Post by Dire Wolf on Jun 27, 2014 0:39:50 GMT -5
Faction: Mandalorians
Department: Special Forces
Rank: Captain
Name: Chorun "Kor" Bralor
Race: Near Human
Father: Aphithiri Warrior Offshoot
Mother: Hapan, Oscinsin, Epicanthix
Age: 26
Height: 6’3”
Weight: 210lbs
Eye Color: Purple
Hair Color: Black
Birth place: Ordo
Appearance:
The Man
An devilishly arrogant smirk can always seem to be found on Chorun Bralor’s face regardless of the situation. Light purple eyes that were gifted from his father’s species gaze out at the world with a single brow almost permanently quirked upwards; curly hair, a ruggedly handsome face, and near night blindness were gifted from his mother’s half hapanese heritage. The strong jaw and blocky head give the tall man a heroic appearance while his face is always impeccably shaven. White skin has been well tanned and defined thanks to hours of training beneath the Concordian sun, and jet black tattoos are inked all across his body like an eclectic artist’s canvas.
Each of his arms bear full sleeves as does his left leg, while his right bears the image of a tree who’s roots are revealed for all to see and branches are barren of leaves. The text, “Cuun Tome’tayl, Cuun Aden” follows the breadth of his chest from shoulder to shoulder while his back bears the image of a lone warrior standing against a greater krayt dragon. There are other tattoos on his flesh, too many to name in all honesty, but each one is as important as the last to the Mando’ad.
The Shell
Armor link
There are few things as intimidating as a Mandalorian Iron shell with a fully capable warrior beneath it, and Tome’tayl is no exception. A pair of jaig eyes denote the man’s extreme heroism while a modified version of the late Mandalore the Liberator’s face mask has been re-purposed into a right pauldron. Though it retains it’s white enamel the steel looks to have been charred from an explosion.
Blood red enamel covers the better part of the thick beskar plates that shield his body from harm while a black mythosaur skull is wrought in a sharp lines than usual on his breastplate.Two thin stripes of gold and green outline each individual plate, and a motley of scratches and dent mar the paint with no heed to their existence. A kama falls down to the backs of his knees in order to protect his legs from the superheated exhaust generated from his armor’s thruster pack.
What can only be described as a plethora of firepower only adds to the imposing figure that Chorun exudes. Four pistols are holstered against the man’s broad chestplate in alternating order so that one hand can easily draw a separate type of weapon. A short barreled scatter blaster is attached to his left thigh and a det pack is attached to his right, both via magnetic plate. Kor allows himself only one trophy: the lightsaber of his first Jedi kill. It hangs at his belt along with the variable loadout of grenades that he carries into combat, but he is intelligent enough to to attempt to do anything but play with the Jedi’s weapon. Finally, a pair of short swords made of Mandalorian Iron are sheathed at his back on either side of the thruster pack.
Personality:
An overabundance of bravado and a certain type of cavalier attitude may make the man instantly likeable amongst most circles; his devil may care attitude makes him invest little interest in what other men think of him. Despite these two qualities the attribute that most men notice most is the strange dichotomy that is his borderline narcissism and easy going outlook on life.
Though Chorun isn’t strange to moments of pure cunning, he is a man that takes life and leisure as it comes. He’s quick to laugh, tell a tall tale about his many exploits, or do just about anything that sounds fun; though he is a man that feels as if he’s losing his mind if he does anything but move forward. To stand still is to grow stagnant, and to grow stagnant is to die.
Beneath all of the bravado, balls, and bull manure lies a man that deeply cares for his nation and would lay down his life for any of his vode. Trouble has always been his middle name, and Mandalorians love trouble.
Skills:
Close Quarters Tactics
Competent Swordsman
Demolitions Expert
Night-Blindness
Dirty Fighting
Weapons:
(x1) RC-1105 Scatter-shot
(x2) F-34 Scythe Blaster Pistol
(x2) FAH-18
(x1) Det Pack
(x2) Thermal Detonator
(x2) Sonic Grenade
(x2) Smoke Grenade
(x2) Beska'ad
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 6
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 5
Leadership: 4
Unarmed: 5
Melee Weapons: 7
Ranged Weapons: 4
Bio:
I.
Some people were never meant to be born, yet endeavored to do so in spite of fate itself. Chorun's father was an impossibly tall man who owed his stature and strength to genetic engineering while his mother had no direct species she could call herself other than 'near human.' Separately neither of his parents should have been able to procreate, but after years of fertility treatments they managed to do just that. Not only did they create Chorun but his twin, Illia'laar, as well.
