Post by Meira on Apr 8, 2009 17:04:11 GMT -5
Faction: Sith
Department: Spec-Ops
Rank: Staff Sargent (E-6)
Name: Dalibor Antero (Dal for short)
Race: Rattataki
Age: 31
Height: 6'5"
Weight: 200 lbs.
Appearance: Dal is tall with broad shoulders. His frame is covered with well defined, large muscles and tapers down to a fairly narrow waist, considering his size. His skin is chalk white. His eyes are a steel gray, set under heavy brows on his hairless head. He has a number of scars on his body, including his arms, legs, and chest. On his left shoulder and chest, Dal has an elaborate tattoo (link) that he received when he reached manhood.
This picture was made using HeroMachine 2.5
Birth place: Rattatak
Pet: Wolf cat (wookiee link) (picture link) Named Rocky.
Equipment:
Heavy Sith Infiltration Armor
Cortosis weave sword (not full cortosis, just enough to stand up against a lightsaber, not short one out)
Type-02 Carbine
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 8
Intelligence: 4
Speed: 6
Leadership: 3
Unarmed: 7
Melee Weapons: 8
Ranged Weapons: 2
Alignment: 0
Bio:
Dal was born into war. For time immeasurable, the Rattataki had been at war with each other. Largely isolated from the Galaxy, and all but unknown to the Republic, they turned their violence on each other. Rattatak was ruled by War Lords who were strong enough to control a territory. It was not uncommon for leadership and territory boundaries to change constantly. If one was not fit to hold his own, he was not worthy of leadership.
Dalibor was born the heir to a long standing War Lordship. Of all the ruling clans, Antero was most respected. Dal was instructed in the way of combat from his early youth. Physical strength was encouraged, as was ruthlessness in play. Any sign of mercy was quickly punished, as it was a sign of weakness. Dal grew to be a fierce competitor among those his age, loving nothing more than the thrill of victory. But being the son of a powerful Lord didn't make things easy for the growing boy. If anything, it made it harder. He was shown no preference, given no advantage. Just like his father, young Dal had to prove himself worthy of his station.
Love and compassion was rarely shown to Dal, who never became accustomed to displays of affection. The closest to a hug he ever received from his father was a firm hand clasped on his shoulder to honor a job well done. On occasion he might receive an embrace from his mother, but even those were rare. Even Rattataki women looked down on such displays of weakness like love. Any such emotions were only ever shown in the privacy of the home on the off chance that they were shown at all.
At the age of 10, Dal began more formal schooling that was geared towards his eventual assent to War Lord. He was drilled in melee combat, as well as unarmed combat, excelling in the use of a sword. This weapon preference earned the young warrior an initial bit of prestige, as such close quarters combat was considered the most honorable. And while he could handle a blaster rifle or pistol well enough, he never advanced past basic knowledge of the weapons.
Aside from general combat training Dal was also schooled in less gentle areas as well. He was submitted to rigorous torture, at the hands of his own father, so that he would learn not to fear pain. And as he aged, he learned the finer points of bringing such pain to others.
He learned battle tactics and theory, but proved to be only adequate at dispatching and controlling a large force. It was obvious that the leadership his parents had possessed was lost on their son.
At the age of 15, the Antero clan was challenged by a neighboring group. This would be Dal's first battle. The two opposing clans met on a barren plateau that stretched between their territories. The battle began at sunrise, and by noon the ground was drenched in blood from both sides. Both clans were nearly destroyed in the fight and it seemed they were at a standstill.
It was then that Dal heard his name called from across the plateau. Turning his head, Dal saw the son of the opposing War Lord standing alone in the middle of the field. He had stripped off his armor down to his waist, his chalk white skin standing out in bright contrast to the russet ground around him. The challenge had been made. Dal didn't even have to look at his father for direction. All challenges were answered.
