Grand Master Roq Nd'ath'terrain'akai

[Kella]

Name: Roq Nd’ath’terrain’akai
Race: Graarl (custom)
Age: 65
Height: 3’1” at the shoulder
Weight: 284 lbs
Length: 8’8”, head to tail
Appearance:
At first glance, Roq hardly appears to be a Jedi. He is a quadruped, though he bears six pairs of limbs – the first set form a pair of broad, bat-like wings, slender fingers joined by a thin, but incredibly tough membrane.

Just like all of his kind, Roq’s head is dominated by a large, foreboding beak. The end of the upper beak is wickedly curved, and this edge flows into jagged serration as it nears the skull. Roq’s eyes are a dark slate gray, extremely acute and sharply observant. Anyone looking close would notice the slight circular depression near the root if his jaw, the only sign of his internal ears. The Graarl sense of hearing relies not only on vibrations picked up by the ear, but vibrations sensed by the scales along the body, and the sensitive membranes of a pair of frills, one on the left, one on the right, that extend from the base of his skull. Once brightly colored, years away from his home planet has caused this membrane to fade to near-black, an odd phenomenon.

Roq’s entire length is covered in scales of varying size an shape, though most form a vaguely triangular ellipse. The scales fade from a lighter gray in the center, to a slightly darker gray on the rough edges. Similar to the way a cougar is lightly-colored underneath, so Roq has a band of differently-shaped scales, stretching from his chin, and down his entire length along the width of his belly. These scales are structured similarly to the belly-scales of a snake, short vertically and long lengthwise. Roq’s set almost has a pearlescent quality, and they are shaded a whitish-blue, as if the clouds and the sky blended together and leant him their color.

Beginning at the base of his skull, Roq has a subtle ridge of scales that run along the length of his spine. Their height gradually diminishes to fade into the length of a long and slender, but surprisingly muscular tail. At the end, the tail splits into five finger-like struts, which support another black membrane. A third of a tail length above is another similar, but smaller structure. These work in tandem to help the Graarl steer during flight, and remain balanced on the ground.

His forelegs are slender and taloned like a bird’s, while the back legs, which also end in viciously clawed toes, are more reminiscent of a large feline’s, or even a velociraptor’s.

The years have taken their toll on the Master, and long-ago injuries have distorted the color and growth pattern of a few of his scales. Several scars mar the membrane of his wings, reminders of battles won and lost.

Listening to the master can be disconcerting, for his beak opens and closes minimally when he speaks. Nearly all of the Graarl’s vocal articulation is performed in his throat. In fact, if the Jedi ever decided to hang up his proverbial robes and become a ventriloquist, he would be quite convincing, for his vocal structure allows him to imitate almost any sound – this is the crux of Graat, the Graarl language. As it were, however, he’s more than content being a Jedi.

Though often mistaken for an exotic pet, this impression is quick to crumble. Give him a few moments, and Roq proves that he is more intelligent than he looks, less barbaric than his claws suggest, and just as formidable as he appears.


Personality:
The fallacy of first impressions lies more in the impressed, than it does in the impressor himself. Like a floating iceberg, only that small tenth reveals itself to the world. The vast majority is hidden beneath the shifting waves, never to be seen by the sky. Even so, that whole iceberg is made of the same fibre, and like a plant whose real sustenance lies underground, the shapes that present themselves on the outside, are inevitably derived from the deeper stuffs below.

And so it could be said of Roq Nd'ath'terrain'akai. Though there are many thick and armored plates obscuring his core, bits of his true self shine through the cracks, revealing who he is.

It would seem, at first introduction, that Roq was simply another sagely master -- serene, a touch intimidating, and somewhat unsettling, the way his words seem to come out of nowhere. And then, one realizes that there is a sense of humor, lurking just beneath the surface. His way of speaking is such that one is compelled to believe even the wildest claim for a moment, before suddenly realizing the old lizard is simply being sarcastic.

Roq is ever a creature of balance. He is as rooted to reality as his name suggests, but he can cut his chains and soar through the sky. He knows there are instances in which time is of short supply, but he also understands that patience is the most valuable thing a Jedi can learn. Just when things seem to be reaching the very tipping edge of their breaking point, the Force steps in.

Emotions are something upon which Roq has spent much thought. He has come to the conclusion that emotion is part of what it is to be -- it is what separates true consciousness from the artificial sentience of droids. As with all things of the Jedi, emotions come back to balance and control -- as long as the Jedi controls the emotions, and the emotions do not control the Jedi, then the proper psyche is maintained. As such, Roq has formed for himself a cornerstone of contentment, optimism, and hope. This cornerstone is rarely, if ever seen, but it establishes a foundation upon which the outer shell can be built. Roq tends to be irrepressible, simply because no emotion manages to penetrate this outer layer. He might express frustration, excitement, affection, or even anger, without compromising this core state of being.

Only the Force can affect him at this profound level. Concerning this entity, Roq believes it to be living and active, an energy that surrounds all things, and is all things. It is shaped and affected by those who touch it, and shapes and affects those in turn, either evening out their inconsistencies, or exaggerating their characteristics. Roq believes that ultimately, the Force seeks balance, and Roq strives to be that balance.


Birth place: Astrum V (custom)

Faction: Jedi
Rank: Master, High Council member, Grand Master


Lightsaber: N/A


Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:

Telekinetic: 8
Telepathic: 7
Body: 7
Sense: 8
Protection: 9
Healing: 6
Destruction: 3

Specialized Skills: Ray, Force Absorb, Battle Meditation (very mild), a variation of Electric Judgment, Force Barrier, Stasis

Attributes:

Physical Strength: 7
Intelligence: 7
Speed: 8
Leadership: 7

Unarmed: 9
Melee Weapons: 1
Ranged Weapons: 1

Force Attunement: +7

[Kella]

Chapter One: Naturally



Nativitas

It was no Ordinary day for him, as he felt light, and cold for the first time. Even as his eyes stretched open in their wide gaze, his mother’s face filled his vision. Her rough tongue traced around his soft, pliable scales as she cleaned away the birth-slime that clung to his every-wheres. Chirping and Whirring he heard, and it was not long before he’d imitated those same sounds in his own throat, (what a strange feeling). So delighted by the noise was he, he simply could not stop exercising his new vocal cords.
It was not long before he learned Miiir as his mother, and Wuuun as his father. And he was their son, and he was loved.

Though Miiir and Wuuun could never be persuaded to call any day ordinary, those first few days of his life passed as would be expected of any Graarl chick. He cooed incessantly, calling for both mother and father, even when it wasn’t necessary. He pined for food, tasted his first meat at an average time. Weeks passed as his soft scales hardened, and finally, he could be let out of the Roost. The toddler loved to run around, jump and play, tug at his father’s frills, and flag his wings up in the air. Already, he loved the feel of the wind rushing over them. His thoughts began in simple pictures, feelings, sensations. The sun made him trill happily, while the darkness told him it was time to curl up with his mother. The noises of his throat made him understood, though he barely understood the noises of others.

Then, finally, he came to know the name of himself. It sounded like the rocks of the cliff, the roar of the sea and the trill of the air, the hum of the solid earth, and the warmth of its soil. This Graarl name filled him with joy, while he soon came to know the name the Nihran gave him – Kruuun.

Many suns passed, and the Toddler became a thoughtful child. He romped with his playmates and glided from shallow ledges, learning and watching. He loved to play tag with the Nihran children, his quick feet making him an elusive prize. Miiir and Wuuun balanced love with discipline, though little Kruuun was a thoughtful and cooperative youngling. Except, that is, when it came to exploring.

Kruuun could not be contained. He climbed to the roof ledges of the Roost cavern, wormed his way into the food storages, flittered down to where the sea-foam licked the cliffs. His wings weren’t even full-grown yet, and the now-juvenile had exasperated his parents to the degree that they’d accepted it as part of his personality. Upon finding Kruuun in some odd place or other, the Graarls of the roost would simply shake their heads and thrum knowingly, leaving the juvenile on his way.

He tried to listen as he was taught the ways of the Graarls, their hunting and their culture, but inevitably his eyes would glaze over and he would be caught dreaming about what lay over that literal ocean of mystery…

New Wings, New Eyes

In Kruuun’s seventh year, his wings were finally grown enough: At long last, Kruuun was going to learn to fly. It was a lesson that had begun from his very day of birth, with the flagging of his wings. The foundations had been laid in he and his fellow toddler’s flapping games, and even as they glided from the Roost’s shallow ledges, they’d been priming their wings. There was no big production on this day, no teaching or no list of rules. The day they learned to fly, was simply they day they were allowed to try.

The cliffs provided the perfect platform, and the sea below would catch their falls. Kruuun started from the lowest ledge of the Roost, slowly working his way upwards, each glide lasting longer than the last… He caught on no faster than his peers, but he was certainly not the last. By the end of the day, the juveniles were showing off their newfound skills, the girls agile and graceful with their acrobatics, the boys launching themselves from the cliff, and seeing who could glide the furthest before touching the water. It was great fun, but the fun pulled from deep instincts, and even something as new as flying felt as familiar as blinking.

Kruuun’s personality could best be described as… thoughtful. He was rarely loud or opinionated, and preferred to observe a conversation, piping in with unexpectedly apt comments when everyone thought he wasn’t paying attention. He made a few friends with his peers, but couldn’t be bothered with them for long. His truest friend was the sky, the cliffs, the sea. Kruuun took advantage of his newfound wings, and could always be found running off one place or other. Even those who tried to make friends with him found he couldn’t be pinned down for meaningful conversation. His parents were distracted by Kruuun’s new siblings, and so he found the warmth of a mother in the sun on the black rocks, the leadership of a father in the curve of a game-path.

It was not long before his wanderings intersected with those of a Nihran girl, not so very unlike himself. Her name was Naadek, lost-one. She, too, could not be bound in her exploring. And so Kruuun finally found his friend. Though neither did much talking, as they spoke with the trees and the plains, they spoke with each other. Their only common ground was that which they’d never walked before, and each night, the parting from each other was almost as difficult as the parting from the sunset.

Thus passed a year, and as Kruuun continued to grow, the distance he could travel in a day’s time broadened. Some days, he’d even allow Naadek to ride his shoulders as he sprinted, so she could see the broad landscapes, the jungles and the river-mouth. However, Kruuun soon became discontent. He traveled with his parents to the other Roosts as often as he could, but still, it was not enough. The waves of that ocean beat at him with the same dogged persistence they applied to the cliffs, and he longed to know just what was across that sea. One day, the eight-year-old juvenile, still not fully grown, got the idea in his head that he would indeed fly across that sea.

As the sun rose, he set off, the thought of his prize more important than what he was leaving behind. As his talons left the cliff, an exhilaration leapt through his bones, as the sea’s thermals caught his billowed wings. Half the day he flew and flew, until the land behind was but a dark strip against the endless expanses of blue and grey. He was Lord of the skies!

~

Kruuun thought it was odd that the sky began to darken so early in the day… and in his waking dreams, he had not realized that the darkness came with the clouds that gathered overhead. They trembled and growled, challenging the young Graarl. He cried back at them, returning their challenge. A bolt of lighting flickered between the clouds, and for the first time, Kruuun felt a pang of fear.

The storm billowed and expanded, gaining momentum as it gnashed its teeth with thunder. The jaws of the massive beast opened and swallowed the foolish creature, for he had dared challenge their dominion of the skies and seas…

Disillusions of Grandeur

Kruuun awoke, and all was quiet. He was in the Roost. He was safe and warm. He could almost believe that his drowning had been only a dream. And yet, he bore the soreness in his lungs, and he knew it was all too real. His awakening was met by no special ceremony, no happy faces. He learned from one of his peers that when Kruuun hadn’t returned at sunset, his mother had grown worried. His father had gone off to find him, and spoken with Naadek. Having not seen Kruuun, and knowing his desire to see over the sea, she suggested that perhaps he’d set off over the water. Somehow, Wuuun knew this was true. And so, he had set out across the waves, braving the fringes of the storm. He was a far faster flyer than the youngling Kruuun, and had quickly caught up, swooping his son from the water just as Kruuun’s struggles had begun to fade.

