Mathathyper Chesheervyk

(Evidentlythiswillneedtwoposts. >.> AmsorryTal.)

Name: Mathathyper (Math-uh-thy-purr) Chesheervyk (Cheh-sheer-vik)
Nicknames: Math, Mathathy, Hype, whatever other nonsense you can pull out of his long names.
Race: Squib
Age: 25
Height: 3’1”
Weight: 52 lbs.
Appearance:

Squibs in general:
“Squibs were small, sentient, humanoid rodents who ranged from 0.8 to 1.2 meters in height. Their pink skin was covered in fur that ranged from white, gray, black, and brown to blue, violet, and red. This coat served as an important olfactory organ, able to pick up scents at a distance and ascertain intrinsic details—such as seeing through a disguise or identifying a forgery—when rubbed against. Squib eyes were large in relation to the skull and located on the sides of the head. They came in shades of blue, yellow, red, and brown. Their large ears often sported tufts of fur whose color could differ from that of the main coat. These pointed upward and could pivot to zero in on specific sounds. The short Squib muzzle tapered to a bewhiskered black nose. Their mouths were full of forbidding, sharp teeth. Squibs could store items in their flexible cheeks. The species had nimble, five-fingered hands and five toes on each foot.” – Wookieepedia.

Mathathysper is of average height for his species, meaning he’s abysmally short by human standards. He has a short, tapered muzzle like all squibs, and a compact, lithe form from training under a Dark Jedi. This training, incidentally, has also left him with scars over a good deal of his body, though they’re not apparent without extensively ruffling through the Squib’s coat. The fur that covers the rest of his body is jet black in color, and fades to a slightly lighter shade as it moves outwards and towards his extremities. The only exceptions to this are his ears, as the fur there is tinged with a light blue color around the edges. His eyes are bright yellow-green in color, making the sharp contrast with his pitch black fur stand out all the more. Combine the effect with the influence of Etherium use, and you get a Squib with glowing eyes. In the way of clothing, Math needs none due to his thick layer of inky fur. However, while he needs none, he can usually be found wearing a pair of frayed cargo shorts in order to better carry around his things in its pockets, and of said pockets, it has many. Mathathy also frequently wears and owns an assortment of colored cloaks given to him by the Mythics.

Personality: Mathathy is a confusing little individual; while generally amiable to his fellow Mythics, his original upbringing as a Dark Jedi has left him deceitful, without much in the way of morals, and evil. While it would be easy to stereotype the Squib under these three traits, there are many more facets deserving consideration. First quirk; despite all his time spent away from Skor II, Math is still a sucker for any mention of a trade. Bringing up the topic is an easy way to attain the Squib’s complete attention, and given his relatively short attention span, those that know about this (generally anyone that’s ever tried to teach him something) consistently use this to their advantage.

Mathathyper is a confident show-off when fighting or piloting, further factoring in to his eccentric behavior. When victory is near-assured, he’s not in any way above toying with his opponent. Just another fun thing gained from being mentored by a Dark Jedi.

His sense of humor ranges from starkly sadistic to wry sarcasm, though he mixes up common expressions in basic frequently, often confusing himself, while inciting snickering from those the original comment was aimed at. Unfortunately, Math is relatively self-conscious, and prone to fits of inner rage when this occurs. Fortunately, he has a tendency to forget most grudges within seconds. As long as another being isn’t say, insulting him consistently for five minutes straight, the Squib can keep his anger contained.

Mathathy harbors a deep dislike of the Unum, due to an experience where one tried to trick him into joining them on Zeltros, before being killed by an undercover Sword of Diligence. Math has not forgotten this event, and broods on it consistently with absolute outrage. The prospect of someone deceiving him while he naively listens eats the Squib alive. This is part of the reason he joined the Mythics; to know as much as possible, to avoid being cheated.

Birth place: Skor II

Faction: Stellar Mythics

Profession: Professional Hobo (Grey Jedi), Stellar Mythic, navy/understudy

Mythos Abilities or practices:

Flare

Memory Imprint

Serikinesis

Staff: Named "Latebra Ignem." roughly translated to "Covert Fire." It consists of a 3’2” strong, flexible wooden stick with a diameter that fits snugly in Mathathy's hands,
The flamethrower apparatus contained within resides inside a thin, threaded metal tube, snugly inserted into the piece of wood.

The end of the staff meant to be aimed at targets is capped with two curved metal blades, (see sketch for exact shape and design, especially as to the flamethrower opening), tapered so as to avoid the flammable oil it used as fuel when fired, and capable of being used to trap sword blades. A leather-wrapped grip was added around the ignition handle for a more dexterous and comfortable grasp.

Given the space and design of what he had to work with, the capacity of the tanks containing fuel and compressed gas are somewhat limited. The advised range of this weapon is about 10 yards.

Mathathy's staff

Sword: Math holds this in such contempt due to already having two lightsabers, that he has merely selected the smallest, un-ornamented stilleto knife available, and named it 'desertus'; roughly translated-- abandoned.

Mastery Level: Knight.

Previous Faction: Dark Jedi

Password: Vornskr

Skills:

Scavenging

Piloting

Mechanics

Spaceship: Stock Falcon-class Scout. Link to which can be found here.

Lightsaber: Two curved shotos, both single-phase, however, one has a compressed crystal, resulting in a thinner beam.

Color: Both of his lightsaber blades are red.