The Antero clan cheered as Dal made his way to meet the other man, removing his own armor as he walked. The two stood only a few feet apart and squared off. No words had been uttered, but all understood that the day's victory would be decided in this fight. Warriors from both sides formed a fighting ring, using their own bodies as markers for the edges. Only one man would live. The bout began slowly with the two men circling and sizing each other up. Inch by inch they closed in as if each were daring the other to make the first move. It would be Dal who struck first, launching his already large frame into the abdomen of the other, eliciting cheers from the Antero clan. The two stumbled back, his foe throwing his elbows into his back as Dal tried to bring the fight to the ground. Finally, the other man mistepped on some loose rock and the two fell down.
Dal had the advantage in the upper position, but his opponent soon went on the defenses, guarding against Dal's fierce blows with his arms and legs. As Dal vied to get a lock on the other's arm, his opponent slipped away, rolling onto his hands an knees and scampered backwards. Both men now crouched low to the ground and began their circling game again. This time, it would be the opponent who made the first move. But his move was a mistake. He had lashed out his arm, hoping to land a blow to Dal's head. Instead he found his fist caught in Dal's grip, and his arm twisting at a dangerous angle to his body. Dal showed no mercy, his eyes burned hot with rage and blood lust as a sickening crunch signaled the arm's failure. But the other was a true Rattataki. There was no scream, though his eyes belied his pain.
The opposing heir was valiant, continuing to fight though his loss was now evident. Even as Dal beat him, he did not scream. Even as the heir of Antero choked the life from his body, he raged to the last. It was an honorable death. Even though they were defeated, the opposing clan returned to their home proud of their might-have-been leader.
Dal had made his first honorable kill in single combat. This moment marked an assent into manhood, and was honored by the application of a tattoo to his left shoulder and chest. The tattoo was half of what would come to symbolize his rule over the territory. Upon becoming War Lord after his father, a mirror image of the tattoo would be applied to his right shoulder and chest. It was a proud day for Dal and his family. For nearly two years none would oppose the Antero clan. Tales of young Dalibor the ruthless were spreading into neighboring territories. But within the Antero boundaries, less favorable talk was being whispered.
When Dal was 17, murmurs of dissent were spreading through the Antero territories. Some believed that Dal, though a skilled fighter, would not bit fit to rule, that his brawn hid a weak mind. They wanted another to step forward. If the Antero's would not admit to their weakness, then it would be extracted from them, along with their blood. Within months, the murmurs turned into outright mutiny, and the family's home was attacked in the middle of the night by its own guards.
Dal and his father fought bravely, but one by one, those loyal to the family fell. Only from fear of his own father's rage did Dal comply when he was told to flee and protect his mother. It was the only true shame Dal had ever felt in his life to turn and run as his father died to protect their retreat. With no friendly home to turn to they hid in the barren rocky deserts of Rattatak for weeks until one fateful day when strangers came.
Dal and his mother had been sneaking around the edges of a small settlement when a number of ships landed not far away. From that ship, many soldiers and officers came forth calling for any who might voluntarily join the sith military, lest their settlement be destroyed. None came forward. They were all too proud to submit themselves to foreign threats. But Dal had spent enough time ruminating in the desert to care about such pride any longer. He felt that he had forfeited his right to that pride when he decided to run instead of die honorably with his father. As the captain was about to give the order to destroy the town, Dal stepped out from the shadows. He knew that he no longer had a place among his people. As long as he remained on Rattatak, he would be hunted. He couldn't bare the shame of hiding like a coward any longer. In an effort to save his own life, as well as the lives of the settlers, Dal volunteered.
He was taken onto one of the ships, and when he was out of sight, the captain issued the order to destroy the settlement and take any supplies. Dal would never know that his little sacrifice had been in vain.