Kruuun felt guilty for the trouble he’d caused. And yet, Miiir was not there to tend to him until he awoke. Wuuun might have stayed home from the hunt, but he did not. Kruuun struggled with his disillusionment. It was not his parents who had let him down – it was the skies. He’d been just another Graarl caught in a usual weather pattern. Nature was no longer the magical, welcoming place it had once been. He’d stopped admiring the viper’s pattern, and finally seen the venom in its fangs. Nature did not truly care for him, any more than did his mother, or his father. Kruuun was all alone in the world.

Metropolitan Merit

“I want to see the city!”
Those had been Naadek’s exact words. She had been determined to get Kruuun out of his disillusioned depression for days now, and she’d finally done the trick. The city had always been just out of reach for Kruuun: the trip there took half a day, and the trip back another half, and so Kruuun had only ever been able to glide overhead.

But now, now he had an opportunity to see this city that was so apart from impartial nature. Naadek’s clan was delivering their wares to the city as gifts for the friends and family who lived within Lawaiilig’s walls. This year, Naadek was finally old enough to travel with the trades-women, and she’d invited Kruuun to come along. A few adult Graarls were along as well, vriend or vriende to a few of the trades-women. Kruuun hardly had to ask for permission. As he and Naadek set off along the dusty trail, his spirits lifted for the first time in days.

~

The city intrigued Kruuun. He was not intimidated… it was built by man, so it could be no greater than man. But they way they’d crafted such lofty walls, straight-edged structures, flat-paved roads… it was interesting, to say the least. His explorer’s spirit still burned, Kruuun would have been happy as ever simply following the trades-women through the city. Naadek, however, would hear none of it. She grabbed the little Graarl by the ridge of his neck and hauled him off, sneaking past the elders and into the city. And thus, the exploration began…

The troublemakers found their way to the hangars, where Kruuun drug his feet. He wanted to watch the strange ships take off and land… he’d seen them in the distance, never this close… Naadek put up with him for a short while, before she drug him off to the market.

In the end, Kruuun ended up sulking along. He heard bits and pieces of the strange robed men and their conversation while he dutifully followed Naadek, but he could make no sense of what was so special about one particular force, what in the world a ‘lite-sabur’ was, and why they’d be looking for a ‘jed-eye’. Naadek struck up charming conversation that Kruuun grudgingly translated – after being mistaken for her pet by the younger of the two men. Kruuun would have bit him out of sheer grumpiness if he hadn’t turned beet red with embarrassment. The older one was ‘Master Kai-Mur’, and the younger one was ‘Padawan Brinks’. Kruuun didn’t know what to make of the titles, but Naadek hardly missed a beat.


Toward the end of the conversation, Kruuun suddenly found himself on the spot. The Master was asking him if he’d ever heard of a thing called ‘The Force’, or those people called the ‘jed-eye’. He hadn’t, of course. Then the Master began to tell him of a great place, ‘Kor-oo-sant’, with a temple and many more jed-eyes. They could all use that thing called the Force. They learned much, all about the Galaxy, travelling to different worlds and learning new languages… the master asked Kruuun what he thought of that. Kruuun didn’t know what to think. Naadek did, however. Jealous of the attention, she reasserted herself as the focus of the conversation, and little more was said about jed-eye. However, Kruuun felt a… tickle, in the back of his mind, and sometimes, he would lose his place in translating. However, the master just gave him a strange nod, and Kruuun continued…

Naadek engaged Brinks in a wordless game, as the master slipped off with a significant look. Kruuun pretended to be watching the game… but his curiosity was overwhelming, and he took advantage of his acute hearing to listen to the jed-eye…

[/i] Said a voice, strange and garbled, as if it were coming over a long distance… a ghost voice…

“I’ve discovered a force-sensitive child.” He spoke into some strange rock-like device in his hand…

“That is hardly unusual.”

“Oh the contrary, Master. He is a quadruped, a Graarl. One of the natives. The remote trading world, Astrum V. Hardly any technology, but surprisingly advanced intellectually. We’ve been interviewing other natives about the species.”

“How old is he?”

“Eight.”

“At what age does his species mature?”

“Ten.”

“Too old, he is, far too old.”

“Listen to me, Master. I have probed his mind. He is more innocent to the galaxy than most Coruscanti toddlers. And the Graarl culture – it puts a heavy emphasis on intellectual action, using one’s mind instead of one’s emotions. Hardly contradictory of the Jedi teachings.”

“… What about attachments?”

“His parents are distracted, I have sensed little attachment from him. Unlike much of his race, he seems to be restless… unwilling to pin himself down to one place or another. He is an explorer. The Force has called him to this, I am sure of it. It has willed he come with us.”

“You have spoken with his parents?”

“No, I learned this from… well, from probing his mind…”

“Kai-mur, you know that extortion is hardly acceptable—“

“Of course not, Master. It didn’t harm him in the least -- The natives have minimal exposure to the Force, and little natural protection.”

“… Fine then. Bring the creature in. You had better make this worth my while, though, and if there’s any trouble…”

“I’ll take care of it. May the Force be with you.”

“Kai-mur, some days you give me such a headache… may the force be with you… You and your blasted projects…” [/ul]

The Master returned, and Kruuun made a show of being intently focused on the game. The master asked if he could meet Kruuun’s parents, and said it was a matter most urgent. Kruuun informed him that the foreigners couldn’t go outside the city, to which the master simply nodded, and asked if Kruuun could bring his parents to the city limits. Kruuun nodded, and said he’d try.

But in his heart, he knew he’d do more than try. For in his heart, somewhere, he knew this was his future.

It’s Not Goodbye When You’re Going Home

The sun had barely crested the horizon, and Kruuun was waiting dutifully by the gate. Miiir was at his left, and Wuuun at his right. The other children were still at the Roost – the one time his parents had taken a moment to dedicate attention to Kruuun was the last they’d ever see him. Oh bitter irony. Miiir and Wuuun talked at length with the Jedi Master, and had the good sense to send Kruuun truly out of earshot. Finally, Kruuun was summoned.

[/i]. Goodbye, my son. Do not forget your Song. Always be curious.” And thus she turned and left, leaving Kruuun to mull the meaning of the worlds. Content, she had said. In Graaat, the Graarl language, the word carried great connotation. It meant being at home, fulfilled physically and emotionally, at peace with the world, surrounded by one’s family. Kruuun, then… was to find that not here, but the Galaxy. His mind fixed on what to come, he dutifully followed the Jedi to their craft. He looked back, one last time, to see a young Nihran girl, standing and waving at him. Naadek. He nodded to her, and smiled. Their friendship had begun in silence. It now ended in silence. And both were at Peace.[/ul]

Nominal Enterprises

Roq peered with wonder out the window as they took off… he watched the world grow smaller and smaller below… and then, suddenly, he remarked something in the middle of the ocean… Two islands that could only ever be seen from orbit. His eyes widened, and he was filled with the overwhelming sensation that the sea had stopped him, because what was hidden there, he was not supposed to find… But then he caught a glimpse of the viewport on the other side of the ship, and in the crystal expanse of the stars, all Roq’s mysteries were forgotten.

Space was amazing. Awe-inspiring. Kruuun couldn’t describe it with words. He couldn’t describe it with feelings. It just… was. Padawan Brinks cut into his musings.

The rest of the trip, Kruuun divided between watching the mesmerizing colors of hyperspace, and repeating his new name. And even as he did, every lightyear brought him closer to his new home…

The Deciding Factor

Roq was stunned by Coruscant. It was overwhelming; everything was new. The ships, the cities, the smog in the sky... Where were the trees, the rivers, the mountains? Everything was engulfed by these... metal squares. However, when Roq really took a moment to look at them... he realized they had their own art, their own landscape. And finally, the grandeur of the temple was upon him. Sweeping, bold curves, a massive structure of metal and stone... Roq had never seen architecture of this magnitude. His wide, grey eyes glazed over, reflecting broad arches and tall columns, filled with the sight of a hundred different species, every one of them Jedi. It was like being born all over again.

So completely consumed was the little Graarl, that he barely heard Master Kai-Mur's warning that he might not be welcome, that he might be forced to return to Astrum V, or the comforts and condolences that soon followed. He was oblivious to Padawan Brinks's snide comments, instead eavesdropping on a nearby Togrutan conversation, marveled by the way his mind began to puzzle apart the language.

The journey seemed to take a year, up and through the temple. Roq felt joy like he never had before! Oh, what a glorious place, this temple! His eyes were filled a moment by the grand doors in front of him. He did not feel quite as small as he had compared to the ocean, but by all means, he still felt small. Somehow, he realized that he was being told to sit and wait, and so he did. Roq gazed outward, absorbing every detail he could, his breath soft and awed. The little Graarl could not know that as he drunk up the city, his entire future was being decided, not ten yards away...


The voices of masters batted this way and that, a ping-pong ball bounced twelve different ways. And yet, their tones remained as calm and collected as if discussing the previous day's weather patterns; even so, the gravity of the decision in question was full-known to every point of the circle. Some spoke that the Graarl was far too old, while others listened to Kai-Mur's insistence that the Graarl culture was similar enough to the Jedi culture. It was a tough issue -- on the one hand, it seemed that Graarls matured even faster than the baseline humanoid. On the other hand, it seemed that the Graarl might be more receptive to the Jedi's teaching than were must of the admitted younglings. After all, yet another argued, the purpose of the limit on admission age was to ensure that the younglings were receptive to the teachings. It was realized that it would take extra effort to tailor the lessons of the temple to such an unusual case, and debate ensued as to whether or not it was worth it. Did this creature really have enough potential with the Force to warrant special treatment? At long last, it was determined that the only way to determine the matter for sure, would be to speak to the Graarl himself.

Within the chambers, an consensus was reached. Even the dissenters grudgingly agreed to accept the majority opinion, and the council had decided.

And so the days of the Jedi began.

The Variety Show

Roq was then brought into the younglings' chambers, with as warm a welcome as Master Kat’rn could ever bestow – and even that was still practically frigid. From the very start, his teaching was… different. Traditionally, a youngling’s time was divided evenly between Force practices and lightsaber combat, and classes were balanced to compensate for this. However, it was determined very soon, and after very many burns, that Roq would never be able to effectively wield a lightsaber in combat. And so, half his scheduled class time was… empty. Each day of this, then, from his eighth to his twelfth year, was spent training one-on-one with a Master. Some days, he learned telepathy from encouraging Master Kai-Mur. Other days, The Nikto master Bok Tysr would teach him how to use his claws. And then, occasionally, even the skeptical master Kat’rn would verse the young Graarl in the proper way to meditate, to allow the Force to move through him. Interestingly enough, Kat’rn found that his fears for the child’s attachments were ill-founded. In his wonder at coming to the temple, Roq had neglected to repeat any of those memories of his mother. Likewise, even when he had been at the nest, he had experienced little worth remembering. Sincerely, effectively, Roq remembered only two things of his homeland; the stretching expanse of the landscape, and that feeling of being dominated by the sky and sea.

By the time he was thirteen, he was well-versed in all the codes of the Jedi, having repeated them in his mind again and again, and spoke them aloud. He had applied his memory not just to the usual code… but to histories, writings, and ancient manuscripts as well. He was fascinated by the stories of old, Tales of the origin of the order, of the terrible wars… Of the fall of the Sith, of the rise of the Jedi. He devoured these records. Perhaps even the historian thought the young Graarl would find his calling in the dusty annals of the Jedi library. And yet, wanderlust grasped at him. Now that he could hear the Force, he knew it was calling for him. Patiently, he waited, and patiently, he listened to his lessons, though biologically he was far more mature than many christened Knights. And thus, painfully, slowly, Roq learned that virtue of patience. Come to find out, it would serve him well.

