TLDR; Younger Mandalorian-adoptee.
Age: 27~
Species: Human
Height: 6’2”
Skin Color: Tanned ~ Olive
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Brown
Birthplace: Manaan (This is unknown to him)
“It won’t matter much” The droid would say in an almost raspy, whispered tone, soft as thunder within the nearby scuffle. The ringing sound of bolters and blasters blowing through what’s left of the broken homes around them didn’t seem to affect their march in the slightest as they continued on their march forward. No amount of preparation would have ever been enough for the inhabitants of Manaan to deal with the onslaught that awaited them. Cries of the men and women would reach out into the skies asking for the Republic to save them, though their fate was sealed a long time past. This droid in particular, however, was no mere soldier. Equipped with the best machinations credits could buy, able to track and shoot over ten people in a single second with the stiff yet fluid movements of a spinning body and quadruple arms all equipped with blasters, little seemed to be able to stand up to it. Let alone an entire army behind them.
Here sat families, generations of Kolto farmers huddled within the atmosphere of Manaan. War had never been in the planet’s history, all in all it had been peaceful, conflict was a rarity here, and it was intended to be kept as such. Though things rarely stay according to plan when you have a blaster shoved into your face. Kolto, the substance that provided many with advanced and somewhat quickened healing, the substance that allowed soldiers to not perish on the field in such numbers as before, the substance that was colloquially known as the ‘fuel of war’. The predecessor to Bacta, and a unique substance which only knew its home on Manaan.
It was here we would meet Kallyn, a young boy barely reaching into his teens, and his family of Kolto farmers. However these farmers housed their own secrets. “The blaster, boy. Give it to me, quickly” A hushed, desperate voice commanded in whatever might it could muster. Kallyn responded to his father immediately, rushing over to the main bedroom, flipping the drawer over and grabbing what looked like a precursor of a DC-10. He hurriedly brought it back and passed it over, finally getting to take in the sight properly. In front of him stood his father, clad in a full set of Beskar elite armour as he leaned against the railing of their living room window, and began to slowly dismantle droids one by one. It took them time to notice what was happening as the droids outside began to see where these shots were coming from. The Vista’s home was the only house of them all to have survived the bombardment, and by that decree, the droids narrowed in. Kallyn’s father was of another mind, his home was ruined, his city was burning, his wife’s whereabouts were unknown. All he had left was his son, though for whatever reason, call it blood, honour or stupidity, he chose to stay and fight. Though no matter how much his blood burned with a passion for this, he couldn’t let this fate be the end of his line. This wasn’t how it was meant to be. Doing what he could to hold off the droids that had now begun to encircle their home.
Along with fighting, murdering, pillaging and all those sweet things, so too did paranoia run strongly in the Vista’s veins. His father had always had a back up plan to a back up plan, and this would be no different. Knowing full well Kallyn would never leave him, he’d done what any good father would have, knocked his own son out. Pressed him into a survival hole with a beacon, one that would be hidden amongst what would come next, then closed it, sealed it, then hid it. The droids didn’t stop their push into the home, eventually finding ways through windows, climbing and dashing through. Blasters would ring through the home as they did their best to pierce the Beskar armour to no avail, though no amount of armour could hold up to the onslaught that would come. In his last few moments his father pressed his final key on his datapad, and within seconds the home would be little more than a crater on Manaan, looking as if a meteorite had struck it in that exact location. All save for the young breathing boy below.
Kallyn spent several days alone in the darkness with no food or water, buried under the rubble of his old home. He clutched the beacon with all his being, eventually it brought him fortune as a cadre of Mandalorian’s finally arrived to vindicate the planet. Although his father had tried to escape the life, Kallyn was brought right back into it, and he’d not go the same way his father did.
Years passed, and in current day he’d awoken on Viscara suffering a mild form of amnesia after his ship was blown to shreds by something. It didn’t take him long to remember some of his roots, and to remember what was left of both his old and new home. ‘It doesn’t matter much’ he’d tell himself, he was a survivor after all.