Practiced Lightsaber forms:


Shii-Cho 3
Makashi n/a
Soresu n/a
Ataru 2
Shien / Djem So n/a
>>Sub-form Backhanded n/a
Niman n/a
>>Sub-form Jar-kai, or Dual Wield 3
Juyo n/a
Double Bladed Combat n/a


Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:

Telekinetic: 6
Telepathic: 4
Body: 6
Sense: 3
Protection: 1
Healing: 2
Destruction: 4

Specialized Skills: n/a

Attributes:

Physical Strength: 4
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 6
Leadership: 4

Unarmed: 3
Melee Weapons: 4
Ranged Weapons: 2

Force Attunement: -3



Bio:

Birth to Age Four

Mathathysper Chesheeryk (hereby generally shortened for the sake of my fingertips) was born on Skor II to one of the various nomadic tribes of Squibs that wander the planet. This tribe in particular generally migrated between a mountainous, ore rich region and a temperate, wet area of forests and plains. His father, a neon blue squib by the name of Aizainom, and his mother, a light brown squib named Vaera, took relatively good care of their fuzzling son, constantly giving him sparkly bits of odds and ends to play with and examine while he was being watched over. Later in his third year, Mathathy started to cheerfully socialize and trade with the other fuzzlings of the tribe enthusiastically, with a bizarre tendency to discern exactly what it would take to close a deal, surpassing normal Squib standards. While this sounds rather serious for a two year old, it generally involved careful consideration as to whether to proffer an extra scrap of metal or a tooth of some unfortunate animal to get what the fuzzling wanted.

Another year flopped by, and while Math’s collection of ‘treasures’ constantly fluctuated in size, it seemed to always maintain a certain level of quality. Needless to say, his parents were proud of his accomplishments in their sacred art of haggling and told him as much while little Mathathy toothily beamed up at them.

Press-ganged into service

Mathathy was dark. Brushed with black on the outside, and filled in with dirty pencil lines.


Only a little later the same year, a Dark Jedi on her way from Ryloth to Subterrel was forced down into the atmosphere of Skor II by a doggedly persistant bounty hunter seemingly bent on retrieving her dead or alive. Unfortunately for the bounty hunter, the Dark Jedi had, whether accidentally or purposefully, flown into the midst of one of Skor’s storms, using her abilities of the force to closely skim over the treetops in the region. The bounty hunter wasn’t as steady as the Dark Jedi, unused to flying on sensors alone, the bottom of his ship twitched down and caught on the arboreal tops of the trees, shearing off his sensor array. Now flying blind, and his intended prey off of the radar (which was now sitting on the forest floor), the bounty hunter angled his ship upwards, knifing out of the heavy rainstorm and back into quiet space to wait for another chance to capture or destroy the Dark Jedi.

The Dark Jedi herself had landed in a small clearing as soon as her still functioning scanners dutifully reported that she had shaken the bounty hunter off her trail. She mumbled to herself darkly, as it just figured some moron would stubbornly manage to track her all the way from Ryloth, and then run off as soon as there was a slight danger to their person. She harrumphed as she primly stepped out of her Falcon-class scout and onto the drenched soil, eying her surroundings with an air of measured distaste before deftly flipping up the hood of her cloak. Then, she felt a soft presence in the force. Her eyes lit up darkly as she started to cautiously weave through the damp forest.

Mathathy, like the rest of his tribe, had taken shelter under the massive trees as soon as the rainstorm had started. Unfortunately for the fuzzling, his attention span was not well suited to waiting and watching, especially if the only thing keeping him from more enjoyable activities was a little bit of falling water. A short period of time later, Math had snuck off and was pittering through the forest while water pattered its way down towards the soil, Squib absently thinking of how jealous the tribe would be if he found something special, and the water simply intent on saturating the ground. Luck was with him again, just as it seemed to be with his trading, and he eventually happened across the mostly smashed pieces of the sensor array from the bounty hunter’s ship. Almost as soon as he had taken a good luck at his prize, and compulsively rubbed one of the smashed pieces on his fur to get a better idea of just what it was, he heard soft footsteps behind him. Whirling around protectively, with needle-sharp teeth bared, Mathathy found himself staring at the familiar figure of his mother, Vaera. Embarrassedly shuffling his feet, Math mumbled an apology at the flat look she gave him, a drop of water plopping on the end of his muzzle in mock rebuke. Remembering himself, the fuzzling excitedly stepped to the side and revealed the trashed array with a flourish. His mother's eyes widened to liquid brown saucers, and Mathathy smirked, turning back around to examine the technology closer. When the jet black fuzzling wasn’t immediately joined by his mother, he turned back around questioningly, just in time to see and hear a harsh red blade emit with a thrum through the soft brown fur of Vaera’s chest. A second later, it was gone again with the same hiss, and his mother was slumping over to lie motionless on the muddy ground, pelt slowly becoming speckled with raindrops. Only then did Math quietly look up at the black cloaked giant standing there its hand disappearing back into the folds of it’s clothing. The creature made some odd unintelligible noises, and Mathathy tilted his head to the side before trying to go see his mother, the first hint of fear setting in.

The Dark Jedi appraised the creature before her without empathy. It was basely intelligent. It was disarmingly small. And it was force-sensitive. At the least, it would make for a good, and with any luck, dangerous, pet. It just needed to be trained. Without another thought, Miayan, for this was the Dark Jedi’s name, stooped over to grab the mourning Squib by the scruff of the neck, and returned to her ship.


In short order, Mathathy found himself sitting in the back of the Dark Jedi’s falcon-class ship, staring up at Miayan again. The only thing keeping him from exploring his foreign surroundings was the Dark Jedi’s piercing obsidian gaze… And the fact that he had already tried to touch everything in sight, and had promptly been redeposited in the chair by an invisible force. Confused, he started trying to ask her how she had done that and in true Squib fashion, if he could trade for it.

Unfortunately, Math spoke Squibbian. Squibbian was not a language the Dark Jedi was immediately familiar with, although his patterned babbling served to distinguish him further as being, at least, barely sentient.

