Loharr Talem
Legendary Member
Character Backstory: Apprentice Loharr Talem
Key Moment: Obtaining His First Lightsaber
Year: 150 ABY
~~~~~
Garang. This city truly was full of the finest filth the planet of Dantooine had to offer. If… you were far enough into the city and low enough to the ground. Step down the wrong alley, look through the wrong window, talk to the wrong person… The result would be a swift end. Degrees of pain would vary… depending on who did the killing.
It had only been a couple days since he had returned from his most recent mission. His emotions still hadn’t yet completely faded from the things he saw there, but whenever his targets’ face appeared, it always had the spoon buried deep into his eye socket.
That sight always brought him a small semblance of joy.
Loharr’s boots thudded against the streets. His hood was up, covering his face, which was typically how travels down here, if they wanted to remain anonymous.
He was unarmed… mostly. He had kept his throwing knives on him, a precaution against any… undesirables who may attempt to attack him.
Turning down a particularly dimly lit alley, Loharr turned again, this time into a doorway. The smell of machine oil hung in the air, as it mixed with the sickening scent of alcohol laden vomit.
Of course…
“Hey! Wake up.” he exclaimed, kicking the desk, forcing the sleeping Gran behind it to shoot awake.
“I’m awake! Who-?” He exclaimed, “Oh… it’s you…”
“You had better start sounding a lot more enthusiastic, or else I might decide to redecorate the inside of your shop, Osil.” Loharr threatened, “You told me you had what I was looking for, so show me… now.”
Loharr’s voice turned hostile.
“No need to threaten me, Loharr…” Osil said, stumbling up from his chair. “I have a collection of weapons like you described, and it took a while to find them… and at great cost, I might add.”
Osil disappeared into the back of his shop, where the sound of clutter falling and shattering on the floor could be plainly heard. As this happened, Loharr began to get a sensation within his mind. A slow, whistling sound. As if wind were blowing against open bottles and containers. It was subtle, yet overpowering, almost as if it were there, but elsewhere at the same time.
It gave him a feeling. Not a sense of danger, no… it was as if something were calling out to him. Like… it wanted him to take it, but he didn’t know what it was that the feeling wanted him to take.
Several moments later, Osil came back, holding a secure lockbox. Setting it down on the desk, he input the code to open the box. The container hissed as Osil opened it, spinning it around to allow Loharr to peer inside. The contents were simple.
4 elegant handles, intricately crafted with an array of materials and etchings. The handles were short, almost wrapped in an extravagant tangle of protective guards, but something was off. The whistling sound was still in his head, echoing throughout his consciousness. Whatever it was that the whistling was leading him to, was not here, laid out before him.
“Here we are…” Osil said, gesturing to the handles. “Light Foils, from the Tapani Sector. Smuggled out at great cost to myself, and I know that whatever Noble family had these before, sure aren’t gonna be happy that- hey! Where’re you going?”
Loharr had ignored what Osil was saying, walking right past him, making his way into the back room, following the whistling sound as it told him where to go. He made his way past numerous rows of cluttered black market goods and items, with Osil trailing behind him, who was trying to speak to Loharr, but the young Assassin was simply not paying the alien any mind.
He soon came up on the back wall of the building, where there was nothing more than more shelves and clutter. Or so it seemed.
The whistling sound seemed to guide Loharr, telling him exactly where to touch, what to press, and so, Loharr followed the guidance. His hand traced the back wall, past a particularly cluttered shelf. His fingers traced over a slightly raised section of the wall, which was small, almost like a bolt, but it was too loose.
He pressed the bolt and there was a hissing sound that followed, as a small door opened, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside was a large pile of credits, and that’s no exaggeration. It was almost completely stuffed to the gills with credits, but there was also one other item inside.
“I uh… I can explain.” Osil said, his words finally getting through to Loharr.
Loharr reached forward, gently running his fingers over the silver, reflective cylinder. The whistling sound was still rather predominant in his head, and he swore he heard a voice. Faint, soft… masculine. It was… familiar? But he couldn’t place the voice. It only said one simple line. It was all Loharr needed to hear.
“Take it… it is yours now…” It echoed, barely audible, yet painstakingly loud.
He reached forward more, closing his fingers around the cylinder as he removed it from the safe. He thumbed over the activator switch several times, before finally pressing it, and a brilliant, emerald green blade shot forth from the emitter, filling the air with the sound of humming.