The two children were groomed from birth to be held to the standard that every Mandalorian fulfills. Core values like personal honor and bravery were practically beaten into the children's heads from the instant that they were able to understand it, but unfortunately they weren't with their parents very long. Chorun and Illia were five when a cadre of assassins came to their village with a pair of Fallen Jedi Knights.
They had taken up a contract against Chorun's parents put out by Bragga the Hutt, a crime-lord that the pair had crossed during their bounty hunting days. The contract may have been to kill Malak and Rene Vevut, but it said nothing of their children. So rather than simply kill them, the Fallen Knights took his sister under their wing and sold Chorun to Bragga after they were only able to complete half of the contract. Malak was still alive, and forced them to pull back after killing half a dozen of them.
Thus began Chorun's long and illustrious career as a gladiator of Bragga the Hutt on Nal Hutta.
Even Bragga the Hutt understood gladiator children wasn't a very entertaining event, so rather than instantly pit the eight year old boy against other children his age he had the boy trained. Up close and personal combat seemed to be ingrained in the boy's very DNA, and as such he took to unarmed combat like a fish swims in the water. He was too impatient to utilize long range weaponry, but scatter blasters and pistols were right up his alley.
After five years of intense physical and martial training he was finally pitted against his first opponent: a girl of fourteen years. The fight was a difficult one that lasted embarrassingly long. Though Chorun had strength and skill, the teenage girl had speed and a knack for knives. Bragga the Hutt ended the fight just before Chorun let the killing blow fall, and uplifted both combatants for their valiant display. He bought the girl shortly thereafter; a homely redhead named Nami.
II.
Though the girl may have been on the uglier side of the scale she made up for it with pure ferocity and the type of spirit rarely seen from a slave. Their many sparring sessions left him feeling inspired, and before too long his own persona had begun to emulate her, in his own way. Mere fear of dying in the arena turned into bravery, if not bravado. Confidence in his abilities turned into outright arrogance, though that didn't stop him from training any lazier. Each opponent the hutt put before him fell, and with each passing day he felt himself grow closer to his ugly training partner.
Chorun was fifteen when they first acted upon their feelings. They had fallen in love in a hopeless place, and once the hutt found out he took a special delight in what happened next: they were placed together in the arena against some of the galaxy's most ferocious creatures. The pair of lovers fought valiantly, but in the end Kami fell to a Nexu's maw. The sounds of her death screams threw the boy into a rage, and by the time the red haze had cleared from his vision every living thing that had been in the pit was dead, and a ring of Gammorean guards had encircled him with stun sticks.
He wasn't even given the closure to say his final goodbyes to Nami. Rather than fall into a depression, however, the boy funneled his feelings into something more productive: rage. His performance on "the stage" only became more elaborate and deadly as his bravado grew. All of his energy off stage was devoted towards training for his escape, and planning the downfall of Bragga the Hutt. The time didn't come until two years later when a guard forgot to check the boy for any retained ordinance.
When he used the grenade on a panel, all hell broke loose in Bragga's palace. Gammorean guards tried to stop the gladiator from mounting his escape, but any guard that got too close was disarmed and killed with his own weapon. Before they could fully react the whole of the gladiator force had escaped and begun a full scale riot. It was a slaughter. By the end of the night every free man was dead within the palace, and the slaves had packed themselves into the vessels that didn't have time to flee.
And just like that, he was free.
III.
Unable to decide what to do with his hard won freedom, the eighteen year old boy adventured the galaxy until the fuel of his ship ran empty in the middle of space. He and a few of the escaped slaves merely drifted about for what felt like days before a ship picked them up: it was owned by a Mandalorian. Crixus Bralor was a short, stocky bull of a man that took an interest in the oddly egotistical boy of eighteen years. So intrigued that he offered the boy a job as something of a side kick during his adventures throughout the galaxy. It certainly helped that the boy had a Mandalorian name.
During this time Chorun learned what a Mandalorian was supposed to be and act like through Crixus despite the fact that the man never spoke to him on the subject. Everything his mentor said and did reflected what it was to be a Mandalorian, and the boy unknowingly took that to heart. Three years later the man adopted twenty one year old Chorun as his son, and inducted him into Clan Bralor.