Depending on your definition of the word, Roq either made a hundred friends, or none. This was not to say that the Graarl was antisocial – far from it. In fact, just about every youngling liked him, in some way or form. However, none of these friendships became anything more than cordial recognition. To Roq, his studies always came first, and so he had little time to pursue a circle of friends. It was not so very different from the circumstances on Astrum V – Roq was nice enough, but anytime anyone tried to get under his scales, he brushed them off, distracted by some new bit of knowledge.

Ordered Arrangements

After five years of training at the temple, it was deemed that Roq could learn little more through his classes. That presented a new dilemma, however – the structure of Jedi training was designed to smoothly incorporate lightsaber training. Roq’s unique case would leave an uncomfortable hole in the schedule. In addition, there were things he needed to learn, that not only one master could teach – for example, it would be best that an avian coach him on his flying, where a more earth-bound teacher would be needed to hone his claws. Telekinesis would prove to be a valuable resource, but without the rigors of saber training, more of his mind could be devoted to other, more separate branches of the Force – telepathy, for instance. Roq presented a conundrum indeed.

Roq felt hopelessly caught in the middle as his fate was tossed one way, then another by the debates of the Jedi council. First, the decision was delayed by an Outer Rim crisis, and a Quorum could not be reached. Then, discussions of a particularly dangerous dark side cult dominated all council meetings. At first, Roq grew impatient. He had waited so very kindly for so very long, and they could not even gift him with a simple solution! However, it was while gazing into one of the thousand fountains that Roq finally realized he was being extremely arrogant. Who was he, to think that the fate of one (troublesome, it was worth adding) Jedi learner, was more important than the fate of the entire galaxy? Because it wasn’t. Finding a strange comfort in his insignificance, Roq’s patience returned.

It was finally decided. Roq would first train with a Sentinel, Seeira Quin. She was a Cathar, who had put more effort into unarmed fighting than saber fighting, and was considered a protégé in Body, a facet of the force that would serve the Graarl well. Seeira would serve as his escort on various missions, while Roq’s time at the temple would be consumed by learning from various masters and aides, not so very different from his special classes as a youngling. When he could learn no more for Seeira, another master would be selected for him, and so on and so forth, until the Council deemed the young Graarl ready for knighthood.

The Catharian Inquisition

The subject of the first few weeks of Roq’s training could be summed up in two words – twenty questions. Seeira was an inquisitive feline, and she was set upon knowing exactly how broad Roq’s knowledge was. Leading by example, she turned his natural inquisitiveness into a knack for asking questions. It was infuriating for anyone trying to follow their conversations, for more often than not, one question was answered with another. Seeira and Roq seemed satisfied, though, and that intellectual connection served the basis of their relationship as master and Padawan, and would, for several years to come.

Roq’s first true mission was of a diplomatic nature – as was to be expected. They were to settle out the ownership of a particular moon, disputed by two clans. Except for the embarrassing instance in which Roq was mistaken as Seeira’s pet, the mission went off without a hitch.

As did the next one. And the one after that. And the one after that. With some reluctance, Roq admitted to himself that though they went on more missions than most Padawan/Master pairs, their missions were – well – boring. It seemed that Seeira valued quantity over quality, but this puzzled Roq, for it seemed entirely out of her character. It was not until Roq stood, staring into that same fountain as before, that he realized it was entirely out of character. It was not the missions that Seeira has chosen, so much as the places… she was exposing him to as much of the galaxy as possible. Seeira had figured, and rightly so, that appealing to Roq’s sense of exploration and discovery would encourage his learning. This sort of understanding would persist throughout Roq’s time with Seeira, Making it extremely productive for the both.

Such continued Roq’s assimilation into the breadth of the Galaxy. Three years, he was trained under master Seeira, three years they explored, until Roq could recite the major planet systems by heart. Not only that, but his skills were close to matching Seeira’s in telekinesis – what more he had to learn, he would have to teach himself. He’d learned to wield his claws precisely, but also to allow Force to rule his instinct, and instinct to rule his actions. Seeira could teach him no more – all that remained was for Roq to hone his skills with time and practice.

Heavyweight

After much scrutiny by Master Kat’rn, Roq was finally presented with the knowledge that his next master would be Bok Tysr, the Nikto who had helped train him when he was a youngling. Roq was now sixteen, which seemed young to everyone but him. Graarls matured at age ten, and Roq’s patience was being rubbed thin by his itch to prove himself. Bok caught him grumbling about the situation one day, and brought out a poignant point – Roq’s maturity meant he’d be able to learn more from the teachings, and make better use of his Padawan. That, however, didn’t do half as much to improve his attitude as Bok’s matter-of-fact statement, “If you were really mature, you wouldn’t be moping!” Roq was quick to shape up.

Bok proved to be an intense master, driving Roq to his very limits on the training grounds. More than any other teacher, he stressed the importance of Roq’s flying – often neglected by other, earth-minded teachers. Bok believed in applying every asset in one’s possession, and Roq’s wings made good contention for his best. And so he was made to fly with weights until he felt his wings would fall off, and then he’d run laps around the temple, again and again. Bok began having him race a cleaning droid, and the Graarl was often – and ironically – left hopelessly behind. His time recuperating from sore muscles was spent with holodisks borrowed from the library, and Roq repeated their contents again and again, committing whatever he could to memory. The time for this was scarce, however, since Bok loved to choose those times to go on missions. The hours of hyperspace could not be spent idle, and Bok instructed Roq in ways to meditate, to cleanse his body and clear his mind. He learned a way to pull from the Force around him, and replenish himself, if only ever-so-slightly. Bok also used this time to instruct Roq in the proper way to shield his mind from telekinetic attack – both through the Force, and through simple thought – counting the scales on his right leg, or – as was Roq’s favorite – reciting mentally his encyclopedic knowledge of planets and their terrains.

If only to add to the packed schedule, Bok insisted on choosing exciting missions, and Roq hardly complained. Search-and-destroy was Bok’s favorite game, eliminating terrorist cells and pirate groups that the scouts had labeled as threats. It was a far cry from Seeira’s diplomatic monotony, and Bok was first to teach Roq that sometimes, the ends justify the means. In fact, it was almost a subject of argument, one mission on Corellia.

Two years gone, and one might not have recognized Roq. His sometimes-whiny adolescent nature was completely gone, replaced with a level, determined confidence. His muscles remained compact, but they rested beneath his scales with far more definition than they had. He could fly twice as far without stopping, and had absolutely perfected that trick of coming out of a dive at the last possible second. The day Roq beat the cleaning droid, was bittersweet indeed. He had finally passed Master Bok’s test – and now it was time to move on. Just as he had, at times, seen Master Seeira around the temple, he knew he would see Master Bok as well. And so, it was not quite the end – but in a way it was.

Well, That Was Anti-Climatic

Master Kat’rn was as cynical and skeptical as Jedi High Council Members came – he provided an invaluable foil for the rest of the council. As such, Roq had always gotten the feeling that Master Kat’rn disapproved of him – even from the very first day. As a youngling, Roq’s achievements had never been nearly good enough. Then again, maybe it did make sense, if finally rounding off Roq was some longstanding mission of Kat’rn’s. It was far more likely, however, that Kat’rn’s only mission was to keep Roq’s ego in check. And that, he did an absolutely splendid job of doing.

Roq’s first two months under Kat’rns tutelage were sheer torture. He’d be tasked with some assignment, and finish, glancing at Master Kat’rn for that hint of validation… and receiving none, Roq began to second-guess himself. And that, of course, only earned him Kat’rn’s further disapproval.

Finally, at the end of those sixty days, Roq grew weary of trying to impress the master. Staring into that favorite fountain of his, he decided that he was going to be the best Jedi he could be – whether or not Kat’rn’s definition was the same as his. This seemed to be the thing Kat’rn had been waiting for – Roq was finally beginning to earn small hints of approval.

And then he made the mistake of asking when they’d go on their first mission. Kat’rn’s answer was, simply, ‘Whenever you file the holo-records’. Now, for any digit-wielding humanoid, this was a simple request. They were all endowed with nimble fingers of some kind, fit for entering the information. Roq and his long, sharp talons… were not. He’d never had to file holo-records – masters and friends had always done it for him. Master Kat’rn had left Roq dumbfounded once more – a rare and most annoying feat…

Five broken holodiscs later, and Roq realized that there was no way he was going to be able to handle a disk with his talons. Nor with his beak. And not even, he realized with resignation, the smaller fingers on his wings. Actually, they were quite agile – the only drawback was the utter lack of opposable thumbs.

Roq finally crammed the possibility to the back of his mind, and focused on the training at hand – Master Kat’rn was drilling him in all manners of the Force, from telepathy, to body, to simple healing. The evening was crisp as Roq settled on the roof of the temple, engaging in his nightly reflection before bed. As he practiced a bit of half-hearted telekinesis, something suddenly occurred to Roq, and he raced down into his chambers, and unearthed a few untouched holodiscs. Excitement tingled in his bones. With a bit of practice…

By morning, Roq had broken two more discs, but proof of concept had been achieved. His focus was intense as he lifted the small objects, trying to position them so they’d press the buttons of the holodisc recorder… however, this required the delicate manipulation of several objects, and more than once, Roq had dropped one or all of the pieces. For the next two weeks, his every free moment was absorbed in this mission, honing his telekinesis, making it finer and finer, and increasing his level of control. Finally, Roq could confidently manipulate the holodisc and its recorder in such a way that he could properly scribe the information.

Since Roq was filing the holorecords, he would be able to choose the location of the mission. And the Graarl was definitely not going to take that for granted.

[/i], master.”

“Are your things packed?” It was a trick question.

“A Jedi has no possessions.”

“Well then what are you waiting for?” Kat’rn demanded. “Get to the shuttle!”

No further prodding was required to send Roq racing down the hall, so much zeal in his step that he was almost flying.[/ul]

Exotic Intrigue

The specifics of the mission hadn’t interested Roq nearly so much as the planet. The settlements were very few and very small, and were governed in such a way that the Jedi rarely had to intercede. Even though the sheer formidability of the jungle made it a great place to lose oneself and never be found, the very same feature drove most hiding pirates away. Either that, or they were eaten within the week. There had never been any reason for Master Seeira or Bok to bring him here, and so Roq had never been. Finally, this was his chance, to see the planet that practically breathed the Force!

It was not until the hyperspace journey that Roq finally bothered to study the specifics of the mission. He soon became enthralled. A Falleen – the Intergalactic Police knew him only as ‘Xakiv’(Zha-keev) – had recently been arrested for spreading extremist propaganda. The arresting officials suddenly and unfortunately found out that Xakiv was a Dark Jedi, and he managed to slaughter the startled police and make his escape. Though he was wanted for murder, both the InterPol and the Council found something else far more frightening. Part of his propaganda had involved the notion that if a world with a strong tie to the Force could be corrupted from the inside out, then the living things of the planet could be manipulated by the will of that corruption. Though Xakiv never explicitly mentioned Felucia, it was put at the top of the watchlist – one of only a very few planets with a detectable and significant connection to the Force. A ship stolen the same day and time of Xakiv’s escape had recently been seen entering Felucia’s atmosphere. It was, therefore, Roq and Kat’rn’s mission to locate the Dark Jedi, detain him, and bring him back to Coruscant for trial. If, however, corrupting the planet proved viable, the team was to stop and reverse the process – at all costs.

The trudge through the jungle proved challenging, and more than once, Roq had to put his instincts to use fighting off some wild animal. He’d never really had a chance to hunt, to kill before – all his years at the temple, he’d simply been provided with butchered meat. Roq found a thrill, a high in the hunt, and as the day progressed he eagerly awaited the next snarling maw. Master Kat’rn was too distracted by the tension in the air to correct his Padawan’s potentially dangerous attitude.

Finally, they managed to find their way to a cave where Kat’rn had sensed the Dark Side accumulating. As they wound deeper and deeper into the earth, a trail of dead creatures appeared. In all his study, Roq had never seen anything like them, and Kat’rn concluded the strange, masked beasts must have been Felucian natives. None were left alive.

