Raxus Prime.... The junkyard of the Galaxy. Not a bad place to live. Sure, the smell of rotting industrial waste, and the lingering clouds of thick black smoke billowing into the already toxic atmosphere would be considered detestable by most, but to him, it was home. Looking out over the endless mountains of refuse that had piled up over generations - mountains that rivaled the elevation of the natural mountains of the planet, he took a deep breath of the foul air that swirled around him, and his home, a small cave carved out of solid waste.
Lifting his cigarette to his mouth, he leaned back in a discarded command chair, no doubt dumped during, or after the Clone Wars generations earlier. Here, he had everything he needed.... anything you could possibly imagine. All one had to do was look for it.
He took a strange sence of pride in the planet, a pride that could only be respected by someone that had lived in his shoes, lived the life he had lived. Here, he held something in common with an entire planet.... They were both discarded trash of the Galaxy. The planet held so many untold stories, so many artifacts of history.
Blaster marks still littered the scraps of towering sheet metal, and the gutted rotting hulls of ancient capital starships, once proud symbols of military might that now lay in ruins, their stories told only through the scars born into the thick metal sheeting. They told a story of hardship, and of triumph... and of war; for it was here that a secret Confederate Military Installaation was discovered by the Old Republic... Here that the final battle of the Clone Wars was fought.
From the debths of his cave-home, the wabbling legs of a Protocal Droid, TK-421 stumbled from the shadows, a few wires and circuits still dangling from his brown-stained plating. He'd mustered all of the wiring he could to build the droid from spare parts, not too hard when you're surrounded by them. Thydin chuckled, and offered a brief not to his friend and sole companion. "Another beautiful day, TK. Another beautiful day...."
Lifting his cigarette to his mouth, he leaned back in a discarded command chair, no doubt dumped during, or after the Clone Wars generations earlier. Here, he had everything he needed.... anything you could possibly imagine. All one had to do was look for it.
He took a strange sence of pride in the planet, a pride that could only be respected by someone that had lived in his shoes, lived the life he had lived. Here, he held something in common with an entire planet.... They were both discarded trash of the Galaxy. The planet held so many untold stories, so many artifacts of history.
Blaster marks still littered the scraps of towering sheet metal, and the gutted rotting hulls of ancient capital starships, once proud symbols of military might that now lay in ruins, their stories told only through the scars born into the thick metal sheeting. They told a story of hardship, and of triumph... and of war; for it was here that a secret Confederate Military Installaation was discovered by the Old Republic... Here that the final battle of the Clone Wars was fought.
From the debths of his cave-home, the wabbling legs of a Protocal Droid, TK-421 stumbled from the shadows, a few wires and circuits still dangling from his brown-stained plating. He'd mustered all of the wiring he could to build the droid from spare parts, not too hard when you're surrounded by them. Thydin chuckled, and offered a brief not to his friend and sole companion. "Another beautiful day, TK. Another beautiful day...."