High Council Member Mordin Al'Vere

Name: Mordin Al'Vere
Race: Aquitan (Pure)
Age: 51
Birth place: Proveus


Height: 6'9"
Weight: 229 lbs
Appearance:

Life is short. Especially for this Aquitan, but then again his life has but just begun for all intents and purposes. Even then a genetic evolution of his people has brought him fully matured by this point in physical stature, but still everyday he grows as a Jedi. Dark steely gray skin covers his entire stature, and with a less warrior mind set he has gained a slightly less muscle mass, but resorted to a naturally more flexible nature to use towards his advantage in a fight. Cartilaginous bones make the more weak, and frail nature of his bones more resistant to breaking. Taller than most humans this Aquitan is six foot, nine inches tall towering over most people, and barely fitting through many door ways. Long, thin fingers extend from his hands, and a quick agile form helps him with acrobatics during lightsaber combat.

Triangular ears stick out of the curiously stick out from his head to catch sound better, while being moveable in the same way. Like the man ancestors he’s had there is no hair anyway on this Provean because of the hot and harsh climate they lived on. Eyes as black as oil are surrounded by a dark yellow colour, but a very acute eyesight allows him to be able to see far distances easily without a scope. One long prehensile tail follows behind him meant for both balance, and for a few other various things which can range up on the situation at hand. An upturned nose is prominent in his facial structure, with a small scrunched bridge.

Robes are not a question, it is a tradition of the Jedi, and one which even this person so lost in the fabrications of his past would not deny. Although, not the atypical robes they are all the same, being almost black in appearance with light lines of white which go along it in an example of the Aquitan style. However, he has chosen to forgo the normal style of the Aquitan high neck, for it simply did not fit, and he liked to keep a hood anyway. This was much more convenient than on a naturally hot planet like Proveus anyway. Along with this he has adopted a staff which he carries around at all times which doubles as a lightsaber when in need. In the style of a lightsaber pike it has a smaller version of a lightsaber blade on the end which to use for necessity if need be for the council member.

One essential part of him which has remained from his ancestors is the white tattoo which are about his body, going almost all over. They represent his past, the person he wants to be, and the morals which he stands for, but in a traditional sense the representation can only be truly interpreted by him. For like those of the Aquitan race these symbols do not represent actual words, but feelings, and ideas. They are a part of him more than the ink, or the code of the Jedi are to him.

Personality:

Sentience. All sentience, is sanctioned by something, perhaps the Force or perhaps something more than that. His duty, which he holds above all else is in the duty that comes with being a Jedi. The duty towards those sentient beings, and the rest of the galaxy. No matter how it was given to this world it was set above all else, and therefore Mordin has not only a moral obligation, but a duty towards those who gave life to uphold that sanction. This is not the precedence in life, though, simply a code which he has no choice but to follow to his grace. No, what takes the most importance in his life is peace. An aspiration which he knew can not be gained without death, and without a little bit of chaos along the way. One way to kill a cancer was to burn it out with radiation, so his pike would become this radiation, and all those who opposed peace would fall to it. Some men would deny his claims, and take up the dark side as their ally, but to them there is no hope, only damnation. With full assurance in mind he has brought up this war, a war which will not stop until he dies, or they die.

This old man has a serious demeanour, and most of his naïve aspirations as a child have left him to take on the world in full. This serious nature of his and just the simple need to progress this society has brought him a resilience to the pains of the world around him, along with the emotional stressors which it might wrought. Many things in life have also attributed to this, and so he has brought to himself a state of calm which he rarely descends from.

While he gets along socially with the other Jedi, he does not go out of his way for an incredibly intimate relation with any one person. Those who are put in his path to be his companions he makes sure he knows well, and spends time with, but those who are not he is nice to, while not incredibly close to. Occasionally he’ll strike a close friendship with someone, but it is few and far between. Trust isn‘t a thing you can just come to find in this aging Aquitan, for the child-like aspirations of innocence have fled him. Now he sees the world at face value, and judges those around him by their actions above all else. If you break the duty by which your are bound, he will see you in such a light. While he might still show respect to you, he will not hold you in a very prominent position in his mind. The Dark Side is one entity which he can feel no compassion for what so ever. Neither for it, nor its practitioners.


Allegiance: Jedi Order
Status: High Council Member
Rank: Keeper of Antiquities

Bio: See Below

Ships/Vehicles:

Equipment:

Lightsaber: Lightsaber pike
Color: Blue
Lightsaber: Single phase lightsaber
Color: Silver


Stats:

Strength - Above Average
Agility - Average
Intelligence -Above Average
Charisma - Average

Force Stats: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)

Telekinetic- Adept
Telepathic- Novice
Body- Expert
Sense-Adept
Protection- Expert
Healing– Apprentice
Destruction– Unskilled


Combat Training:

Unarmed combat- Adept
Melee Weapons- Adept

Force Training:

Force Cloak/Stealth- Expert
Force Light- Adept
Force Absorb- Adept

Other Training:

Piloting - Adept

Lightsaber Training:

Shii-Cho- Master
Makashi- Specialist
Soresu- Apprentice
Ataru- Adept
Shien/Djem So- Adept
Niman- Master


Bio:

I.

Once upon the time there was a baby born to the hands of a mother and father. An Aquitan, a Provean, and those who had given birth to him gave a particular care towards him during the pregnancy due to him being their first child. However, with the only positive in the situation being that he was so young his parents suffered a tragedy at the birth. The delivery held complications for the mother, and the baby wasn’t even in her arms by the time she had succumbed to the fatality of that day. On the other hand a father without a mother was diagnosed with a type of cancer little known, with a very slim chance of survival. With little chance of being able to support the child in anyway, the father was forced to give the child up for adoption.

