Post by Reverb on Mar 21, 2014 19:06:58 GMT -5
Name: Anwar Lorn-Sadis
Age: 28
Race: Hybrid Theelin/Human
Birth place: Nar Shaddaa
Height: 5'10
Weight: 168
Eye Color: Purple
Hair Color: Blue
Appearance:
Anwar, like most Theelin's has an exceptionally eye catching appearance with their colorful skin and hair, and a human build. Distinguishing features include:
Body: That of an athletic human in shape and form, with the exception of his feet. He has three short thick toes, and a third smaller on the side. All have dense, hoof like toenails, with thick kin on the bottom, made for walking barefoot. Anwar has to wear Theelin specific footwear. He walks barefoot whenever convenient, but usually wears tall black boots. He also has three small horns on both sides of his face ascending his hairline from the point behind the temple. Each successive of the three horns is slightly larger than the last, the third and top-most being the largest at less than an inch.
Hair Style: His hair, like most of his race is wild, voluminous, and he wears it long. He nearly always has what he can gather in an ornate braid that flops between his shoulder blades, while the excess in the front falls all around his face.
Skin: Pale yellow. His dark Theelin "freckles," or spots, are mostly dark yellow or gold (not metallic). They gently frame his face, and cascades down his shoulders, upper back, and arms. They also line his legs from hip to calf.
Jewelery: He has a total of 5 earrings, all tight rings of the same size. Four are metallic black, symmetrically hugging the lobes on either ear. The fifth is emerald and hangs from the upper cartilage on his left.
Tattoos: One. A poem often recited to him by his mother before he left home for the Jedi Academy. It is written in basic. It's printed plainly along his right side, on his ribcage. It reads:
Though too stubborn to admit it, he does deeply need people in his life; which at the moment he has none of, save his droid. Loneliness can take a great toll on him, as he will willingly convince himself of needing no one, and isolation spirals further into the darker side of his emotion...
Profession: Grey Jedi, Bounty Hunter/ Smuggler/ Freelancer
Mastery Level: Knight
Previous Faction: Jedi Order/ Sith Aristocracy/ Hutt Empire
Equipment:
Dual Phase Lightsaber (red)
Deep sentimental value
AA-37 Heavy Blaster
swrponline2.proboards.com/thread/18502/aa-37-heavy-blaster-pistol
This trusty sidearm has been with Anwar the longest. Its tactical rail holds a small grapple launcher. It's gray metal casing has been covered with strange orange patterns of Anwar's design.
F-37 Scythe Blaster
swrponline2.proboards.com/thread/12452/34-scythe-blaster-pistol
Light, Compact, Fast, Precise, it was love at first trigger squeeze. Encountered during his time philandering around with Sith aristocracy.
420 Banshee Swoop Bike
swrponline2.proboards.com/thread/16760/420-banshee-swoop-bike
Despite his usual extravagance, he has always loved the Banshee's stock look, and done little to modify it. It also fits nicely in the Diva's modest cargo hold.
Aratech XT- 2000 "Goober"
swrponline2.proboards.com/thread/16683/aratech-2000-general-purpose-droid
Anwar had been working alone for some time, which was growing tiresome as well as impractical. He was still smuggling then, and took a job with goober's previous owner, who, was completely fed up with the models quirks. He gladly sold Goober, and that was that. As he has mostly served criminals, a notable quirk specific to Goober is his penchant for attempting practical jokes; he thinks it makes him a bad ass. He has no sense of humor to speak of, so results are extremely varied. He serves Anwar as co-pilot, gunner, mechanic, and companion. His software includes:
Starship Maintenance
Navigational
Targeting
Mixology
Basic First Aid
Translator (Goober tends to "paraphrase" translations. He thinks he's helping)
Starship: The Diva's Lament
swrponline2.proboards.com/thread/19672/lament-custom-finished-comments-welcome
Skills:
Pilot- advanced
Musician - advanced
Mechanic- advanced
Languages:
Basic- fluent
Huttese- fluent
Binary - understood
Lightsaber:
Dual phase
titusz.org/wp-content/uploads/artistlightsaber.jpg
Color: Red
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho: 5
Soresu : 2
Shien / Djem So: 4
>>Sub-form Backhanded: 3
Force-Sensitive Attributes:
Telekinetic: 7
Telepathic: 4
Body: 6
Sense: 4
Protection: 4
Healing: 3
Destruction: 2
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 6
Leadership: 3
Unarmed: 4
Melee Weapons: 3
Ranged Weapons: 5
Bio:
A Prince of Thieves
"You deserve it all my son. Once you know what you want, you can always get it. Once you know what others want, you can always get them too." Xallis Lorn certainly seemed to have it figured out. Once a human farm boy, now he controlled almost 1/7 of Nar Shaddaa's nightlife. Nebula, The Outer Rim, and Fuselage were three of the most popular clubs on the scum ridden moon; but the Captan's Table, and Lucky Sun were the real powerhouses. Two massive casinos, Captain's table served anyone with a credit to lose, while Lucky Sun hosted the bigger rollers. It also hosted one of the most popular entertainers on the small world, Xillis Lorn's wife, the beautiful theelin Diva Sadis. The two of them lived the lives expected of them: excess, hedonism, drugs, pleasure, and everything else they wanted, when they wanted it. One day they decided they wanted a child. And they got one.
Though the environment may have been reproachful, Anwar knew no better at the time, and his earliest years seemed a whirlwind of color and delight. For all their selfish behavior, Xallis and Diva loved their son dearly.They had no reason not too, as they were otherwise thriving themselves. Anwar always had affection from his parents, even if his mother's smile came through a haze of pink smoke, or if the time spent bouncing on Xallis' knee was while he shot a few thugs for cheating. Anwar was delighted by the sound and light of his father's blaster. He was far to young to comprehend it's use or wield it, but on a few occasions a proud Xallis allowed his boy to grip the handle beneath his own hands, and playfully encouraged him to "help pops knock that mean ugly man down." It all seemed like a wonderful game. Anwar loved toys; playing with, manipulating, creating things. His curiosity was quite a bane on the household droids. Meanwhile Diva taught her son the arts. She played a wide variety of music for him, and taught him to sing and dance. It was here she first noticed something special in her son. Shehad begun to train in classical Theelin dance herself when she was only four as well, but her son moved with a grace and agility that stunned her. His reflexes were extraordinary, his movement intuitive, far beyond any normal child, even a Theelin. She had her suspicions, but for fear they were true, she kept them to herself.
The beaming, blue haired boy of four became a favorite entertainer at their party's. His father's only boss, Reeba the Hutt, used to insist he be brought to court on occasion. Anwar became so close to Reeba he affectionately called him Uncle. He could sing quite well, and his acrobatic dancing was a favorite. He loved to please the crowds, and he did so as long as they let him. The time always came however when they would lock him in his room, so the adults could play without him. He despised this, deeply. On these nights he cried for hours, and once in awhile his mother or father would bring him a small cup of the vile bitter drink they loved, insisting he drink, and sleep. All he remembered were the dreams. A few weeks after his fifth birthday, his mother's fears were realized. The Jedi came to call. Xallis couldn't hide his smile at the thought of his loyal, loving son becoming a Jedi, even if his wife objected. So off he went, a few months before his 6th birthday, to the bright and shinning world of Coruscant, and away from his family. He never knew that a sister, Diva Lorn-Sadis, was named after their mother two years later.
A World of Possibility
The Jedi temple was the first formal education Anwar received, and he loved it. His natural curiosity and the confidence his parents had given him were all the gifts a child needed o seize his education by the horns. He was fascinated by his studies, his new talents, his own potential, and the noble teachers with whom he spent his days. It was clear early on to his instructors that he would be a fine Jedi indeed, and much faith and hope was put into the young Theelin. His heart was open, and the force flowed through him with clarity and intention. Unfortunately, as most expressive young children learn, an open heart is easily scarred. This was also the first time Anwar had ever been around children his own age. The unconditional, if sometimes patronizing, affection of adults is not what can be expected in the cutthroat social politics of still budding 6 year olds. Anwar's brightly colored appearance alone was enough to elicit not always malicious, but at least confused criticism from his peers. The same was true of his behavior. He still loved to sing, and dance, and otherwise entertain his classmates. He was jarred by the discovery that many younglings had grown up with a sense of personal space. The lesson of rejection hit him hard and fast in his first year. Some people did not want to play his game, and he took it much too personally. He was still very successful in class however, and by 8 he adapted well to a new form of attention. Respect.