One exertion of comprehend speech later, both Mathathy and the Dark Jedi understood the terms of the bargain; he was to learn how to pick up objects without touching them, which the figure had just said was possible for him to learn, and in exchange, he was to obey her as an “apprentice.” Whatever that was. He hoped it had kRR value.

Shortly after agreeing to the terms, Math was given a tour of the ship, and he was allowed to touch everything to his little heart’s content. As they left the atmosphere, Miayan had a new destination in mind.

Nar Shaddaa.

Training
Ages 4-10

After arriving on the Hutt planet, Miayan set about locating a place to stay. She settled on an out of the way spacer’s inn that looked like it had previously sustained direct hits from meteorites. Even the buildings adjacent seemed to cringe away from it. Miayan insisted it was perfect for learning about the force. At his insistence, she started to train Mathathy that night, and the Squib eagerly devoured the lessons day after day, practicing only the basics of telekinesis at first until Miayan sensed that his curiosity in the force was sufficiently whetted. All it took after that was some subtle hinting from the Dark Jedi that there was more she could teach him, and he was caught hook, line, and sinker. Partially because she offered this for free. ‘Free’ was a good word for the Squib.

Within the week, Math could be seen practicing Shii-cho with Miayan’s rather unwieldy lightsaber, under the Dark Jedi’s guidance. At least, he was trying to, until it slipped out of his hand and flew across the room. It smashed a cheap vase. Math, completely unperturbed, dashed over to retrieve the lightsaber and try again. She confiscated the lightsaber from him, muttering all the while, and handed over her smaller shoto instead, now confident that it would be a far better choice.

It was.

Mathathy managed to hang onto that crimson-bladed shoto for the rest of the class, and then refused to let it out of his grip for the rest of the day. He probably would’ve held it forever, had Miayan not forcibly pried it out of his hands while he was sleeping later that night.

After it was explained to him that it was only on loan, Math was given it back for his lessons, gaining proficiency with Shii-cho before starting to learn Ataru. Note, Miayan’s personal, favored style was Jar’kai, so she was a less than perfect teacher for form IV, but she gave him enough training in both philosophies to keep the Squib occupied.

As to telekinesis, they almost immediately changed focus to other arts of the force. Namely body and destruction; the former serving to complement Mathathy’s small stature, natural agility, and already fast speed, and the latter to subvert him towards the dark side of the force. It started off small, simply crushing a scuttling insect with the force, which Mathathy didn’t have any qualms about, as he didn’t like bugs. It progressed. Other small creatures Miayan brought him fell victim to his training. They did not often die quickly, in fact, part of his training consisted of how long he could drag out their suffering. Mathathy felt innately that this was wrong; that destroying life like this was a waste, but he resolved to comply until he stopped caring. Or rather, until there was something that might be gained from refusing.

They continued in this manner for about six years, the Squib being taught Basic and other bits of knowledge common to the galaxy along with his Dark Jedi training until Math hit his growth spurt, (he now stood at a slightly-less-pathetic 2’8”) and Miayan considered him ready and intelligent enough to make himself useful.

His first task was simple. Eliminate a certain Duros informant that had come across some information important to a politician, and was now hawking it around Nar Shadda. He was handed her crimson-bladed shoto, a name, a probable location, and a holoprojector image of the target, Felanil Keggle. No more, no less. Then he was thrown out of the room on his nose.

Math bounced back to his feet quickly, and wandered out into Nar Shadda’s streets, mildly complaining in Squibbian about why all bounty hunters seemed to be attracted to cantinas. Within ten minutes of walking towards his destination, Mathathy found himself being roughly shoved into a side-alley by someone assumed to be a beast handler (they were), intent on capturing a new specimen.

I have to say assumed, because they didn’t get the chance to say or do anything before Mathathy had gathered his wits enough to hurl himself at his assailant, ignite his blindingly red lightsaber, and run them through with it. It was instinctive, so many times had he practiced the basic motion with his master. Pulling away with contempt from the dying human, Mathathy stomped back into the streets and continued to head towards his destination, a dangerous, tiny black speck in an abstract painting of diluted colors.

He made it to his destination without further incident, promptly located his target sitting in a row of booths by standing on his tiptoes, and proceeded to clamber up onto the seat directly behind where the Duros was sitting. The cantina was dim and loud, not exactly packed, but not empty either; some form of music was playing in the background. He liked music. Mathathy shook his head; music wasn’t important to the mission. However, the presence across the table might be a problem. Slowly, the Squib scooted forward to peer over the edge of the table, gauging the look of the curious Xexto in the seat across from him. Flashing a toothy, conniving grin at the alien, Math all the while continued slowly reaching for the shoto on his belt, pointed ears tilting back to listen to his target drinking behind him. Once grasped, he angled the lightsaber to point behind him, exactly where he felt the center of Felanil’s slight force presence was. He looked up innocently at the Xexto again as he ignited the blade through the back of the booth and into the Duros’ flesh with a sharp hiss, the shortened beam only just reaching all the way through the target’s chest, so that the glowing point was barely visible. Not breaking eye-contact with his new acquaintance across the table, Mathathy levered the blade upwards for good measure before deactivating it, the Duros’ cup of liquor falling out of his lifeless hand and onto the floor, shattering loudly at the same moment his head hit the table with a soft thump.

All of Miayan’s lessons on killing and inflicting pain suddenly clicked into place; it was music to the Squib’s overly large ears. There was rhythm and rhyme in death, a realization he promised to reflect on later. Without a word, and fighting the natural instinct to go through the being’s pockets, Mathathy awkwardly slid out of the booth and scurried out of the dim cantina before anyone could stop him, heck, most of them hadn’t even heard the trademark snap-hiss of the crimson blade or seen the blade. Once back in the relative safety of the streets, the Squib started to thread his way back towards Miayan, green eyes glinting dangerously and adrenaline from the kill now starting to flood his veins. The adrenaline manifested itself in the form of a very twitchy, edgy Squib. The twitchy Squib reacted by almost starting a fight with several people simply walking behind him on his way back to the inn.