A year after his induction into Clan Bralor and less than a week after his beskar'gam had been completed the team took a job on Coruscant. They were to kidnap a senator's daughter to hold her for ransom; little did they know that the senator had already pleaded to the Jedi for help. A master and his apprentice had already been assigned to protect the girl. They had essentially walked into an ambush.
Crixus immediately charged for the master of the pair while Chorun took on the apprentice, a girl about his age. The fight was long and exhausting. By the end the apprentice had fallen to his scatter-blaster, but not before she hamstrung him with her lightsaber. By the time that Kor had finished with the apprentice Crixus had lost a hand and was moments away from a death stroke. A single well placed charge of his scatter-blaster ended the Jedi before she could do any more damage to his mentor. After collecting the apprentice's lightsaber for his own trophy he rejoined his master for some much needed kolto-tank time.
That was the pair's last job together.
Afterwards the recently one-handed Crix had told the boy that it was time to go his own way. Rather than pointlessly crusade across the galaxy in the name of credits as his surrogate father, however, Chorun elected to go a more patriotic route. He joined the Mandalorian militia under Mandalore the Liberator.
He had taken part in a majority of the sorties done on Mandalore with his clan mates, and when the crusade finally drew to it's full swing he was in the vanguard. He had taken part in every planetary invasion that the Mandalorians had taken part in. He even spoke to the newly christened Mandalore just before Ordo, and discovered that the man was his biological father. Chorun couldn't have been completely sure, but when the man took his helmet off he discovered that the two practically looked identical. Besides the nearly two and a half foot height difference, anyways.
If Mandalore knew, he said nothing of it and merely walked off.
That was the last time he ever saw the man. Mandalore the Liberator died on Ordo so that his vode could live.
Being Mandalore's son seemed to cheapen the exploits that earned him the jaig eyes on his helm, or the respect he'd garnered as a warrior amongst his peers. Yet it was the right thing to do. The process of claiming the armor was more difficult than he could have imagined, namely because the ship that Mandalore had been on was blown out of the sky. It took more than a little searching, but the man eventually did manage to recover his father's helmet which he had modified to fit on a pauldron due to it's immense size.
The rest of the armor, despite what he tells everyone, is not the same steel that his father wore into combat. He merely melted his own back down to reforge it in a new style, and said that it was Mandalore's beskar'gam reforged. Unreasonable as it is, Chorun hasn't had any trouble convincing people.
Currently Chorun is preparing to take part in the Sacking of Gargon, and carry out his vengeance against the Republic.
Password: I am above such plebeian trivialities
RP Sample:
"Osik"
"I'm tellin' you, gents, hand to God or the Force or whatever those women in the Republic pray to. It happened. Her bitties were this big."
"Yeah? That's nothin'," a big man in the corner of the bar said with a whiskey glass in his hand. The smaller warriors at the table in the center of the room fell deathly silent as he brought the glass to his lips to finish the rest of the precious liquid. An arrogant smirk pulled the man's lips to one side as he rose to his feet with the empty glass in his hand.
"No way."
"So there I was, middle of the biggest battle on Ordo, when comms goes down with second platoon. Fraking comm, am I right," he asked the crowd who murmured in ascent. Military Communications was notorious for going down all the time, for no reason, especially in combat. "But they need to know that the Republic has started to pull back, otherwise the red backed cowards might get away. Can't have none of that. Problem is, they're literally on the other side of the little village from us. So what do I do?"
He circled the table as he spoke, empty glass in hand, and didn't have it replaced until went to take a sip only to find that it had been empty for the length of his story. Once it was replaced he nursed it quietly before speaking again.
"I go and tell 'em"
"No way. You didn't..."
"Yeah, man, you've had too much whiskey."
"Hey! Did I interrupt your story, mister 'I did a wookiee'?"
The three men fell silent at the retort, and began to worry at their drinks until Chorun began to speak again. "Where was I? Oh yeah, so I go and tell second platoon, right? I just take off running. Straight through the torn up little town to the other side."
"Osik."
"I'm telling you; you had to see it to believe it. I ran straight through, and I swear to the Force these idiots didn't even shoot at me at first. Like they were surprised that anybody would try something so stupid.. " he sighed, and stopped the story entirely. "best part, when I was done talking with second? I took a little stroll on back."
None of the men believed the tall tale at first. By the end of the night each of the men were laughing and joking about how Chorun Bralor stomped through a Republic town twice and came out unscathed. When he was finished he stumbled out of the bar having paid for more than a few rounds of drinks with another cantina in mind. It wasn't the first time he'd regaled drunk mandalorians with his exploits that night, and he'd be damned if it was the last.