As he advanced he showed a clear preference for the less subtle arts. A true being of Theelin blood, he never lost his dancer's mind or body. Anwar's grace, agility, reflexes, and intuitive movement came naturally and set him above his peers of other races; yet it was the ability to move an object with his will that captivated him most. He would constantly explore his telekinetic limits, and was often reprimanded for reckless usage. He was placed him in pilot training early on. The Master's anticipated the easy fit for his adventuresome attitude; and right they were. He was always a top pilot in his group from then on out, usually socializing among the "hangar rats" who worked on the ships. Again, he eventually started getting in trouble for showboating. They pulled him from class and gave him chores, but the effects were temporary. A new solution was devised:
"Arrogant you are, youngling. Your skill is great, and your talent singular. You have an enormous spirit, and the potential to be a great Jedi, but not without perspective. You must think about why you wish to be a Jedi, what your responsibility is; and you must do it alone. You allow your peers opinion to influence you, but a true Jedi must guide himself. You shall be allowed no study but meditation, youngling, until you find clarity of purpose."
It took days. Self reflection was one thing Anwar had no talent for. It was the stillness of it. Anwar was a mover. If he was left with nothing else, he would usually run. It felt good to him to leap and sprint, like flying, and his troubles would stay behind him. Left alone with his thoughts and nothing to do, his imagination spun painful self delusions and criticism. Eventually, memories began to surface. Things insignificant to a toddler that now were clear indictments of his childhood. He saw flashes of his parents in a drugged haze, his father beating his mother, the faces of the men his father murdered before him. Things he had hidden away. Solitude turned him against himself. He had lived off of others, and without a societal crutch, he had never truly understood his own morality, and searching for it revealed only darkness. Anwar returned to the council beaten and with the only answer he could find:
"Freedom. Choice and consequence belong to us all."
He curbed his behavior, focused on his studies, and buried the experience, along with his anger at the council. Eventually, this became natural for him. He subconsciously learned that a teachers approval was tenfold more satisfying than that of his peers, and Anwar knew how to give the people what they wanted. Even at the expense of himself.
Luckily there was still plenty of discovery to be had. His still had another love, the lightsaber. Wielding it created a beautiful dance to him. The alertness of your body, the movement, the focus. It solidified in him the force as an art. His art. One he felt he had every right to. He began to think others foolish for lacking the creativity to use it as he did. But he behaved.
Adolescence & Knighthood
Master Dendra, a Togruta, was known for her her cunning and skill as a duelist. Her early years were spent as a slave for a crime family before the Jedi rescued her, and in her youth she too was top of her group, reckless, and even once vain. She accepted Anwar as her pupil, and the two formed a tight bond. She took him to get his first crystal. It was purple, like his eyes, and his love for his saber (and the jealous stares it earned him) bled through to his new mentor. She noticed right away his aptitude for telekenetics, and his aggressive fighting style. She also knew it was too easy for Anwar to focus only on his strengths, thus she set off to round his dueling out. Much to his initial chagrin, Dendra insisted Anwar began his advanced raining in Soresu before she allowed him to move on. Eventually, he was grateful for it, and achieved level of proficiency that satisfied his strict Master. Dendra was just as pleased as Anwar to begin his training in Shien, and how to use the force in concert with his lightsaber. This was Dendra's specialty, and Anwar did not let her down. She also identified his favor for the backhanded style that allowed his defense and attack more fluidity and freedom to improvise, like the dancer he was.
The opportunity to get out of the temple life and adventure brought out all the best in him. The pair made an impressive team, and were both fierce combatants. However, with all this opportunity, he was easily pulled back into reckless behavior. When there was threat of violence, Anwar was willing to oblige just a little quicker than Master Dendra preferred; but there was a new and more pressing issue. Master Dendra caught him with a young woman during an investigation on Naboo. Anwar confessed to her it had not been the first time. She dragged him into isolation, and gave the boy a lesson that surprised them both.
"You still do not fully grasp the scope of your responsibility Anwar! Young one, you mustt take the time to consider the truth of your circumstance so you may master it, and behave like a Jedi. You are exotic, boy. Your whole race suffers from objectification, as has mine. You have barely lived a day without being showered attention, good or bad. Your power does NOT come from this. If people flirt with you, you do not have to oblige them. Do not let your vanity overcome you." Master Dendra then took Anwar into isolation to meditate with her for one long, painful week.
She did not expect Anwar to break as severely as he did. The truth about what he was forced to ignore as a child cracked wide open. He wept for days. Dendra was astonished, and felt guilty for his pain, so together they tackled his past. She guided him through the reality of the world he was born into. He may have wanted for little, but he was exposed to the raw nerves of his drug addled, selfish and abusive parents. He was forced to witness murder. Then there was his mother. He conjured her face and for the first time truly saw the sorrow in her eyes. He remembered her weeping in corner, bruised and bleeding while his father coddled him. Through his Master's guidance, he was able to gain perspective on the circumstances that shaped him, and the hideous truth about his beloved parents. His mother was an artist, much like him, and his father exploited her; and she let him. Eventually, he found acceptance.
He recovered, and began to shine even brighter than before. His resolve was never stronger. He passed the trials early and became a full fledged Jedi Knight a few months after he turned 22. He and Master Dendra often served together, and in his three years he became one of the order's most respected Gaurdians. His charm and cunning served him well, and he never minded getting himself out of tight places. In fact, he seemed to find them suspiciously often. The blue haired Jedi was gaining a name for himself, and wasn't hard to spot with his hood down. The day inevitably came however, that a mission led him to a familiar part of Nal Hutta's infamous moon. Now 25, Anwar finally returned to Nar Shaddaa.
Family Reunion
Xallis Lorn's life had caught up to him. The drugs had destroyed he and his wife. He had lost all but the Lucky Sun to his habit, and he had forced both Diva's, mother and daughter, into selling their bodies more than once. Theelin's fetched a high price, and Anwar's sister was just 18. Still, Xallis was unsurprisingly unable to stabilize himself or his family. Reeba the Hutt was without sympathy for his old friend. The crime lord claimed Diva Lorn-Sadis and her mother as slaves after Xallis went bankrupt. Anwar's father was about to give up, until he heard the whispers. A Jedi was on the moon. Not unusual news, but always quick to spread among the underworld when it did occur. But there was something else, this Jedi was Theelin, with bright blue hair. Xallis exhausted his last favor to get a single message to his son. He was smart enough to leave himself out of it.
Anwar was easy to spot, and the three men easily paced themselves ahead of him.
"Did you hear about the Divas?"
"You can't see them sing no more..."
"I sure wouldn't mind having a Diva slave, Reeba is one lucky slug...I'll bet he makes real good use of them."
Hearing this, Anwar had no choice. They could only mean his mother, though one thing disturbed him: it sounded as though they 'divas', as in the plural.
Upon arrival at Reeba's palace he killed an aggressive guard almost immediately, and would have proceeded had he not seen her. A young half Theelin woman, light orange tinted skin like his mother, a high standing shock of pink hair, and purple eyes. He stared into those eyes so like his own, and new instantly what those men had meant. He had a sister. She wore a heavy chain around her neck, which was pulled taught by the massive Hutt behind her. Anwar sensed with horrible clarity the truth about her life. She never had the luxury of escaping the depraved world of their parents, and worse still and been there for his father's decline.Diva only stared at her estranged brother, her expression as stunned as his. She was the innocent, and she MUST be saved. Overwhelmed, he almost forgot to look to his mother, similarly chained, but there was no need for it. She was a skinny, frail, strung out shell of a woman, and there was nothing but submission and shame left in her eyes. He fell to his knees, and was instantly surrounded. It was explained to him why the women of his family had been seized by Reeba. Choking down rage, Anwar made a deal for their freedom. Reeba had a substantial bounty out on a slimy mercenary crew who'd double crossed him and stole a few hundred cases of contraband. Reeba agreed to exchange his family for the dead mercenaries and the merchandise returned, no bounty paid. Anwar obliged. He didn't think twice, and he's never regretted it.
Unfortunately this was not enough for Xallis. When Anwar returned with his first ever bounty in tow, a withered Xallis Lorn was waiting in Reeba's palace with a twisted attempt at a warm smile on his face, arms out stretched. Anwar did not go to him, but turned away in disgust. He missed seeing the old man turn truly crestfallen. Anwar only demanded the payment of his family, but Reeba only shoved his unshackled mother to him. Xallis, as it turned out, still had many debts and an addiction to feed, so he had agreed to allow Reeba to keep his young Theelin daughter for a large portion of the spice and half the bounty, enough to hopefully restore part of his broken empire. Anwar looked to his mother. She was too far gone to protest Xallis' word. Her son was not. His parents were ripped from the ground, and into the air they flew, their backs against the wall clutching their throats.