Finally, they reached the central cavern. Here, the bodies lay the thickest. Centered in the room like some sickly pearl, a mass of dark energy roiled, its purple fog leeching what little life remained in the Felucians. At the core of the sphere was suspended a single Falleen. They’d found their man.

Kat’rn was quick to take his lightsaber to the fiend, but Xakiv parried in kind. Roq might have been more help, if not for the repeated slams from the force as Xakiv beat him away, time and time again. Kat’rn, a consular, had devoted all his resources to keeping up with Xakiv’s aggressive Djem So, and he could gain no advantage. Finally, Roq decided on a new approach. He charged again, knowing the Force push would come. This time, however, he focused on creating a wedge around him in the force, the front a sharp blade, to slice through the force and let it skim away on either side. The Push came and went, and Roq was still charging. Almost as surprised as Xakiv, Roq ran into him headlong, a graceless but effective move. Kat’rn used the distraction to disarm the Falleen, and hold a saber to his throat before promptly knocking him out.

[/i], I’m very sorry I failed to immediately distract the Dark Jedi with a maneuver I have never been taught, and that I did not even know was possible. I’ll be faster next time. Yeah, but I don’t think you’d be happy with that, either.”

“Astute observation, Padawan.”

“Elated we’re clear on that.” Roq’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Great talk, master. So… now what?”[/ul]

The ‘now what’ involved a Kat’rn binding Xakiv, followed by a brief spot of rest before hauling the prisoner out of the cave. Little could be done to soothe the wound the massacre had left on the Felucians, but Kat’rn decided they would fare better without meddling Jedi, and so the caves were left behind.

~

The next four years of Roq’s life crawled by as much as they sped. Once a month, they’d go on some sort of mission. The themes of these missions seemed entirely disjoined and unrelated when compared to one another. Somehow, they made sense to Master Kat’rn, however. Every so often, Roq was able to persuade his master into letting him choose the mission again. However, it always seemed that Kat’rn was behind it all anyway, for Roq always ended up learning some unexpected lesson in some painful way.

Roq still made frequent studying trips to the archives, sometimes at Kat’rn’s instruction, and other times not. He stretched his mind to the very limits, and diligent repetition committed nearly all of this knowledge to the roots of his long-term memory. By the time he was nineteen, Roq had gained a reputation as somewhat of a walking encyclopedia. Younglings would come to him with questions almost as often as they sought out the Archive staff. Seeds of leadership began to burrow into the ready dirt of the self-isolated thinker.

At no prompting from his master, Roq began to invest much of his time in learning the basic theory behind each of the lightsaber forms. The more equipped he was to face his foes, the better.

Risk-Free Trial! – Or not.

Little did Roq know that midway through his twenty-second year, he would be tested like never before.

What had originally begun as a sting operation directed at a local smuggling ring had quickly escalated into a hostage crisis. The drug lord Bara’Abel was holding four members of the Republic Special Forces captive. The Lord’s demands were impossible. The Council sent their most combat-capable Consular to negotiate, and where Master Kat’rn went, Roq was sure to follow. They had done the only thing that could be done – offered their own captivity in exchange for the release of the Republic officers. As it turned out, the smuggling ring was just a front – a corporation funneling money to a growing insurgent group. Despite all their efforts, no further conclusions surfaced.

A week passed in dark and terrifying anticipation. Roq and Kat’rn were separated, and without the stabalizing presence of his master, Roq paced restlessly. However, he would have welcomed the isolation if he had known what would come next. Tortures, unbelievable tortures. They wanted to know everything Roq knew about the Republic, especially concerning a particular Special Ops group. Roq and Kat’rn had been working with them a few months prior. And now, it seemed, the whole thing was one huge trap. The capturing of the four Officers, the hostage exchange… all along they had known Master Kat’rn would be sent. And now they wanted Roq to talk.

Though the torture cut deep in more ways than one, Roq collapsed inside himself. He shored up his defenses in the Force and became lost in his meditation. It was no easy feat, but he managed. Roq would not speak. Time no longer had any meaning, but Roq later learned he had endured nine days of this. Finally, he was dumped in a storage container to await execution. His only company was master Kat’rn.

They quickly compared stories and caught up with one another. However, Roq felt as if something had changed about his master, though he could not figure quite what. Kat’rn was quick to unleash a sudden surge of power that burst the seam on the storage container. Master and apprentice spilled out into an underground room, sterile grey concrete. There was only one guard, and he’d been knocked unconscious by the blast.

[/i].”

Roq suddenly found himself flung to the side, and a sure as Death he could feel the dark taint in the Force his master wielded. No. No. And yet, the Jedi could not fall prey to attachments. They had to do what was right, even when it was difficult. And if Kat’rn was now a threat to the Jedi and to others… then he had to be destroyed.

“I am sorry, master,” he pleaded, “I do not want to fight you. But I must.”

“And you shall!”

The lightsaber swung quick as a flash toward him, and it was all Roq could do to erect a shield in the Force to deflect the blow. The more he listened to the Force, the less his decision troubled him, and the more he realized it truly was the only thing he could do. There was little room to maneuver in the tight space, but every time the saber struck Roq, he deflected the blow. And slowly, as he built confidence, he could hold the contact across the broad edge of his wing. The heat bit quickly through, but he could hold it off for small moments… and perhaps moments were all he needed…[/ul]

As the duel progressed, Roq became suspicious of the lack of intervention. Maybe since they were both slated for death, the captors figured it wouldn’t hurt if they killed each other… Though Roq began to wear out, it seemed Kat’rn wore down faster. Normally, the master would never be so aggressive, and despite the fact that Roq sustained a nasty beating, he was still able to stand upright, still able to keep on fighting. Finally, he spotted a hole in his old master’s defenses and took advantage of it, leaping forward and pinning his master to the ground. He kicked the now-dim saber away, and Kat’rn seemed too weary to use the Force now.

[/i] something to you…”

“It does.” Roq was shocked by the absolutely even nature of the tone. Kat’rn’s countenance had absolutely, completely, and suddenly changed. “You have no reason to trust me now,” he said, “But I always was too good at acting.”

Roq eased back on his master’s throat – the man was rasping terribly. “What?...”

“You only pass the test if you don’t kill me.”

”What?”

Everything suddenly clicked in Roq’s brain. Immediately, his eyes narrowed and he was back on Kat’rn’s throat. “I really should kill you now.”

“All my Padawans… say that,” he choked, “And I’m… still alive.”

Warily, Roq backed off. However, it seemed as if the Force had been in on the whole prank too, for now he could see his master was indeed as he was supposed to be.

“I was about to rip your arm off,” Roq announced.

“The Force endowed me with good timing, and that is what we need to get out of here. Now come along!”[/ul]

Master and Apprentice escaped, somehow, despite the cruel injuries, the mountainous obstacles, and Roq’s shaken psyche. It seemed the Force was with them. A transport carried the weary two back to the temple. For the first time, Roq did nothing while in hyperspace. He did not meditate, he did not train, he did not practice. He stared blankly out the window, trying to think about what his master had done and said, but he was weary, far too weary to make sense of any of it. And so he let the swirling colors of hyperspace drag his mind away…

Chapter I continued in next post.

[Kella]

Risk-Free Trial! – Or not. (Ctd.)

Roq and Kat’rn never really talked about what happened on that mission. That just wasn’t Kat’rn’s way. After a good deal of meditation, Roq decided he trusted his master. It had, after all, been a test. It had been necessary, and to take offense at it would be foolish. He could admit that he was slightly annoyed, but he’d accepted it with little further trauma. What took longer to heal were the physical wounds, the burns and the slashes. As soon as Roq was well enough to leave the med-bay, he was called to the Council for what he assumed was a de-brief…

The council said that standing up to his master had shown a great deal of Courage. They went on to praise his Skill in holding his own against a Force practitioner, and one with a lightsaber, at that. Roq could not let himself wince as they listed the various tortures he had endured, and praised the way he had held his tongue despite such pain in the Flesh. And lastly, they repeated back to him what Roq had told his master about the vision he’d had on the way back to Coruscant. The Grand Master gave him the highest compliment of all, saying that this, and the character he had shown during all of the events, and previous ones, showed that he had the true Spirit of a Jedi. And so it was settled; the next day, Roq would be officially knighted.

Finally, Master Kat’rn, who had been standing next to Roq this whole time, went and reclaimed his seat in the Council circle. Thus was completed the cycle, Master to apprentice, apprentice to Master.

Roq Nd'ath'terrain'akai was a Jedi Knight.

// \\

Chapter Two: Contrarily


Exertus

Roq’s patience finally paid off. Not only did he have new rank, but new freedom -- and new responsibility -- as well. Roq was quick to take the initiative, and arranged training sessions, some short, and some more involved, with whatever Masters were free. He had a tendency to enthusiastically choose the missions the other Knights found less appealing. His diplomatic missions struck the extremes – either painfully dry, or exceedingly dangerous as he found himself between two violent parties. Escort missions were common, though usually unexciting, and Roq often elected to travel to backwater planets and ‘observe’, or trudge through jungles most Jedi found downright unappealing. He did whatever he could to broaden his mind and his skills, and as was his habit, never let any time go to waste. Of course, during his rest at the temple between missions, he frequented the Archives, committing whatever he could to memory.

Thus passed days, then weeks, then months, then a year, and by the time Roq was twenty-three, his life had settled into this general pattern. And then, one year later, at twenty-four, that pattern became a rut. Roq sought advise from Gringot, one of the Archivists who he’d come to know well. Gringot told him simply that he needed to find his calling. Roq considered this as he stared into his favorite of the fountains. And so, he set out to look, not knowing that instead of him finding it… it would find him.

The Discovery

The planet was Farrfin, the mission simple. The cargo, Dorian Quelka, needed to get from Farlhu to Geltyu. Though he was a confirmed Crime Lord, Quelka, a Fondorian, used his influence to maintain stability in the fragile underworld. From time to time, he would report upcoming crimes – some on Farrfin itself, quite a few on other planets -- to the Republic so that they could be prevented. Though he was not all selfless -- most of the busts benefited him in some way -- he was still under Republic protection. The treck to Geltyu was to strike a deal with another Crime Ring, one that could potentially broaden Dorian’s ability to pass on information. So, when he requested a Jedi escort for the journey through enemy territory, the order obliged.

Roq was perfect for the job, as he could blend in perfectly with Dorian’s diverse vanguard. Upon arriving in Farlhu, he was quickly put to work. Over time, he came to respect the Fondorian. The man really did treat his underlings like family, and Roq realized that there was more of a bond there than in many of the up-right and morally-standing families elsewhere in the Galaxy. The trek from Farlhu to Geltyu was quite eventful. Roq found himself lying awake at night, planning out various responses to different attacks. In his waking moments, he let the Force flow in and out of him, collecting its scent, and highly aware of everything around him. Random blaster bolts aimed at Dorian never seemed to hit him, and the varying flying projectiles launched from the shadows seemed to fall short. Roq was in his peak, that place where everything made sense, and flowed perfectly, and he felt as if he was actually doing something worthwhile. By the time the party reached Geltyu, Roq was quite amused by the rumors he heard whispered by those who thought their secrets were safe. Apparently, they suspected Dorian had some sort of magical powers, or some supernatural blessing upon him. And that meant Roq had done his job perfectly.

Then, finally, Roq realized that his ‘calling’, his destiny, was not to be at the forefront of ‘saving the galaxy’, but to protect those who were. That’s where he felt the most in harmony, and suddenly Roq realized it had always been that way. Regardless of whether or not destiny actually existed, at least Roq had found a job that wouldn’t get boring after three months. And so, during that hyperspace ride back to Coruscant, Roq elected to greatly improve upon his skill in protection.