Once accepted into the adoption house they gave him the name he’d carry for the rest of his life, in the tradition of the Aquitan people. Named after lore passed down for many years, they named him for a man who was a infamous villain in an attempt to bring right to the name which had been destroyed so long ago. One in particular took care of him, and while he was no different than any of the other children who made their way through the orphanage, this woman seemed to grow a bond for him. However there’s an end to every story, every relationship, and this one is no different as his second year of birth came around.

At the time this age was met, the boy was sent off to the Jedi like all the other kids who weren’t given a home at a young age. That boy was destined for these Jedi, and forever he has been among them. For all his life they have been the family he never had, and took care of him like their own. In the presence of these Jedi he was taught of the light, and the dark, as well as how to follow the path which he was destined. With his lightsaber, and the powers which they had gifted him in his life has become like an ever shifting holofilm, never to stop long enough for casual thought. Still, along this path of light he might travel, perhaps lonely, and perhaps confused, but by the Gods know where he’ll end up.


II.

All this life. Everything he came to know was but a dream, or perhaps the dream of a dream. It all drifted in one stream of empathetic confusion for the first years, as thoughts came slowly, and he could barely remember much of those times. As such a young initiate into their temple, he was taken slow at first, and perhaps before long they saw some sort of potential in him, or maybe he just pushed himself harder than the others, but it seemed as though he took strides while others had just learned to walk. Life might have taken from him at the beginning, but all of this was behind him now, all of it was a story lost to the past. Other younglings met him, and for some reason they never really let go of that bond until they were given masters. Kai’lao a young Vahla in their classes was quartered not far from him, and Darwin the small red headed human always seemed to tag along with the two of them. Perhaps they weren’t a team, but they were something similar to that for in hard times they found a solace in each other’s company, an unexplainable calamity which brought them together.

Most of those around him began to gain a niche, and they fell into the practice of either the Force or the lightsaber over time. It wasn’t the same for this youngling, however. In his quest for knowledge Mordin discovered an unquenchable thirst to know all the aspects of a Jedi, and so with little favour of one to the other he began to quickly acquire all the knowledge one might hope from a youngling. There also came a disposition with him, one which was serene, and dedicated to the light of the Jedi. One might call him a sentinel, but he simply was a Jedi in his own mind, one which would bring the dark to its demise. Those years, the ones wherein he was a youngling were simple, and as easy as any part of his life has ever been, perhaps even the time of his birth.

One class melded into the next while each day began to blur together, and before he knew it the years had passed to my eleventh birthday. Already he was stronger, taller, and more mature than most of those around him which allowed him to surpass most of the students in his class with relative ease. It also turned attention to Mordin at a young age, someone needed a Padawan, and it seemed as if he fit the bill for her, hopefully it wasn’t perfectly. For there’s a large margin between the ability to excel and absolute perfection which to this day seems to be a much forgotten idea among people. They don’t realise what it means to be perfect, and therefore they use the word too lightly. No one is perfect, so therefore everyone must be ready for their imperfections to get in the way of what they must do. It isn’t a law of nature, or a scientific study, it is simply the truth which everyone must realise eventually.

So, he left forever the halls of the younglings, the classes which were different, but the same simultaneously, and in turn those which Mordin called, friend. The entirety of his life changed that day, and it was his belief that it was for the better. For this union between master, and apprentice would become the true beginning of his practice as a Jedi.


III.

Up to this point the only form of combat which he had been taught was with a standard lightsaber, but he, while not against killing had a strong distaste for violence and a lightsaber in and of itself gave way to the idealism of death as a solution to any problem. Fortunately, the master which chose him, Master Liorne, offered an alternative to this internal conflict, one which he could not pass up, and would provide the best solution of this situation. The lady offered him the idea to instead of making a lightsaber, construct a light pike, which he could use like a staff, or once the situation forced lethality upon him it would be simple to use the lightsaber end as well. In his mind, this was the perfect idea, and it was simply days before he began to alter his training to learn the studies of combat with a staff, along with a light pike. Mordin am not afraid to kill someone, but if they should have to die he’d like it to be a last resort. One which should be optional, as well.

Of course this was only the first part of his life as a Padawan, and soon he was pushed into the reality of the galaxy which they dwelled in. Before it really occurred to him what all life entailed he found himself picking up the pieces, and cleaning messes which were not his to be fixed. All over the galaxy they travelled, and he found himself immersed into the subtleties of the Republic’s political games. Soon he found a haven in telekinesis above all other Force Powers, it seemed to drive him more than the other areas. It was so much more simple to move something with the Force as opposed to trying to protect it. At this time he made a decision not lightly taken up by those of his people, and with it came a declaration to all people of what he believed. On his skin Mordin chose to tattoo, like his ancestors, images which only he could decipher, and they told a story of loss, and redemption. Most of all, though, these marks on my skin represent a light, one which might blot out all the dark.

One mission in particular seems to stick out to him in the first few months from all of them he took, it seems odd that this one would stick out, but it was oddly profound for his mind at the time, so perhaps the Force had a reason for this experience. Perhaps to change his idealisms and beliefs were its wish, but no matter what it wanted, he knew at the time something was different. From the beginning everything change for him.

It was on Thyferra. There were three of three, his master, Master Jenjo, and himself who went to settle a dispute between two companies who were studying kolto, and produce it for the galaxy abroad. However, many of the natives to the planet had been employed by the kolto companies, and the struggle was putting at risk the entire economy of the planet. So, the Jedi were sent to settle it, and try to smooth out the edges. This was such a simple mission from when he first saw it, but no one saw the riot coming. No one anticipated the strike, then the natives becoming hostile towards one another. That day Mordin killed someone for the first time. All over something meant for the preservation of human lives, to better, and enhance people as a whole. That was the day, the one moment in my life when he took on the notion of peace above all else, even above myself.

