Jace Kanos
Character
Corellia had been reduced to a smoldering shithole. But it was still his smoldering shithole.
Those were the words that the man formerly known as Jace Kanos awoke to every morning as he faced the ashen sky of Corellia. He found it strange, yet poetic, that though his hair had begun to grey and his hands had become calloused with the tears of age, though he had wandered the galaxy twice over and could recall adventures from every corner of the map, the intoxicating blood of his heritage still flowed through his veins, calling him home. He had seen times of great fortune and poverty, yet Jace Kanos felt like his homeplanet was the only thing that was ever truly his. Now it had been broken, sundered, and ultimately conquered by foreign forces. Yet still, Corellia was no less Corellian; for the same people remained, damaged as they were. They had all lost loved ones in the shearing of Corellia. Jace had been no exception.
"We've got a sick nerf again, pa. What should I do with it?"
The sound of his son's voice made Jace Kanos retreat from his daydream and remember where he was. He was outside, the wind was blowing fierce as it always did over grey skies, balancing himself on a shovel. Jace squinted and observed the boy, holding the beast still by one of its horns as it mewled, and scratched his stubbled chin.
"Keep it separate from the others. I'll be over in a moment to have a look."
The wind kicked up as his son wrangled the nerf away toward the pen nearby. Retreating back to Corellia and abandoning his former life of wanton crime and violence was never glamorous, nor did Jace mean it to be. In fact, that was precisely his goal; he wanted to simplify his life. He wanted to feel what it was like to be normal again; to work an honest living, to have a family. And for a time, it worked. Yet it seemed as though wherever Jace Kanos went, even if he changed his name, disaster was always soon to follow. The splitting of his planet in two was never exactly part of the plan, or was taking up tenant farming to satisfy the government's new demand for self-sustainability in the wake of the crisis.
But if there was one thing the man formerly known as Jace Kanos had learned, things in his life rarely if ever go according to plan.
He was no longer Jace Kanos, but Jace Wester, a simple tenant farmer on a broken Corellia. Former smuggler, former mercenary, former outlaw, scoundrel and all-around miscreant, and current nobody. And Jace Wester had no plans to change that for the time being. Still, there were still those in the galaxy who knew how to find the old Jace Kanos, if they really wanted to. And there were jobs out there that certain people would want the old Jace Kanos to do, and Jace himself knew that he could never completely disappear from the galaxy at large.
That was why, even out here, Jace Wester still wore his old blaster around his hip.
[member="Eden"]
Those were the words that the man formerly known as Jace Kanos awoke to every morning as he faced the ashen sky of Corellia. He found it strange, yet poetic, that though his hair had begun to grey and his hands had become calloused with the tears of age, though he had wandered the galaxy twice over and could recall adventures from every corner of the map, the intoxicating blood of his heritage still flowed through his veins, calling him home. He had seen times of great fortune and poverty, yet Jace Kanos felt like his homeplanet was the only thing that was ever truly his. Now it had been broken, sundered, and ultimately conquered by foreign forces. Yet still, Corellia was no less Corellian; for the same people remained, damaged as they were. They had all lost loved ones in the shearing of Corellia. Jace had been no exception.
"We've got a sick nerf again, pa. What should I do with it?"
The sound of his son's voice made Jace Kanos retreat from his daydream and remember where he was. He was outside, the wind was blowing fierce as it always did over grey skies, balancing himself on a shovel. Jace squinted and observed the boy, holding the beast still by one of its horns as it mewled, and scratched his stubbled chin.
"Keep it separate from the others. I'll be over in a moment to have a look."
The wind kicked up as his son wrangled the nerf away toward the pen nearby. Retreating back to Corellia and abandoning his former life of wanton crime and violence was never glamorous, nor did Jace mean it to be. In fact, that was precisely his goal; he wanted to simplify his life. He wanted to feel what it was like to be normal again; to work an honest living, to have a family. And for a time, it worked. Yet it seemed as though wherever Jace Kanos went, even if he changed his name, disaster was always soon to follow. The splitting of his planet in two was never exactly part of the plan, or was taking up tenant farming to satisfy the government's new demand for self-sustainability in the wake of the crisis.
But if there was one thing the man formerly known as Jace Kanos had learned, things in his life rarely if ever go according to plan.
He was no longer Jace Kanos, but Jace Wester, a simple tenant farmer on a broken Corellia. Former smuggler, former mercenary, former outlaw, scoundrel and all-around miscreant, and current nobody. And Jace Wester had no plans to change that for the time being. Still, there were still those in the galaxy who knew how to find the old Jace Kanos, if they really wanted to. And there were jobs out there that certain people would want the old Jace Kanos to do, and Jace himself knew that he could never completely disappear from the galaxy at large.
That was why, even out here, Jace Wester still wore his old blaster around his hip.
[member="Eden"]
