.
Asyr limped home and waved off any questions his parents asked him about what had happened to him. He didn't Liston to Tieres, though he fumed over the way he'd been beaten so easily. They didn't talk again, but as Asyr's eighteenth birthday approached, he continued on the way he had been.
Perhaps, had he listened, he could have avoided the disaster that was quickly approaching.
Passage Year 18
The days rolled into weeks and the weeks into months until finally, Asyr's eighteenth birthday arrived. It would be a special day for him. It would be a special day for anyone, but it was a day of tradition for the Noallin line.
Even before Asidim rose to the rank of general and took the family to prominence with him, there had been a tradition within the Noallin family. On a child's eighteenth birthday, they would have to prove their strength and ability in combat, and once that was done, they would be presented with a gift. It was a tradition that ran back as far as anyone in the family could remember. There was a story that said the Noallin line had once been some of the most revered warriors among the Echani long, long ago, but no one was sure. Whatever the case, the tradition remained, and was done for son and daughter alike.
The months leading up to his birthday had been a flurry of activity for Asyr. He'd more than redoubled his training efforts, straining himself to the limit to reach mastery of the third tier of Echani in time for the date. It wasn't a requirement, but it was something he wanted to do. All that was required of him was to show that he could hold his own as an Echani warrior would be expected to, but he wanted to go above and beyond. Maybe it was to prove to his father that he was worth something, despite his ways. Or perhaps the spark for it had come from his defeat at the hands of Tieres.
Asyr's reasons might have been none of those, or it may have been a mix of the two. Whatever the reason, his progress over that span of time was nothing short of incredible. Even for someone who was in as exceptional shape as he was, Asyr pushed his body hard, nearly to the point of injury, and might have gone further, if Selande didn't step in to make him ease up.
But now the day had come. Asyr awoke early that morning to head down to sparring room of the Noallin manor, where his test would occur. For a long time, he just stayed there, kneeling in the middle of the room and reflecting on things. Tieres' talk had left a mark on Asyr, even though he didn't like to think about it. Part of him knew that his friend (or former friend, rather)was right about him changing for the worse. Part of him also knew that doing the things he did to spite his father was wrong.
But, truth be told, Asyr liked the way he'd turned out to be.
There was a certain likableness to the more hedonistic lifestyle, in doing what he wanted to do because he wanted to do it. Not because his father wanted him to do it. Not because his mother wanted him to do it. Asyr was living for himself, and that was all he wanted. Or so he thought.
After a while, he shook those thoughts away and returned to the coming test. Selande never gave him a straight answer when he asked if he'd mastered the third tier of Echani, but he knew that he was close, at the very least. That was good, both for his pride and for practicality's sake; he'd need to be at the top of his game for whatever his parents had in store for him. The tests differed from child to child, but he'd heard that they were always difficult--as they should have been, if they were to truly be tests.
Finally, the time came. Both of his parents entered the room, greeting him and congratulating him on reaching his eighteenth year. The pleasantries soon ended and he was told of what his test would be. What he was told stunned him and nearly had his jaw on the floor.
Asyr had been expecting a fight against a better opponent. He wouldn't even have been surprised to find that he would have to fight against one of his parents. He was spot on in that regard, but it went further than he'd been expecting.
In order to complete his passage into adulthood, Asyr would have to prove himself not against one of his parents, but both of them. It was a monumental, nearly crazy task, but his parents--especially his father--seemed to believe in him. They knew what he could do, and they expected his best.
Asyr didn't back down from the challenge. He couldn't, and even if he could, his pride wouldn't allow him to. Even though he knew the odds of actually beating both of his parents (especially Selande, who, through being his teacher, knew all of the weaknesses and holes, small as they were, in Asyr's form) were nearly nonexistent. But point of the test was not to win. It was to show that the youth could fight as an Echani warrior would be expected to fight, and to prove that they would give everything they had until the bitter end, even in the face of seemingly-impossible odds.
The challenge was accepted, and the fight began. To an outsider, it might have looked like the three were engaging in a very fast, very fluid dance as the moved about, flowing through their battle with an extraordinary grace. They were not fighting, however. The three Noallins were fighting, mother and father against son, and despite that, the blows were real.