Department: Special Forces
Rank: Captain
Name: Chorun "Kor" Bralor
Race: Near Human
Father: Aphithiri Warrior Offshoot
Mother: Hapan, Oscinsin, Epicanthix
Age: 26
Height: 6’3”
Weight: 210lbs
Eye Color: Purple
Hair Color: Black
Birth place: Ordo
Appearance:
The Man
An devilishly arrogant smirk can always seem to be found on Chorun Bralor’s face regardless of the situation. Light purple eyes that were gifted from his father’s species gaze out at the world with a single brow almost permanently quirked upwards; curly hair, a ruggedly handsome face, and near night blindness were gifted from his mother’s half hapanese heritage. The strong jaw and blocky head give the tall man a heroic appearance while his face is always impeccably shaven. White skin has been well tanned and defined thanks to hours of training beneath the Concordian sun, and jet black tattoos are inked all across his body like an eclectic artist’s canvas.
Each of his arms bear full sleeves as does his left leg, while his right bears the image of a tree who’s roots are revealed for all to see and branches are barren of leaves. The text, “Cuun Tome’tayl, Cuun Aden” follows the breadth of his chest from shoulder to shoulder while his back bears the image of a lone warrior standing against a greater krayt dragon. There are other tattoos on his flesh, too many to name in all honesty, but each one is as important as the last to the Mando’ad.
The Shell
Armor link
There are few things as intimidating as a Mandalorian Iron shell with a fully capable warrior beneath it, and Tome’tayl is no exception. A pair of jaig eyes denote the man’s extreme heroism while a modified version of the late Mandalore the Liberator’s face mask has been re-purposed into a right pauldron. Though it retains it’s white enamel the steel looks to have been charred from an explosion.
Blood red enamel covers the better part of the thick beskar plates that shield his body from harm while a black mythosaur skull is wrought in a sharp lines than usual on his breastplate.Two thin stripes of gold and green outline each individual plate, and a motley of scratches and dent mar the paint with no heed to their existence. A kama falls down to the backs of his knees in order to protect his legs from the superheated exhaust generated from his armor’s thruster pack.
What can only be described as a plethora of firepower only adds to the imposing figure that Chorun exudes. Four pistols are holstered against the man’s broad chestplate in alternating order so that one hand can easily draw a separate type of weapon. A short barreled scatter blaster is attached to his left thigh and a det pack is attached to his right, both via magnetic plate. Kor allows himself only one trophy: the lightsaber of his first Jedi kill. It hangs at his belt along with the variable loadout of grenades that he carries into combat, but he is intelligent enough to to attempt to do anything but play with the Jedi’s weapon. Finally, a pair of short swords made of Mandalorian Iron are sheathed at his back on either side of the thruster pack.
Personality:
An overabundance of bravado and a certain type of cavalier attitude may make the man instantly likeable amongst most circles; his devil may care attitude makes him invest little interest in what other men think of him. Despite these two qualities the attribute that most men notice most is the strange dichotomy that is his borderline narcissism and easy going outlook on life.
Though Chorun isn’t strange to moments of pure cunning, he is a man that takes life and leisure as it comes. He’s quick to laugh, tell a tall tale about his many exploits, or do just about anything that sounds fun; though he is a man that feels as if he’s losing his mind if he does anything but move forward. To stand still is to grow stagnant, and to grow stagnant is to die.
Beneath all of the bravado, balls, and bull manure lies a man that deeply cares for his nation and would lay down his life for any of his vode. Trouble has always been his middle name, and Mandalorians love trouble.
Skills:
Close Quarters Tactics
Competent Swordsman
Demolitions Expert
Night-Blindness
Dirty Fighting
Weapons:
(x1) RC-1105 Scatter-shot
(x2) F-34 Scythe Blaster Pistol
(x2) FAH-18
(x1) Det Pack
(x2) Thermal Detonator
(x2) Sonic Grenade
(x2) Smoke Grenade
(x2) Beska'ad
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 6
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 5
Leadership: 4
Unarmed: 5
Melee Weapons: 7
Ranged Weapons: 4
Bio:
I.
Some people were never meant to be born, yet endeavored to do so in spite of fate itself. Chorun's father was an impossibly tall man who owed his stature and strength to genetic engineering while his mother had no direct species she could call herself other than 'near human.' Separately neither of his parents should have been able to procreate, but after years of fertility treatments they managed to do just that. Not only did they create Chorun but his twin, Illia'laar, as well.