Some people preached about peace, some even believed in it, but he could do no more than live it from day to day. It was his duty to the universe to withhold its balance. This was his vision, of a peaceful galaxy, and if he must kill someone to make this vision realised, then so be it.

Once they left Thyferra there was blood on his hands, innocent blood at that. From that day on his life changed; for the better, or the worse was to come later, but then he came back to his studies with a new vigour, a new grace gained by this idea he had formed in his head. More missions came, each one different in its own way, and some of them he was required to end a life, but that was the way it was supposed to be. One life wasn’t worth compromising the vision he’d come to realise, nor was a thousand lives. This their war, but if no one of this galaxy would heed to the call it wrought, so be it.


IV.

And here it is, the final chapter of his apprentice to Liorne. His life so far has ended in a crescendo. All of the events which have transpired up to this point have built up, and created a suspension no one can deny. Even now he still remembered when the moment when the council had told the pair to go to Molavar. At the time there didn’t seem to be any trouble in it at all, just a simple mission to look for whispers of Dark Jedi cult activity, a simple little task at hand which would be futile at best. They were going to meet up with another master there, and go to the planet to search out where some of the activity was said to be centred at. However there was an apprehension that built up inside him as the presence of life was detected on their scanners; a feeling he knew would just disappear.

That feeling never went away. Never. They were en route to the planet when he felt the cold fringes of the Dark Side creep about him. Quickly he told his master, but she dismissed it. There were moments of anticipation, but it really didn’t surprise him too much when that first hit had shaken the ship. Master Liorne told him to get to the escape pods, and of course he followed her orders. That might be considered the greatest mistake he'd ever made inside his own mind. For it would have been easy if he'd gotten off that ship, and she’d died. It would have been even easier if he had died on that ship. Instead the worst thing imaginable played out. After years of being near his master, and going on missions with her, they had formed a slight force bond. Almost as if their Force signatures had learned to seek the other out, and as he left in that pod, she took another. Both fell innocently to the sand below.

Both pods fell to the surface of the planet, but neither were close. In the back of his mind he could feel the presence of his master as he lay abandoned in the pod. After he’d sent out an emergency signal he began his way through the rugged desert towards her. Towards his master. It was almost night when he made his way back to the pod, knowing that she was getting father from him. It was apparent for every step he took it seemed as if two more showed up between them. That night as he trudged his way back to the pod that he knew might be his only way of escape from this planet he couldn’t help but consider that she might have left him. In her haste to find some refuge had she left him, or had something worse happened to Liorne? Mordin refused to think of that as he lay there cold, and confused. Sometime he fell asleep but when he did nightmares wracked his dreams; ones of sorrow and pain, but worst of all; fear.

Perhaps it was a day, maybe two, or even a week but eventually someone had found the lone signal out in the desert just when the Padawan had all but given up hope. He’d almost been forced to find water when the little rationed in the pods ran out, and his stomach was rumbling as a Republic transport vessel had picked up the distress along its way to a routine stop. He’d be able to get the young Padawan back to Coruscant, but there was no other signals out there. No one else had wanted help, and as he’d gotten aboard that ship he’d felt the last pang of dread as his master’s presence had completely left him. It wasn’t the gradual fade from long distance but instead something much deeper. The sorrow wracked him, but that night he didn’t sleep. Instead meditation was all he knew while he searched himself for new hope.

Once back to the Jedi his mind was in shambles, and it took him a while to recover from it as best he could, but in time the scars scabbed over and the pain subsided. While the memory of his former master was still there like the taunt uncomfortable pull of scar tissue, he moved on with his life to forget about the pain he’d felt, and left the fear of losing his master behind him. There was nothing he could do now, for she was lost.


V.

A new master was in order. This one was a male Miralukan named Rand who had long ago lost his tongue and the ability to speak aloud. Since then he was forced to use the Force to talk, see, and live; it was closer to him than anything else in the Universe. Despite the connection he had to the Force this man’s relationship with Mordin was one of duty, not of any passion. There was a seriousness about him like his personality had been carved from beskar and despite his initial belief that it was just a front it never did go away. Still in the back of his mind he wished he could see his old master one more time however he picked up a trait from this new master of his and went along dutifully. His new master had been knighted ten years prior and was slightly older than his previous one, but the difference in maturity was all but palpable.

Their relationship became more trusting as they began missions together, and began to rely on each other but there was still that layer of ice over his master. Something inside the young Provean felt as if some shadow of his past still hunger over Rand, and that was why this emerged. The man was harsh, demanded ludicrous perfection in everything his Padawan did, and pushed forcefully for nothing less than utter perfection. When he failed his master in some way there was a simple look of pain on the Jedi’s face that brought a sorrow to Mordin. A look that haunted him when he had all but just given up and pushed him to take that one more step.

There was a mission where their trust developed some bit, they were on Coruscant doing what Jedi were meant to do; diplomacy. It wasn’t a significant mission, in fact it meant less to Mordin than any of the others for he knew it was simple ritual. They were there to be the mediator while they knew full well that none of their advice would be followed by either party. In all honesty they might not even be permitted into the discussion, however the pair were dispatched none the less because that was their job; to restore the peace of the Republic. Hitherto the man had slowly relinquished trust upon his young new apprentice bit by bit, however this mission would turn to be trying in a way none of the others had.