Once home, Mathathy cheerfully reported to his master that Felanil Keggle was dead. She asked him if he had anything else for her, he shook his jet black furry head, causing his ears to flop slightly. He was not in any way prepared for her sudden fit of fury. She berated him verbally while flinging him around the room with the force. Approximately twenty minutes of pain and one destroyed room later, the Squib lay panting on the floor. Miayan kicked him lightly one more time for good measure. She looked at her apprentice with contempt before deridingly explaining that she had needed him to retrieve or destroy the datapad the information was in, along with killing the Duros. Now it was likely they’d have to hunt down someone else to finish the job. He was an idiotic failure. She shouldn’t have to spell things out for him still. He should’ve deduced his objective completely and accurately.

Math slunk off to a corner of the room to sulk like an angsty teenager while the Dark Jedi went to investigate the cantina, and see if she could pick up any information on where Keggle’s effects were.

Approximately half an hour later, Miayan stalked back in with the datapad in question. Or, rather, most of the datapad, as it had been (accidentally) bisected vertically when Mathathy had killed the Duros, and the lightsaber sliced through Keggle’s jacket. Not that she was going to tell him he had done that. She simply said that she had cleaned up his mess, and that he needed to train more. The Squib had quite gotten over the whole event by the time she had returned, and nodded compliance. He was going to slice the next person into little tiny pieces, whoever they were, search their pockets, as befit his natural curious desires, and then he was going to drop all the fragments of the person on a piece of tin, and listen to the music.

Augmentation

Mathathy was dark. Cruel on the inside, with a black soul, and a heart made of pitch.


Shortly after that incident, Mathathy was blindsided by a change in his training routine. His master wasn’t allowing leisure time anymore. She ran the Squib into the ground for the rest of the week, starting to force him to use his right hand dominantly in the training drills and sparring matches. (As he was normally left-handed)

All in preparation for the next phase of his training; learning Jar’kai.

Of course, part of learning Jar’kai consisted of having two lightsabers to utilize the form with. On this particular day the pair was going to alleviate that particular problem; Math was going to start gathering pieces to build his own personal shotos.

Miayan shadowed Mathathy around the slummy dealerships of Nar Shadda, watching her apprentice carefully as he selected bits and pieces from stalls, mentally rolling her eyes as the Squib started haggling with venders over things that were, not even by the farthest stretch of the imagination, related to lightsaber construction.

Mathathysper, for his part, was remembering how much fun it was to be a Squib. He had almost totally forgotten the intricate joys and challenges of trading. Even as sidetracked and elated as he was during the shopping trip, the Squib ended up retrieving a natural crimson crystal smuggled from Dantooine and two identical thin, curved cylinders that he meant to use as the hilts of his new lightsabers. Both sets of items bought with odds and ends the Squib had collected, and supplemented by a moderate amount of credits his master had given him beforehand.

An hour later saw Mathathy examining other essential components of a lightsaber while under Miayan’s watchful gaze. Naturally, the Squib proceeded to rub each individual piece on his arm lightly before asking his master what it was. Slowly, the insides of the first lightsaber started to take shape, and Math was confident he knew exactly what he wanted it to look like, and how it would function. One process of extensive trial and error of circuitry later, Math was ready to start meditating on the blood-red crystal. His master acknowledged that the base of the lightsaber was ready too, allowing him reprieve from his training regimen to imbue the crystal with the force.

Math completely focused on the crystal for three weeks, infusing it with his soul, his being. A jet black canvas of a sky with small dabbed pinpricks of starry white light scattered among it. The sky was his overall attitude and perception of the world; to be weak was to die off, and to be strong was to survive, by any means necessary. Without a trace of doubt, one could say the outlook was dark and pragmatic. To try and persuade oneself that it was anything but black would be to intimately court immediate destruction.

But to neglect the mentioning of the fragments of light framed in the dark would be to leave out a crucial variable in the equation. The bright spots of the Squib’s outlook, even if they were hidden as otherwise; where his heart fought against the cold ideals instilled in him by his master. Perhaps if he hadn’t been indoctrinated towards the Jedi since his master had found him, he could’ve found peace in the Order and light-side of the force.

Perhaps…


At the end of the three weeks, Math carefully fitted the crystal into its place in the first curved shoto. The crystal seemed to wink at him as he fastened the rest of the lightsaber into place over it. With confidence, Mathathy thumbed the switch to ignite the weapon, and calmly held the blood red blade out in front of him. Miayan nodded her approval, and then told him to get to work on the second shoto. Not that Math was letting the new lightsaber out of his sight for even a moment. It was immediately and proudly clipped onto his belt.

Because two glowy swords of death are better than one?

The Squib had the second shoto assembled quickly, having memorized the pattern in the first to duplicate it. Though he was mildly puzzled at Miayan’s insistence to finish the base of the lightsaber without having the crystal already. A day later, after his master had finished checking the circuitry of the device, she took Math to a small, decrepit laboratory building on the other side of town, explained what a geological compressor was, handed over the minerals he was to make his synth crystals with, and promptly abandoned him to the quiet facility. Mathathy set about exploring the laboratory as soon as he gained entrance through a crack in the wall. Apparently, being a tiny speck occasionally had its advantages. As soon as he entered the building, the Squib ignited his lightsaber to illuminate the room dimly. Cast in a blood pallor, Math saw discarded pieces of glass and other bits of technology littered on the floor. The glass shards caught the crimson light and seemed to glow before their brief flare of life ended, the Squib moving on to the next room in search of the compressor. As he wandered the halls, Mathathy felt the dark presence of the building surrounding him. It seemed to probe at him before hesitantly starting to envelop him warmly in its shadows. The Squib reveled in the feeling of belonging, and cheerfully sped up his search. All in all, it took him about forty minutes to finally locate the compressor, another ten to repair a connection in the slowly fading power circuit, and a final seven minutes to try and make himself comfortable on the dented, hard paneled floor in front of the active geological compressor. He spent fifteen hours comfortably curled up in a trance like state, shaping the crystals in his best imitation of what Miayan had hurriedly instructed him on.

