An Unlikely Pairing (Gottchol's Intro.)

[E-123 Omega]

It was an odd world to Gottchol. With flying metal crafts and buttons which made undiscernible sounds, it was truly far off from what he had known back in Endor. But still, he'd grown used to it over his years as an initiate, though never did he grow complacent of it.

No, never complacent, always intrigued like any Ewok naturally was. Sometimes, it made it hard to study, considering all the wonders that surrounded him. It took every ounce of his meditation skills to contain it.

But now, he had a Master. He had heard rumors of this "Dante" a drunken slob, they called him. Perhaps he was, but he knew that with this new Master, he'd be going places, doing this, visiting worlds beyond his imagination. It was just too much for the little one.

And so he sat, bridling with energy in the Coruscanti temple's Main Hall fiddling with his tooth-necklace as he sat. The air grew hot around him in anticipation, he wished he could take off the Jedi robes he wore, but regardless of the fact he could be legally without clothes, much like a Wookiee, he didn't want a repeat of yesterday, when he surprised many of his fellow students by taking them off, which got him a hard scolding.

So he waited and watched.

 

[Gambler]

Dante strolled down the hallway, shoulders back and feet trailing heavily. His eyes were wide, pupils too large. His steps were slow, careful. Each one was measured so he could count, starting from the moment he entered the temple to the present. One, two, three... he started over, forgetting which number came next in the sequence. It wasn't completely his fault. The majority of his forgetfulness and lack of attention could be blamed on the liquor swishing around in his stomach, and possibly the lingering effects of his last deathstick.

As a Jedi Knight, he made a terrible example for the younger members of the order. He was an open drunk, drug addict and party fiend, the kind most mothers would cringe at the thought of being allowed to reside in the same galaxy as their daughter. The Jedi Council hated him. Not openly, perhaps, but the emotion was there. Unfortunately for them, Dante had proven time and again that he was capable of getting the job done regardless of his mental state.

Thus, it was with great trepidation that the Council had approved of his request to take on a Padawan. It would be his first student, and the Council had been conflicted on the issue. There was a high possibility of him corrupting his Padawan, molding another young mind to follow after his delinquent ways. On the other hand, there was a chance that the structure and bond provided by training would settle the unruly Knight down a bit, perhaps even going so far as to temper his drinking.

Dante laughed at the very thought, a great peal of amusement. There was nothing more boring than sitting through an aging Master's lecture about what the Jedi Code entails and how certain disciplines should be maintained. Decorum, though, was never mentioned in the Tenets, nor the Code itself. All of that stuff about selflessness and serving the greater good never once said that one had to be sober while doing so. Therefore, Dante was well within his right to drink and party as long as he could prove himself capable of maintaining enough discipline to remember the mission.

Luckily, he had a good head for liquor, and deathsticks never seemed to hamper his Force abilities.

So there he was, a young Knight in the prime of his youth, getting ready to take on what should have been the biggest task of his life. Tipsy. It was a good combination, one that left him confident enough to take on the task, yet with his perceptions blurred enough not to care what went on around him.

He opened the door and stepped into the room, cocking an eyebrow at the Ewok in front of him. "Hey kid," he said. "You got a name? If it starts with a 'g' sound then you're with me." He shut the door behind him. "The name's Dante, by the way. Dante West, Jedi Knight extraordinaire."

 

[E-123 Omega]

It was lucky. He was on the verge of jumping out of his chair and go hunt down his Master when he finally appeared, with a telligible tipsiness. He just walked down the hall, immediatly spotting him and calling out to him. As Dante walked, Gottchol had to stifle a small smirk as he made his way over to him in that tipsy manner.

He was drunk, or atleast somewhat. He could just smell the alchohol on his breath... and something else. He couldn`t be certain. He then slid out of his seat, quickly checking to ensure he had his two main items, his Jedi-issued practice saber and necklace. With them secure, he trotted over to Dante, with a friendly smile.

"Yes, my name stars with 'G'. You are Dante, my Master then. I am glad to be meeting you finally."