Master Dendra had spent the last three years steeped in pride and praise of her former Padawan. she was prouder of he then most she trained, they were very close indeed. She felt the sudden darkness in him several days earlier, and investigated his travelogue. He was on Nar Shaddaa, and had been there several days longer than expected. Dendra rightly feared the worst and rushed to the criminal moon. She stormed Reeba's throne room only to watch the levitating body of Xallis Lorn fall limp. She was too late. Diva Sadis survived her sons fury, truly she was not the object of it. The original deal to free the women was honored by a throughly amused Hutt. Anwar will never forget the once beloved sound of Uncle Reeba's laughter masking his mother's shrill screams. His sister remained stoic and watched her mysterious brother be led off by his former Master.
His mother died of overdose two weeks later. Diva Lorn-Sadis now owns a revived Lucky Sun, where she performs regularly in the cabaret.
Playboys of the Outer Core
He was emotionally compromised, and he had performed a bounty involving murder and illegal cargo. The Master's convened for his hearing, prepared to deliver fair judgment, with the hope of redeeming a prized guardian. Anwar was not as prepared to face them however.
"Great crimes have you committed young Jedi. Powerful is your pain, but you have overcome this before. We have hope that --"
"He had it coming..." Anwar had not yet managed to process what he had done. What was a conclusion to his source of pain the last 20 years, had ironically brought it all flooding back at once. His anger and sorrow still burned hot in his blood, and he could not calm them. He began pacing the council chambers furiously.
"Anwar be still. You must remember-" Master Dendra tried to plea with him. She reached out with the force to sooth her former padawaan, but his recoil almost knocked her down.
"NO! Not one person I killed didn't choose their vile lives." He fought desperately to justify it all to himself. "She needed me...and you!" He turned on his former Master, "You let us leave in disgrace... we should've ended that contemptible slug!.. and my...my...sister..." Hot tears streamed down his face as he identified her out loud for the first time. A new and even darker revelation washed over him. The Master's had feared this, and they quietly sighed in unison before he spoke.
"She was like me...I sensed it...she was a sensitive..." He fell to his knees. The master's moved to subdue him as he unconsciously began lashing out with his telekinetics. "WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE HER!" Then he saw only black, as he was lulled into unconsciousness by the Jedi Masters.
When he awoke, Dendra was with him. His lightsaber was not. She began explaining quickly, knowing his emotions were likely to better him again soon. His mother had refused to allow his sister to attend the temple, and now she was far to old to begin training with the Jedi. This much had been dediced and did not satisfy Anwar, but before he could respond to this, Master Dendra leveled the council's decision. He was to be on indefinite hiatus, and to remain in the temple under Dendra's care as he worked to recover himself. He had done this before, and yet here he was. In a fit of passion he made a choice that would haunt him for the next 2 years. Anwar walked away from the Jedi order.
Stubbornly latching onto his decision, Anwar forced himself into apathy. He tried to ignore his devastation and fell into a downward spiral that ended in Coruscant's lower levels. He began playing music but was out of practice and couldn't cover his expenses, so he began working for a shipyard as well. This led to swoop and speeder racing, the illegal kind. The thrill seeker in him thrived. It took all his restraint to keep from revealing himself as former Jedi. He was even forced to dye his hair dark green for a time, which pained him, but the gold spotted blue haired Jedi had made a reputation that needed to be outrun. Racing wasn't the only questionable work he did, suffice to say his daily life now involved an AA-37 on his hip, which he came to love as dear as he could, though it would never replace a lightsaber. Anwar never went a day without target practice and exercise at the shipyard, taking solace in the activity, and avoiding stillness once again. He served on a smuggling crew, and worked as petty muscle once or twice. Racing, however, was where he met Hugh Starshade, the final heir to the old money of the infamous human Starshade family. Hugh and Anwar shared a lust for life, and were quickly inseparable. Combined they wrote a new chapter in the book of decadence. Drugs, drink, fighting, women, men, anything they wanted. With Hugh's money they raced starships, and flew all over the galaxy. They used Hugh's yacht for smuggling, never for the money anymore, but because they could. The company they kept was high class crime, and they were the lives of the party. Anwar even got a music career moving (with Hugh's contacts), and dabbled in acting as well. Anwar and Hugh were in love, and with limitless resources.
The galaxy was their oyster.
Anwar was his father's son.
A year had passed, and the boys had managed to make a few enemies; but none were a greater threat than themselves. The substance was clouding Anwar's connection to the force, and the day came when he realized who he was becoming. He tried for weeks to pry himself from the grasp of the drugs. Those weeks became months. Then a solution came where he least expected. Hugh abandoned him one night for a gala Anwar had no interest in attending. Hugh didn't return for two days, which was not unheard of. During that time Anwar remained huddled in their penthouse. The Drugs ran out by the first day, and Anwar had no money or means. He hadn't even the strength to run. Eventually, and despite himself, he found stillness. From here, the serenity of meditation found him. Since his most recent trauma, he again had cast the practice aside. It was panful for him to start at first. It still stirred great hatred and anger in him, with all new memories and failures to face as if he had never recovered at all; but it also gave him strength, and he could fight back. This once hated practice became his savior. He began to refocus on his physical exercise, and recovered his body, though without a master he could not fully restore his force senses. Hugh, however, had no such source of strength. They both needed an escape.
Hugh mentioned political contacts his father had consistently donated heavily to. Surely they would harbor the companions. So the boys took the Starshade yacht out to meet Hugh's friends in the outer rim: the Sith Aristocracy.
The Royal Treatment
Anwar had already cut himself off from heavier drugs and began to refocus on keeping up his training in his force and martial arts. When he realized the truth of the new company they were to keep he was very uneasy. This led to a an enormous fight between Anwar and Hugh (who was still using, and lying about it) in which a great deal of property damage was incurred. They did not speak for several days, until Hugh produced a small shoebox, delicately wrapped in fine golden paper. The Sith had received the boys well, and taken a particular interest in Hugh's force wielding and emotional volatile friend. They were more than willing to provide Hugh with the unusual gift he requested, for a substantial donation of course. Anwar sensed the boxes contents before he opened it. A ruby red crystal resting on it's own pillow, amidst and assortment of all the required materials for the contraction of a new lightsaber. Anwar wept for joy.
With a lightsaber at his side again, Anwar's already potent need to train seemed to double. Unfortunately, there was only one faction available for him to do so with other people, which he always craved. He attempted to be resilient, but he was curious, and it was only too easy for the Sith to appeal to his cynicism regarding the Jedi's narrow view of the forces expressive potential. One Dark Jedi in particular, a Zabrak woman named Malice Devion, became a friend to the young men, especially Anwar. She was heavily allied with the Sith and had been dispatched by the Sith order as soon as they knew of Anwar's presence. It didn't take long for her to convince him to train with her, he was 26 and craved new challeneges. She appealed to his sense of artistry, and they explored the force with all of their emotion. Despite herself, Malice even learned from Anwar. Even with anger, hate, and fear, Anwar could not be torn from his pleasure, and joy. Despite her ceaseless invitations, he put off any complete commitment to the Sith. Meanwhile, Hugh continued to lie about his drug use, and began wearing out his welcome. He bought good grace when he could, but Sith patience has a limit. They were not fond of such vices, the preferred more cultured endeavors. Malice and Anwar for example kept attending the theatre and symphonies together, but Hugh would insist on the same wild parties. Malice and Anwar were clearly more than sparring partners. Though the boys had similar arrangements before, Hugh was furious about the obvious space growing between them, and blamed Malice.
The Sith were growing impatient with both young men. They also had fabulous lawyers. Turns out Hugh's father had specified several Sith benefactors of the estate in the event of an inheritors absence. Malice was assigned a new task. Anwar and Hugh had been fighting more and more, over drugs, over Malice. Anwar's emotions ran high, and the Sith chose new it was time to strike, and claim the gifted Jedi. Anwar was in the yacht's hangar, lifting ships to clear his mangled thoughts. He felt it instantly. It was too late. He arrived to see Malice's lightsaber leave Hugh, and his body collapse to the ground. He felt every feeling his body could hold all in an instant. Then, at a moment that could have torn his sense from his heart, Anwar miraculously found stillness. The following battle that ensued was the end of a chapter in his life. Through nearly 15 minutes of swordplay, thrown objects, tossed persons, lightning, seared blood, and devastation, Anwar learned why he fought. He learned what it meant for him to kill, what the lives of others meant to him. Most importantly, he learned those values are his own. They are not the Sith's, nor are they the Jedi. When the dance was through he thanked his partner. A Sith Knight Anwar recognized was already there, to play on the hate and anger they had hoped to drive him to. But his own fleeting clarity protected him. The Sith, to be fair, was caught off guard (Anwar played along with him for a few moments). Afterward, Anwar thanked his second partner, the left half.