Difficult could not even begin to describe the nature of the test. Despite all of his talent and ability and grace, Asyr struggled mightily early on. Anyone would in his situation. Asidim and Selande were both master warriors--taking them on in single combat would be challenge enough; both at once was crazy.
Blow after blow befell the young Echani and he quickly realized that if he was to have any hope of succeeding, he'd have to find a way to separate his parents. Push one back and press the attack on the other, even if it was short-lived. That was easier said than done. His parents could predict what he was going to do, and he could do the same to a degree with them, but even if he could see what was coming, it was very hard to keep up when he was being pounded from both sides.
He fought on though, as the fight quickly turned into a one-sided beating. More and more he found himself fighting less to try to break their tempo and force them back, but to fend off the merciless assault that was falling on him, and even that was a losing battle. The hits fell everywhere--his stomach, his ribs, chest, legs, everywhere they could hit him, they hit him.
For a time, it looked as though the test would be over before Asyr could mount any effective counter to the onslaught. All he could think about as pain exploded through his body was that all of his work, all of his training had been for nothing. Even worse, he'd fail his passage, and wouldn't be considered an adult until he passed it. The thought of it all was terrible. But what could he do?
Desperation, luck, or some combination of the two came through for him, and he was able to find an opening. He took it, catching a punch from his mother and flipping her hard to the ground before he spun to attack his father. They fought for a few moments, and Asyr even managed to get a few good hits in before his mother rejoined the fray by grabbing his ankle and pulling him down. Even then, when he was on the ground, he didn't give up. He kicked and clawed at her, striking out at Asidim when he was able, even though he knew didn't have a chance at winning.
And so the fight went until finally, Asyr could fight no longer. He'd given all that he could, and there had been a few times when it seemed he was on the verge of turning the tide, but it just wasn't enough. Maybe, against one of them, he could have triumphed, though it would have been a hard fought struggle, but two was too much. He fought until the bitter end, though, and as his father helped him to his feet, letting Asyr lean on him to remain standing, he took his hand and congratulated him.
Asyr was surprised at first, given his seemingly poor performance, but Selande went on to tell him they never expected him to 'succeed' at the test. They knew he'd get beaten, and badly, but the object of the test lay in seeing just how badly he'd get beaten and how his resolve would hold in the face of such overwhelming odds. And, just as they'd hoped, Asyr had fought back admirably, refusing to give in until he simply could not push himself any more. And in doing so, he'd proven himself to them. If he could last against the two of them for as long as he did, they had faith that he could meet any challenge down the road, if he put himself to it.
With the hard part out of the way, Asyr was presented with his gifts. The first was from his mother, and was a pair of short swords, with beautifully crafted hilts and sheaths. The blades were strong and sharp, with a cortosis weave inlaid into them. They were magnificent weapons. Asidim's gift was a single sword. It was a large thing, slightly curved and just as beautifully crafted as the two short swords. Asyr loved it. He loved both of the gifts and thanked his parents for them.
Then he was taken off to have his injuries treated and wrapped up. There was a party later in the day, of course.
All things considered, it was a pretty good birthday.
Even with the beating.
Unfortunately, it would be the last real time of such warmth and happiness for Asyr with his family.
Fall from Grace Year 18
Time rolled by past that day and things settled back into their usual pattern. As the days went on, it became clearer that that one day, that one moment of happiness and rapport between the Noallins--more specifically, between Asyr and his father--had been the exception, rather than the rule. Grateful he may have been, but Asyr was stuck in his ways, and he went back to them with little hesitation, much to his father's chagrin.
The end of Asyr's time in high school was quickly approaching, and he'd fallen from one of the top five students in his class to floundering around in the middle. It wasn't the worst that could happen, no, but for a boy who'd shown such incredible promise, the drop was shocking. Or, rather, it was shocking to everyone except Asyr, who didn't seem to care. Girls. Partying. Smoking. Drinking. Fighting. Those were the only things that he seemed to really have any interest in. A man Asyr might have been by tradition, but in Asidim's eyes, he still had a lot of growing to do.
A few weeks after his eighteenth birthday, Asyr was invited to a party one of his peers was holding. It should go without saying that he would be attending. there was one thing that made this party different than most others, however.
