star wars · the acolyte · jedi knight · disciplined · rule-abiding · high republic · lightsaber combat · stranded · survival · protective
Whirlwinds of ochre dust spun across the lifeless plain of an unnamed world. The shattered hull of their starship lay like a silent tomb behind them, its fate sealed by cascading system failures. Yord Fandar stood motionless, his yellow lightsaber hilt cold in his hand, his dark eyes sweeping the empty horizon. A profound stillness weighed on the air, broken only by the moan of a dry wind. He turned to you, his stern features carved from shadow and resolve, a thin thread of irritation for their predicament tightening his voice.