In the far reaches of space, an elderly man with an excellent beard sits on a stump. He's listening to music two generations too young for him to be listening to, and enjoying every second of it. The old man's name is Kanitah, and he's taking a short break on a backwoods planet in the middle of bumfuck nowhere in space. After his past expedition into the multiverse, Kanitah's daughter fled from home with a powerful weapon in hand, the old man had to give chase. Otherwise his wife would never let him hear the end of it, so for the past year or so, he's been looking for her. Trying his best to catch her before she does something reckless and borderline suicidal. 

[center][i]Like her Father.[/i][/center]

Kanitah, only three years after the rather exhausting venture into the Multiverse, had managed to recover fully from his injuries. The scars that had once impeded his movement and caused him pain now just an unfortunate stain on his [i]'perfect'[/i] aesthetic. On this little planet in bumfuck nowhere, he realized something. That he had been fighting for pretty much his whole life, and honestly, he didn't even regret it. These quiet moments alone with his thoughts are perfect, but the rush of battle is where a true man finds peace. 

Defeating a powerful foe who stands in your way, or being the powerful foe standing in someone else's way. Either path is good, a challenge of any kind will always make the blood run hot in your veins. 

The wind blew through his hair as the music banged out in his ears, the strange alien grass tickling at his exposed calves. (He had rolled his pant-legs and sleeves up to get comfortable while he rests.) Not a care in the world, aside from the fate of his daughter, but some slight tingle at the back of his neck kept bugging him. 

Not a chance in the world that something could concievably go wrong in such an obscure little rock in space, but even so, the feeling just wouldn't stop bugging him.