A Grey Horizon
He was smart enough to flee before a Master arrived. He took the yacht directly back to Coruscant, where a new surprise was waiting. Hugh's lawyer had tipped him about the will be examined. Hugh had left it all to his beloved Anwar, with a note "You'll have get rid of it, or they will come for you too. But hey, goodness gracious them at least. None of it matters like you." At 27 Anwar inherited a fortune, and immediately destroyed it. He anonymously donated half, 24 million credits, to arts organizations across the core worlds, but predominately Coruscant, which was as close to home as anything. The remaining half he used as a gift to the Jedi Temple. Maybe a part of him wanted to buy a way back, absurd as that was. Maybe he felt he owed them tuition. He would never be sure. He liquidated the other assets and property he had inherited, which more than doubled the worth of the existing capital, a cool 115 million. With it he secured his new home, The Diva's Lament. He had flown a V-1 prototype once before, owned by a spoiled brat who only crashed it eventually. The ship was his dream. The rest went into some equipment, an impressive wardrobe, and a three year rental lease on public hangar space in Coruscant's upper levels. A small amount was saved for living expense, but he had no interest in accumulating actual wealth. The last bit seemed to disappear; coincidently a mysterious gentlemen around this time blew a few million credits in the Lucky Star.
He knew where to find work. He started with smuggling light cargo on the Diva. Bought Goober after one amusing law risk run together. This resulted in a few scuffles with pirates and the discovery of his great distaste for them. Another side effect was word spreading about his skill in a fight, and the little silver cylinder on his hip. He began receiving bounties, and he took them. But there were not many friends among these thieves. No love, no family. He wanted to see his sister, but feared her rejection. He occasionally plays in a dive, and lives mostly on the Lament. He is a rogue Jedi, looking for a home.
*Note* No images linked are mine. All tech/equipment is pre-existing from other users. I am also super game for intertwining character relationships if our paths may likely have crossed.
RP Sample:
:: Anwar leaned into the pirates chest with the tip of his blaster::
"Are you finished, Gregor? Tell them to stand down, and let me leave with MY money."
::The Bothan surveyed his immediate crew of a dozen, and laughed long::
"You know what I hear Sadis? I hear you don't like killing..."
:: the dozen of Gregor's crew sharing the hangar, shared a laugh as well. Anwar sighed. He did not plan this complication, and was happy to peacefully leave with his credits.. He was trying to be generous, but Gregor's gang was particularly stupid. Trying to belittle Anwar in front of a pirate crew might change the plan. He began tapping the barrel impatiently on Gregor's puffed out chest, and examined the room::
"Gregor..."
"Don't worry, Jedi..." ::the mockery was thick:: "We'll let you fly away with your good feelings."
"Don't"
"Pull the trigger then.."
"Please stop, I can't let you say that again.."
"Come on Sadis! Pu-"
*pzzzt*
:: It took exactly 1.4 seconds for Gregor's backup to register what had happened. While they held their breath, Anwar drew his deep, and enjoyed the stillness in that brief respite before the storm. His lightsaber leapt to his free hand and sparked to life, just as the first hail of fire came at him. He was a bit too pressed to send any back where they came from, but he managed to swat them away. He tucked his AA-37 away while dashing to his left, red blade twirling. He isolated their left flank and fell behind them to keep from taking fire from all twelve at once. One, two, three more bolts cast aside. Anwar went low, under the second wave of shots as he closed distance and took the first man's leg. An upward follow through traced a lethal black line across the second man's torso. A quick flick of his wrist and the next three went flying. He took to the air with a two step bound, and during his accent he sent the next man's plasma bolt back into his skull. On the way down he plunged a red beam through the thug after that. As they struck the ground a wave of force whipped outward and floored another 4. The last man standing fired almost by accident, and with a flourish, Anwar had him eating that mistake. For the sake of some invisible teacher, he made a poor attempt to pretend he wasn't pleased with himself. He bowed to the scattered casualties, then returned to Gregor only to pry the heavy case full of Anwar's latest bounty from the man's stiff fingers::
"Goober, open the back"
:: Anwar began to cross the public hangar towards Diva's Lament. Her cargo door did not open"
"Goober..."
How was your meeting Master? ::came the chipper reply from his com::
"oh no.. not now..."
You don't want the back open now, master?
"This is NOT the time. There will be more, MANY- "
::Before he could finish, the hangar doors flew open. Two dozen more poured in. Before Anwar could curse his droid again, Goober shot first. The Diva's lower light blaster cannon was zipping from side to side, keeping the next round of gunman bottlenecked at the doors. Still, Anwar had to bat furiously at oncoming fire::
Are you sure you don't want me to op--
"Yes, dammit, open the..."
::But the hatch was already lowering. He leapt the ramp early and tossed his credits to the side as he stormed through to the cockpit. He could hear the blaster fire scuffing his beautiful ship as took the helm. At least Goober had started her up. As the diva lifted off, Anwar pull her hard to the right to get the full weapons array facing a now terrified crew of space pirates. He let off a final warning shot, leaving the few to hopefully remember they ought to leave him alone some other day. Soon after, he and Goober were on their way to Coruscant to do some shopping. Once safely off-world, Anwar threw on the auto, and reclined in his pilots chair. As he began to kick of his shoes a glass of Corellian whiskey appeared in front of him, wrapped in spindly metal fingers::
You should have seen your face master. Based on the images I've compared it to, the data implies it was very funny.
::Anwar indulged in a deep exhale and a long pull on his drink. His purple eye softened and took in the stars before him, looking for something, but not knowing what. He plucked out a single blue hair of a small frizzy cluster that had been singed, and flicked it at his gangly droid. In a longing tone he replied::
"Well as long as you had fun, scrap head. :: he paused:: Anything for a good time..."
Age: 28
Race: Hybrid Theelin/Human
Birth place: Nar Shaddaa
Height: 5'10
Weight: 168
Eye Color: Purple
Hair Color: Blue
Appearance:
Anwar, like most Theelin's has an exceptionally eye catching appearance with their colorful skin and hair, and a human build. Distinguishing features include:
Body: That of an athletic human in shape and form, with the exception of his feet. He has three short thick toes, and a third smaller on the side. All have dense, hoof like toenails, with thick kin on the bottom, made for walking barefoot. Anwar has to wear Theelin specific footwear. He walks barefoot whenever convenient, but usually wears tall black boots. He also has three small horns on both sides of his face ascending his hairline from the point behind the temple. Each successive of the three horns is slightly larger than the last, the third and top-most being the largest at less than an inch.
Hair Style: His hair, like most of his race is wild, voluminous, and he wears it long. He nearly always has what he can gather in an ornate braid that flops between his shoulder blades, while the excess in the front falls all around his face.
Skin: Pale yellow. His dark Theelin "freckles," or spots, are mostly dark yellow or gold (not metallic). They gently frame his face, and cascades down his shoulders, upper back, and arms. They also line his legs from hip to calf.
Jewelery: He has a total of 5 earrings, all tight rings of the same size. Four are metallic black, symmetrically hugging the lobes on either ear. The fifth is emerald and hangs from the upper cartilage on his left.
Tattoos: One. A poem often recited to him by his mother before he left home for the Jedi Academy. It is written in basic. It's printed plainly along his right side, on his ribcage. It reads:
"You will drown in the sea of stars.
You must swim.
You must swim, and while you swim,
you must sing.
Sing so you deafen everything around you.