Loharr turned around, facing a now nervous, Osil. The instant he activated the weapon, the whistling stopped.
“I-I-I…” Osil said, taking a few steps back, “Is that what you were wanting?”
“You lied, Osil…” Loharr said, lowering the weapon and taking an ominous step forward. “I asked you for a Jedi weapon, and you brought me those pathetic things? Then I am led to this?”
“L-led…?” The Gree asked, confused.
“Quiet!” Loharr said, Pushing the alien back, causing him to crash into a nearby shelf.
Osil complied, furiously nodding in agreement.
“You’ve made me angry, Osil… you lied to me by telling me you had what I wanted, then tried to pawn those pathetic pieces off on me…” Loharr took a couple steps closer, raising the lightsaber to aim it at the alien’s throat. “I’ll pay you for this weapon, but for nothing else.”
Loharr went back to the front room, Osil following behind him, sheepishly. As he entered the front room once more, Loharr deactivated the weapon, as his free hand set down a rather large pouch of credits. He gestured for Osil to take the pouch, and the alien nervously obliged, reaching for the pouch.
As he did this, Loharr reactivated the green lightsaber, and quickly slashed at Osil, severing his arm in a single, swift motion. Osil cried out in pain, as his limb flopped to the table, free of any control from its previous owner.
Taking the opportunity, Loharr also swung the saber once more, destroying the Light Foil hilts on the table in front of him.
“You cut my arm off, you bastard!” Osil screamed.
“Be glad that’s all I did…” Loharr said, aiming the weapon at the alien. Then, turning it off, he returned it to his belt and left the building. Osil was screaming all sorts of profanities at him.
As he made his way back through the near empty streets, Loharr pulled the silver, reflective cylinder off his belt and examined it again. It was strange. He was guided to it somehow and then it told him that it was his now…? This was definitely a strange occurrence.
But that wasn’t all.
As he looked over the weapon, he couldn’t help but think the weapon was familiar.
Had he seen it before? If he had, where had he seen it?
That question would need to wait, as he had made his way back to his speeder, and began to make his way back to Mosa Town. He had to brag to Odsalna about his new weapon.
Key Moment: Obtaining His First Lightsaber
Year: 150 ABY
~~~~~
Garang. This city truly was full of the finest filth the planet of Dantooine had to offer. If… you were far enough into the city and low enough to the ground. Step down the wrong alley, look through the wrong window, talk to the wrong person… The result would be a swift end. Degrees of pain would vary… depending on who did the killing.
It had only been a couple days since he had returned from his most recent mission. His emotions still hadn’t yet completely faded from the things he saw there, but whenever his targets’ face appeared, it always had the spoon buried deep into his eye socket.
That sight always brought him a small semblance of joy.
Loharr’s boots thudded against the streets. His hood was up, covering his face, which was typically how travels down here, if they wanted to remain anonymous.
He was unarmed… mostly. He had kept his throwing knives on him, a precaution against any… undesirables who may attempt to attack him.
Turning down a particularly dimly lit alley, Loharr turned again, this time into a doorway. The smell of machine oil hung in the air, as it mixed with the sickening scent of alcohol laden vomit.
Of course…
“Hey! Wake up.” he exclaimed, kicking the desk, forcing the sleeping Gran behind it to shoot awake.
“I’m awake! Who-?” He exclaimed, “Oh… it’s you…”
“You had better start sounding a lot more enthusiastic, or else I might decide to redecorate the inside of your shop, Osil.” Loharr threatened, “You told me you had what I was looking for, so show me… now.”
Loharr’s voice turned hostile.
“No need to threaten me, Loharr…” Osil said, stumbling up from his chair. “I have a collection of weapons like you described, and it took a while to find them… and at great cost, I might add.”
Osil disappeared into the back of his shop, where the sound of clutter falling and shattering on the floor could be plainly heard. As this happened, Loharr began to get a sensation within his mind. A slow, whistling sound. As if wind were blowing against open bottles and containers. It was subtle, yet overpowering, almost as if it were there, but elsewhere at the same time.
It gave him a feeling. Not a sense of danger, no… it was as if something were calling out to him. Like… it wanted him to take it, but he didn’t know what it was that the feeling wanted him to take.