The two children were groomed from birth to be held to the standard that every Mandalorian fulfills. Core values like personal honor and bravery were practically beaten into the children's heads from the instant that they were able to understand it, but unfortunately they weren't with their parents very long. Chorun and Illia were five when a cadre of assassins came to their village with a pair of Fallen Jedi Knights.
They had taken up a contract against Chorun's parents put out by Bragga the Hutt, a crime-lord that the pair had crossed during their bounty hunting days. The contract may have been to kill Malak and Rene Vevut, but it said nothing of their children. So rather than simply kill them, the Fallen Knights took his sister under their wing and sold Chorun to Bragga after they were only able to complete half of the contract. Malak was still alive, and forced them to pull back after killing half a dozen of them.
Thus began Chorun's long and illustrious career as a gladiator of Bragga the Hutt on Nal Hutta.
Even Bragga the Hutt understood gladiator children wasn't a very entertaining event, so rather than instantly pit the eight year old boy against other children his age he had the boy trained. Up close and personal combat seemed to be ingrained in the boy's very DNA, and as such he took to unarmed combat like a fish swims in the water. He was too impatient to utilize long range weaponry, but scatter blasters and pistols were right up his alley.
After five years of intense physical and martial training he was finally pitted against his first opponent: a girl of fourteen years. The fight was a difficult one that lasted embarrassingly long. Though Chorun had strength and skill, the teenage girl had speed and a knack for knives. Bragga the Hutt ended the fight just before Chorun let the killing blow fall, and uplifted both combatants for their valiant display. He bought the girl shortly thereafter; a homely redhead named Nami.
II.
Though the girl may have been on the uglier side of the scale she made up for it with pure ferocity and the type of spirit rarely seen from a slave. Their many sparring sessions left him feeling inspired, and before too long his own persona had begun to emulate her, in his own way. Mere fear of dying in the arena turned into bravery, if not bravado. Confidence in his abilities turned into outright arrogance, though that didn't stop him from training any lazier. Each opponent the hutt put before him fell, and with each passing day he felt himself grow closer to his ugly training partner.
Chorun was fifteen when they first acted upon their feelings. They had fallen in love in a hopeless place, and once the hutt found out he took a special delight in what happened next: they were placed together in the arena against some of the galaxy's most ferocious creatures. The pair of lovers fought valiantly, but in the end Kami fell to a Nexu's maw. The sounds of her death screams threw the boy into a rage, and by the time the red haze had cleared from his vision every living thing that had been in the pit was dead, and a ring of Gammorean guards had encircled him with stun sticks.
He wasn't even given the closure to say his final goodbyes to Nami. Rather than fall into a depression, however, the boy funneled his feelings into something more productive: rage. His performance on "the stage" only became more elaborate and deadly as his bravado grew. All of his energy off stage was devoted towards training for his escape, and planning the downfall of Bragga the Hutt. The time didn't come until two years later when a guard forgot to check the boy for any retained ordinance.
When he used the grenade on a panel, all hell broke loose in Bragga's palace. Gammorean guards tried to stop the gladiator from mounting his escape, but any guard that got too close was disarmed and killed with his own weapon. Before they could fully react the whole of the gladiator force had escaped and begun a full scale riot. It was a slaughter. By the end of the night every free man was dead within the palace, and the slaves had packed themselves into the vessels that didn't have time to flee.
And just like that, he was free.
III.
Unable to decide what to do with his hard won freedom, the eighteen year old boy adventured the galaxy until the fuel of his ship ran empty in the middle of space. He and a few of the escaped slaves merely drifted about for what felt like days before a ship picked them up: it was owned by a Mandalorian. Crixus Bralor was a short, stocky bull of a man that took an interest in the oddly egotistical boy of eighteen years. So intrigued that he offered the boy a job as something of a side kick during his adventures throughout the galaxy. It certainly helped that the boy had a Mandalorian name.
During this time Chorun learned what a Mandalorian was supposed to be and act like through Crixus despite the fact that the man never spoke to him on the subject. Everything his mentor said and did reflected what it was to be a Mandalorian, and the boy unknowingly took that to heart. Three years later the man adopted twenty one year old Chorun as his son, and inducted him into Clan Bralor.
A year after his induction into Clan Bralor and less than a week after his beskar'gam had been completed the team took a job on Coruscant. They were to kidnap a senator's daughter to hold her for ransom; little did they know that the senator had already pleaded to the Jedi for help. A master and his apprentice had already been assigned to protect the girl. They had essentially walked into an ambush.
