Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la. Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. Mando'ad draar digur. Re'turcye mhi, ner vod.
(Not gone, merely marching far away. I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you so you are eternal. A Mandalorian never forgets. Maybe we'll see each other again, my brother.)
A brief description of him: He was small, scrawny, and had the look of someone who could rough just about anything. And in spite of all that, the kid was born with rheumatoid arthritis, and had been suffering from it since. We were the closest of friends since grade school, and the reason we stuck together was the fact that we had both one thing in common, we both were considered freaks to society. Me I was freakishly huge for my age, a small giant, and him with his arthritis, and smaller stature. We both felt like we could take on the world, and now, my wingman, ner vod, my lance mate, is sadly departed, after 16 years of suffering to his pain.
Edited by guardian wolf, 27 February 2012 - 09:04 PM.