Tunnel-Vision

For the next year, Roq would go on no missions. He was driven. He devoted just enough time to his other skills to maintain them, but every other waking moment was spent practicing some type of Protection skill. Force Bubble, Force Barrier, and Force Stun were all skills that became drawn into Roq’s fascination. He even went so far as to attempt to use Ray; one of his friends literally laughed at him due to the obscurity of the skill. However, Roq refused to be deterred, and though it seemed that he was failing horribly, Roq insisted he was making progress. During this time, Roq showed the true breadth of his intelligence and ability to learn. Each passing day revealed with more and more clarity just how massive his potential in Protection was. And yet, every master must start somewhere, and it was during those long nights and longer days in the temple that Roq laid the foundations he would need.

Now twenty-six, Roq decided that what he now required was a chance to apply what he had learned, and so he began taking missions again. Some times, he would escort various political figures, but most often, he found himself protecting fellow Jedi as they crossed treacherous terrain. He seemed the only one who actually looked forward to braving Felucia, or trudging through Arkania’s snow, and he was first to volunteer when Jedi were sent to retrieve various things from Dxun. He was ever wary, though, of letting himself become emotionally entangled with the hunt. Though he was required to dispatch of many native (and very aggressive) creatures, he absolutely could not allow himself to enjoy the killing.

Roq found that as long as he was concentrating, he could create a bubble around a party of three or four that was strong enough to stand against sustained blaster fire. During this time, he began to experiment with different manifestations of the Force bubble, surrounding himself, a group, or single enemies. Roq also discovered that by slightly tweaking his mindset, he could change the way this barrier appeared. He could make it glow with energy, or hum with life, or if he really concentrated… it became nothing more than a silent and slight distortion of the air. Six months into his twenty-sixth year, Roq began to attempt to block physical projectiles, with a combination of Protection and Telekinesis. That resulted with some… interesting peer training sessions.

[/i]. Will you just do it?”

“If you say so…” Wiket gave it a half-hearted throw, and it stopped a full foot short of Roq. The Graarl flicked it back at Wiket with a quick burst of Telekinesis, and it ground to a halt in front of the Cathar.

“Throw it harder.”

“I think you crashed one too many times—Hey, don’t give me that look. Fine.”

He pitched the brick directly at Roq’s chest, and it slowed almost to a complete stop before bouncing off one of Roq’s scales.

“Almost got it… Throw it again.”

Sighing, Wiket obliged. This time, the brick suddenly bounced away from Roq, colliding with an invisible barrier six inches in front of him. “Aha!”

“Please don’t make me—“

“Now again, but this time, I’m going to close my eyes.”

“… throw the brick again. Roq, this had better be worth it…”[/ul]

Another six months passed, and Roq’s barriers had come to include protection from pretty much all projectiles smaller than a human head – including concussion bullets. Roq began to broaden his studies once more, again investigating the intricacies of the various lightsaber forms so he would be prepared to deal with his disadvantage. Roq took daily flights through the smoggy skies of Coruscant, and eventually, he developed the ability to maintain a barrier around him even as he flew, though it was not quite as strong as what he was capable of when stationary. He still persisted with his study of Ray, and could now gather a tangible ball of energy for a few moments before it dissipated again.

Besides his studies, Roq found that his favorite time of day was afternoon, when many of the masters gathered in the courtyards to practice their unarmed and armed fighting forms. He’d often accost resting masters, and discuss with them various matters of the Jedi. Each master was left with the distinct impression that despite Roq’s unique physiology, he was everything they expected out of a Jedi. Roq showed a deep fascination in the matters of the Force, and patience when dealing with younglings. He never lost his head when he was frustrated, but rather took the time to think things through. When Master Kat’rn finally died of old age (it was a long time coming), Roq mourned with all the Jedi for a moment, but he was first to smile at the fact that Kat’rn’s stiff knee, which he’d always complained about, wasn’t bothering him anymore – after all, there was no death, there was the Force. It seemed that Roq could strike the balance between knowing the Jedi Code, and living it. He wasn’t perfect, by any means, for his wit still got him into trouble, and he had a habit of getting so absorbed in one thing, he missed what was going on around him, but still, the masters could see that he was ever pointed in the right direction.

Each moment seemed to pass with an exciting urgency, and minutes became seconds; days became hours, and years became months. Before he knew it, Roq had crested his thirtieth birthday. Missions filled him with vigor, while he never ceased to wonder at the intricacies of the Force. Roq could now place individual enemies in stasis, or momentarily stun whole groups. His barriers and bubbles were capable of withstanding even larger projectiles, and could persist through enough assault to give his party the distinct advantage in a fight. And, Roq had noticed on one particular mission that when he meditated to strengthen the various wards he’d put around different members of his party, other things began to happen as well. Physically strong enemies lost their edge, while those known for their endurance seemed to weaken just a bit. At the same time, the Jedi under his protection were able to gain the upper hand where they should not have been, and when they applied the Force, it seemed as if their skills had greater effect.

Roq discussed this with one of the masters during an afternoon duel, and the old Omwati theorized that perhaps Roq was beginning to show some potential in Battle Meditation. And thus, another skill was added to his list of studies. However, even years later, Roq’s ability in this increased only marginally.

A Truer Test

As Roq approached his thirty-first year, he took upon himself a mission to Falleen. It brought to mind Xakiv, that Falleen from a decade earlier, and Roq smiled at the memories of his younger and more obstinate self. He really hadn’t made it very easy for Kat’rn to take a liking to him, but perhaps it was better that way. Reminiscing concluded, Roq began to brief the two young knights who had been sent with him, a human and a Bimm. Jiq Tennet, the Falleen Senator to the Galactic Republic, had recently made a legislative vote that made him very popular with most of Falleen, but extremely unpopular with a certain group of insurgents. The Jedi were to escort him to his countryside estate, where it was thought he would be safe.

Upon arrival, all went smoothly with not a sighting of the insurgents – and that’s what simply didn’t sit right with Roq. Much to Nat’n’s annoyance, he elected to stay a bit longer, sending away the rest of the convoy so it would appear as if the Jedi had departed as well. Mattie, the Bimm, dutifully kept guard. Just when even Roq was prepared to leave, the attack came. It was sudden and overwhelming – the insurgents seemed to materialize from the ground itself. Roq was quick to check the security feed, and found that they had somehow managed to obtain the entry codes, and had infiltrated the estate. As much as Tennet insisted his security was solid, what was done was done, and Roq prepared for the worst.

Roq reached the hangar as planned, with Tennet, a few of the Senator’s servants, and his best pilot – all wielding blasters to stun the swarming insurgents as Roq knocked them unconscious with the invisible hand of the Force. As Roq had predicted, the hangar was nearly deserted, though they had taken the liberty of destroying all of Tennet’s ships. Roq ignored the flabbergasted Falleen’s whining, and immediately ordered the group to rush the Insurgents’ ship. They easily surprised the few left on guard, and the would-be attackers fell quickly to stun blasters and Roq’s own stasis skills. As the party boarded the ship, a light nudging with the Force activated the com hung loosely around Roq’s neck, but before he could speak, the com shuddered with blaster fire and screams – a Bimm’s screams. The plan took a heel-face turn.

Stasis did not always suffice, and as Roq battled his way through the increasingly thick swarm of insurgents, more and more blood was shed. Times past, this sort of challenge might have struck him with the thrill of the hunt, but Roq managed to keep himself centered. Every life that broke the barrier and joined with the Force became another drum-beat in the gravity of the situation. As he moved, Roq felt the strangest sensation come over him. Time seemed to become a languid flow, while the Force moved around him and in him in deliberate ways. It was a sensation Roq usually only felt during those quiet moments he spent communing with the Force, which meant only one thing – Roq had fallen into a moving meditation. As he did, he was better able to predict the moves of his opponents, and though he was often surrounded, Roq found that blood was no longer a cost. He could leave their bodies whole, the bodies of the manipulated and the innocent, as most all of them were. Roq’s mercy was indiscriminate, for he had not the time to judge each of their emotions. His moving meditation also made him more aware to the cries of pain echoing through the Force from his two Knights.

Finally, he reached the two, spying them at the end of a long corridor. A dozen of the insurgents had cornered the Jedi, and they were backed up against the wall, fighting for their lives. Both appeared severely injured, and each could barely keep their saber raised to diffuse the bolts. Roq’s eyes flashed, and suddenly, all in the room froze. A perfect cocoon of energy had encapsulated each of the insurgents, wrapping gently around them. Mattie looked up in fear before spying Roq – in relief, she dropped her saber and fell to her knees, overcome by exhaustion.

Mattie remained always between the Jedi as they moved through the halls and cavernous rooms. By now the Insurgents had figured out that the Senator was long-gone, and so all their wrath fell upon the Jedi. A few minutes of battle in the kitchen revealed that two Knights, one badly injured, would be little match against the highly organized Insurgents. Roq was now quite impressed by the sheer number they’d been able to assemble and hide. Calling upon the Force, Roq fell once more into his newfound moving meditation, and as he did, a barrier began to form around the three Jedi. It strengthened, and soon Roq had achieved a solidness of barrier that most Jedi could only achieve with stationary meditation.

Wasting no time, he began to push into the next room, moving to the corridor at as quick a pace as possible with the injured Nat’n. This brisk walk carried them quickly through the corridors, and as long as Roq maintained his rhythm, the shield guarded against physical attack and blaster fire alike. Roq noticed that as every bolt struck, the amount of energy in the shield spiked, but he could not think of any use for the revelation.

Finally, the three emerged onto the plains. Other than a bit of chasing blaster fire, the Insurgents attempted no pursuit. Roq and Nat’n trudged across the plains for the next half hour, no plan save refusing to stop moving until they had reached the nearest town. They soon came across a Supply convoy returning from a nearby estate, and thus they found a ride to town and Tennet’s eternal thanks.

Mattie and Nat’n were treated for wounds they had sustained when caught off-guard by a frag-grenade, while Roq kept a sleepless vigil, willing the Force to aid them. Finally, they could return to the temple. Mattie and Nat’n spent the hyperspace drive comparing notes. And as they talked, Roq did not meditate, he did not practice his forms, he did not gather the Force around himself – in fact, he did something on that trip that he had never before done in hyperspace – For once, the now-exhausted Graarl simply slept.

Promotional Concerns

Upon return to the temple, Roq watched with pride as first Nat’n, then Mattie were praised by the council for their courageous conduct during the mission. The report Roq had filed cast them both in a truthful, yet positive light. After the whole ordeal, they each deserved a bit of affirmation. Debriefing completed, Roq began to depart, intent upon stretching his wings, when the Council called him back into the chamber.

The rest of the day – the next week, in fact, passed in that strangely surreal sensation. Roq was still who he had been. He still trained every day, he still flew and practiced his barriers. He still gave impromptu lessons in the library, and he still spent hours pouring over the archives. Now, however, he was a Master, people greeted him as Master Roq, he could speak with the other Masters as one of their own. And the next time he ran into Mattie, he could not correct her. He was not caught up in the power, per se, nor the authority. That odd feeling was caused more by becoming what he had so long admired. After that week, however, the strangeness began to fade. It finally sunk in that Roq still was who had had been all along, just with a different name. It was still his job to serve the Galaxy, still his job to protect those he could.

Mastery, Monotony, Sigh.

Even so, for the next year, Roq experimented with his newfound rank. Instead of taking missions, he elected to remain at the temple for a while. His life fell into a steady rhythm. Four days for every standard week, he would hold classes for knights and younglings, teaching a variety of things from Jedi history to articulate telekinesis. Roq was a favorite at storytime, because his unique Graarl vocal structure allowed him to imitate almost any sound or voice, and the younglings had a great time listening to their favorite stories come to life. That slot of time was filled the other three days by academic study in the library. Anything involving holodisks. Roq studied saber forms for weaknesses, brushed up on his galactic history, and found himself fascinated by philosophy, though he didn’t have any interest in the more complicated stuff. Much of the rest of Roq’s time was spent training, keeping fit by flying and/or sparring with the other masters. Roq had gotten to the point that he could avoid the blade with well-placed barriers and telekinesis. He could gather more and more energy towards his Ray, but still could not accumulate much more than a whisper for long.