Dal was immediately put into the Sith Militart Academy where he would further his combat skills. Seeing that Dal didn't possess the more refined skills of snipers or other stealthy areas, he was given specific training to better his already impressive close-quarters combat. He also volunteered himself to be injected with experimental steroids which increased his muscle mass to slightly above normal standards, as well as his already impressive tolerance to pain. The downside of these experimental drugs was a lag in mental processing as well as poor impulse control. But Dal was not a sharp weapon, he was a blunt tool. His job was about getting messy.
Dal was also selected for training in the more gruesome areas of "persuasion" were he excelled in the school of applying pain. Once graduated from the academy, he was assigned to missions that befit his more physical approach. He was often on the ground and on the front line of assaults, his size and energy in combat helping to demoralize and scare the living daylights out of enemies.
For a decade Dal's life was blood and war. It was almost like being at home. But there was a lack of challenge and he soon was growing apathetic. He had been underestimated by his superiors. But this error would soon be corrected.
Around the age of 29 that Dal was reassigned to work with Spec-Ops. Now a Staff Sergeant Dal became the replacement partner for one Sera Vossk. The two clashed frequently at first, due to nearly complete opposite personalities and approaches to completing mission objectives.
But it was a particular mission around a year after being paired together, that Dal and Sera found their stride. The Empire had been in negotiations with a hutt over use of territory for an outpost, but just before the deal was to be closed, and after a rather generous monetary offer had already exchanged hands, the hutt had a change of heart. Needless to say, this was most displeasing to the Empire, and Sera and Dal were dispatched to settle the score.
The plan was fairly simple, the two became familiar with the hutt as bounty hunters, earning them access to the hutt's fortress. After weeks of working under cover, they finally attacked, taking the hutt by surprise. Dal made easy work of any guards and other hired guns while Sera took care of the hutt. The two were even able to return with the money the Empire had lost in the bad deal, plus a little "interest".
Upon leaving the hutt's stronghold, Dal had to backtrack to the fighting pit. This hutt was well known for his wolf cat fights, and Dal couldn't help himself. There was a young wolf cat pup who's mother had died in a fight the night before. He found the little guy and stuck him into one of the cargo pockets on his pants before catching back up with Sera. Dal named him Rocky.
After that mission, the two learned to balance, trusting in each other's skills and using their strengths to the best effect. When Sera was put into the Anti-Jedi Department, Dal came along as well, and even received a handy addition to his arsenal. He was given a finely crafted sword which was made with a cortosis weave to make it resistant to lightsaber strikes. While not able to short circuit a lightsaber, as a more expensive full cortosis sword could, the blade was invaluable. In addition, seeing that Dal had been a test subject years before for experimental stimulus drugs, Dal was presented to new rounds of testing with more refined stimulants.
These powerful injections would provide short term boosts to strength and reflexes, essential for combat against a force user. But like many drugs, there would be side effects. His cognitive functioning would decrease to a near feral level, making him potentially dangerous to even his allies. When the effects wore off, he would be exhausted and extremely vulnerable for a long while. So the use of the stims would have to be rare and only when absolutely necessary. There was one side effect that he would not be told about, however, as research was still being conducted to verify it. But preliminary tests showed a possibility for addiction.
RP Sample:
Alright. On my way.
Dal slammed the last of the hired guns against a wall before turning to pick up his bag. The main hall of the hutt's fortress was strewn with bodies. Dal could have stepped around them, but they had all tried to kill him, some even managing to draw some blood. No, he stepped on them. Most were either too dead or too unconscious to notice, but he smiled at the few gasps and cries of pain he still managed to illicit. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Dal waved goodbye and vacated the room.
The plan was to meet up with Sera outside the back entrance, where they had a speeder waiting, but Dal had one more stop to make. He was sure Sera would complain, but that didn't really matter to him. She complained a lot. It gave him headaches. No, instead he took a right down a hallway and into another large room. The place was empty, but the smell of blood was still strong in his nose. Normally, it might have been a good smell, but Dal was somewhat repulsed. This was not the blood of warriors spilled, but of animals with not other choice.