While yes, most of Asyr's peers were the children of those that held high places within Echani society, the girl that was having this party was different. Her name was Astelle, and she was more than just the daughter of some wealthy person or diplomat, or something of the like. Astelle was the daughter of the ruler of Eshan himself. The Noallin family was on fairly friendly terms with the family of the ruler; Asidim actually knew him pretty well, through his work. Asyr had spoken with Astelle a few times before, and he liked her well enough. So when the invitation came, he accepted it gladly.
The night of the party came, and Asyr arrived to a thriving scene. Astelle's family owned a larege-ish house on the edge of a beautiful lake. Music was booming throughout the manor, and Asyr saw a number of his friends there. To put things simply, he had a great time.
But, though he'd come to have a good time, he came with other motives as well. Asyr still had his way of chasing after pretty girls, though he'd yet to 'score' one. As the evening gave way to night and alcohol started to settle into his system, he became determined to get with someone before the night was done.
So after a while, he found himself talking to none other than Astelle. They settled down at a table and talked for a long while over drinks. Then the party paused for a little while so the gift-giving festivities could commence. Once that was done, they drifted back together, and continued talking. As the night went by and the number of drinks consumed by both of them continued to rise, Asyr found himself growing bolder in the game (as it were) that he was playing with her. She wasn't necessarily backing down, though. It had already been established earlier in the night that he found her attractive, and she thought the same of him. Once they got going, all it took was time.
After a few hours, Asyr found himself being led away to a more private place, where they might be able to be alone. One thing led to another, and before his alcohol-laden mind could fully realize it, he was in bed with her.
The rest of the night passed in a blur, and the party went on nearly until the sun broke the horizon the next morning. Asyr left the place hugely satisfied, with his pride swelling. To the young man, it seemed that nothing was out of reach. He could do anything. Life was good.
It wouldn't last.
A few weeks later, a rumor got out. Word had it that Astelle was pregnant. Word also had it that her father was furious. Asyr knew it was only a matter of time until the trail led to him.
He was right. The day after he first heard the rumor, Asidim pulled Asyr aside and asked him about the party. The pride that had been growing so strong within Asyr suddenly deflated, and he lied. He told Asidim that he didn't do anything there. Asidim believed him, told him he'd known Asyr would have known better than that.
The next day, Astelle sent for Asyr herself. He was taken to the ruler's estate to meet with her and her family, with Asidim and Selande in tow. It was there that he confessed.
He'd lied to Asidim. He was the one that slept with her, and the child was his. To say his parents were shocked would be an understatement. Asyr looked up to meet the eyes of Astelle's father, and when he did, he felt more afraid than he'd ever felt of anything in his life. A mask of contained fury the man's face might have been, but there was pure, absolute hatred in his eyes.
The Noallins were dismissed once the meeting was over, though Asyr was informed that he would be sent for again within the near future. When they arrived home, Asyr's world started to fall apart.
Nearly the second the door closed, Asidim rounded on Asyr and exploded on him. For years, the general had tried to deal with Asyr--had tried to correct him from his deviant ways--and for years, he held his frustration deep within him as all of his efforts failed or blew up in his face. Asyr's latest screw up, along with the fact that he'd lied to Asidim about it, proved to be the thing that pushed him past his breaking point.
He went on and on about how Asyr always refused to see things in the right light, and how what he'd done would blacken the Noallin name for years to come. Asidim went on, counting over example after example of example of Asyr's moral failures over the years. But worst of all, worse even than the situation Asyr had put himself in, was the lie. That made Asidim angrier than anything else.
He told Asyr that he was no son of his. Asyr could never fit into the Noallin family, and because he seemed so intent on not being a Noallin, he would never be a Noallin. Asyr was kicked out of the house and told never to return. He had no place there.
And that was how a stunned Asyr found himself on the street, suddenly without a place to call home or without a family to rely on. Never in a thousand years did he think he'd ever get disowned by his father. He wandered around in a listless daze for a while, until one of the rulers messangers found him near nightfall, telling him that he'd been summoned.
When he arrived, he was greeted by the ruler and told to follow, so they might have a conversation. Asyr followed, of course, but there wasn't any talking. Instead, the man led him through the estate in silence, until they came into a large room. There they stopped, and as the door closed behind them, the ruler turned around to face Asyr.