One, now, might ask whatever purpose the author had for going into detail about such a schedule. The fact of the matter is, it struck Roq just as it probably struck you the reader – as utterly unexciting. At age thirty-three, Roq was more than ready to once more plunge into the mission field.

Spilt Milk and Tears

And Plunge Roq did, taking on missions more frequently than he ever had before. And so it was that a few pivotal events evolved quite messily. A seemingly simple conflict resolution task became a seemingly simple mess, and was seemingly simply resolved. However, Roq got the distinct impression that there was something far more sinister behind it. A few weeks later, another Jedi experienced a similar incident. And then only a few days later, another. The details were many and tangled, but one thread of importance emerged – there was a single force causing much of this disturbance, and it was quickly growing in power. And so Roq devised a scheme.

This particular entity was after impressionable Jedi. It was highly suspected that a Dark Jedi was behind it all, and he was no doubt after apprentices. Using intel gathered by both InterPol and Jedi Forces, Roq planned to allow himself to be captured, infiltrate the organization, earn the ringleader’s trust, and then expose the plot so that InterPol could quickly wrap it up. The Council warned of the dangers of the dark side, but Roq was confident in his commitment to the light, and he made a compelling argument. And thus, it was agreed he could carry out his plan. Without hesitation, Roq went about falling neatly into the sinister trap.

It Sounded Like a Good Idea at the Time

Roq dug his nose in just far enough to be noticed, and it was not long before he was captured. Farrfin was to become his new home, but he would not know its name until years later. All sight of the planet was closed out by the iron walls, hearing drowned by the wailing of the aching ship, deduction stymied by the odd-colored smoke Roq could not help but inhale.

Roq was not so fortunate as to fall into the cliché of awaking in his new home. Instead, his mind returned to him before he had arrived, and it required 10,000 volts to persuade him to cease his struggles. The pain that accompanied such a punishment… it was unimaginably excruciating. Sensitive organs designed to pick up the minute electrical currents produced by organisms were overwhelmed by the huge charge, in a torture like no other. Not only that, the jolt froze his muscles, dominating his body and trapping his mind within. Roq could only watch with a blank, unmoving stare as the dark, cloaked forms moved swiftly about him. He felt every bump and bruise as he was hauled, moved, but he could not even blink.

Finally, slowly, painfully Roq’s limbs returned to him. He was in some sort of underground cavern, the walls damp and smelling of a million differing kinds of death, with a cold grated floor someone seemed to have tossed down over natural cave-rock. Every sound echoed back upon itself, creating a confusing cacophony enough to torture the Graarl. Worst of all, however, were the rusty metal bars that pressed in all around him, that clawed at the sensitive membrane of his wings, affording him barely enough space to move around. Not only had the apparatus been designed to contain a beast, it had, recently, as evidenced by the stench. Roq could only conclude that the animal had recently met an unpleasant end, for its viscous blue blood was still thick upon the floor.

Day and night became nothing, worth less than the scum upon the floor. The only light in the space came from dim string-lights above, flickering sickly in eternal vigil. The only way Roq knew time passed was the continued rise and fall of the noise in the place. Often, workers in what Roq had concluded was some sort of underground storehouse would come to prod him, stab him rudely with their knives and their stun-batons, and ridicule the Jedi that once ruled the skies.

The Jedi ability to survive soon became a curse. Roq could not simply die like other fortunate creatures. Instead, his life force was so deeply entangled with the universe that the stars themselves gave him sustenance, allowed him to survive to suffer a small bit longer. He had no food, no water, but still he was alive. Roq measured time in the number of scales he had shed to the floor, and the overgrowth of his talons. The only way to keep his mind from utter despair of his cage was to drift, again and again, through his knowledge of the Jedi, of the galaxy. He memorized every small detail of his surroundings, hoping, knowing that one day that information would be vital in bringing his captors to justice…

It was humiliating to be stuck inside that cage. His captors seemed to have known him well, for instead of locking his cage – the mechanics of such things could be easily manipulated – they had welded it shut. The bars were strong enough – and had probably been designed to – contain a Rancor, and there was no bending them. Roq could not call upon the Force, for his captors had ever kept a pyre of that odd smoke nearby, and Roq found that it muddled his mind just enough that the exhaustion he felt was impossible to overcome. Jedi, power and protector of the galaxy, reduced to little more than a circus freak…

Time Ceases in the Void

Three months, Roq had approximated. The layer of scales on the floor, and the way he’d taken to dragging his talons across the concrete to shorten them spoke well of the time. Slowly, as the hours oozed by, Roq had learned more and more about where he was, and this pursuit of information was all that kept him sane. The workers that milled about, gruff and grunting, spoke of a man. By their report of his feats, he was a Force-user, and a dark-twisted one at that. They referred to him only as, ‘The Dragon’, and both feared and respected his genius – if respect were even possible from such swine. They kept speaking of a ‘new tool’, a new ‘Claw of the Dragon’, the Roq could only conclude was… himself.

In his isolation, Roq had much time to think, though the starvation bent and twisted his thoughts, distorted just past reality, like observing an object through a curved mirror. However, through the haze, he realized that the Dragon intended to recruit him. It was just what he had come for.

The Force would not make him wait long.

Erosion

[/i] Roq Nd’ath’terrain’akai.” The purring voice continued, “I know far more about you than you could even guess.” The tone reeked of smug satisfaction. “Trained by Master Kat’rn himself. You fancy yourself body guard to the Republic, don’t you? A most heroic of occupations, isn’t it, protecting the innocents. I know more, about you, Roq. I also know that by the end of this night… you will be mine.”

Roq scraped his dry tongue against the inside of his beak, hauling his posture into one of relaxed nonchalance. “You don’t know much about me at all.” The air refused to come all the way into his lungs, and black stars of dizziness flicked across his vision, but Roq held himself steady. “I’m here to betray the Jedi, not serve them. You must know,” he rasped, “Of the way I tracked you after that first incident. I knew that you,” –a ragged breath – “You would understand my potential. You would not cut me short like the Jedi did. And so I found you. I must say, though,” Roq allowed a deep cough to wrack his body, “That I did not expect to get so thoroughly caught in your trap.” The Hrakian’s bloodshot eyes were upon him, and he did his best to steadily meet the gaze. Roq rasped his tongue again. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours. What is it?”

The Hrakian was silent a long moment. “You…” he said, a slow grin pulling his golden face, “May call me ‘Master’.”

Roq cocked a sharp smile. “As you wish.”

“You are bold, but you will need much more than this to understand the Dark Side, to realize your true potential. You will need your anger, your hate.”

“I am used to suppressing such emotions, but… I’m a fast learner.”

“Good. Tomorrow, you prove your worth. This night, you eat.” And with that, the gold-skinned man was gone.[/ul]

Roq was left in the arena, but the carcass of some now-unidentifiable animal was hauled and dumped in front of him, and it provided him the sustenance he needed to heal himself, and restore his strength. This process took all night, and Roq spent much of his meditation in thought. The Jedi was still confident in his ability to keep up a charade. Though, he would have to find some way of displaying anger and aggression without actually being overcome by it. He hadn’t quite figured that out yet. It seemed eternity passed in an instant, for the Hrakian made his return. Roq rose to face the day.

Dubious Sincerity

Roq proved his worth with little effort. He was, after all, a master. The Hrakian was intrigued by the Jedi’s fighting style, but put-out by the fact that the Graarl specialized in protection. This gold-skinned man revealed himself to be a peculiar one, and much of Roq’s first month of ‘training’ passed as the Hrakian simply taught the Graarl ways in which to offensively apply his current skills. Roq allowed himself to become impatient, for it fitted well with his new ‘character’, and the Hrakian soon delved into deeper skills.

Roq suspected that the Hrakian had little skill in telepathy, for it was not long before he was trusting Roq with his most precious of knowledge. Dark secrets passed between the two, words so woven with wickedness that their mere utterance tainted the air. The Dragon related many of his schemes to Roq, but the Graarl grew to the distinct impression that this golden man was not the true mastermind, despite all the show he put on.

Six months passed, and Roq noted several changes to himself, though his confidence grew in tandem, and his concern was lessened. Initially, when the Dragon had spoken of the Jedi, he had cursed them and spit at them, condemning their ideals – ideals Roq had been raised upon. It had taken a great deal of restraint to prevent himself from defending the Jedi, and giving away his cover. However, as time passed, Roq found himself less and less bothered by these utterances. In fact, he was seriously considering them as potential truth. Surely he had seen the corruption with his very own eyes – it existed, but that did not mean all Jedi were corrupt. However, perhaps the numbers were far greater than he had once thought… Memories of old friends grew darkened and stained with new suspicions, and that sense of disillusionment fed budding sparks of true hate. Day after day in the darkness was beginning to wear at the Graarl, and he had no way to re-center himself. His resolve to the light was slipping; slipping fast, and Roq knew it. Most troubling of all was that he was not particularly compelled to do anything about it.

The Man Becomes the Masquerade

Roq was gone. Those who fiddle with the porcupine invariably end up with the spines. Exposing himself had been a foolish mistake, and no Jedi – not even the strongest of all the masters – could stand up to such a temptation for long. The fact that Roq had held onto his identity as long as he did was astounding. But alas, such things mattered little to one whose soul was stripped.

The Graarl became a sadistic creature, aggressive and head-strong, brutal and ruthless. His intelligence was as sharp as his talon, and no creature could avoid him in the arena. The arena had become his Spice. It was a hunt, it was a challenge. The larger the beast the better, and the Graarl dominated them all. The Dragon’s enemies fell like flies before talon and beak..

Deeming the Apprentice to be ready, the Dragon finally revealed that he was not the true mastermind, but the Graarl was given no more than a name. Then again, so often it is all in a name. Mission forgotten, the Graarl preserved this caveat out of simple greed.

At long last, the Graarl was permitted to leave the underground compound. Perhaps the Dragon had known he was not yet broken all along. Either way, the Graarl became a constant fixture upon the Dragon’s flagship, never leaving it. Its massive expanse gave him much room to roam, and the Hunt was all the more satisfying. And such, another four months, marking a year since the Graarl had been first caught in the snare.

And yet, the situation could persist no longer than this, for there was soon to be an upheaval. An upheaval caused by a single girl.

Trespasses

The battle was long and drawn-out, with details so gruesome they need not be dignified with mention. All that need be known is that the Graarl fought with a ferocity that not even the twisted Hrakian would match, and saber could present no contest against beak and claw. The Graarl lashed out with an anger he had never used before, and anger that formed into bolts of black lightning, which lashed around the Dragon who had once held him captive. The Graarl watched the body with a twisted pleasure until the twitching ceased. And then he walked away, leaving the dead and dismembered Dragon behind.

Though those two deaths seemed trivial in the mind of the Graarl, the Force knew the future held Upheaval indeed.

Usurped and Unspoiled

With The Dragon dead, someone had to take his place, and that someone was the Graarl. No more than thirty minutes after the defeat of the golden man, the Graarl had been contacted. He now spoke via hologram with no less than the boss of the whole operation, now revealed as being the legendary Red Sun. The Graarl was to take over every one of the Hrakian’s old duties, and more, it seemed. Without hesitation, the Graarl obliged.

The Graarl had always been cut out to be a leader, and he ran his operation with lethal efficiency. According to the Boss, he was not victim to some of the indulgent vices the Hrakian had entertained, and so he earned a special bit of favor with the man.

The Graarl didn’t have to do much to attempt to forget his old identity – the non-stop pace of his current arrangement did that for him. Perhaps he remembered, somewhere deep within, his old duty, and that is why he recited and remembered with extraordinary detail every contact he had with the Boss. Or perhaps it was out of selfish motivation, for the Graarl surely knew that though the Boss was his help at the moment, he would one day become the Graarl’s greatest competition. Perhaps. No one – not even the Graarl himself, was ever quite sure.