Even he, born to the war lords of a people who reveled in combat and pit prisoners against each other in the arenas condemned it. Even he, who relished the slaughter of unworthy foes was sickened by it. Even he, who wasn't exactly head of the class could tell the difference. The wolf cat fighting pits were arenas of death for those too weak or scared to fight themselves. But it was a lucrative business indeed. Much of the money he and Sera would be taking from here was won in this very room.
So why was he here? Just the night before, a wolf cat mother was pit against another, much stronger animal. Already weak from fighting and trying to take care of her pup, she never stood a chance. That meant that the pup was left all alone. Now even Dal had a heart. And he couldn't let the poor thing starve to death all alone. Moving to where the holding cages were kept, Dal almost thought that the pup had been taken. But he finally spotted it in the back corner of one of the cages, huddled and trying to be as small as possible. With a smile more gentle than one might think possible for a man of his stature, Dal opened the cage and reached his hand in to grab the pup.
AAGGHHH!!!!
Dal quickly withdrew his hand, the ends of two of his fingers dripping small amounts of blood. He wiped the blood away and shook the sting from his hand, chuckling to himself.
You bit me, you little rascal!
He said, again reaching for the pup, but a little more carefully. The pup hissed and growled at him, his fur standing up and his ears pressed back against his head. His life hadn't even been very long, only a few standard months, and he was already learning the tricks of the trade. Dal managed to get a hold of the ruff of the pup's neck and pulled him out. Dangling the little guy in front of his face, Dal studied the young wolf cat. Though its instinct in this position was to remain nearly motionless, the pup still hissed.
I like your spunk.
Dal placed the little pup into a cargo pocket on his leg and left the room. Inside the dark, warm pocket, the wolf cat pup relaxed slightly, gently rocked by the sway of Dal's leg as he walked. When Dal finally reached the rear entrance, he was greeted by Sera's angry eyes. She didn't like to be kept waiting. Dal hopped into the speeder next to her with a smile.
C'mon, doll. Let's scram.
Department: Spec-Ops
Rank: Staff Sargent (E-6)
Name: Dalibor Antero (Dal for short)
Race: Rattataki
Age: 31
Height: 6'5"
Weight: 200 lbs.
Appearance: Dal is tall with broad shoulders. His frame is covered with well defined, large muscles and tapers down to a fairly narrow waist, considering his size. His skin is chalk white. His eyes are a steel gray, set under heavy brows on his hairless head. He has a number of scars on his body, including his arms, legs, and chest. On his left shoulder and chest, Dal has an elaborate tattoo (link) that he received when he reached manhood.
This picture was made using HeroMachine 2.5
Birth place: Rattatak
Pet: Wolf cat (wookiee link) (picture link) Named Rocky.
Equipment:
Heavy Sith Infiltration Armor
Cortosis weave sword (not full cortosis, just enough to stand up against a lightsaber, not short one out)
Type-02 Carbine
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 8
Intelligence: 4
Speed: 6
Leadership: 3
Unarmed: 7
Melee Weapons: 8
Ranged Weapons: 2
Alignment: 0
Bio:
Birth-10 years
Dal was born into war. For time immeasurable, the Rattataki had been at war with each other. Largely isolated from the Galaxy, and all but unknown to the Republic, they turned their violence on each other. Rattatak was ruled by War Lords who were strong enough to control a territory. It was not uncommon for leadership and territory boundaries to change constantly. If one was not fit to hold his own, he was not worthy of leadership.
Dalibor was born the heir to a long standing War Lordship. Of all the ruling clans, Antero was most respected. Dal was instructed in the way of combat from his early youth. Physical strength was encouraged, as was ruthlessness in play. Any sign of mercy was quickly punished, as it was a sign of weakness. Dal grew to be a fierce competitor among those his age, loving nothing more than the thrill of victory. But being the son of a powerful Lord didn't make things easy for the growing boy. If anything, it made it harder. He was shown no preference, given no advantage. Just like his father, young Dal had to prove himself worthy of his station.
