Ask Onderon Pride Will Make You Deaf

[The Storyteller]

The sunset from Iziz was a sight to behold. From the heights of the walled city, one could see the tremors of the luscious jungles, teeming with life, captured in the radiant sunlight. At its hidden peaks, one could just barely see above the massive walls of alabaster that choked the city. It was a sight that Chieftain Ulzo Mawumbe Dor-Drel had rarely seen. As Beast Lord, the ceremonial leader of the Untamed tribes that roamed the jungles that covered Onderon, he typically despised the walled cities as the homes of soft-bellied cowards. Those who were not strong enough to endure the jungle, strong enough to cleave their own foes' heads from shoulders, hid behind their palisades. Most evenings, Ulzo would spit into the cobbled streets of this city before staying here.

Tonight, though; this night was different. From the city's spaceport, he looked out at the city before him with a newfound reverence. He was to meet with an offworlder - another strange occurrence to add to his day - who could deliver him salvation. It was a highly unusual request, the Beast-Lord admitted to himself. It was highly unusual for a man of his stature - clothed in the traditional robes of his tribe - to wait amongst the tech-dependent, small folk of the world. Once, long ago, his people had led a rebellion against the tyranny of a sadistic force user, Freedon Nadd. The war lingered long in the Beast Riders' spirits, building to a longstanding distrust of offworlders and city-dwellers alike. For some, the legacy of Freedon Nadd even turned them against the Force in general. It was fate that Ulzo was crowned Beast Lord, though, and his remarkable tolerance (among other attributes) led him to embrace the mystery of the Force. It was a strange force that moved all, moved the worlds through space, the sun through the sky, and him to Iziz.

He took a moment to admire the splendor. He was a tall man, broad with muscle. Although he was well past his prime, his brown skin was still taught with activity, the tension of a man who has lived a lifetime of war. He rested now on a simple cane, made of a hearty wood from within the jungle. It was a gift from his son, when he was but a boy. Ulzo remembered the day with pride: The boy had seen the elegant canes that the elders of the tribe all carried and, in a show of affection, fashioned one for his then-young father out of a piece of rotting driftwood. Somehow, after all these years, the cane still kept; his son had made a miracle happen. He had been so proud of his snot-nosed son, his talent with wood. It was one of those moments that reminded him of the great joys of Onderon. And tonight, it was Ulzo's turn to make one happen for his boy. Any minute now, their salvation would arrive.

@Maxim Frey @Makashi Master