Not a word was spoken between them, but Asyr had a growing feeling in the pit of his gut that something bad was coming.
A moment later, the ruler leapt at him. Asyr was too shocked to respond in time, and found himself getting the living daylights pounded out of him. He tried to defend himself; tried to fight back and get the man to stop attacking him, but for all his strength, for all his skill and ability, he was very clearly outclassed. The ruler could read his movements like a book, and everything Asyr tried.
The ruler said nothing over the course of the beating he administered to Asyr. He didn't need to. His actions spoke louder and more clearly than any words could and the message wasn't lost on Asyr, who was having the pleasure of getting the worst beating of his life.
It seemed to go on forever. Asyr was barely able to stand by the time it was over, and he was breathing hard, bruised badly in some places, and bleeding in others. That was when the ruler finally spoke. Asyr was informed that he had three hours to get off of Eshan. He was also told that if he was every found anywhere near Astelle again, he would die. Then he was dismissed.
In the course of a day, Asyr had lost everything. His own father had rejected him, he'd lost the access to the lavish lifestyle he'd grown so accustomed to, and now he couldn't even call his homeworld home anymore. He didn't have a clue what he would do, but he wasn't going to hang around Eshan to test the ruler's resolve. As soon as he could find a ride off of Eshan, he'd be gone, but there was something he had to do first.
When Asidim kicked him out, he'd not given Asyr a chance to take his weapons with him. Asyr's sword and his short swords were both still within the Noallin manor, and he'd be damned if he was going to leave them there.
He limped back to his home, thankful that it was at least night. His familiarity with the place he'd lived in for eighteen years proved to be a boon, and he was able to sneak in, grab his weapons and a cloak, along with some money, and slip out without getting caught.
From there, it was just a matter of making his way to the space port. When he did he found that the only transport that would take him on was one that was bound for Taris, and he only had enough money to pay for the trip there. To a desperate Asyr, who was running out of time, it seemed as good a place as any to try to start a new life.
As the ship took off and flew into the depths of space, Asyr turned back to look one last time at the world that had been his home. Then the blue of hyperspace surrounded him, taking him away to Taris.
Outcast
Years 19-27
Taris Year 19
Taris was not a kind world. Asyr learned this very quickly. Upon arrival, he left the spaceport and went out into the city to see how he might start a new life. He owned nothing but the clothes on his back and the weapons that hung from his body. There was no one that he could call on for help; no family, no friends. Nothing.
One of the first things Asyr came to learn was that his previous standing on Eshan meant nothing on Taris. No one knew the life he'd led before his arrival, and if they did, no one would care. To them, he wasn't the son of a renowned Echani general, but just another urchin to fill the streets. Asyr could be thankful for that much, at least; he didn't like thinking about the fortune that had befallen him enough as things stood. If he could keep other from knowing, then that was all the better.
As those first few hours went by, he abandoned the name Noallin. He abandoned the past, the standing that came with it. Asidim had been right about one thing: Asyr was not a Noallin, and if he would refuse to allow him to be one, then so be it. Of course, he'd have to have a surname, even if it wasn't the one he'd gained by birthright. But what would it be? He ran through a few, but eventually, he settled on Yevor. It wasn't a name that had any particular importance to him, but he liked it.
Asyr Yevor, then. That's who he'd be. And in a world where every face belonged to a stranger, who was there to know the difference?
Now that that was settled, the biggest issue for Asyr became finding a place to stay. Two problems presented themselves at that point.
For one, Asyr didn't know much about Taris. Oh, he knew some general things from his studies, but nothing that would be practical knowledge to help in his current situation.
And secondly, he didn't have any money. It had taken all that he had to pay for his ride of off Eshan and now he was stranded on a strange world with no money. The thought passed that he could sell one or all of his weapons, but that wouldn't do; he'd sooner die than give them up willingly.
So, as those first few hours turned into the passing of a day, Asyr ended up resigning himself to sleeping out on the street... until he was rudely awaken and told to find somewhere else to go. Apparently, the people of the upper city--even though it didn't compare to jewels of the Galaxy like Coruscant--didn't take kindly to the homeless sleeping out in plain sight. Fair enough. He moved down. He worked his way down to the middle city. That worked for a few days. He was even able to scrounge sparse meals together from the generosity of strangers. Eventually, though, he found himself being moved again, down to the lower city. And there he would remain for the vast bulk of his time on Taris.