Love and compassion was rarely shown to Dal, who never became accustomed to displays of affection. The closest to a hug he ever received from his father was a firm hand clasped on his shoulder to honor a job well done. On occasion he might receive an embrace from his mother, but even those were rare. Even Rattataki women looked down on such displays of weakness like love. Any such emotions were only ever shown in the privacy of the home on the off chance that they were shown at all.
10-17
At the age of 10, Dal began more formal schooling that was geared towards his eventual assent to War Lord. He was drilled in melee combat, as well as unarmed combat, excelling in the use of a sword. This weapon preference earned the young warrior an initial bit of prestige, as such close quarters combat was considered the most honorable. And while he could handle a blaster rifle or pistol well enough, he never advanced past basic knowledge of the weapons.
Aside from general combat training Dal was also schooled in less gentle areas as well. He was submitted to rigorous torture, at the hands of his own father, so that he would learn not to fear pain. And as he aged, he learned the finer points of bringing such pain to others.
He learned battle tactics and theory, but proved to be only adequate at dispatching and controlling a large force. It was obvious that the leadership his parents had possessed was lost on their son.
At the age of 15, the Antero clan was challenged by a neighboring group. This would be Dal's first battle. The two opposing clans met on a barren plateau that stretched between their territories. The battle began at sunrise, and by noon the ground was drenched in blood from both sides. Both clans were nearly destroyed in the fight and it seemed they were at a standstill.
It was then that Dal heard his name called from across the plateau. Turning his head, Dal saw the son of the opposing War Lord standing alone in the middle of the field. He had stripped off his armor down to his waist, his chalk white skin standing out in bright contrast to the russet ground around him. The challenge had been made. Dal didn't even have to look at his father for direction. All challenges were answered.
The Antero clan cheered as Dal made his way to meet the other man, removing his own armor as he walked. The two stood only a few feet apart and squared off. No words had been uttered, but all understood that the day's victory would be decided in this fight. Warriors from both sides formed a fighting ring, using their own bodies as markers for the edges. Only one man would live. The bout began slowly with the two men circling and sizing each other up. Inch by inch they closed in as if each were daring the other to make the first move. It would be Dal who struck first, launching his already large frame into the abdomen of the other, eliciting cheers from the Antero clan. The two stumbled back, his foe throwing his elbows into his back as Dal tried to bring the fight to the ground. Finally, the other man mistepped on some loose rock and the two fell down.
Dal had the advantage in the upper position, but his opponent soon went on the defenses, guarding against Dal's fierce blows with his arms and legs. As Dal vied to get a lock on the other's arm, his opponent slipped away, rolling onto his hands an knees and scampered backwards. Both men now crouched low to the ground and began their circling game again. This time, it would be the opponent who made the first move. But his move was a mistake. He had lashed out his arm, hoping to land a blow to Dal's head. Instead he found his fist caught in Dal's grip, and his arm twisting at a dangerous angle to his body. Dal showed no mercy, his eyes burned hot with rage and blood lust as a sickening crunch signaled the arm's failure. But the other was a true Rattataki. There was no scream, though his eyes belied his pain.
The opposing heir was valiant, continuing to fight though his loss was now evident. Even as Dal beat him, he did not scream. Even as the heir of Antero choked the life from his body, he raged to the last. It was an honorable death. Even though they were defeated, the opposing clan returned to their home proud of their might-have-been leader.
Dal had made his first honorable kill in single combat. This moment marked an assent into manhood, and was honored by the application of a tattoo to his left shoulder and chest. The tattoo was half of what would come to symbolize his rule over the territory. Upon becoming War Lord after his father, a mirror image of the tattoo would be applied to his right shoulder and chest. It was a proud day for Dal and his family. For nearly two years none would oppose the Antero clan. Tales of young Dalibor the ruthless were spreading into neighboring territories. But within the Antero boundaries, less favorable talk was being whispered.