The Squib considered the whole matter as going perfectly well, until during the last hour of crystal formation, he felt a pair of presences enter the building. Math moved into the corner of the room and resumed meditating on the crystals from a distance as the two beings wandered closer to the room, the all encompassing dark presence of the building blotting out their individual locations as they grew attuned with it. Mathathy waited anxiously for them to arrive, silently pleading for his crystals to hurry up and finish forming.

Eventually, he felt them draw close enough for him to pick out their different “shades” in the darkness. As they both entered, Math stood up in the corner of the room, leaning against the wall lightly as he took the moment of concealment to look them over. A younger Twi’lek and an older Nautolan, both about twice his size, draped in black cloaks, with the cowls thrown back to expose their faces, though in the dim light, the Squib couldn’t tell if they were male or female. Not that it mattered, it was obvious to him they were both Dark Jedi, with the way the aura of the building wrapped around them like a loving pet. They were probably dangerous. But so was Mathathy. He just needed to fight them one at a time. Or hope that one of them didn’t currently have a working lightsaber. With a quiet shift, Math pushed off the wall and stepped towards the pair right as they noticed his presence. The Twi’lek seemed slightly taken aback that a pair of bright green orbs was floating towards her, but without a word, the older Dark Jedi gestured at Math with his left hand, arcs of lightning crackling out towards him. A piercing crimson blade flared to life in Mathathy’s hand, effectively blocking the writhing lightning as it tried to jolt past his defenses. Half a second later, Math had thrown his hand out to force push the Twi’lek backwards weakly, and then turned his attention back to deflecting the force lightning, intent on drawing out the Nautolan’s stamina. Mentally, he thanked Miayan for her foresight and training in this partiular defense. The Dark Jedi realized the same thing, and promptly cut the flow of lightning, instead demanding to know exactly who and what the Squib was. Mathathy stated that he was merely waiting for his crystals, that he was here first, and so therefore they should leave. At this, the Twi’lek indignantly challenged him to a duel, igniting her orange bladed lightsaber, and further illuminating the dim room. Mathathy nodded acceptance, being older than her, even though it wasn’t apparent with his height, he arrogantly spun his lightsaber in his hand, one eye watching the older Dark Jedi warily. With a sudden start, Math bounded forwards, lunging towards the Twi’lek before twisting away into a sidecut meant to bisect her. Unfortunately for the Squib, she had seen the feint, and her lightsaber crashed against his. Math pressed his assault, using a trakata trick his master had shown him to first make her stumble, and then initiating a quick flurry of slashes to drive the Twi’lek girl towards the wall. It might have been his small stature that allowed him to confuse her, or just the fact that she was three years younger than him, but a slash finally broke through her defenses as she edged into the wall. Mathathy watched as his shoto scored a deep groove through the wall, continuing through flesh, and then finally meeting the Soresu block intended to save the Twi’lek’s life. Her lightsaber flew out of her hand and into the wall, rolling along the ground eerily in the silence as her figure slumped to the ground, slashed diagonally across her torso. Math called her orange blade to his hand with the force, clipping it to his belt, and breathing lightly, green predatory eyes still ablaze with the desire for a fight, he spun to face the Nautolan.

In a manner similar to Miayan’s when she had found Mathathy fourteen years ago, the Dark Jedi appraised the 2’8” rat… dog….. thing that had just dispatched his apprentice. He could kill it, but that would be a waste of potential. And it did have potential. The Nautolan calculated. The angle at which it attacked, furthered by its curved lightsaber, was bizarre. It was either constantly slashing at your knees, or up at your chest, requiring downward blocks at almost floor level to avoid the blade. It would naturally be weak to strong overhand strokes, but it was also evidently quick enough to avoid those.

Mathathy suddenly felt Miayan’s presence skulking quickly through the laboratory, and in response, he dropped to a looser stance to glean a few seconds of rest, preparing for another lunge on the off-chance the Nautolan wasn’t immediately killed by his master.

Naturally, the Nautolan turned just in time to face Miayan as she started force choking the life out of him. Mathathy saw the body run rigid, and smugly knew that his master had arrived. He sat down without bothering to move, right next to the dead Twi’lek, and started meditating on his crystals again, which were in the final seconds of formation. They looked and felt just like they had before he had been interrupted, so he deemed them still capable for use in his lightsaber.

With an audible ding, the geological compressor displayed that the crystals were ready to be taken out of the machine, at the same moment he heard the Nautolan’s body hit the floor heavily. Math grinned toothily as he retrieved and started fitting the crystals into the second lightsaber hilt.

Without wasting a moment, Math thumbed the ignition button when he was done putting the cylinder back together. It promptly generated a thin blade of red energy due to the crystal’s compressed nature (which in turn, was due to Math’s negligence), and the Squib looked at it curiously for a moment before experimentally slashing the air with it. After another moment’s consideration, Mathathy decided he liked it, and trotted out of the laboratory with his master.

Now that the fifteen year old Dark Jedi apprentice finally had two lightsabers that fit his hands comfortably, Miayan started his training in Jar’kai without delay. It was during this period of his life that Mathathy gained an extensive number of scars, some self-inflicted while practicing the form haphazardly, and others by Miayan during practice, when she deemed him as slacking off. The Squib, for his part, preferred the form over Shii-cho, and worked his knowledge of Ataru into the fighting style smoothly.