Killing a man is a hard thing to do but to sit there in the midst of the rash words of some bureaucrat pricked at his self control. The man had very acute views of the Jedi and a very loose jaw. Every jape, every word it seemed was some sort of slight towards the pair despite them doing no wrong. Tensions had run high from the beginning, but silently he endured because that was his duty, as this new master had taught him so well. Even the Jedi seemed abashed, for he was forced to speak through his young Padawan because of his imparity. Not wanting to further ruin standings by using the Force on the members present he had told Mordin everything to say.

The Padawan did his duty, and even if he failed at times he tried to present everything in a manner which would not bring shame to his master. It brought a light to the fact that not every enemy would fight you with a lightsaber, but with a pen in his hand someone was almost as deadly as with a lightsaber. Words didn’t leave scars on the skin but they could make them all the same. It proved to his master that Mordin was loyal to him and could keep his head cool even under pressure which seemed to make the man content. It brought a sense of pride to the Aquitan.

The mission went little better than expected, however in the end no one really won. The same quarrel would continue for all of time it seemed but there was a lesson learned and for that if felt as if that fat old man who talked too much had lost.


VI.

I know you miss her, but in the end we all end up in the Force…. You’ll see her again some day. I promise you that.

Those were some of the first words his new master had spoke to him and instead of helping it had only seemed to rip open new wounds. With that statement the woman had seemed to die in all honesty and years later the Aquitan would remember them. Not all the time, but occasionally when he slept he could see his old master saying them until the face changed to an eyeless man with a cold face with that look of disappointment. All this time he’d gone unknowing of why that ice had settled on the features of the Miralukan and it wasn’t until he decided Mordin should face the Trails that he finally told the Padawan what had happened.

That day was odd if all honesty was to be said, for the man had called him specifically to his chambers which was an oddity in itself. Once there the man had told him a tale of a young Jedi Knight who had too rashly taken a Padawan the first moment he could. With hopes of valour in his heart he set out to make this pupil of his to be strong in the Force, fast with a lightsaber, and quick of cunning. The man pushed the kid at every turn and after many years the boy thought he was ready for the trails. They went on one last mission; Master and Padawan. Both knew the kid was ready but he never took the trials. If stones could cry Rand might have been doing as such, but instead he went on as Mordin realised that the Jedi in the story was his Master.

The Padawan died that day to the hands of pirates on the smuggler’s moon. Despite his prowess in battle, the ability he’d gained, and all the help of his master the boy had not gone on to be a Knight. That was why they had never gained any sort of a bond, instead the man had stayed pent up inside and he knew how the fallacy in that. He told him on that day that the death of his master had not been his fault, and that he should move on least he become stricken with grief. On that day he seemed to feel as though he moved on as the trails loomed ominously close.


VII.

The Trial of Skill was the first he’d undergone, but it wasn’t the hardest. If all had been that easy he would have gone on to be a Knight with little more knowledge than he started with. However, it did mentally and physically tax him as he had to face one of the members of the Council in combat. It was something he had not fully been prepared for, not did he think that he was necessarily supposed to be. While in midst combat like he’d never quite faced before there were distractions he was not sure were real or not. The face of his old master as she tried out in pain lay just a hair breadth out of sight and as he fought there was nothing he wanted more than to help her. However, he knew it was a lie. He knew she was not here and so he continued on each step, parry, block and slash perfectly timed to the other blade that swung wildly at him.

In the end they proved that even with the unorthodox nature of his light pike he had gained a skill great enough to pass the Trial of Skill. Despite being bombarded with the overwhelming desire to break combat he had not given in till the very end. Mordin had not defeated the Council member, that was certain but in the end he defeated the distractions around him. They sent him on his way and he knew next would come the Trail of Courage, which he knew would not be as simple. People had gone down that path who had not returned. He was determined to continue without failure.

One quaint day he was told what his mission would be for the Trail of Courage. Surprisingly it didn’t sound too difficult considering what the rumours he had heard of this challenges deadly track record. However at the same time there was a bit of risk pent up in it. There was a royal prince that had been captured by a known mercenary who was demanding a ransom. It was Mordin’s responsibility to go with the envoy, make the exchange, and get the boy back. The Padawan expected some difficult situations, however what he didn’t quite expect was an open trap, however he doubted any one truly saw it coming.

The mission had been going smooth as a melody as they had drifted into the old station which brought a cold musty feel of death long forgotten. It still functioned it seemed, but the original machines that had once dug at minerals had all but rusted through and there were precious few days left. However the hanger doors had slid open easy enough as they moved into the cold steel labyrinth. There were only three of them; two republic soldiers and one Padawan playing this game of promotions with the life of some kid. Butterflies had fluttered about his stomach as the fringes of deceit brushed against his consciousness. As the craft settled and they exited the ramp the cold figure of a man moved out of the shadows, however the darkness in the hanger only allowed for the visibility of light through some strange visor.

One arm clung to what he assumed was the boy while the other held something in his hand. A shiver ran down his spine as he realised the man had a lightsaber in the other hand. However, he wanted to see if this man could be negotiable so with the pike in hand he took another step forward as a synthesized voice told him to halt. Calmly he shifted his weight between his feet and the pike as he heard the man demand to see the credits. One of the others brought a suit case, set it down, and opened it up on the floor. The man looked at it from afar for a moment but seemed unconcerned about specifics.

Suddenly that face looked at him for a brief second, but it stopped as it started to look away. For a long moment it looked at Mordin and time seemed to stop as his heart began to race. Something was wrong he knew it, he could feel it in the air. That voice uttered out his name softly into the air. Mordin’s voice seemed to catch as he tried to say the name of who he now knew was behind that mask. He wanted to say it so badly, but his conscious would not let him as he stood there utterly confused how this could be happening. Slowly the bounty hunter he now knew to be a woman slid off her mask to reveal the face of what was once his master.