Crixus immediately charged for the master of the pair while Chorun took on the apprentice, a girl about his age. The fight was long and exhausting. By the end the apprentice had fallen to his scatter-blaster, but not before she hamstrung him with her lightsaber. By the time that Kor had finished with the apprentice Crixus had lost a hand and was moments away from a death stroke. A single well placed charge of his scatter-blaster ended the Jedi before she could do any more damage to his mentor. After collecting the apprentice's lightsaber for his own trophy he rejoined his master for some much needed kolto-tank time.
That was the pair's last job together.
Afterwards the recently one-handed Crix had told the boy that it was time to go his own way. Rather than pointlessly crusade across the galaxy in the name of credits as his surrogate father, however, Chorun elected to go a more patriotic route. He joined the Mandalorian militia under Mandalore the Liberator.
He had taken part in a majority of the sorties done on Mandalore with his clan mates, and when the crusade finally drew to it's full swing he was in the vanguard. He had taken part in every planetary invasion that the Mandalorians had taken part in. He even spoke to the newly christened Mandalore just before Ordo, and discovered that the man was his biological father. Chorun couldn't have been completely sure, but when the man took his helmet off he discovered that the two practically looked identical. Besides the nearly two and a half foot height difference, anyways.
If Mandalore knew, he said nothing of it and merely walked off.
That was the last time he ever saw the man. Mandalore the Liberator died on Ordo so that his vode could live.
Being Mandalore's son seemed to cheapen the exploits that earned him the jaig eyes on his helm, or the respect he'd garnered as a warrior amongst his peers. Yet it was the right thing to do. The process of claiming the armor was more difficult than he could have imagined, namely because the ship that Mandalore had been on was blown out of the sky. It took more than a little searching, but the man eventually did manage to recover his father's helmet which he had modified to fit on a pauldron due to it's immense size.
The rest of the armor, despite what he tells everyone, is not the same steel that his father wore into combat. He merely melted his own back down to reforge it in a new style, and said that it was Mandalore's beskar'gam reforged. Unreasonable as it is, Chorun hasn't had any trouble convincing people.
Currently Chorun is preparing to take part in the Sacking of Gargon, and carry out his vengeance against the Republic.
Password: I am above such plebeian trivialities
RP Sample:
"Osik"
"I'm tellin' you, gents, hand to God or the Force or whatever those women in the Republic pray to. It happened. Her bitties were this big."
"Yeah? That's nothin'," a big man in the corner of the bar said with a whiskey glass in his hand. The smaller warriors at the table in the center of the room fell deathly silent as he brought the glass to his lips to finish the rest of the precious liquid. An arrogant smirk pulled the man's lips to one side as he rose to his feet with the empty glass in his hand.
"No way."
"So there I was, middle of the biggest battle on Ordo, when comms goes down with second platoon. Fraking comm, am I right," he asked the crowd who murmured in ascent. Military Communications was notorious for going down all the time, for no reason, especially in combat. "But they need to know that the Republic has started to pull back, otherwise the red backed cowards might get away. Can't have none of that. Problem is, they're literally on the other side of the little village from us. So what do I do?"
He circled the table as he spoke, empty glass in hand, and didn't have it replaced until went to take a sip only to find that it had been empty for the length of his story. Once it was replaced he nursed it quietly before speaking again.
"I go and tell 'em"
"No way. You didn't..."
"Yeah, man, you've had too much whiskey."
"Hey! Did I interrupt your story, mister 'I did a wookiee'?"
The three men fell silent at the retort, and began to worry at their drinks until Chorun began to speak again. "Where was I? Oh yeah, so I go and tell second platoon, right? I just take off running. Straight through the torn up little town to the other side."
"Osik."
"I'm telling you; you had to see it to believe it. I ran straight through, and I swear to the Force these idiots didn't even shoot at me at first. Like they were surprised that anybody would try something so stupid.. " he sighed, and stopped the story entirely. "best part, when I was done talking with second? I took a little stroll on back."
None of the men believed the tall tale at first. By the end of the night each of the men were laughing and joking about how Chorun Bralor stomped through a Republic town twice and came out unscathed. When he was finished he stumbled out of the bar having paid for more than a few rounds of drinks with another cantina in mind. It wasn't the first time he'd regaled drunk mandalorians with his exploits that night, and he'd be damned if it was the last.