You're song will never drown. "
Personality: Wild, arrogant, expressive, stubborn, cunning, vain, flirtatious, restless, mercurial, curious, loyal, reckless. Passionate. Since his dark years after leaving the Jedi Order, he has substantially grounded himself, though his blood still runs hot. His open heart can harbor great compassion, but also leaves him sensitive and prone to grudges and resentment. His feelings often have the power to over rule him. He has, however, learned to draw focus from his expressive nature. He can be fabulous to spend time with if he wants to be, or horrid if he doesn't. He has a natural instinct for knowing just how to please people, however he is not very skilled as a leader. His nature is too self-centered, though he functions well in a group. He actually prefers following someone else's lead, as he is simply never satisfied with anyones ability to follow his own. He works best in teams of 2 or 3. He adores art, and is a musician and once actor himself. Technology intrigues him, and tinkering with his ship or speeder is a favorite hobby, particularly when he needs to blow off steam. He loves his toys. Despite this he never developed an interest in splicing, and has paid for it more than once. Anwar becomes restless easily, and training and exercise are very important to him, coupled with meditation. He enjoys knowing what he's good at, and getting better at it: every small victory appeals to his pride and vanity. His sexuality is just as fluid as the rest of him, and gets him into just as much trouble. He considers his personal freedom a right, shared by all. This show itself in his great distaste for pirates and slavers. You must swim.
You must swim, and while you swim,
you must sing.
Sing so you deafen everything around you.
You're song will never drown. "
Scars: The center of his palms are both heavily calloused. This is a result of attempting to teach himself force deflection. Three blaster burns. Two in the back near his right shoulder from, as he says "Just a few more pirates than I expected." one a graze above his left hip, of which he simply states, "Can't blame her really, I certainly had it coming." Then he has wide burn scar on his right thigh, just above the knee, from the graze of a lightsaber. This one he does not talk about.
Garb: Anwar's closet is a modest one, but of fine quality. He has one outfit he favors for any affair. Black, very polished boots. His pants and jacket were made to match. The fabric is a quilted dark burgundy, with all the trim and elaborate embroidery in royal purple (to bring out his eyes). The pants are loose and deliberately a little puffy, They muffin top over his boots where they appear tucked in, but are actually cinched. They have a high fitted waist, and he wears them with a pair of dark grey suspenders. The jacket is a long, well tailored number with the tails and cuffs pinned up to show more of the royal purple trim. Attached to the collar is a broad hood. As a Jedi Anwar learned his hood was neccessary, given his distinct appearance. He also happens to be very fond of the dramatic aspect of it. The front is double-brested, with lapels that are usually pinned and worn open in order to reveal the deep cut of his flowing, silver shirt. His belt is wide and black, with 2 pouches and clips for doo-dads (i.e. spare power cell, commlink, data pad), and a light green sash underneath for color. On his right thigh hangs a left handed draw holster for his heavy blaster. His light blaster in concealed under his jacket's left breast for right handed draw, cradled by a shoulder sling. He does not carry them both unless expecting a serious fight. On his left hip hangs his lightsaber.
Style reference for jacket ( www.costume141.com/?product-719.html )
Garb: Anwar's closet is a modest one, but of fine quality. He has one outfit he favors for any affair. Black, very polished boots. His pants and jacket were made to match. The fabric is a quilted dark burgundy, with all the trim and elaborate embroidery in royal purple (to bring out his eyes). The pants are loose and deliberately a little puffy, They muffin top over his boots where they appear tucked in, but are actually cinched. They have a high fitted waist, and he wears them with a pair of dark grey suspenders. The jacket is a long, well tailored number with the tails and cuffs pinned up to show more of the royal purple trim. Attached to the collar is a broad hood. As a Jedi Anwar learned his hood was neccessary, given his distinct appearance. He also happens to be very fond of the dramatic aspect of it. The front is double-brested, with lapels that are usually pinned and worn open in order to reveal the deep cut of his flowing, silver shirt. His belt is wide and black, with 2 pouches and clips for doo-dads (i.e. spare power cell, commlink, data pad), and a light green sash underneath for color. On his right thigh hangs a left handed draw holster for his heavy blaster. His light blaster in concealed under his jacket's left breast for right handed draw, cradled by a shoulder sling. He does not carry them both unless expecting a serious fight. On his left hip hangs his lightsaber.
Style reference for jacket ( www.costume141.com/?product-719.html )
Though too stubborn to admit it, he does deeply need people in his life; which at the moment he has none of, save his droid. Loneliness can take a great toll on him, as he will willingly convince himself of needing no one, and isolation spirals further into the darker side of his emotion...
Profession: Grey Jedi, Bounty Hunter/ Smuggler/ Freelancer
Mastery Level: Knight
Previous Faction: Jedi Order/ Sith Aristocracy/ Hutt Empire
Equipment:
Dual Phase Lightsaber (red)
Deep sentimental value
AA-37 Heavy Blaster
swrponline2.proboards.com/thread/18502/aa-37-heavy-blaster-pistol
This trusty sidearm has been with Anwar the longest. Its tactical rail holds a small grapple launcher. It's gray metal casing has been covered with strange orange patterns of Anwar's design.
F-37 Scythe Blaster
swrponline2.proboards.com/thread/12452/34-scythe-blaster-pistol
Light, Compact, Fast, Precise, it was love at first trigger squeeze. Encountered during his time philandering around with Sith aristocracy.
420 Banshee Swoop Bike
swrponline2.proboards.com/thread/16760/420-banshee-swoop-bike
Despite his usual extravagance, he has always loved the Banshee's stock look, and done little to modify it. It also fits nicely in the Diva's modest cargo hold.
Aratech XT- 2000 "Goober"
swrponline2.proboards.com/thread/16683/aratech-2000-general-purpose-droid
Anwar had been working alone for some time, which was growing tiresome as well as impractical. He was still smuggling then, and took a job with goober's previous owner, who, was completely fed up with the models quirks. He gladly sold Goober, and that was that. As he has mostly served criminals, a notable quirk specific to Goober is his penchant for attempting practical jokes; he thinks it makes him a bad ass. He has no sense of humor to speak of, so results are extremely varied. He serves Anwar as co-pilot, gunner, mechanic, and companion. His software includes:
Starship Maintenance
Navigational
Targeting
Mixology
Basic First Aid
Translator (Goober tends to "paraphrase" translations. He thinks he's helping)
Starship: The Diva's Lament
swrponline2.proboards.com/thread/19672/lament-custom-finished-comments-welcome
Skills:
Pilot- advanced
Musician - advanced
Mechanic- advanced
Languages:
Basic- fluent
Huttese- fluent
Binary - understood
Lightsaber:
Dual phase
titusz.org/wp-content/uploads/artistlightsaber.jpg
Color: Red
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho: 5
Soresu : 2
Shien / Djem So: 4
>>Sub-form Backhanded: 3
Force-Sensitive Attributes:
Telekinetic: 7
Telepathic: 4
Body: 6
Sense: 4
Protection: 4
Healing: 3
Destruction: 2
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 6
Leadership: 3
Unarmed: 4
Melee Weapons: 3
Ranged Weapons: 5
Bio:
A Prince of Thieves
"You deserve it all my son. Once you know what you want, you can always get it. Once you know what others want, you can always get them too." Xallis Lorn certainly seemed to have it figured out. Once a human farm boy, now he controlled almost 1/7 of Nar Shaddaa's nightlife. Nebula, The Outer Rim, and Fuselage were three of the most popular clubs on the scum ridden moon; but the Captan's Table, and Lucky Sun were the real powerhouses. Two massive casinos, Captain's table served anyone with a credit to lose, while Lucky Sun hosted the bigger rollers. It also hosted one of the most popular entertainers on the small world, Xillis Lorn's wife, the beautiful theelin Diva Sadis. The two of them lived the lives expected of them: excess, hedonism, drugs, pleasure, and everything else they wanted, when they wanted it. One day they decided they wanted a child. And they got one.
Though the environment may have been reproachful, Anwar knew no better at the time, and his earliest years seemed a whirlwind of color and delight. For all their selfish behavior, Xallis and Diva loved their son dearly.They had no reason not too, as they were otherwise thriving themselves. Anwar always had affection from his parents, even if his mother's smile came through a haze of pink smoke, or if the time spent bouncing on Xallis' knee was while he shot a few thugs for cheating. Anwar was delighted by the sound and light of his father's blaster. He was far to young to comprehend it's use or wield it, but on a few occasions a proud Xallis allowed his boy to grip the handle beneath his own hands, and playfully encouraged him to "help pops knock that mean ugly man down." It all seemed like a wonderful game. Anwar loved toys; playing with, manipulating, creating things. His curiosity was quite a bane on the household droids. Meanwhile Diva taught her son the arts. She played a wide variety of music for him, and taught him to sing and dance. It was here she first noticed something special in her son. Shehad begun to train in classical Theelin dance herself when she was only four as well, but her son moved with a grace and agility that stunned her. His reflexes were extraordinary, his movement intuitive, far beyond any normal child, even a Theelin. She had her suspicions, but for fear they were true, she kept them to herself.