There was a second where they stood there confused before she ignited the lightsaber he’d sparred with so many times. All this time he’d been uncomfortably aware that she didn’t have a Force presence around her and it frightened him to think why.

Suddenly she attacked but her moves weren’t the swift fluid movements of the master he had once known, but they were choppy. Where she had once been faster than him she now proved that she had trouble to even keep up with the point of his pike, however he refused to ignite it. He refused to kill this woman like she might do to him in the end if he let her. There was no doubt that at one point she might beat him long ago, but now a hard life had led to frailty and she had not expected this. She hadn’t wanted to fight, but once he’d figured out who she was there had been no choice for her. So her sabre whirled around until at last the blade he’d fashioned under her careful watch caught her leg with a loud crunch. As he flipped over her body he put the end of it on her with enough force to send her the rest of her to the ground. The sabre now flittered off carefully out of her reach.

Sharp white teeth glittered in the light cast from her now discarded helm as he demanded an explanation for all of this. The woman explained that on the day they had been separated she had indeed found the cult they had been looking for. They called themselves the Hand of Freedon Naad, and they had wanted her to join there cause, however after a day of torture without any letting up they did something she hadn’t anticipated. One of their leaders didn’t want her escaping into the night with her powers so he severed the connection she had with the Force and left her for dead in the middle of the dunes of Molavar.

How she found her way off was a long frivolous tale and in the end she had gotten off a broken shell of what she had once been. There was no was she could go back to the Jedi in the state she was in, and somehow she had found herself amongst a group of Mando who had adopted her to their clans. After a long time of that she’d somehow found herself as a smuggler helping a man whose name was hard to pronounce. Mordin could hardly believe this was the woman he’d so loved, now distorted and grotesque from the years of pain she’d been in. However as she finished her tale he hadn’t noticed she had gotten her hands back on her lightsaber, and in that moment she sliced off the leg of the child she’d once protected. In the end a soldier’s blaster bolt to her head did what the deserts of Molavar could not. The Padawan looked incredulously from the cauterized stump left of his hand to the body of his master in dismay as he sat upon the floor of the hanger; his purpose once again dazed and confused.


VIII.

The council decided to not only grant him passage through the Trial of Courage through this mission, but also the Trial of the Flesh for the pain he received when his leg was torn off. However, they did regret that the events unfurled the way they did, for they had no clue who it was that had captured the little prince. Even if they had subtly known they claimed it must have been the Force trying to reconcile the shadows of his past, however all it seemed to do was kick long forgotten ashes into the air; to reanimate an old crux that he’d all but just forgotten and add a new layer of scars that woman had already made. The only thing he could praise was that she was done, and no longer could she haunt him but the Force has odd ways of doing things. Before the final Trial he was given a prosthetic; a cold metal replica of what had once been his leg.

However in practice it worked as gracefully and efficiently as the old one had, so he gave little complaint to it as he went on to face his final trial; that of Spirit. It was said by some to be the hardest, and he could only hope that their words had been lies for he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do it. However they led him with his master near him into a dark room where he’d meditated so many times before and he knew what to do. Like always before he cleared his mind as he wrapped around the void he’d been taught about by his master. However, once he entered the state he’d normally stay in for self contemplation with the Force around him he took another step. A step into an area he’d always left untouched.

Inside he found himself in a room that was empty, but all at the same time filled with images that kept flashing around him. Images of people in his past, of those he’d once thought to love, and there was him. Slowly he began to move; not walk but move. Through the black and the images that taunted him towards a light far off. Upon closer inspection it proved to be a large mirror that seemed to stretch on forever and inside he looked back at himself. One of his steel blue hands came up to lightly touch his face only to be met with another adjoining hand. Suddenly he realised his reflection’s leg began to change before his eyes. It moved from being the fleshy membrane he remembered to the metal hulk it had become, however the changes did not stop there.

Every time he blinked it seemed the figure changed from being himself until he looked older, with drooping ears but that wasn’t what made him scream. It wasn’t the red look of his eyes nor the set of his jaws; it was the dark side that so palpably hung about him. Suddenly his light pike was in his hands and he brought it down to smash the massive mirror. However as it came to it turned to water in his hands as the mirror began to drag him in. As he desperately tried to pull away it tried ever harder as it cocooned him and swallowed him up. The Dark Side of the Force trapped him as he screamed in the darkness that followed. The image of that man he killed loomed in front of him, then the image of someone else he didn’t know but he knew it was his fault they had died. Then another and another until so many people surrounded him he could not count them if he had tried. All of them demanded to know why he had killed them, however the one he noticed most of all was Rand.

All he wanted was to get away from this, away from the people as he fell to the ground, his eyes stained from tears. Screams wracked his entire world as the people covered their ears but still they continued to demand Why?. Their voices cracked and some began to fail them but still they continued until he started to fall. Deeper into the darkness he went, deeper and deeper until he thought he could no longer ever hope to get out. However he knew he’d passed the hardest part, however and now he saw something he had not expected; a light. Something so bright he could not help but move towards it and suddenly he stopped falling. As he came upon it he saw that it was a lone wolf as pure white as a freshly fallen snow. It peered upon him with blue eyes and spoke to him in his mind.

You have come here seeking yourself and in the quest you found me. Tell me what that means.

It didn’t give him any response but instead began to move away. Mordin followed it. For years it seemed he followed it through the black without a single word before his eyes opened back in the dark room. All his fears had subsided and now he felt content; he knew what the wolf had meant. Peace settled over him despite the stench of sweat that clung to him. His master gave a curt nod as if to say he was pleased as they exited the room. It had been harder than the Trial of Courage, but in the end he had come out stronger and he knew it. He knew he could take one more step despite the fact that the pain was still there from betrayal, because one more step was all it took.