When Dal was 17, murmurs of dissent were spreading through the Antero territories. Some believed that Dal, though a skilled fighter, would not bit fit to rule, that his brawn hid a weak mind. They wanted another to step forward. If the Antero's would not admit to their weakness, then it would be extracted from them, along with their blood. Within months, the murmurs turned into outright mutiny, and the family's home was attacked in the middle of the night by its own guards.
Dal and his father fought bravely, but one by one, those loyal to the family fell. Only from fear of his own father's rage did Dal comply when he was told to flee and protect his mother. It was the only true shame Dal had ever felt in his life to turn and run as his father died to protect their retreat. With no friendly home to turn to they hid in the barren rocky deserts of Rattatak for weeks until one fateful day when strangers came.
Dal and his mother had been sneaking around the edges of a small settlement when a number of ships landed not far away. From that ship, many soldiers and officers came forth calling for any who might voluntarily join the sith military, lest their settlement be destroyed. None came forward. They were all too proud to submit themselves to foreign threats. But Dal had spent enough time ruminating in the desert to care about such pride any longer. He felt that he had forfeited his right to that pride when he decided to run instead of die honorably with his father. As the captain was about to give the order to destroy the town, Dal stepped out from the shadows. He knew that he no longer had a place among his people. As long as he remained on Rattatak, he would be hunted. He couldn't bare the shame of hiding like a coward any longer. In an effort to save his own life, as well as the lives of the settlers, Dal volunteered.
He was taken onto one of the ships, and when he was out of sight, the captain issued the order to destroy the settlement and take any supplies. Dal would never know that his little sacrifice had been in vain.
18-30
Dal was immediately put into the Sith Militart Academy where he would further his combat skills. Seeing that Dal didn't possess the more refined skills of snipers or other stealthy areas, he was given specific training to better his already impressive close-quarters combat. He also volunteered himself to be injected with experimental steroids which increased his muscle mass to slightly above normal standards, as well as his already impressive tolerance to pain. The downside of these experimental drugs was a lag in mental processing as well as poor impulse control. But Dal was not a sharp weapon, he was a blunt tool. His job was about getting messy.
Dal was also selected for training in the more gruesome areas of "persuasion" were he excelled in the school of applying pain. Once graduated from the academy, he was assigned to missions that befit his more physical approach. He was often on the ground and on the front line of assaults, his size and energy in combat helping to demoralize and scare the living daylights out of enemies.
For a decade Dal's life was blood and war. It was almost like being at home. But there was a lack of challenge and he soon was growing apathetic. He had been underestimated by his superiors. But this error would soon be corrected.
Around the age of 29 that Dal was reassigned to work with Spec-Ops. Now a Staff Sergeant Dal became the replacement partner for one Sera Vossk. The two clashed frequently at first, due to nearly complete opposite personalities and approaches to completing mission objectives.
But it was a particular mission around a year after being paired together, that Dal and Sera found their stride. The Empire had been in negotiations with a hutt over use of territory for an outpost, but just before the deal was to be closed, and after a rather generous monetary offer had already exchanged hands, the hutt had a change of heart. Needless to say, this was most displeasing to the Empire, and Sera and Dal were dispatched to settle the score.
The plan was fairly simple, the two became familiar with the hutt as bounty hunters, earning them access to the hutt's fortress. After weeks of working under cover, they finally attacked, taking the hutt by surprise. Dal made easy work of any guards and other hired guns while Sera took care of the hutt. The two were even able to return with the money the Empire had lost in the bad deal, plus a little "interest".
Upon leaving the hutt's stronghold, Dal had to backtrack to the fighting pit. This hutt was well known for his wolf cat fights, and Dal couldn't help himself. There was a young wolf cat pup who's mother had died in a fight the night before. He found the little guy and stuck him into one of the cargo pockets on his pants before catching back up with Sera. Dal named him Rocky.