Now, it should be said that Asyr was not a soft person. Far from it--his parents had been sure to see to that. But, for the general's son, who'd lived a life where his every need had been met, who'd gone without ever having to want for anything, the life he was stepping into was a huge shock. He couldn't always count on having food to fill his stomach at night. Nor could he always count on having somewhere warm to sleep, or hot water to bathe in.
As the days rolled into weeks, Asyr began to learn the hard realities of what his life had become. Life in the crime-plagued lower city was a battle for survival, and he quickly came to the realization that he had to do things he normally wouldn't if he was going to survive.
So he adapted. He learned to steal when he needed to. He learned what areas were controlled by gangs, and off limits. He learned when cantinas and restaurants disposed of extra food, which, as disgusting a thought as it might have been to him only a short time ago on Eshan, was at least a source of food. Thankfully, that didn't have to last too long. One night, as he was searching for food, he happened by the owner of a cantina who was standing outside, smoking.
Jejres was his name. He was a Basilisk; kind, and a bit portly. Jejres had apparently seen Asyr a number of times and told him that if he wanted to, he could stop by the place at night before closing to get a meal. Asyr, who'd grown to be rather scroungy-looking over the course of a few weeks, was stunned, and incredibly thankful.
So the deal worked out. Late each night, after the crowd had left and business had more or less ended for the night, Asyr would stop by Jejres' Cantina to eat from the leftover food. He liked it. He moved his sleeping place to stay near the cantina, though not right outside of it, just to cut down on the journey he'd have to make to get there. It was a bright spot in his life--a life that had, otherwise, turned pretty dark.
One night, as he lay in his usual place, trying to go to sleep, he was attacked. There were three of them; other street urchins, as far as he could tell, wielding crude bludgeons made from pieces of scrap metal. Apparently, they'd been watching him for some time, and they saw the weapons he always had with him. They didn't know how to use them, but they did know that they could make some (maybe even a lot of)money if they sold them.
Asyr wasn't going to let them have them, though. He fought back. He was a bit out of practice, but he was more than capable of handling those three. They fled after it became apparent that they weren't going to be getting their hands on his weapons without taking serious harm, and Asyr thought that episode was done.
He was wrong.
In the mean time, he made an offer to Jejres. He knew the Basilisk was short on security help, so he offered to work as a bouncer for him; after all, Asyr was more than capable of doing the job, and it only seemed right after Jejres had been kind enough to feed him. Jejres agreed, even paid Asyr a little bit, which was nice; but as long as he could keep eating, Asyr was happy.
A few months went by and for a time it seemed Asyr might have been getting to the point where he could make a living for himself. He had a job, though it didn't pay much, and was saving up money to get an apartment for himself. He had a place to eat... His new job even got him some new clothes, since he couldn't be disgusting if he was going to be a bouncer. Life was (relatively) good.
It would all come crashing down, though.
Though he'd been left in peace after the incident where his sword was nearly stolen, the men that tried to take it had not forgotten. One of them joined one of the many gangs that filled the Lower City, and before too long, he'd make himself known to Asyr again.
It happened one night when Asyr was walking 'home' from the cantina. His stomach was full, he had a bit of money in his pocket; he was happy enough. That is, until he found himself surrounded by a group of men. A group of threatening looking men.
He was told that he was to give them everything he had on him. Money, valuables... the weapons. Of course he refused to do that. The men only seemed amused at that, and next thing he knew, he was being attacked.
Now, as good as Asyr was, there were limits to the number of people he could fight off with his fists alone. There were too many trying to get him now, and more, they weren't fighting to just hurt him, like in the mugging a few months back. They were trying to kill him. And he would die, if he didn't do something. So out came the bagua dao his father gave him, and Asyr set to work.
Even though his life was in danger, he still fought to disable, rather than kill. Quite simply, Asyr had never killed a man. But as he continued to try to fend off the assailants, when he very nearly got shot, he knew that would have to change. The strike was quick and decisive. Some idiot came in, waving a stun baton at him as if he had a hope of succeeding with it. Asyr's sword was in his gut before he even had a chance to get in range. The blade stayed there for a moment as Aysyr kicked back one man who was trying to attack him from behind, and then he removed the weapon, dropping the man to the ground. Another attacker came, and Asyr struck again kicking him hard in the knee and crushing his trachea with a hard strike as the man stumbled forward.