IX.

With the final trial behind him he was passed by the Council to become a Jedi Knight, wherein he was claimed a Sentinel, however by all rights he was close to being a guardian. Since the early stages of his Padawan days he realised a natural ability for sabre combat which presented itself in a quick fluent pace, a natural flexibility and strength provided by his species. If not for his former masters being a Sentinel and a Consular he might very well have been a guardian, but these influences caused him to see the importance of the Force even if it was not quite so natural. Therefore he strove to master it.

Upon his promotion he desired to be a Watchmen. Unfortunately for him a position hadn’t opened up for any system, but pretty soon he was approached about a different sort of business. There was a certain amount of need for a Shadows in the Jedi and he was approached about filling the shoes of one who had recently fallen in their constant struggle against the Dark Side of the Force. There was a certain thrill in the idea of not simply staying confined to one part of the galaxy, and in this venture he could develop his skills in his lightpike along with his abilities in the Force as well. The dangers of being corrupted by the very thing he chose to destroy lingered in the back of his mind; the image of his master still fresh on his mind.

At this beginning to a new world he began to meditate quite often as he began to explore a part of the Force he’d been quite neglectful of in the past; protection. This side of the Force had once seemed mundane to him but with the corruption he’d experienced in the mirror he felt it imperative to stop that which he saw. The image sometimes crept back up in the night when he slept, a sort of fear that he knew he must rid; to come to terms with before it swallowed him. The idea of confronting a manifestation of the dark that taunted him brought the hopes of coming to this actualization within himself.

This was simply the beginning. Once filling the shoes of a Jedi Shadow he was given his first task with the help of another member of this force, Theon. He was a much more offensive fighter than the Aquitan so the group meshed very well in battle. Their first mission together brought them a simple enough task; there was a crypt found in Krayiss Two that was said to contain remnants of some Dark Jedi artefact. Their objective was very straight forward; get whatever this thing was and return it to the Jedi temple on Coruscant if at all possible. However, if it was not they should destroy it. Whether they were able to secure the item or not it was imperative that they seal the tomb or destroy it completely; there was to be no way for anyone to find their way in it again.

Upon their landing on Krayiss Two there was no immediate peril, and they were able to quickly find the general location of this supposed crypt. They searched the area for quite some time until they finally came upon a group of locals who led them to it. All of them had been inside it and the pair informed them that they shouldn’t return after they gave them all some credits for their cooperation. They went off as the pair ventured inside; Theon with his lightsaber lit. There was a definite presence of the dark that encircled the entire structure that sent a soft shadow shiver down the newly knighted Jedi’s back. It wasn’t simply the feel of the place but as they ventured into the stone doorway there were symbols and depictions scrawled on the wall. Only some were recognizable but from what Mordin could tell it was an account of this being’s, or some sort of history. It was skewed but grotesque things were carved into the sides of those walls.

They came into the centre of the room where a large hole in the ceiling let a light cast upon the sarcophagus. Upon the top the words ‘Through victory my chains are broken. The Force has set me free.’ in basic followed by the name of some forgotten man. Their eyes were diverted to a large tome that seemed to focal the dark that was imbued in this place. It wafted through the air and while it seemed to come from all places, it seemed to come most from there. This was it; the thing they’d sought. It had seemed easy enough until they heard the rumbles of something behind them.

There were few enough Tarentateks left in the galaxy, however the few that were around drew curiously close to points where the Force was found. That it had turned up here was no sort of mystery, in fact they might have anticipated it if they had been a little more experienced. However the shroud of the Dark Side hung thickly over this place as Mordin had shifted the light pike into a two handed grip. Down in a defensive stance he had wanted to wait for the creature to strike first. However his partner had different plans as he quickly attacked the creature moving fast enough to get around him despite the small confines of the tomb. It was obvious the other was trying to split its attention so that one of them might get a good strike on the creature. It was apparent that the creature wasn’t at full strength, perhaps had even just awoken from its hibernation.

With the end of his pike extended he went for a stab at the creatures back near a point where he thought he’d heard were softer than the rest. Despite his efforts the attack only seemed to further anger the creature who turned around to attack at the Aquitan now; obviously annoyed. The annoyance was extended further when the little blue creature spun around the slash of his claw only to bring down the point of his lightsaber and take off the arm of the poor thing. Agony ripped from its maw as it began to thrash around the crypt, and it was apparent the thing was beginning to break apart structurally. Cracks began to emerge in the stone as the sound of stone grinding on stone emerged to his deftly honed ears. There was a moment of hesitation before he lured the creature further into the shadows.

Many of times he’d heard about Force Light, an ability he wished he could have more than anything else at that particular moment. Veins popped in his hands as he danced around the creature as to finally get towards the entrance of the cave. Theon waved at him furiously to get out and together they exited at full run. With both their combined strength they brought the already crumbling entrance down upon itself to seal the dark in with its creature. They brought the book back to the council unscathed from their venture, with a tale of victory under their belts.


X.

However, life for the young Aquitan wasn’t always about the success of his new found position for there is as much wisdom learned in failure as there is in a victory. Every day now he practiced perhaps more than he ever did as a Padawan because now he knew what he needed. It wasn’t simply a question of what his master thought was best anymore, but a personal study of the world around him almost at all times. Now he saw a need for many things in his life but most of all he began to train in Force Light, which seemed odd for a shadow, but without light there would be no shadows. All that hides in darkness is black. At this pivotal point in his career he began to acquire a slight itch to also learn Force Cloak, which was said to be a typically rare ability found only in a few. However, more than anything else he found himself alone in meditation as he searched for a way to reconcile with the darkness in himself. One of the older Jedi told him about a strange Force power; Force Absorb. It went well with protection, and could later help him in battle, and later he would search the archives for references of this power along with other masters to help him learn its ways.