It was also about this time that Miayan sent him on another mission to kill a certain crime lord, for a supposedly injured party. In the way of preparation, the Squib was taken to be given a luxurious bath and a much needed scrub down, in order to look halfway presentable. Miayan etched his name on one of his thin lightsabers, also ridding it of any distinguishing marks and parts until it simply looked like a curved cylinder of metal. It was then attached to an intricate chain at both ends, so as to make a heavy choker that was fastened around the Squib’s neck. The “nameplate” (read: lightsaber) could be removed from the chain by flicking a small internal latch with the force. Then he was presented as an exotic pet at the front door by one of his master’s recently anonymously hired contacts. From the beginning, the plan was confronted by problems. The guards refused to take him inside until a higher ranking thug showed up to take a look at him. Even after nudging them with the force, the Squib couldn’t get them to comply. Fortunately, the target’s daughter was in the room when the thug keyed his comlink, and she promptly asked if she could go get the new pet instead, wanting to be a part of the going-ons, and to flaunt her status. The thug thought little of it, because after all, even if the pet was dangerous, contained explosives, or any combination of the two, the girl annoyed everyone in the entire building, and she had gotten his pay cut last week after complaining to her father about how he didn’t do anything. He did plenty! And that was why he figured it’d be nice to give karma a chance to kill her, before he did anything more proactive.

The Squib was eventually led inside at the end of a leash, and promptly brought upstairs by turbolift. From the sparse schematics he had been shown, the target’s room was on this level, and he was headed right for the door. Right as Math started to prepare himself to trigger the lock on his lightsaber, the girl pulled him past the door and into her room farther down, where she sat down on her bed and started toying with his tufted ears while he sat on the floor. Mathathysper Chesheeryk was totally fed up with giving everyone the dull, confused pet behavior, and wearing a collar. It was beneath his status as a Squib… It was beneath his status as a Dark Jedi… It was beneath his status as sentient. When the target’s daughter had a servant bring in a cage for him, the Squib was only barely able to contain his indignity and frustration. He talked himself out of killing her immediately, irritably sulking in his cage while she called him “Mousey” and tried to get him to do something entertaining. (If Math had bothered to read what was inscribed on his name tag, he would’ve seen that Miayan had put the name “Mousey” on it.) This went on for four hours, during which time Mathathy was subject to listening to her whine incessantly about her life. Eventually, he managed to tune her out, and even ventured to proffer a few caring looks at her with eyes carefully feigning sympathy. Much to the tiny Squib’s annoyance and further frustration, this led to her cooing softly and opening the cage to have him sleep on the edge of the bed next to her, arms squeezed tightly around his fuzzy being. It took every ounce of self control the Squib had to wait until she was asleep before carefully writhing out of her clingy death-grip.

Now totally bent on exacting vengeance for all he had suffered, the jet black Squib padded out of the room and into the dim hallway. He made his way towards the target’s door stealthily, until he was standing next to it, pressed loosely against the wall. Then he triggered the release on his lightsaber, barely remembering to also catch the rattling chain before the length of it could slither off his neck loudly. Now armed, the peeved Squib opened the door with a hiss, stepping inside with narrowed eyes before igniting his lightsaber. In the crimson light, Mathathy saw the man illuminated for a moment; saw him scrabbling for the comlink on the dresser next to him while still partially covered by the covers. With contempt, the Dark Jedi raised his hand to choke the life out of him, taking his time, exacting payment for four hours of listening to his daughter’s life story. The nerve of it all.





About a year into Mathathy’s training of Jar’kai, Miayan decided it was time for a few changes in scenery; they were going to Bimmisaari. It would’ve been an uneventful trip from start to finish, had a certain gang not just decided to seize control of the scout while it was sitting in the hangar. Five heavily armed thugs stood in front and around the ship while a verpine was busily trying to slice into the ramp controls from the outside.

Miayan swore repeatedly. Math stood looking up at his master with interest for a long while, until she stopped cursing and started to stomp across the floor, igniting both her red lightsabers. The Squib trailed after her cheerfully, igniting his own lightsabers with a whimsical flourish before deflecting a blaster bolt back into a human thug’s shoulder and hacking his legs out from under him as he doubled over. Mathathy rolled to the side as another spray of blaster bolts burned through the air where he had been standing, one nicking the edge of his fur and irritating him with the obnoxious smell of singed keratin. His head and ears both swiveled to focus in on his new target, another humanoid being holding a heavy blaster casually, with practiced ease. Math threw one of his lightsabers vertically up into the air, using the now empty hand to manipulate the force into yanking the man’s blaster towards the floor. Before the man could recover, Mathathy had thrown the lightsaber he still possessed into the thug’s chest, using both hands and all his ability in the field of telekinesis to keep it active long enough to reach and kill him. Math spun around again in the attempt to catch the lightsaber he had tossed towards the ceiling, deftly missing the falling hilt and having it clink dully on the floor before he bent over to retrieve it, muttering to himself as he called his other curved blade away from the corpse of the man it had killed moments before. The loud whine of engines warming to life suddenly made his blue-tinted ears flatten, and he turned in time to see the hem of his master’s black cloak disappear as the ramp hissed upwards to seal, the nimble ship shooting off towards the atmosphere. The Squib watched until it disappeared into the sky, and then sat down on the floor, suddenly very alone, lost, and confused. Methodically and mechanically, he eventually got up and started to loot the corpses of the dead guards, amassing a small pile of credit chips and weapons with which to barter.

He didn’t need Miayan.

Nope.

Not one bit.

Now the first order of business would be to find new lodging—

That particular train of thought derailed as his ears piqued in interest a second before the falcon-class smoothly cruised back into the hangar. Math bounced back to his feet at the feel of Miayan’s familiar presence in the force, watching the ramp of her ship imperiously slide downwards. Then the tattered and lifeless body of the gang’s slicer flew out and rolled along the ground for several meters before the Dark Jedi herself stalked into sight, dark robe writhing about her like a venomous snake in the wake of the engines.

