Thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk
Thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk
“See the real trick is never to lose focus!”
Thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk
“Which means I really shouldn’t be talking while doing this!”
Thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk
Silvon’s knife dived between every one of his fingers in order, and when it went through he’d flip his hand over and repeat the process, constantly maintaining a dizzying speed. This, he did to the awestruck looks of an entire tavern full of onlookers, all of them in varying states of inebriation.
He’d heard one or two whispering this man simply must have the Force, as no ordinary man could possibly do this without losing a finger or three. Which was completely false of course, as Silvon had seen men without the Force perform this game far faster than he would ever be able too, but he’d let the backwater hicks have their fun. The odds of any of these people on this little Outer Rim mining colony would ever see a Jedi or a Sith were about as high as his chances of becoming the next Grandmaster of the Brotherhood.
Hmmmmm… Mav does get an awesome ship, but all the paperwork, the endless meetings, the assassination attempts? But the ship…
In any event, his lack of Force ability was half the reason Silvon did stuff like this to begin with. Sure, anyone with mystically enhanced reaction times could’ve done what he was doing, but it required real skill and patience to do it without some kind of pseudo magical crutch.
Jon had spent years perfecting this little crowd pleaser, practicing in his off hours on whatever pirate or smuggling vessels had been willing to hire him that particular month. Always with a plasteel blade of course. The pirate captain who taught him about this used to mock him for that, saying that it was braver to perform with a real blade, but Silvon appreciated having all his appendages attached. Prosthetics were expensive after all,unlike toy knives, and back then he really couldn’t afford to waste even one credit.
Finally stopping, Silvon took a moment to twirl the knife in his fingers as an added bit of flare for his appreciative audience.
“Yeah, so the guy who taught me that called it “Five Finger Fillet” but apparently that’s considered racist by species with a different number of appendages,” Silvon said casually. He took a moment to appreciate the looks on his audience members faces as they apparently tried to determine if he was serious about that or not. That’s what made Silvon love being out in the backwaters of the galaxy. The people out here would believe anything.
“Now,” Silvon said loudly, over the clamor of his adoring audience (which proved unnecessary, as people immediately hushed to hear what ridiculpus but just barely plausible thing he would say next) “who wants to show me the way to your dart boards, so I can show you lot some really impressive blade work, hm?”