This would be the time when the Provean would soon find himself amidst the most horrid situation he could have dreamed of; the hunt for Graendal Nindar. A woman who had emerged on one of the most morally misaligned places in all of society, Nar Shaddaa. This was no average vagabond causing a raucous, but instead a former Jedi who fancied herself a Prophet of the Dark Lord. She heralded the coming of a new empire of dark Jedi under her name and unfortunately for herself she did not keep these aspirations quiet. While many thought her mad, the council quickly took interest in this woman for she was dangerous despite. Where one spark of madness struck it seemed as if entire cities could follow under that banner. They had to move fast so a group of Shadows assembled quickly; five in total to make sure their duty was fulfilled.

Mordin was added on as addition experience coupled with the fact that while he had not completed all his missions with complete success he proved himself capable in the face of danger. So they allowed him to go with the other four and surprisingly enough one of them was a council member who had previously been among their ranks. They made quick time to the smuggler’s moon as they set up base in a spot where they didn’t think much attention would be called to them. They arrived in well placed guises, with their mission clearly on their mind. If they were able to bring her back alive it was best, however death would be preferred to her getting away.

While at the time the young Jedi did not understand why they would even resort to death in this instance without a proper trial, he did as he was bid. Off into the depths of Nar Shadaa they hunted this woman down until at last they had her cornered to one particular building. Their attack seemed flawless at the time, they had anticipated every movement with a deft precision, but life did not always render they way you expected it to.

Mordin’s role in all this was very easy, he was simply supposed to stay back in case things got rough, or someone tried to intrude on the masters’ business. He stayed out of the way at first, however it seemed as if they had engaged her when something most unexpected happened; an intruder did come. Once the woman came into view the cloak she had cast dripped off as her Force presence was suddenly revealed to him. It was black as sin, and her smile curled into a sick leer. If not for the nausea she brought to him he might almost call her beautiful despite those sick, twisted eyes.

“I’m not here to kill you, child. All I want is to make an offer,” She had told him with an eerie cast to her voice. It was akin to what he imagined a hawk would sound like as it dived in for its prey.

He’d inquired why, but before he could even finish she had intoned, “There’s an anger burrowed deep inside you. Its just begging to come out, and I’d never deny it that chance.”

“You see, that’s where you’re wrong,” He told her as she had gracefully come to stop the movements of his pike. There was grace in her, which perturbed him even more.

There was never malice in the way she attacked, only the word that she spoke to bring him a closer towards striking her down. It seemed non-strenuous to her to fight with him almost as if she mocked his attempts at an attack. What she didn’t see coming, though was one of the other Jedi who had happened to hear the raucous they had begun to make. When he descended upon her unawares she feel victim to his attack. It didn’t kill her, however she was unconscious for the taking. Confused the other man guarded the fallen body of Graendal as Mordin went up to see what had happened to the others. Once up he saw the corpse of a women. The council member went and closed her eyes as he shook his head. His voice rang with solemn pity as he told the young Aquitan that this was simply an impostor meant to throw them off. Mordin became the hero when he told them that she was felled down in the lower parts of the building.

The victory went to the other of course, however there was a bit of congratulations for him as well for he had held his own with her for moments (even if she had been toying with him). They bound her tightly with all their strength to bring her back to the council heavily sedated the entire way there. They wanted her back more than anything else in the world at that moment, and so they did bring her for heavy questioning, a trial, and there would be no doubt to her condemnation. There might be either two rode for this woman; either they could strip the force of her or they could kill her. Either way the path for her would soon turn bleak and perhaps death would come either way.

Mordin was allowed to go back to his normal routine as a shadow with the grim look of his past that peered curiously down upon him. Those words were like a steel knife in his back that twisted harder each day he was forced to live with them. One day he happened to see her in one point and the smile she’d given him had brought those scars to new heights as he had struggled. However, if he remembered anything from Rand it was that he had a duty to do, so he moved along to ignore that which he questioned with hopes it might disappear. Instead a couple days later the woman was being transported when she had somehow escaped and a new fear emerged in him.


XI.

Despite his training with his pike he’d long ago gotten training with a regular lightsaber, and at this time he chose to make a traditional one. Part of him began to hope for a Padawan in the near future, so in an attempt to better train them he set out on this venture. There was little trouble in most if not all aspects aside from acquiring the particular crystal he hoped to find. It was one known to be found on Tatooine, however they were rare, and he was just one Jedi on a side course to locate this. His attempts led him to the planet which they were supposedly found, however after asking much of the local populace he moved on to question a local Hutt regime that was said to hold one such thing. Their willingness to part with such an important piece of jewellery was disputable, however in attempts to defy this he sought them out anyway.

It was a hard council to get, however eventually he was allowed to meet this Gorba the Hutt who ruled Mos Eisley at the time. Even though he was fat beyond any other creature Mordin had ever met the young Jedi set out to be as courteous as he could manage to be, while trying to entice the creature to his side. Of course he knew mind tricks didn’t work on him, so wrote out a much more binding contract to the man in offering the one thing he had; his sabre. The fat old glutton chuckled at that and promised him the crystal if he would become his slave as many of these others but for nothing less. This did not bode well with the young Jedi, however, so he was about to walk away when something most unexpected happen.