Several moments later, Osil came back, holding a secure lockbox. Setting it down on the desk, he input the code to open the box. The container hissed as Osil opened it, spinning it around to allow Loharr to peer inside. The contents were simple.
4 elegant handles, intricately crafted with an array of materials and etchings. The handles were short, almost wrapped in an extravagant tangle of protective guards, but something was off. The whistling sound was still in his head, echoing throughout his consciousness. Whatever it was that the whistling was leading him to, was not here, laid out before him.
“Here we are…” Osil said, gesturing to the handles. “Light Foils, from the Tapani Sector. Smuggled out at great cost to myself, and I know that whatever Noble family had these before, sure aren’t gonna be happy that- hey! Where’re you going?”
Loharr had ignored what Osil was saying, walking right past him, making his way into the back room, following the whistling sound as it told him where to go. He made his way past numerous rows of cluttered black market goods and items, with Osil trailing behind him, who was trying to speak to Loharr, but the young Assassin was simply not paying the alien any mind.
He soon came up on the back wall of the building, where there was nothing more than more shelves and clutter. Or so it seemed.
The whistling sound seemed to guide Loharr, telling him exactly where to touch, what to press, and so, Loharr followed the guidance. His hand traced the back wall, past a particularly cluttered shelf. His fingers traced over a slightly raised section of the wall, which was small, almost like a bolt, but it was too loose.
He pressed the bolt and there was a hissing sound that followed, as a small door opened, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside was a large pile of credits, and that’s no exaggeration. It was almost completely stuffed to the gills with credits, but there was also one other item inside.
“I uh… I can explain.” Osil said, his words finally getting through to Loharr.
Loharr reached forward, gently running his fingers over the silver, reflective cylinder. The whistling sound was still rather predominant in his head, and he swore he heard a voice. Faint, soft… masculine. It was… familiar? But he couldn’t place the voice. It only said one simple line. It was all Loharr needed to hear.
“Take it… it is yours now…” It echoed, barely audible, yet painstakingly loud.
He reached forward more, closing his fingers around the cylinder as he removed it from the safe. He thumbed over the activator switch several times, before finally pressing it, and a brilliant, emerald green blade shot forth from the emitter, filling the air with the sound of humming.
Loharr turned around, facing a now nervous, Osil. The instant he activated the weapon, the whistling stopped.
“I-I-I…” Osil said, taking a few steps back, “Is that what you were wanting?”
“You lied, Osil…” Loharr said, lowering the weapon and taking an ominous step forward. “I asked you for a Jedi weapon, and you brought me those pathetic things? Then I am led to this?”
“L-led…?” The Gree asked, confused.
“Quiet!” Loharr said, Pushing the alien back, causing him to crash into a nearby shelf.
Osil complied, furiously nodding in agreement.
“You’ve made me angry, Osil… you lied to me by telling me you had what I wanted, then tried to pawn those pathetic pieces off on me…” Loharr took a couple steps closer, raising the lightsaber to aim it at the alien’s throat. “I’ll pay you for this weapon, but for nothing else.”
Loharr went back to the front room, Osil following behind him, sheepishly. As he entered the front room once more, Loharr deactivated the weapon, as his free hand set down a rather large pouch of credits. He gestured for Osil to take the pouch, and the alien nervously obliged, reaching for the pouch.
As he did this, Loharr reactivated the green lightsaber, and quickly slashed at Osil, severing his arm in a single, swift motion. Osil cried out in pain, as his limb flopped to the table, free of any control from its previous owner.
Taking the opportunity, Loharr also swung the saber once more, destroying the Light Foil hilts on the table in front of him.
“You cut my arm off, you bastard!” Osil screamed.
“Be glad that’s all I did…” Loharr said, aiming the weapon at the alien. Then, turning it off, he returned it to his belt and left the building. Osil was screaming all sorts of profanities at him.
As he made his way back through the near empty streets, Loharr pulled the silver, reflective cylinder off his belt and examined it again. It was strange. He was guided to it somehow and then it told him that it was his now…? This was definitely a strange occurrence.
But that wasn’t all.
As he looked over the weapon, he couldn’t help but think the weapon was familiar.
Had he seen it before? If he had, where had he seen it?
That question would need to wait, as he had made his way back to his speeder, and began to make his way back to Mosa Town. He had to brag to Odsalna about his new weapon.