Though the Graarl’s days were filled with his duties – blackmailing, smuggling, under-market trading, extortion and the like, his nights were filled by only one thing – terrible dreams. It was that Miralukan girl again. The anger of the Graarl turned upon himself for such a weakness, for what good remained in the Graarl was tortured by the images. He saw her, over and over again, the pleading expression upon her face, and then the feeling of her hot blood, the taste of her flesh as he ripped her apart… So harsh was the torture, the Graarl was strangled by it, and he always awoke to the realization that he had ceased to breathe.

It was in this manner that thirteen months passed. Though some events seemed major as they happened, time revealed that each occurrence was insignificant, and instead painted a simple pitch-dark streak upon the thread of the Graarl’s life.

”You’re Promoted.” “I quit.”

It was a fitting present for his thirty-fifth: the Graarl was to meet with the Boss. But not just to meet with him… to meet with him in person. Face-to-face, in the same room. It was an honor that not even the Hrakian had been given. The Graarl awoke that morning, more deeply troubled by his dreams than he ever had been before. It was as if the girl’s spirit was haunting his every move, and the Graarl was frustrated by his inability to strike that which had no physical manifestation.

The meeting with the Boss was greatly anti-climatic, and the Graarl found himself wondering why he’d taken orders unquestionably from this man for so long. However, the Graarl confirmed a thing he had only suspected in the past – the Boss was a Force-user, and a powerful one at that. He offered to take the Graarl as his true apprentice, and with little pause, the creature accepted.

As events unfolded, it became clear that the Jedi would indeed make it past the guards. Graarl readied himself to lead the offensive, but the Boss held him back. ‘Let the Jedi come to us,’ he said, and so that is what the Graarl did. He maintained supervision of the events with his eye of the Force. At long last, a single Jedi came into the chamber, the survivors of the group flanking the room and keeping the guards at bay.

[/i] is the one twisting your mind Roq. I would tell you not to listen to him, but I fear it would be null. You already follow him like a faithful pet.”

A growl surged from Graarl’s throat as he took offense at the words, diving towards the Cathar. His quarry was just as nimble as he, leaping aside and continuing to circle. “Fine then,” Wiket said, “Kill me. But I do not believe you are truly lost, and I never will.”

Again, the Graarl lunged.[/ul]

The Boss watched coldly as Graarl and Cathar faced off, fang against beak, claw against talon. No words passed between the two. There was no pity in the Cathar’s eyes, simply sadness. Sadness, and a righteous anger, an anger the Graarl could tell the Cathar directed at the Boss for twisting the former-Jedi so. The Graarl’s defenses were impassable, however, and the Cathar became exhausted. There was little threat from the rest of the Jedi team; they were nearly overwhelmed by the further efforts of the guards.

[Kella]

Chapter Three: Ardently


Aevum

Message explicitly communicated, Roq used the Force to lift his limp friend onto his shoulders, and then he ran. There was no fear in his gait as he moved through the halls, scores of guards falling to his sudden and unexpected blows, the Force robbing them of their consciousness and nothing more. Roq was not running from anything – he was running toward everything. Toward the Jedi, toward safety, toward Redemption.

Maybe, Not-Quite-Wholly

Roq found himself caught up in the tail-end of the Jedi’s plan, swept among the ranks as soon as they saw he carried Wiket. The great whirlwind of activity carried him off, information pouring in from every pore. The task nearly overwhelmed Roq, for his inner place was still coated with a layer of oily, sticky grime, and it was nigh on impossible to keep up with it all while he was still attempting to scrape that away. A flagship was come, the whole of the Red Sun was going down, but the Boss had escaped, Wiket was alright, they were welcoming Roq, but they were suspicious, speak with the council, debrief, rebrief, hyperspace… All faded to a dull clamor. Three days Roq was caught in the chaotic winds.

At long last, the twister deposited Roq in a place of peace and familiarity. His stony grey eyes reflected the joyful, bubbling stream of his favorite fountain. In all the room, there were a thousand fountains, and in all the world, there were no doubt millions, but not a single one of them could calm his mind like this one could. The water sprung up, and then swayed by the persuasion of gravity, dived downward again in a bubbling dance. As the water fell, it washed the walls of his tar-black soul, but all such things take time.

It was surreal, being back at the temple… among things so familiar… and yet, they were familiar no longer. The ordeal had made Roq wary, and suspicious, and the temple became an eerie place in the absence of trust. He spoke with the council only briefly, for while they understood that he was on the road to mend, they also understood he needed to be left alone. However, he did grant one service; during a quiet moment in his chambers, he recorded onto holodisk every conversation he had had with the Boss, word-for-word, tones imitated perfectly, his own replies included.

Some of his own words horrified him. It was something he would slowly come to terms with, but for now, those same words haunted him…

Roq’s next three months were spent in varying states of meditation. Long hours he passed by the fountain, focusing and re-centering himself. Within his mind, he repeated the tomes of the Jedi over and over again, until they were true once more. However, when Roq needed to extract his mind from the overwhelming nature of his conscious, he could be found only one place – lying across the cold stone of the temple’s highest point, stony grey eyes wide and full of the city. It was a place that he could simply be, free from the suspicious accusations of his own soul.

Rattled and Shaken were both words that could have described the Jedi. That moment with Wiket had been a sudden and rapid disillusionment, a time in which – all at once – he realized just how deeply he had fallen into the mire. To so abruptly realize ones own evil was jarring, and this rapid thawing of a hardened heart left deep, cracking wounds. Trust was something that Roq longed for, but did not have, for after having fallen so wholly, he could not even trust himself. The doubts planted by the Dark Jedi would take many moons to heal, and so the Jedi was left in a lonely, broken cold. Only time could heal him.

Agonizing time.

Scars Remain

Roq rebuked the anger and the hate, and for a short while, he was but a lonely vacuum. However, as those awful emotions slowly trickled away, their space was filled with things Roq had longed to feel again – bits of joy, moments of peace and small twinkles of happiness. He was surprised, though he really shouldn’t have been, at just how well his old friends seemed to understand him. As the small bits of joy came, the friends returned and helped them grow, speaking and going on as if nothing had ever happened. They were not suspicious, sympathetic, or accommodating. They teased as they always had, laughed as they always would. Roq realized just how well they still understood him, for that was exactly what he needed. There were times, though, when he needed to speak. And they listened.

Even though he would never be the same – and he was never going to pretend he would be – he and they knew that so very much of him could be brought back to the golden way it had been.

And, in the end, Roq found himself better for all the ordeal. Six months later, and the trust had seeped back into his bones. The temple was home once again. And once more, he was Rock of the sky, the earth and the Force.

Over the Hill

Trusting himself again was what took the longest, but eventually, it came. Roq began to go on missions again. He appreciated the subtle care his friends had for him, masters he had revered, those recently met, and companions he had known since his youngling years. Each of them offered to have Roq along on a mission, and they were ever faithful in holding him accountable. Confidence and self-trust regained, Roq’s healing was complete.

The thirty-six year old Graarl became quite a familiar face among the masters’ chambers, and he took to debating and considering all matters of philosophy, from the theory of combat, to advanced Time-Space Mechanics. He found that not only did these activities stimulate him mentally, keeping his mind sharp, they also bettered him as a Jedi. He came to a more whole understanding of the Force. During this time, Roq took on a peppering of missions, reinvigorated by his love of exploring.

And as such, one year passed. And then another. And another, and another, and Roq found his fortieth birthday thrust quite suddenly upon him. Four decades he’d been living, and oh, what decades! As time passed, the memories of his Fall slowly faded, toned a worn sepia in his mind’s eye, mere ghosts of the Jedi he had grown to become. He was willing to listen, but he was a smart decisive fellow, and that leant him quite nicely to roles of leadership, such as teaching classes on various aspects of telekinesis and protection. Roq also proved to have a sharp practical intelligence, and when it came to philosophy and debate, the young fellow could even keep up with a few of the council members.

I suppose, at such an age, it is much worth mentioning that to a Graarl, forty is still quite young. In fact, they reach their prime at fifteen, and stay in a similar state until as old as age ninety, at which points the effects of age are sudden and decisive. So, to Roq, his age did nothing to slow him down, and every day was another lesson learned.

He was surprised at himself, in fact. Too far matured for arrogance, the was now more eager than ever to learn all there was to learn about the Galaxy, and now that he was a master, there was nothing off-limits. In fact, Roq took the next year off to study, postponing his teaching and missions in favor of arduously pouring over the files of the archives. His nearly eidetic memory served him quite well, and the Graarl learned quickly, retaining much of what he saw. Long flights above the Coruscant skyline provided him much time to think, and to puzzle out the mysteries of the universe and of the Jedi, to examine within himself and others such things as love and hate, peace and chaos, and most importantly of all, the Force itself.

After a year of staying in the same place, Roq found such arrangements did not agree with his psyche in the least. He had learned a great deal, however, and for that it was worth it. Mind full of ideas to be tested, Roq spent one last night staring into his favorite of the thousand fountains, and then prepared himself for a tour in the Field that would likely last a very, very long time.

I’m Getting Too Old For This… Nevermind

The Galaxy welcomed him, and the Graarl breathed once more the salt of Alderaan shores, and the sand of Tatooine dunes. He returned to his calling, and became a guardian of the people once more. He was more alive than he had ever been! However, it was not the adrenaline-rush sort of alive one found with the hunt – it was the sort of alive one felt when they were so in-tune with the Force, that they could feel the heartbeat of the whole Universe.

Five years passed, in which Roq never spent more than one or two consecutive days at the temple. Trandoshans, Draethos, Codru-Ji, Omwati – he saw them all, even as his wings touched the skies of Adarlon, Firrerre, Esfandia, Drongar, and everywhere in between. Servant to the galaxy, he protected both rich and poor, bold and fearful, and it came to be that he earned a subtle, but distinct reputation among the higher politicians. This finally culminated after the half-decade with his being recommended to serve the Supreme Chancellor herself. And that’s where the real fun began…

Things Get Political

[/i] she doesn’t need Jedi protection – apparently, the favoritism is bad for the public image.”

“Don’t you love politics? But do not worry, friend, I will keep my wits about me.”

“Just don’t make it obvious.”

“You nag more than a Quideep.”

Grau, somewhat disgruntled by being compared to a loud, obnoxious bird, gave Roq a somewhat harsh look, before passing off an information packet into Roq’s telekinetic grasp. “We—“ he started.

“It’s time for you to get back to work. The senate’s secretarial profession does not tolerate dawdling!”

“Ah, yes, you’re quite right. Well. May the Force be with you, or whatever it is you say.”

“Likewise, friend.”[/ul]

The first few days ‘on the job’ went surprisingly smoothly. Because so few people had ever seen a Graarl, Roq could masquerade as a senator from an outer-rim planet with no trouble at all. Seeing as he didn’t carry a lightsaber, and he didn’t have to rely on obvious uses of the Force except in times of great danger, Roq made a perfectly inconspicuous bodyguard. After some initial apprehension, AlioQuin proved herself to be quite pleased with the arrangement, and no longer resisted Roq’s insistence on remaining close.

At all times, he kept a small force-shield around the Chancellor, an invisible and silent wonder of the Force. If the Chancellor noticed, she said nothing.

The original call for a bodyguard had come because AlioQuin intended to travel across the galaxy, giving speeches on various Republic planets, rallying morale and support for the upcoming election. This tour went on as planned, and the Chancellor’s entourage began to make their circuit, hopping from one planet to another.

Roq and his encyclopedic mind made for great conversation, as he was privy to many of the quirks of each planet. AlioQuin, who had only ever had the time to study the ‘important’ things, was fascinated by his quips. And so, they passed the long hours in hyperspace discussing various things. Roq was as interested in the politics of the senate as AlioQuin was in the ways of the Jedi, and the two developed an intellectual friendship. They did not agree on a great many things, but that was part of what made the conversations so engaging. After a few weeks, AlioQuin insisted on a first-name basis between the friends, and Roq came to know her as simply Aestus.