“Time to go.”



The next eighteen months were spent rapidly skipping from planet to planet while Miayan went on ‘business’ trips. Mathathy saw as much of everything as he could; from the twisting, intertwined rivers of Devaron, to the underground cities of Selonia, around the arid savannah world of Saleucami, the vibrant rainforests of Ylesia and the same’s spice refining factories, and finally the lone city of Lawaailig on Astrum V.

Astrum V

They spent the longest amount of time in the last of these locations, Miayan keeping to herself, Math wandering around and browsing through the city in search of interesting objects to pester his master for later (as she had confiscated his collection of items to prevent him haggling for and bringing home ‘junk’). The older Dark Jedi had aroused the interest of numerous factions during her ‘business’ trips and in truth was lying low from the Jedi, bounty hunters, and other authorities that she had received warning of via her web of contacts. The backwater city of Lawaailig happened to be perfect. Mathathy had received ample warning not to try and go outside the walls of the city during their stay, and she was certain he had reached the level of intelligence necessary to obey such a simple command. So the Squib went on a quest, a self-validating one born of curiosity; everyday he would try to find a higher place to look out over the walls from. But he was smart. Oh so smart. Math started on the smallest buildings first and gradually started to work his way upwards.

This game lasted precisely three hours and forty-four minutes before he decided to find the best view ahead of schedule.

Time after that progressed lazily. Miayan, when she wasn’t telling him to stop doing something or correcting him on lightsaber form, always appeared to be resting. After hours of searching for his personal effects, day after day, Math came to the grudging conclusion that his master was far too good at hiding things.

Things fell into a pattern, and stayed that way for about a month and a half. Finally, after a particularly moody bout of grumblings and threatenings, Miayan gave him back his bag of belongings. The Squib, overjoyed at the prospect of feral haggling for some oddity at the market, dashed off immediately.

Incidentally, it was in the midst of fiercely trading with a pair of native traders, a Nihran and a Graarl, for a carved bauble decorated with a shiny gemstone, that his master entered the background of the scene, back to her old, vexed self. The Squib gathered this solely from the fact that Miayan and another cloaked being had just leapt onto the roof partially abridging the stall, and were currently hacking at each other in a flurry of strobing colors. Math waved to her before creasing his face in an expression of hurt at the Graarl’s last offer. The Jedi, for that was what the other figure was, kicked Miayan off of the roof before pursuing and the two disappeared from view. Reluctantly, a midnight-furred paw slunk into the bag in search of something else to up the ante while he simultaneously babbled. Of course, when the Graarl suddenly flapped off, presumably to alert everyone who hadn’t initially seen the dueling combatants, Mathathy decided that he could maybeprobablyjust-this-once lessen his standards for trading. The Squib had his pretty carving; the Nihran now owned a number of eccentric odds and ends. Life was good.

Now he could find Miayan.


The rough-cut, inchworm-green gem, fragments of original bedrock it had been hewn out of still stubbornly clinging to it, pendulated from its leather bindings as Mathathy tilted helter-skelter down the street in the general direction his master and the Jedi had run off in. It wasn’t hard to detect their path. Essentially, the Squib was just loping after the cooling tracks of destruction. Somewhere along the way, a statue had been decapitated and then apparently brained by some blunt force, and the remnant of the head was scooped up and tucked into Math’s bag as he ran.

After racing through what felt like half the city, but was in reality only a couple blocks, the Squib came to a bizarre scene. His master was still fighting the Jedi, yes, but she appeared to be struggling.

Mathathy watched with mounting interest, curiosity overtaking his desire to help. This other person was stronger then Miayan?

No, not stronger. More controlled, perhaps. The Squib noted the Jedi’s tight, efficient saber movements parrying Miayan’s attacks. Red fire burned against blue water violently for a moment before the Dark Jedi spun to disengage. Then she was at it again, continuing her volatile strikes while the Jedi in turn continued to steadily persevere.

Math grew bored of watching after twenty seconds or so; sadly his attention span wasn’t exactly suited to waiting. The tiny black furred figure skulked towards the duel with bright eyes, thoroughly anxious to fight after such a long period of monotony in this isolated city.

Both of his shotos were ignited in a flash of crimson, and then he swirled into the duel like a dust devil. Four like-minded sabers against one, even one used by a practioner of Soresu, was not a fair fight in any way, shape, or form. Miayan and Math overwhelmed the Jedi’s defenses in a heartbeat, batting away his saber; it skittered out of sight like a chided pet. However, before either could kill him, they were alerted to the presence of a number of the local residents watching them from a distance. Graarls with sharp, curved beaks and salient talons were joined with a sprinkling of humans and Nihrans holding various blaster and slugthrower weapons. Both sides refused to move for a long second. Math’s eyes skimmed the crowd rapidly.

Miayan motioned the Squib to stand down as she shifted position to wrap her arm around the Jedi’s neck, cracking him over the head with the hilt of the saber in her other hand. As he crashed into unconsciousness, the Dark Jedi twisted around to take stock of the situation, still brandishing the ignited lightsaber in the hand not supporting the Jedi.

“BACK THE HE(CK) UP.”

Math seconded his master’s opinion.

Approximately half an hour of negotiation, a severe concussion, and a good bit of careful backtracking later, the trio found themselves in the hangar where they had entered Lawaailig, still being watched by the city-goers. Miayan claimed that the Jedi had started it by attacking her, before carefully depositing the unconscious body on the ground and moving inside her ship, leaving the jet-stained Squib alone on the ramp to blankly regard the crowd for a few moments. Soon enough the engines kicked up with a comforting hum, and Math bid the Jedi farewell from the closing ramp with a cheeky wave as Miayan sent the falcon-class scout careening back into space.

