Zygerria. It hadn’t changed much since Ezekiel had been a child. He was a slave then, now he was a Champion. The streets were busy with traders, customers, and slaves. The sound of whips cracking echoed through the afternoon air. The slight chill in the air made the sound carry even further. It was like an orchestra. A whip would crack one way, a blaster would fire the other. A far cry from the slave revolt that had been started a while ago. Ezekiel wished that he could have seen Zygerria then, but his former Master had other plans for him.
Even with all the commotion and bustle of the streets, Ezekiel wasn’t moved. He sat in a chair at a small table just outside a café. A half-finished lunch, consisting of something reminiscent of meat and eggs lay on the table, a glass of water next to it. While he would normally look like a Sith eating at a café, Zygerria had plenty of dark robed figures with hoods around. Even amongst the slavers, being surrounded by their own kin, it was a shady business.
The hood of his cloak was down, showing casing his cooler toned skin and facial tattoos. His fiery golden eyes were lowered and focused on a datapad in his hand. The histories of the galaxy. Dreadfully boring content, if there ever was any. Ezekiel himself had been about to put the datapad down in favor of finding a fight to start when mentions of Jedi had caught his attention. He continued reading until he was firmly down the bottomless well that was ancient Jedi and Sith history.
The topics provided a modicum of entertainment compared to the rest of the articles. There was only so much one could read about the Republic and the Empire before the bureaucracy bled through the article and bored one to death. The Jedi had once been great, having outposts across the galaxy where they could base their peacekeeping mission from. Now they were nothing more than a shadow in the corner. Much like the Sith Order in its current state.
Ezekiel hummed his disappointment at the news of the failure at Ithor, washing the bad taste down with a sip of water. He set the datapad down, taking a moment to look over his surroundings. Nothing had changed, only the faces of the customers were new. Every so often a beast would snarl and snap, sometimes biting into a passerby. No one paid any heed to the tattooed sephi with a lightsaber and shoto-lightsaber clipped to his belt under his cloak. He liked the anonymity, but hated it all at the same time.
He picked the datapad back up. Maybe some more history would drown out the need to make his mark on his homeworld.
Even with all the commotion and bustle of the streets, Ezekiel wasn’t moved. He sat in a chair at a small table just outside a café. A half-finished lunch, consisting of something reminiscent of meat and eggs lay on the table, a glass of water next to it. While he would normally look like a Sith eating at a café, Zygerria had plenty of dark robed figures with hoods around. Even amongst the slavers, being surrounded by their own kin, it was a shady business.
The hood of his cloak was down, showing casing his cooler toned skin and facial tattoos. His fiery golden eyes were lowered and focused on a datapad in his hand. The histories of the galaxy. Dreadfully boring content, if there ever was any. Ezekiel himself had been about to put the datapad down in favor of finding a fight to start when mentions of Jedi had caught his attention. He continued reading until he was firmly down the bottomless well that was ancient Jedi and Sith history.
The topics provided a modicum of entertainment compared to the rest of the articles. There was only so much one could read about the Republic and the Empire before the bureaucracy bled through the article and bored one to death. The Jedi had once been great, having outposts across the galaxy where they could base their peacekeeping mission from. Now they were nothing more than a shadow in the corner. Much like the Sith Order in its current state.
Ezekiel hummed his disappointment at the news of the failure at Ithor, washing the bad taste down with a sip of water. He set the datapad down, taking a moment to look over his surroundings. Nothing had changed, only the faces of the customers were new. Every so often a beast would snarl and snap, sometimes biting into a passerby. No one paid any heed to the tattooed sephi with a lightsaber and shoto-lightsaber clipped to his belt under his cloak. He liked the anonymity, but hated it all at the same time.
He picked the datapad back up. Maybe some more history would drown out the need to make his mark on his homeworld.