After that mission, the two learned to balance, trusting in each other's skills and using their strengths to the best effect. When Sera was put into the Anti-Jedi Department, Dal came along as well, and even received a handy addition to his arsenal. He was given a finely crafted sword which was made with a cortosis weave to make it resistant to lightsaber strikes. While not able to short circuit a lightsaber, as a more expensive full cortosis sword could, the blade was invaluable. In addition, seeing that Dal had been a test subject years before for experimental stimulus drugs, Dal was presented to new rounds of testing with more refined stimulants.
These powerful injections would provide short term boosts to strength and reflexes, essential for combat against a force user. But like many drugs, there would be side effects. His cognitive functioning would decrease to a near feral level, making him potentially dangerous to even his allies. When the effects wore off, he would be exhausted and extremely vulnerable for a long while. So the use of the stims would have to be rare and only when absolutely necessary. There was one side effect that he would not be told about, however, as research was still being conducted to verify it. But preliminary tests showed a possibility for addiction.
RP Sample:
Alright. On my way.
Dal slammed the last of the hired guns against a wall before turning to pick up his bag. The main hall of the hutt's fortress was strewn with bodies. Dal could have stepped around them, but they had all tried to kill him, some even managing to draw some blood. No, he stepped on them. Most were either too dead or too unconscious to notice, but he smiled at the few gasps and cries of pain he still managed to illicit. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Dal waved goodbye and vacated the room.
The plan was to meet up with Sera outside the back entrance, where they had a speeder waiting, but Dal had one more stop to make. He was sure Sera would complain, but that didn't really matter to him. She complained a lot. It gave him headaches. No, instead he took a right down a hallway and into another large room. The place was empty, but the smell of blood was still strong in his nose. Normally, it might have been a good smell, but Dal was somewhat repulsed. This was not the blood of warriors spilled, but of animals with not other choice.
Even he, born to the war lords of a people who reveled in combat and pit prisoners against each other in the arenas condemned it. Even he, who relished the slaughter of unworthy foes was sickened by it. Even he, who wasn't exactly head of the class could tell the difference. The wolf cat fighting pits were arenas of death for those too weak or scared to fight themselves. But it was a lucrative business indeed. Much of the money he and Sera would be taking from here was won in this very room.
So why was he here? Just the night before, a wolf cat mother was pit against another, much stronger animal. Already weak from fighting and trying to take care of her pup, she never stood a chance. That meant that the pup was left all alone. Now even Dal had a heart. And he couldn't let the poor thing starve to death all alone. Moving to where the holding cages were kept, Dal almost thought that the pup had been taken. But he finally spotted it in the back corner of one of the cages, huddled and trying to be as small as possible. With a smile more gentle than one might think possible for a man of his stature, Dal opened the cage and reached his hand in to grab the pup.
AAGGHHH!!!!
Dal quickly withdrew his hand, the ends of two of his fingers dripping small amounts of blood. He wiped the blood away and shook the sting from his hand, chuckling to himself.
You bit me, you little rascal!
He said, again reaching for the pup, but a little more carefully. The pup hissed and growled at him, his fur standing up and his ears pressed back against his head. His life hadn't even been very long, only a few standard months, and he was already learning the tricks of the trade. Dal managed to get a hold of the ruff of the pup's neck and pulled him out. Dangling the little guy in front of his face, Dal studied the young wolf cat. Though its instinct in this position was to remain nearly motionless, the pup still hissed.
I like your spunk.
Dal placed the little pup into a cargo pocket on his leg and left the room. Inside the dark, warm pocket, the wolf cat pup relaxed slightly, gently rocked by the sway of Dal's leg as he walked. When Dal finally reached the rear entrance, he was greeted by Sera's angry eyes. She didn't like to be kept waiting. Dal hopped into the speeder next to her with a smile.
C'mon, doll. Let's scram.
