Name: Morgan Rieger
Age: 19
Species: Human
Height: 6’1
Skin Color: Tanned
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Blue
Birthplace: Alderaan
Origin
A young man moved slowly, carefully through the undergrowth as he approached his prize; a mature doe that had paused to graze in a clearing in the dense woodlands. He shouldered his rifle as he felt a hand clap down over it, lowering the gun slightly as he looked back warmly.
“Remember Morgan, take your time. Aim for the heart like I taught you and wait for the moment the perfect shot reveals itself.”
“Alright Uncle… I can do it.”
With a pat of encouragement his uncle moved away and Morgan shouldered the blaster again, closing one eye over as he peered down the scope at his target, shaky at first, but he quickly steadied it out as he took a deep breath in, and saw the shot, he slipped his finger off the guard and squeezed the trigger.
“Morgan you better get up right now or you’re going to be late for school!”
His mother’s voice barked loudly from down the hall at him as he rolled over in bed with a heavy sigh and got up reluctantly. He looked himself in the mirror and fixed his hair a little bit, posing and giving himself a wink before getting ready, shambling down the hall with a ruck slung over one shoulder past his mother in the kitchen.
“Don’t know why you get so worked up about it, Ma. I’ll be finished next week anyway. I could stop going and –“
“I don’t think so.” She huffed, cutting him off abruptly. “And when you do finish, Mr Caruso said he’ll find something for you to do around his store to keep you busy. I don’t want you hanging around causing trouble like some delinquent.”
He waved her off and pushed his shoulder off the doorway. “I’ll keep myself busy, just you wait and see. Love you, Ma!” He rushed off out the door on his way to school.
“Hey! Make sure you come right home tonight, your Uncle is coming to visit!” She called off after him as as she rushed to hold the door open.
He stopped just short of the garden gate and looked back. “Uncle Kurt?” A short laugh escaped him, nodding. “Yeah, alright. See you for dinner!”
Later in the evening he sat by the fire, tossing a few logs in and giving the embers a poke with a long iron as it roared around them. A lone howl broke the silence of the night, outside in the woods, far off by the sounds of it, but it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up nonetheless. Then there was Uncle Kurt, weathered features unflinching as he cradled a half-full glass in one hand and rested the other on the arm of his chair, staring into the kindling flames with a thousand-yard stare before he broke and looked over to Morgan as his nephew took a seat.
“Morgan… I can see that fire in your eyes, the same fire that was in your fathers.” He laughed a touch as he took a long slip of his drink. “When I tell you my stories, about all the jobs, the chases, the narrow escapes… I leave out the worst bits. The friends I’ve lost, the people I’ve killed. The blood, guts. There’s a lot of bad people out there…”
Morgan felt himself at a loss for words as his Uncle shifted the tone on him suddenly, feeling his dry lips crack as he tried to pull them apart. “I thought you said you always… tried to bring them in alive.” He swallowed and sat forward in his seat a little bit.
“Of course, Morgan. A man’s got to have principles. A code. Might not be a good one, but he’s gotta have one.” The old man sighed as his gaze turned back to the fire. “This is a galaxy on fire, my boy, and you’ve been born into it. The war rages all around… sure, you’ve been lucky here.” A pause as he saw Morgan go to speak and silenced him with a hand. “I know it’s never far from mind, but you don’t know what war is, Morgan. Alderaan has escaped the worst of it.” Kurt frowned melancholically as he finished his drink.
“I’m… not sure what you’re trying to tell me.”
Kurt got up from his chair and reached into his boot, whipping out a blaster pistol and giving it a once over before handing it to Morgan. “I can’t tell you what to do, that isn’t my right… and I get the feeling your mother isn’t going to be able to hold you back either, Morgan.” He squinted a bit as he reached out to place a heavy hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Kiddo, there’s a lot of sufferin’ out there. You gotta make sure you do what’s right. Don’t go out like your father did either, fighting for another man’s ambition.” His lips down-turned a bit and he gave Morgan a final clap before turning and departing for his room, leaving the young man alone by the light of the fire with the weight of what he’d just laid upon him.
Morgan looked at himself in his mirror, running a hand over a dark stubble covering his chin before turning his attention to a datapad on his desk lighting up with a notification. He walked over and smiled when he seen it was a message from his Uncle. He opened and read line after line about his most recent exploits, rescuing Jedi spies, getting into firefights with Sith Troopers, leaping off of buildings into dropships. It read like the best holos he’d ever heard of, a grin on his face the whole time. At the heart of it all, a world called Viscara, a place his Uncle described as ‘A real frontier’. The phrase resonated with him as he read through the last few lines, about how he still saw all of the same problems only getting worse, consuming even a small backwater like this, how he figured he would move on, maybe even try to retire with the bounty he got off of his last job. Morgan couldn’t help but think the old-timer sure deserved it as he chuckled at the thought of it. He couldn’t help but think, maybe Viscara just isn’t for the old.