The beaming, blue haired boy of four became a favorite entertainer at their party's. His father's only boss, Reeba the Hutt, used to insist he be brought to court on occasion. Anwar became so close to Reeba he affectionately called him Uncle. He could sing quite well, and his acrobatic dancing was a favorite. He loved to please the crowds, and he did so as long as they let him. The time always came however when they would lock him in his room, so the adults could play without him. He despised this, deeply. On these nights he cried for hours, and once in awhile his mother or father would bring him a small cup of the vile bitter drink they loved, insisting he drink, and sleep. All he remembered were the dreams. A few weeks after his fifth birthday, his mother's fears were realized. The Jedi came to call. Xallis couldn't hide his smile at the thought of his loyal, loving son becoming a Jedi, even if his wife objected. So off he went, a few months before his 6th birthday, to the bright and shinning world of Coruscant, and away from his family. He never knew that a sister, Diva Lorn-Sadis, was named after their mother two years later.
A World of Possibility
The Jedi temple was the first formal education Anwar received, and he loved it. His natural curiosity and the confidence his parents had given him were all the gifts a child needed o seize his education by the horns. He was fascinated by his studies, his new talents, his own potential, and the noble teachers with whom he spent his days. It was clear early on to his instructors that he would be a fine Jedi indeed, and much faith and hope was put into the young Theelin. His heart was open, and the force flowed through him with clarity and intention. Unfortunately, as most expressive young children learn, an open heart is easily scarred. This was also the first time Anwar had ever been around children his own age. The unconditional, if sometimes patronizing, affection of adults is not what can be expected in the cutthroat social politics of still budding 6 year olds. Anwar's brightly colored appearance alone was enough to elicit not always malicious, but at least confused criticism from his peers. The same was true of his behavior. He still loved to sing, and dance, and otherwise entertain his classmates. He was jarred by the discovery that many younglings had grown up with a sense of personal space. The lesson of rejection hit him hard and fast in his first year. Some people did not want to play his game, and he took it much too personally. He was still very successful in class however, and by 8 he adapted well to a new form of attention. Respect.
As he advanced he showed a clear preference for the less subtle arts. A true being of Theelin blood, he never lost his dancer's mind or body. Anwar's grace, agility, reflexes, and intuitive movement came naturally and set him above his peers of other races; yet it was the ability to move an object with his will that captivated him most. He would constantly explore his telekinetic limits, and was often reprimanded for reckless usage. He was placed him in pilot training early on. The Master's anticipated the easy fit for his adventuresome attitude; and right they were. He was always a top pilot in his group from then on out, usually socializing among the "hangar rats" who worked on the ships. Again, he eventually started getting in trouble for showboating. They pulled him from class and gave him chores, but the effects were temporary. A new solution was devised:
"Arrogant you are, youngling. Your skill is great, and your talent singular. You have an enormous spirit, and the potential to be a great Jedi, but not without perspective. You must think about why you wish to be a Jedi, what your responsibility is; and you must do it alone. You allow your peers opinion to influence you, but a true Jedi must guide himself. You shall be allowed no study but meditation, youngling, until you find clarity of purpose."
It took days. Self reflection was one thing Anwar had no talent for. It was the stillness of it. Anwar was a mover. If he was left with nothing else, he would usually run. It felt good to him to leap and sprint, like flying, and his troubles would stay behind him. Left alone with his thoughts and nothing to do, his imagination spun painful self delusions and criticism. Eventually, memories began to surface. Things insignificant to a toddler that now were clear indictments of his childhood. He saw flashes of his parents in a drugged haze, his father beating his mother, the faces of the men his father murdered before him. Things he had hidden away. Solitude turned him against himself. He had lived off of others, and without a societal crutch, he had never truly understood his own morality, and searching for it revealed only darkness. Anwar returned to the council beaten and with the only answer he could find:
"Freedom. Choice and consequence belong to us all."
He curbed his behavior, focused on his studies, and buried the experience, along with his anger at the council. Eventually, this became natural for him. He subconsciously learned that a teachers approval was tenfold more satisfying than that of his peers, and Anwar knew how to give the people what they wanted. Even at the expense of himself.
Luckily there was still plenty of discovery to be had. His still had another love, the lightsaber. Wielding it created a beautiful dance to him. The alertness of your body, the movement, the focus. It solidified in him the force as an art. His art. One he felt he had every right to. He began to think others foolish for lacking the creativity to use it as he did. But he behaved.
Adolescence & Knighthood
Master Dendra, a Togruta, was known for her her cunning and skill as a duelist. Her early years were spent as a slave for a crime family before the Jedi rescued her, and in her youth she too was top of her group, reckless, and even once vain. She accepted Anwar as her pupil, and the two formed a tight bond. She took him to get his first crystal. It was purple, like his eyes, and his love for his saber (and the jealous stares it earned him) bled through to his new mentor. She noticed right away his aptitude for telekenetics, and his aggressive fighting style. She also knew it was too easy for Anwar to focus only on his strengths, thus she set off to round his dueling out. Much to his initial chagrin, Dendra insisted Anwar began his advanced raining in Soresu before she allowed him to move on. Eventually, he was grateful for it, and achieved level of proficiency that satisfied his strict Master. Dendra was just as pleased as Anwar to begin his training in Shien, and how to use the force in concert with his lightsaber. This was Dendra's specialty, and Anwar did not let her down. She also identified his favor for the backhanded style that allowed his defense and attack more fluidity and freedom to improvise, like the dancer he was.
The opportunity to get out of the temple life and adventure brought out all the best in him. The pair made an impressive team, and were both fierce combatants. However, with all this opportunity, he was easily pulled back into reckless behavior. When there was threat of violence, Anwar was willing to oblige just a little quicker than Master Dendra preferred; but there was a new and more pressing issue. Master Dendra caught him with a young woman during an investigation on Naboo. Anwar confessed to her it had not been the first time. She dragged him into isolation, and gave the boy a lesson that surprised them both.
"You still do not fully grasp the scope of your responsibility Anwar! Young one, you mustt take the time to consider the truth of your circumstance so you may master it, and behave like a Jedi. You are exotic, boy. Your whole race suffers from objectification, as has mine. You have barely lived a day without being showered attention, good or bad. Your power does NOT come from this. If people flirt with you, you do not have to oblige them. Do not let your vanity overcome you." Master Dendra then took Anwar into isolation to meditate with her for one long, painful week.
She did not expect Anwar to break as severely as he did. The truth about what he was forced to ignore as a child cracked wide open. He wept for days. Dendra was astonished, and felt guilty for his pain, so together they tackled his past. She guided him through the reality of the world he was born into. He may have wanted for little, but he was exposed to the raw nerves of his drug addled, selfish and abusive parents. He was forced to witness murder. Then there was his mother. He conjured her face and for the first time truly saw the sorrow in her eyes. He remembered her weeping in corner, bruised and bleeding while his father coddled him. Through his Master's guidance, he was able to gain perspective on the circumstances that shaped him, and the hideous truth about his beloved parents. His mother was an artist, much like him, and his father exploited her; and she let him. Eventually, he found acceptance.
He recovered, and began to shine even brighter than before. His resolve was never stronger. He passed the trials early and became a full fledged Jedi Knight a few months after he turned 22. He and Master Dendra often served together, and in his three years he became one of the order's most respected Gaurdians. His charm and cunning served him well, and he never minded getting himself out of tight places. In fact, he seemed to find them suspiciously often. The blue haired Jedi was gaining a name for himself, and wasn't hard to spot with his hood down. The day inevitably came however, that a mission led him to a familiar part of Nal Hutta's infamous moon. Now 25, Anwar finally returned to Nar Shaddaa.
Family Reunion
Xallis Lorn's life had caught up to him. The drugs had destroyed he and his wife. He had lost all but the Lucky Sun to his habit, and he had forced both Diva's, mother and daughter, into selling their bodies more than once. Theelin's fetched a high price, and Anwar's sister was just 18. Still, Xallis was unsurprisingly unable to stabilize himself or his family. Reeba the Hutt was without sympathy for his old friend. The crime lord claimed Diva Lorn-Sadis and her mother as slaves after Xallis went bankrupt. Anwar's father was about to give up, until he heard the whispers. A Jedi was on the moon. Not unusual news, but always quick to spread among the underworld when it did occur. But there was something else, this Jedi was Theelin, with bright blue hair. Xallis exhausted his last favor to get a single message to his son. He was smart enough to leave himself out of it.