One of the bounty hunters around him drew their weapon to point it directly at the fat lord, with another hand around a charge set to explode. The woman’s voice echoed that if they wanted to live they would give the Jedi what he wanted and watch them as they walked out. A shiver ran down his spine for he knew that voice, but he simply waited as the crystal was received. It was begrudgingly given to the young Aquitan and as this alleged bounty hunter proclaimed they walked out as if nothing had transpired. Soon assassins would be on them, however he was little afraid of them with this person in his presence.

It was more the hero he was worried about than the actual people who might try to kill him. When he asked her, she finally revealed her face to be that sinister image he’d remembered so well. This was when she began to tell him about how this was not a chance meeting, but instead she had been watching Mordin progress. A shiver ran down his spine when she told him this, however he could not back down for this time things were different. He wasn’t as green as he one had been, and he gained a new ability since the last time he’d faced her. Perhaps it wouldn’t be enough to kill, but it might distract her enough for his escape.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, this was one of the most innocent things he’d done since he was knighted, and even now it seemed almost impossible to escape the feeling as though the Dark Side wanted him more than he knew. However, when she proposed he come with her he delved deep within the Force to pull upon a power that he’d trained in over the last few years since the Tarentatek. Force Light spread over her as he power diminished, then he used his pike to knock her back a couple feet before he took off. Deftly he moved through the people in the street with a grace, wishing now more than ever he could just disappear. Hopes don’t come true, though, and he was forced to escape the planet by the hair of his neck. In the end he made the lightsaber to remind him how he got it and the purity which it stood for, because in the end he would rid this world of her with that lightsaber she had given him. Next time they met he would be ready.


XI.

After this transpired the Aquitan went to the council with this disturbing news of the uproar with this Dark Jedi. The worst was that their attempts in stopping her had only caused her more caution so it was harder than before to even gain word of her whereabouts. They all agreed that Graendal was the priority among the Jedi shadow now, and there would be no chance of the Aquitan gaining an apprentice until the time when she was dead. With some experience under his belt he was one of those who headed up the hunt wherein they hoped she would be found. It was risky at best for them going after her, however there were once again five of them to hunt her down. This time if there was any resistance she was to be killed. Mordin wanted to argue that she deserved a trial no matter what her crimes, but he knew he had a duty to do. Not simply to the order, but to those people she might kill other wise. Killing wasn’t the easy way out, but sometimes you had to do it so that you can take the consequences of it weaker men would not be able to handle. Since the very beginning of being knighted he had been coming to this one realization, and it hit him just as the hunt began.

Time seemed to slow as they began to spread their search out upon two planets; one group for each with a more solid emphasis on Muunilist where they thought this woman to be. Whether she was there before or not Mordin had a feeling if they made enough noise she would come out to play with them. So rather than the seclusion they had toyed with last time they made this hunt a little more obvious and planted their tale in the right ears. They wanted her to come to the young Aquitan that seemed to have lured her in before, with only the five of them knowing their plans. They kept it well hidden as they ventured through the city of Harnaidan where they had heard reports of a female Dark Jedi lingering about.

Before long they began to hear more vivid reports from more and more people which had been few enough at the beginning. The face seemed to go from being nondescript to an almost perfect match for the woman Graendal, and the five seemed to have a leg up on her. Around this time they called for the other group that had gone to Mygeeto to hurry to this location, wherein they would attempt to remain secluded and under the radar so to speak. Finally their work had paid off as Mordin ventured off ‘on his own’. Now she singled him out with a little vigour this time, a vigour in her tone as if she hungered for something.

In the flash of an eye he had lain his pike down to exchange it with the lightsaber he’d promised to kill her with so long ago as he asked her why him. Her response was simple; he was different than the rest. Each of the others were brittle only to fall apart with the little amounts of stress, however inside his heart there was still the live heart that questioned if there was something more to the Force. Despite what he’d been taught she claimed to know that he wanted more than just the mendacity of the Jedi. Her words had twisted in a sinister leer as she told him that their time for talks had ended as it was apparent he would not give in without a fight. Before he engaged he sent a distress signal out to the others with the tap of a button; they would be on their way soon. However, he was certain the tides had changed; she looked tired now, a little malnourished, and there were scars now where none had been the last time.

Their lightsabers hissed as they made contact with the brilliant shower of sparks that littered the air around them. There was a crowed this time that seemed to immediately back away from them to create a circle. Many began to run as the dance began for the knew that when dragons danced many were the victim but few the victors. Their blades crossed with every step as the way was made by Mordin at first. Of course he’d fall bad occasionally but it seemed as if at first he’d had the upper hand in the entire affair. The other was weakened with every step, as they moved like serpents in the night.

Now people screamed around them like a cacophony of the burdened as their battle raged on, then one other Jedi joined him. That was all it took though for he then struck her down as he struck her lightsaber arm. It dropped to the floor as she clutched her arm in agony; an agony he’d once felt. The point of his lightsaber come to just a hair width away from her face; to ending it all as he looked down upon her. She simply laughed and to this day he can remember her words cold as stone.

“If you do this, all you worked for will be undone. Your choice will be made with an accuracy I could never have hoped for, and your transformation will only just begin,” She told him with a sick leer, “Were not so different as you think.”

Then a simple kind smile had echoed on his own mouth as bright white teeth glinted, “I know now I must kill you. Not because I can, but because I must. One life is not worth a million more broken, Dark Jedi.” Her last sound had not been that chuckle of hers, nor some snide comment. It was the sound of her scream muffled by the buzz of a lightsaber to cut off her head. His deed was done and blood stained his hands. There was remorse for the path she’d fallen down, however there was no looking back now as they cleaned up the mess they’d made to return to the council.