Two men down in the span of a few seconds. The attack suddenly ground to a halt for a brief moment. Asyr could feel the tension swelling. He could feel genuine anger starting to rise, just from looking at their faces. This wasn't the way they'd expected this to go. Now he'd killed two of their men. If Asyr wasn't a dead man before, he would be now.
That was the time when Asyr made the decision that it would be best to leave. He'd take his cuts and bruises any day over being dead, and so he ran. They followed. Asyr led them on a wild chase, throughout the Lower City, into areas of it he wasn't even familiar with. He lost time of how long the chase went, but he didn't dare stop until he lost them.
After a long while, he finally did lose them, or they gave up. As the adrenaline faded and the pain from the injuries he took in the fight began to set in with weariness that seemed to touch every muscle in his body, he collapsed to the ground. He was alone. He was tired. He was lost.
Worst of all, he'd made a very dangerous enemy.
In the end, Asyr managed to limp to a shelter that was run by an old Twi'lek. He was given care there, cleaned up and fed, and he stayed there for a few days as he recovered. When he was well enough to leave, he was given directions back to Jejres' place and went on his way.
A few more weeks passed in relative calm, though Asyr found that he was being harassed for more than he normally was. Three times did someone try to mug him, and once he was just attacked. Then came the big blow.
The gang had been waiting, planning their revenge on him. One night, as he was working his shift at the cantina, they struck. The flooded into the place as the searched for him, and when he came rushing out to see what was going on, they attacked. Absolute chaos broke loose. People were running and screaming, trying to get out. Jejres stormed out of the back, blaster pistol in hand. Asyr wasted no time, setting into the gang with his two short swords swirling about him; this time, he did not hesitate to strike to kill. But much like the last time, there were simply too many of them. Jejres got shot and went down. Asyr couldn't do anything to help him; he could only keep fighting.
He fought bravely. Quite a few of the gang's men fell to him, but he was too outnumbered. If the fight continued to go on as it was, he would die, or get captured. So, once again, he ran. The front exit was blocked off, but he was able to get out through the back. Once again, they gave chase to him, and this time, he wasn't so lucky. The chase was short, and ended with him surrounded in the middle of the street. Seemingly, he was done for. He stood there defiantly, hold both of his blood-slick swords at the ready.
Then his saviors arrived.
There was a group of them. They were armed. Asyr didn't even notice them until a volley of blaster fire sent some of the men around him crumbling to the ground. The others looked over in surprise, and he wasted little time using the opportunity to attack. With the aid of his newfound helpers, the gang was pushed back, and finally fled, leaving him safe once again. He was bruised, bleeding, and tired, but he was safe.
The leader of the group approached him then. He was a man, looked to be a human in his mid-thirties. He introduced himself as Lance. Lance and what he told Asyr was his crew had been about to leave the Lower city, when they saw Asyr's situation. They couldn't just let the men kill Asyr and so they helped him out.
Asyr thanked them earnestly. They'd saved him, and he was grateful for that. he asked them what they did, and got the reply that they were travelers. Lance seemed to think on something for a moment, and then offered Asyr a place on his crew. Asyr's expression told of his surprise at the offer, and then Lance explained, telling him that he'd seen what Asyr could do, and thought the young man's abilities might be of some use; besides, he could pay him, take care of him, and he'd have a place to live on the ship. Asyr accepted the offer. Anything was better than Taris, and if these encounters with the gang were only going to continue, Asyr knew it was high time he got off the planet.
Before they left, he stopped by the cantina. The place was a mess. The stench of death hung over it. Asyr picked his way over the corpses of the men he'd killed and went to the back, to where he'd seen Jejres fall. The Basilisk was there on the ground. He was dead. A terrible sorrow gripped Asyr at seeing that. Jejres had been good to him, had offered to help him when he had no reason to and when no one else would. Asyr was forever grateful to Jejres for that. And now Jejres was dead, all because of some men who were after Asyr.
He paid his respects briefly and then he had to go. There wasn't anything more he could do for Jejres. All he could do now was look ahead, and start a new life once again.