Anwar was easy to spot, and the three men easily paced themselves ahead of him.
"Did you hear about the Divas?"
"You can't see them sing no more..."
"I sure wouldn't mind having a Diva slave, Reeba is one lucky slug...I'll bet he makes real good use of them."
Hearing this, Anwar had no choice. They could only mean his mother, though one thing disturbed him: it sounded as though they 'divas', as in the plural.
Upon arrival at Reeba's palace he killed an aggressive guard almost immediately, and would have proceeded had he not seen her. A young half Theelin woman, light orange tinted skin like his mother, a high standing shock of pink hair, and purple eyes. He stared into those eyes so like his own, and new instantly what those men had meant. He had a sister. She wore a heavy chain around her neck, which was pulled taught by the massive Hutt behind her. Anwar sensed with horrible clarity the truth about her life. She never had the luxury of escaping the depraved world of their parents, and worse still and been there for his father's decline.Diva only stared at her estranged brother, her expression as stunned as his. She was the innocent, and she MUST be saved. Overwhelmed, he almost forgot to look to his mother, similarly chained, but there was no need for it. She was a skinny, frail, strung out shell of a woman, and there was nothing but submission and shame left in her eyes. He fell to his knees, and was instantly surrounded. It was explained to him why the women of his family had been seized by Reeba. Choking down rage, Anwar made a deal for their freedom. Reeba had a substantial bounty out on a slimy mercenary crew who'd double crossed him and stole a few hundred cases of contraband. Reeba agreed to exchange his family for the dead mercenaries and the merchandise returned, no bounty paid. Anwar obliged. He didn't think twice, and he's never regretted it.
Unfortunately this was not enough for Xallis. When Anwar returned with his first ever bounty in tow, a withered Xallis Lorn was waiting in Reeba's palace with a twisted attempt at a warm smile on his face, arms out stretched. Anwar did not go to him, but turned away in disgust. He missed seeing the old man turn truly crestfallen. Anwar only demanded the payment of his family, but Reeba only shoved his unshackled mother to him. Xallis, as it turned out, still had many debts and an addiction to feed, so he had agreed to allow Reeba to keep his young Theelin daughter for a large portion of the spice and half the bounty, enough to hopefully restore part of his broken empire. Anwar looked to his mother. She was too far gone to protest Xallis' word. Her son was not. His parents were ripped from the ground, and into the air they flew, their backs against the wall clutching their throats.
Master Dendra had spent the last three years steeped in pride and praise of her former Padawan. she was prouder of he then most she trained, they were very close indeed. She felt the sudden darkness in him several days earlier, and investigated his travelogue. He was on Nar Shaddaa, and had been there several days longer than expected. Dendra rightly feared the worst and rushed to the criminal moon. She stormed Reeba's throne room only to watch the levitating body of Xallis Lorn fall limp. She was too late. Diva Sadis survived her sons fury, truly she was not the object of it. The original deal to free the women was honored by a throughly amused Hutt. Anwar will never forget the once beloved sound of Uncle Reeba's laughter masking his mother's shrill screams. His sister remained stoic and watched her mysterious brother be led off by his former Master.
His mother died of overdose two weeks later. Diva Lorn-Sadis now owns a revived Lucky Sun, where she performs regularly in the cabaret.
Playboys of the Outer Core
He was emotionally compromised, and he had performed a bounty involving murder and illegal cargo. The Master's convened for his hearing, prepared to deliver fair judgment, with the hope of redeeming a prized guardian. Anwar was not as prepared to face them however.
"Great crimes have you committed young Jedi. Powerful is your pain, but you have overcome this before. We have hope that --"
"He had it coming..." Anwar had not yet managed to process what he had done. What was a conclusion to his source of pain the last 20 years, had ironically brought it all flooding back at once. His anger and sorrow still burned hot in his blood, and he could not calm them. He began pacing the council chambers furiously.
"Anwar be still. You must remember-" Master Dendra tried to plea with him. She reached out with the force to sooth her former padawaan, but his recoil almost knocked her down.
"NO! Not one person I killed didn't choose their vile lives." He fought desperately to justify it all to himself. "She needed me...and you!" He turned on his former Master, "You let us leave in disgrace... we should've ended that contemptible slug!.. and my...my...sister..." Hot tears streamed down his face as he identified her out loud for the first time. A new and even darker revelation washed over him. The Master's had feared this, and they quietly sighed in unison before he spoke.
"She was like me...I sensed it...she was a sensitive..." He fell to his knees. The master's moved to subdue him as he unconsciously began lashing out with his telekinetics. "WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE HER!" Then he saw only black, as he was lulled into unconsciousness by the Jedi Masters.
When he awoke, Dendra was with him. His lightsaber was not. She began explaining quickly, knowing his emotions were likely to better him again soon. His mother had refused to allow his sister to attend the temple, and now she was far to old to begin training with the Jedi. This much had been dediced and did not satisfy Anwar, but before he could respond to this, Master Dendra leveled the council's decision. He was to be on indefinite hiatus, and to remain in the temple under Dendra's care as he worked to recover himself. He had done this before, and yet here he was. In a fit of passion he made a choice that would haunt him for the next 2 years. Anwar walked away from the Jedi order.
Stubbornly latching onto his decision, Anwar forced himself into apathy. He tried to ignore his devastation and fell into a downward spiral that ended in Coruscant's lower levels. He began playing music but was out of practice and couldn't cover his expenses, so he began working for a shipyard as well. This led to swoop and speeder racing, the illegal kind. The thrill seeker in him thrived. It took all his restraint to keep from revealing himself as former Jedi. He was even forced to dye his hair dark green for a time, which pained him, but the gold spotted blue haired Jedi had made a reputation that needed to be outrun. Racing wasn't the only questionable work he did, suffice to say his daily life now involved an AA-37 on his hip, which he came to love as dear as he could, though it would never replace a lightsaber. Anwar never went a day without target practice and exercise at the shipyard, taking solace in the activity, and avoiding stillness once again. He served on a smuggling crew, and worked as petty muscle once or twice. Racing, however, was where he met Hugh Starshade, the final heir to the old money of the infamous human Starshade family. Hugh and Anwar shared a lust for life, and were quickly inseparable. Combined they wrote a new chapter in the book of decadence. Drugs, drink, fighting, women, men, anything they wanted. With Hugh's money they raced starships, and flew all over the galaxy. They used Hugh's yacht for smuggling, never for the money anymore, but because they could. The company they kept was high class crime, and they were the lives of the party. Anwar even got a music career moving (with Hugh's contacts), and dabbled in acting as well. Anwar and Hugh were in love, and with limitless resources.
The galaxy was their oyster.
Anwar was his father's son.
A year had passed, and the boys had managed to make a few enemies; but none were a greater threat than themselves. The substance was clouding Anwar's connection to the force, and the day came when he realized who he was becoming. He tried for weeks to pry himself from the grasp of the drugs. Those weeks became months. Then a solution came where he least expected. Hugh abandoned him one night for a gala Anwar had no interest in attending. Hugh didn't return for two days, which was not unheard of. During that time Anwar remained huddled in their penthouse. The Drugs ran out by the first day, and Anwar had no money or means. He hadn't even the strength to run. Eventually, and despite himself, he found stillness. From here, the serenity of meditation found him. Since his most recent trauma, he again had cast the practice aside. It was panful for him to start at first. It still stirred great hatred and anger in him, with all new memories and failures to face as if he had never recovered at all; but it also gave him strength, and he could fight back. This once hated practice became his savior. He began to refocus on his physical exercise, and recovered his body, though without a master he could not fully restore his force senses. Hugh, however, had no such source of strength. They both needed an escape.
Hugh mentioned political contacts his father had consistently donated heavily to. Surely they would harbor the companions. So the boys took the Starshade yacht out to meet Hugh's friends in the outer rim: the Sith Aristocracy.
The Royal Treatment
Anwar had already cut himself off from heavier drugs and began to refocus on keeping up his training in his force and martial arts. When he realized the truth of the new company they were to keep he was very uneasy. This led to a an enormous fight between Anwar and Hugh (who was still using, and lying about it) in which a great deal of property damage was incurred. They did not speak for several days, until Hugh produced a small shoebox, delicately wrapped in fine golden paper. The Sith had received the boys well, and taken a particular interest in Hugh's force wielding and emotional volatile friend. They were more than willing to provide Hugh with the unusual gift he requested, for a substantial donation of course. Anwar sensed the boxes contents before he opened it. A ruby red crystal resting on it's own pillow, amidst and assortment of all the required materials for the contraction of a new lightsaber. Anwar wept for joy.
