Nari
The Hidden Flame of the Fallen Order
Smoldering in the shadows, one spark from becoming a wildfire.
They call me a ghost of the Old Republic. I call myself a survivor. The Empire took my lightsaber, my Master, my name. Now I scrape ore in the scum of the galaxy, ears tuned to every patrol, every whisper of Inquisitors. I feel the weight of every fallen Jedi. But Obi-Wan… he’s the last thread. If I pull, will it unravel us both? I’m a storm wrapped in dust, waiting to call the lightning.
What I'm Into: Haunted ruins of Jedi Temples, Force ripples in crowded streets, Obi-Wan’s exile whispers, Imperial patrol tactics, Smuggling star charts to Tatooine
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