“Freaking vacation my arse.”


While onboard the ship, going Lord knows where, the Dark Jedi had quite a few things to come to grips with. For one thing, she had almost died on Astrum V. For another, she was getting older. Not old enough to be hindered in activity, not yet, but still getting older. She could retire. Find a nice place to settle down under the radar with Mathathy as a servant/pet thing. She certainly had acquired enough money assassinating and retrieving bounties.

Being evil was stressful.

After a minute of deliberation, Miayan finally plotted a course to Zeltros while Mathathy sat in the back of the ship, lovingly admiring his dual shotos; completely oblivious.





Almost as soon as the duo stepped out onto the pleasure planet, they were assaulted. Math was picked up bodily and smothered; Miayan’s arms were both accosted. Math squeaked in surprise and prepared to instinctively bite his captor before Miayan giggled at the attention being paid her by the two male Zeltrons holding her hands. That bizarre sound alone caused the adrenaline to cease its jumpstart of the Squib’s body. Then there was the soothing pheromones being directly inhaled through the olfactory nerves in his fur. In a matter of seconds, the Squib was calm and effectively sedated, eyes closed in contentment. Other sounds came through his blue-tinted ears afterwards as the Zeltron girl carrying him walked into the posh resort Miayan had chosen. Said sounds consisted mostly of crooning that would’ve been highly demeaning in any other instance.

Thus began the pair’s stint of luxury.

The Dark Jedi hadn’t exactly skimped on expenses. She had rented a large three bedroom suite with a bright view of the rest of the city. Math was given everything shiny his little heart desired and Miayan was literally waited on hand and foot by a number of employees. Occasionally, when Miayan wasn’t busy doing things with said employees, Mathathy was given lessons on how to use the force and lightsaber training in the form Jar’kai, but more frequently, his master took him on joy-rides in her ship, showing him how to pilot the craft.

The inky-colored Squib had never seen her carefree before; the resort both worried and pleased him. On one hand, he was enjoying having his fur scrubbed to a glossy sheen whenever he so desired, the doting attention, and the eccentric material items he had acquired via catalogue order. But on the other, there were so many more places to see, there were oddities begging to be haggled over (the catalogue just didn’t cut it); Mathathy had a severe case of wanderlust at heart and this trait nagged at him consistently when he was bored. It had tweaked him back on Astrum V, and was again starting to nip at him as months passed on Zeltros without a change in routine. Not to mention, he was getting tired of pheromones being directly processed by his olfactory fur when some Zeltron or other touched him.

By the time his twentieth birthday had passed unnoticed, the Squib was irritably bouncing off the walls of the resort. Miayan didn’t want to leave when he asked, and Math refused to stay another minute. So the Squib made plans to leave by himself. It pained him slightly to leave his mentor after all the years spent together, but one of the things she had battered into his head was the concept of personal improvement and conceit at the expense of others. His desire to grow stronger made him better than her now, this he knew.

However, his original plan that consisted of stealing Miayan’s ship while she was sleeping and then flying to the first place that took his fancy didn’t exactly work out the way he had planned. Halfway out of the resort, the Squib piqued at another force-sensitive presence nearby. Math knew it wasn’t Miayan, for the texture of her dark-tinged aura had been ingrained into him, and this simply did not match. Nor was it a Jedi, for their harsh brightness was not present either. This one was soft grey in hue, lightly enveloping in mist rather than crashing over like a blinding wave.

Curiosity pulled him towards the richly decorated lounge area inhabited solely by a scantily clad Zeltron woman and an eccentrically cloaked human male. Both tilted their heads at the Squib’s entrance; Mathathy purposefully expanded his presence in the Force in the attempt to get a reaction from the one he wanted to talk to. The bigger man’s eyes gleamed brightly at the display, while the Zeltron merely blinked and shifted her position. The force-sensitive man, as if noticing her for the first time, suddenly asked her to leave, which was met by a fit of pouting. She scooted farther away on the couch they were sitting on, and refused to budge another inch. After rolling his eyes with irritation, the man beckoned the Squib to sit on the parallel couch, before inquiring if he was sentient. If looks could kill, Mathathy would have murdered the being before he had a chance to say his piece; he nodded back curtly, glaring.

After that, the conversation turned to power and opportunity for the next fifteen minutes or so, until the man finally revealed that he was a member of Potissimus Egregius Unum, and was interested in recruiting the Squib. Before the Squib could answer, the Zeltron sitting on the couch lunged for the man with a cry of, “HERETIC!” a wickedly sharp, five-inch needle already in her hand. The Squib instantly took a step back and reached for the sabers under his cloak, unsure of whether to interfere. The struggle was over almost immediately as the Zeltron managed to jab the long needle into the man’s neck. The Zyphter venom compound coating the end of the needle did its work swiftly, the so dubbed ‘heretic’ having the punctured area of his neck start to entropy in a matter of moments. The Zeltron recoiled from the now thrashing man, sheathing her assassination weapon in the same fluid movement before turning to a very confused Mathathy brimming with questions.

Perceptions of factions were straightened in the minutes afterward, the Zeltron woman was identified as a force-concealed Sword of Diligence operating for the Stellar Mythics, and Math was extended the same offer of joining after being mentally probed by the Zeltron for potential.

He accepted.

The Squib had been planning to leave well before Miayan’s usual waking time had come around to avoid the possibility of death, and his little detour was going to cut it closer then he’d prefer at this point. Quickly, he hurried off to the Falcon-class, while the Mythic went to her own respective ship. Once onboard, the Squib ran through the take-off procedure without error, meeting up with the Sword of Diligence while in low orbit around Zeltros to get directions to Aiaru.


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