With a lightsaber at his side again, Anwar's already potent need to train seemed to double. Unfortunately, there was only one faction available for him to do so with other people, which he always craved. He attempted to be resilient, but he was curious, and it was only too easy for the Sith to appeal to his cynicism regarding the Jedi's narrow view of the forces expressive potential. One Dark Jedi in particular, a Zabrak woman named Malice Devion, became a friend to the young men, especially Anwar. She was heavily allied with the Sith and had been dispatched by the Sith order as soon as they knew of Anwar's presence. It didn't take long for her to convince him to train with her, he was 26 and craved new challeneges. She appealed to his sense of artistry, and they explored the force with all of their emotion. Despite herself, Malice even learned from Anwar. Even with anger, hate, and fear, Anwar could not be torn from his pleasure, and joy. Despite her ceaseless invitations, he put off any complete commitment to the Sith. Meanwhile, Hugh continued to lie about his drug use, and began wearing out his welcome. He bought good grace when he could, but Sith patience has a limit. They were not fond of such vices, the preferred more cultured endeavors. Malice and Anwar for example kept attending the theatre and symphonies together, but Hugh would insist on the same wild parties. Malice and Anwar were clearly more than sparring partners. Though the boys had similar arrangements before, Hugh was furious about the obvious space growing between them, and blamed Malice.
The Sith were growing impatient with both young men. They also had fabulous lawyers. Turns out Hugh's father had specified several Sith benefactors of the estate in the event of an inheritors absence. Malice was assigned a new task. Anwar and Hugh had been fighting more and more, over drugs, over Malice. Anwar's emotions ran high, and the Sith chose new it was time to strike, and claim the gifted Jedi. Anwar was in the yacht's hangar, lifting ships to clear his mangled thoughts. He felt it instantly. It was too late. He arrived to see Malice's lightsaber leave Hugh, and his body collapse to the ground. He felt every feeling his body could hold all in an instant. Then, at a moment that could have torn his sense from his heart, Anwar miraculously found stillness. The following battle that ensued was the end of a chapter in his life. Through nearly 15 minutes of swordplay, thrown objects, tossed persons, lightning, seared blood, and devastation, Anwar learned why he fought. He learned what it meant for him to kill, what the lives of others meant to him. Most importantly, he learned those values are his own. They are not the Sith's, nor are they the Jedi. When the dance was through he thanked his partner. A Sith Knight Anwar recognized was already there, to play on the hate and anger they had hoped to drive him to. But his own fleeting clarity protected him. The Sith, to be fair, was caught off guard (Anwar played along with him for a few moments). Afterward, Anwar thanked his second partner, the left half.
A Grey Horizon
He was smart enough to flee before a Master arrived. He took the yacht directly back to Coruscant, where a new surprise was waiting. Hugh's lawyer had tipped him about the will be examined. Hugh had left it all to his beloved Anwar, with a note "You'll have get rid of it, or they will come for you too. But hey, goodness gracious them at least. None of it matters like you." At 27 Anwar inherited a fortune, and immediately destroyed it. He anonymously donated half, 24 million credits, to arts organizations across the core worlds, but predominately Coruscant, which was as close to home as anything. The remaining half he used as a gift to the Jedi Temple. Maybe a part of him wanted to buy a way back, absurd as that was. Maybe he felt he owed them tuition. He would never be sure. He liquidated the other assets and property he had inherited, which more than doubled the worth of the existing capital, a cool 115 million. With it he secured his new home, The Diva's Lament. He had flown a V-1 prototype once before, owned by a spoiled brat who only crashed it eventually. The ship was his dream. The rest went into some equipment, an impressive wardrobe, and a three year rental lease on public hangar space in Coruscant's upper levels. A small amount was saved for living expense, but he had no interest in accumulating actual wealth. The last bit seemed to disappear; coincidently a mysterious gentlemen around this time blew a few million credits in the Lucky Star.
He knew where to find work. He started with smuggling light cargo on the Diva. Bought Goober after one amusing law risk run together. This resulted in a few scuffles with pirates and the discovery of his great distaste for them. Another side effect was word spreading about his skill in a fight, and the little silver cylinder on his hip. He began receiving bounties, and he took them. But there were not many friends among these thieves. No love, no family. He wanted to see his sister, but feared her rejection. He occasionally plays in a dive, and lives mostly on the Lament. He is a rogue Jedi, looking for a home.
*Note* No images linked are mine. All tech/equipment is pre-existing from other users. I am also super game for intertwining character relationships if our paths may likely have crossed.
RP Sample:
:: Anwar leaned into the pirates chest with the tip of his blaster::
"Are you finished, Gregor? Tell them to stand down, and let me leave with MY money."
::The Bothan surveyed his immediate crew of a dozen, and laughed long::
"You know what I hear Sadis? I hear you don't like killing..."
:: the dozen of Gregor's crew sharing the hangar, shared a laugh as well. Anwar sighed. He did not plan this complication, and was happy to peacefully leave with his credits.. He was trying to be generous, but Gregor's gang was particularly stupid. Trying to belittle Anwar in front of a pirate crew might change the plan. He began tapping the barrel impatiently on Gregor's puffed out chest, and examined the room::
"Gregor..."
"Don't worry, Jedi..." ::the mockery was thick:: "We'll let you fly away with your good feelings."
"Don't"
"Pull the trigger then.."
"Please stop, I can't let you say that again.."
"Come on Sadis! Pu-"
*pzzzt*
:: It took exactly 1.4 seconds for Gregor's backup to register what had happened. While they held their breath, Anwar drew his deep, and enjoyed the stillness in that brief respite before the storm. His lightsaber leapt to his free hand and sparked to life, just as the first hail of fire came at him. He was a bit too pressed to send any back where they came from, but he managed to swat them away. He tucked his AA-37 away while dashing to his left, red blade twirling. He isolated their left flank and fell behind them to keep from taking fire from all twelve at once. One, two, three more bolts cast aside. Anwar went low, under the second wave of shots as he closed distance and took the first man's leg. An upward follow through traced a lethal black line across the second man's torso. A quick flick of his wrist and the next three went flying. He took to the air with a two step bound, and during his accent he sent the next man's plasma bolt back into his skull. On the way down he plunged a red beam through the thug after that. As they struck the ground a wave of force whipped outward and floored another 4. The last man standing fired almost by accident, and with a flourish, Anwar had him eating that mistake. For the sake of some invisible teacher, he made a poor attempt to pretend he wasn't pleased with himself. He bowed to the scattered casualties, then returned to Gregor only to pry the heavy case full of Anwar's latest bounty from the man's stiff fingers::
"Goober, open the back"
:: Anwar began to cross the public hangar towards Diva's Lament. Her cargo door did not open"
"Goober..."
How was your meeting Master? ::came the chipper reply from his com::
"oh no.. not now..."
You don't want the back open now, master?
"This is NOT the time. There will be more, MANY- "
::Before he could finish, the hangar doors flew open. Two dozen more poured in. Before Anwar could curse his droid again, Goober shot first. The Diva's lower light blaster cannon was zipping from side to side, keeping the next round of gunman bottlenecked at the doors. Still, Anwar had to bat furiously at oncoming fire::
Are you sure you don't want me to op--
"Yes, dammit, open the..."
::But the hatch was already lowering. He leapt the ramp early and tossed his credits to the side as he stormed through to the cockpit. He could hear the blaster fire scuffing his beautiful ship as took the helm. At least Goober had started her up. As the diva lifted off, Anwar pull her hard to the right to get the full weapons array facing a now terrified crew of space pirates. He let off a final warning shot, leaving the few to hopefully remember they ought to leave him alone some other day. Soon after, he and Goober were on their way to Coruscant to do some shopping. Once safely off-world, Anwar threw on the auto, and reclined in his pilots chair. As he began to kick of his shoes a glass of Corellian whiskey appeared in front of him, wrapped in spindly metal fingers::
You should have seen your face master. Based on the images I've compared it to, the data implies it was very funny.
::Anwar indulged in a deep exhale and a long pull on his drink. His purple eye softened and took in the stars before him, looking for something, but not knowing what. He plucked out a single blue hair of a small frizzy cluster that had been singed, and flicked it at his gangly droid. In a longing tone he replied::
"Well as long as you had fun, scrap head. :: he paused:: Anything for a good time..."