Several months passed, and the exhausting tour had taken the Chancellor and her entourage a third of the way around the galaxy. It was decided that they would pause for a few extra days in Kuat, to recuperate. For the past week, Roq had been getting glimpses of foreboding… small vibrations in the Force that clued him in to the fact that something was not quite right. And so, the Jedi was quite on edge when one of the Chancellor’s employees came to inform her that there was a group of pirates raiding one of Kuat’s small towns. It was just the sort of predicament that a Jedi couldn’t resist resolving, and that is what sent up the red flag in his mind. He had a decision to make. Was leaving the Supreme Chancellor worth it, to potentially be drawn into a trap? Whose life was worth more? The villagers, or the Chancellor? If the Chancellor were assassinated, there would be a huge amount of upheaval in the galaxy. So far, she had brought stability and consistency, two invaluable things. With morale already down due to a dip in the galactic economy, it was doubtful that the galaxy could handle a special election. The voters would be more easily swayed by false promises, and that was a most dangerous situation. If a group of villagers were attacked, their fate would be the same as if there had been no Jedi nearby anyway. A dispatcher would be called, with a Jedi Investigator and/or a team from InterPol. It was not the easy thing, but staying with the Chancellor was the right thing, and so that is what Roq did. He never did find out whether or not the attacks were real, but Roq would never regret his decision. Especially not concerning what happened as they departed Kuat…

The ship was lifting, hangar bay open so the Chancellor could give a proper farewell to the people as she left. Roq felt a sudden darkening in the Force, but this premonition was far too late.

Roq did not allow the duel to be an easy one. As the Anzat charged, Roq repelled him with Force barriers, bursts of telekinesis, and a few well-placed strikes with his good wing. At one point, Roq reared, bearing down to strike the Anzat. The humanoid caught the strike, muscles straining to keep Roq’s talons at bay. Finally, he broke away and leapt backwards, circling again.

[/i]. She has so much pluck for a woman, a far greater prize than any I have eaten before. But then,” Cruor took a half-step closer in his circuit, “Then I sensed another presence. A greater presence. Strong, brighter than anything I have ever seen!”

“The living Force is what you sensed, and nothing more.”

“Ah! He can speak! But do not utter such trivialities as the ‘Force’. That is a thing for naive, young races. But you, you are filled with an energy… an energy I find utterly irresistible. So, you see, I was hunting the Chancellor, dear Aestus. But now… now I hunt you! You are a prize most worthy of my expertise. I can only imagine your flavor…”

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to eat sharp things?”

“Oh, do not be so bitter, Jedi. Don’t you all wish to die in terrifying, sacrificial ways? Your presence has saved the Chancellor. What a noble way to die. And I have waited long for this… long I have tried to lure you away, but you are stubborn, Jedi. Wary. But now I have you.”

“How did you carry the weapons unnoticed?” Roq eyed the Anzat carefully, patiently. Perhaps if he could distract the Anzat, cause him to ramble about something else…

“I am creative. That is all you need know. But the pre-dinner speech has carried on far too long; my hunger burns! Farewell, Jedi.”

A sudden, immobilizing burst of energy coursed telepathically towards Roq, striking his brain like a bullet. He had been entirely unprepared, and the dazed Graarl stumbled backwards.

Suddenly, the Anzat was upon him, and Roq could feel the tentacles sliding around the sensitive scales of his face. Slowly, he was fighting his way back, but the Anzat kept him overwhelmed with the mental hail. Pinned to the ground and utterly incapacitated, Roq could do nothing as the tentacles explored his beak. They passed around his neck, even sliding into his throat and skimming across the palette. Simultaneously, the haze faltered and Roq gagged, and the Graarl was able to tug his beak away from the Anzat, though he could not quite rise, as the Anzat placed a foot on Roq’s bad wing, keeping him down for the count.

“No!” the Anzat yelled, “NO!” the tentacles moved desperately around Roq’s face, but nothing happened. There was no pain, there was no piercing. Anzat generally feed from the nose, breaking the thin membrane of bone that separates nasal cavity from brain. Graarl skulls are far different from Human skulls however. Roq had no nostrils, nor was the base of his skull penetrable from the throat. The tentacles had no way in.

Frustration made Cruor’s focus falter, and Roq took advantage of the moment, attacking the haze with the full power of his mental force. The Anzat was overwhelmed, and Roq raised his hind legs and aimed a well-placed kick at the Anzat’s chest, piercing the heat-less flesh and sending the humanoid flying backwards.

Roq rose once more, the haze rapidly falling away. “I suppose you should study up on anatomy before choosing a target, eh?”

Cruor simply growled.

Roq slowly filled his chest with a breathe, allowing the Force to flow into him. Now that the Anzat was mad, stopping him would not be easy. It would not be simple. Killing him was the only thing to be done.

Perhaps some fetish had compelled the Anzat to attempt to win the duel with his own bare hands, for now the humanoid’s anger had brought the pellet-gun back into his hands. Even as the barrel rose, Roq constructed a shield around himself, pulsing with the living Force. It had just as much presence as he, and Roq could see the way desire was beginning to consume the Anzat.

No match against the Jedi’s careful shield, Cruor emptied the entire pellet gun, but to no avail. The maser was extracted next, and Roq braced himself for the impact. The blue bolt raced towards him, striking the barrier with all its full force. The light fractured into a thousand pieces, striking intricate patters like lace into the surface of the barrier, before being absorbed into its midst.

Roq had not budged an inch.

The Graarl sensed that irrationality was beginning to overcome the Anzat, for that was the only thing that could have compelled the humanoid to charge again, face contorted in a wicked snarl, weaponless.

An odd feeling of complete peace overcame Roq. Time ceased to be. He allowed his shield to fall, absorbing it into himself. For a moment, an exhilarating moment, Roq was full to the brim of the Force, steeped within a great power that was not his own. With great beauty, the Force spilled from Roq once more, forming streams and rivers in the Force, dancing lines of lightning that flicked languidly back and forth. The liquid river swept outward, overwhelming Cruor. The Force had an embrace even deadlier than the Anzat, and soon Cruor’s body had submitted to the entity whose existence he had refused to recognize. The beautiful, flickering tongues of lighting faded slowly, dissipating into the Force around, sending a subtly humming ripple into the breeze. No life remained in the Anzat, for it had been stolen away, diffused with the sparks into the anonymous Force.

Time returned.

~

InterPol had been quick to arrive, disposing of the body and sending Roq along the way. Upon his direct return to the temple, Roq was summoned immediately to the council, and he had a very good idea of why. Up until that point, force lightning was almost exclusively associated with the dark side. Considering it was something Roq had first employed during his fall, the council was very, very worried.

However, Roq came to them at complete peace. He explained to the council exactly what had happened, and how he had been feeling absolutely no anger or anxiety at the time. And finally, he spoke of the way he had been filled with the Force, and he had never felt so in-tune with it. Exaudia, the strongest telepath on the council, confirmed Roq’s story as he lowered his mental barriers. Satisfied for the moment, and having recounted every small detail, Roq departed, leaving the council to puzzle out the paradox.

Things Change

Now age 46, Roq was looking for a way to expand his horizons, so-to-speak. He’d settled into a comfy routine of teaching, traveling, and his own studies, and after five years away, the temple was a nice place to be again. A thousand fountains echoed his thoughts, and greens in the courtyard grew on the fertile wisdom of the Jedi, stretching long branches to the Sky. Roq allowed these things of nature – things so close to the Force – to seep inside him, and to give him insight into the questions, the questions that had no answers.

And yet, there are times when invitations come along, invitations to innocent things that become invitations to so much more…

The mission was an entertaining one, after a man suspected of leaking sensitive Republic information to the criminal underworld. Roq lent his mind here and there during the case, though for the most part, he let Brinks, who’d become an expert investigator, do his job. The two Jedi had a grand old time together, and rather than exasperate the team assigned to work with them, the Jedi managed to provide much amusement. At the conclusion of the mission, Roq discovered that he had a penchant for non-lethal capture, trapping the suspect in a force-shield until the proper personnel could arrive. What could’ve turned into a high-speed chase ended quite painlessly, and the mission concluded with Brinks inviting Roq to come along on another mission sometime. Roq gave a properly witty answer, as he and his friend parted down opposite halls.

Like a deadly adder, disaster strikes abruptly and painfully. But unlike an adder, it gives absolutely no warning.

It was the last time Roq would see Brinks alive.

Mortal Revelations

[/i]

“To celebrate the life…”

Chill reached through the wind and pushed beneath his scales, sending frost across his very bones.

“The honor…”

Roq tossed his head towards the sky, watching in anguish. Why, oh why did the Force have to claim so soon!

“The legacy of a great and honorable Jedi.”

Roq bowed his head again in reverence, talons clawing deep wounds in the courtyard’s soft dirt.

“There is no emotion, there is Peace.”

Pieces. Scattered on the wind, dust to dust, so was life…

“There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.”

Knowledge, knowledge eluded what lay beyond. Only the dead knew, and they head no inclination to whisper their secrets to the living.

“There is no passion, there is serenity.”

Serenity seemed impossible in a world doomed to constant entropy. The very nature of things willed them break apart, to decompose, soul and marrow alike…

“There is no chaos, there is harmony.”

How could there be harmony in a world so ripped apart? A Vio missing half its strings could not sing. And so this world had suddenly lost a great many strings…

“There is no death, there is the Force.”

There are things worse than death.

The great pyre lit, sending slow, thoughtful flames around the body. These reflected in the slate of the Jedi’s eyes, the dancing of a blood-red fire. Roq watched as his friend was slowly consumed by the flame, devoured by the living Force.

And yet, he refused to satisfy his doubts. There were things even he did not understand.

A part of Roq’s soul clung to the dying body, and he could feel the flames lick at it, burn at it. Loyal devotion bid it stay there a moment longer, a moment longer in the overwhelming inferno…

But it was only a carcass. The realization was sudden and sacrilegious, but it was only a carcass.

The bit of his soul withdrew just as the flames would have devoured it, and the body collapsed in one last spit of sparks. Roq allowed his soul to become whole again.

It was only a carcass.

And then he understood.[/ul]

Things Get Predictable

Four years moved by in rapid succession, bearing a short list of Hallmarks. Firstly, Roq stopped himself from committing what could have very nearly been a serious mistake. He almost lost his compassion. Among his friendships, the Jedi had been skirting the rule on attachments in that he enjoyed creating friendships with people – fellow Jedi and otherwise. The death of Brinks left him somewhat jaded, and for a few months, the Jedi found himself cursing attachments, attempting to sever many of them. Though he interfaced with people on his missions, he was closed, calculating, simply focused on the task at hand and nothing else. However, one day the pouring water of his favorite fountain reminded the Jedi of his trial of Spirit. Many years had passed, but he could still remember it with perfect clarity. Roq recalled the cold, heartless way he’d condemned his friends to die. Something clicked in his mind, and he got it. It wasn’t about becoming attached – it was about knowing when to let go. Finally content, Roq made amends with his very confused friends, and was once more his usual, agreeable self.

Second of all, Roq made huge breakthroughs in his ability to use the Ray power. With focus, he could spread the energy field to cover the whole surface of his wing. The natural structure gave him a natural channel, and with proper position of his wing, Roq could erect an effective shield against lightsaber and energy attacks.

And lastly, Roq finally learned how to consciously use Force Absorb. Whenever his shields were struck with an energy source, the amount of energy stored within them would spike. Roq learned to weaken his shield that exact amount at the moment if impact, preserving the original strength of the shield and absorbing the excess power. He then could loop that around to fuel his shield further. The ability was still imperfect, but Roq would continue to work with it for the next few years.

Dull is Not in My Vocabulary

The Jedi’s fiftieth birthday came and went, but Roq never skipped a beat. He started to develop a cantankerous streak, much to the annoyance – and amusement – of his many students. It was pretty much a guarantee that Master Roq’s classes were never boring.

When it came to matters of higher philosophy, Roq had what he perceived to be the distinct fortune of not agreeing with everyone else. That was not to say that he agreed with nobody, nor was it to say that his opinions were extreme in any sense of the word, but the old Graarl did indeed prefer to puzzle out things on his own. This meant that there was always someone with which to debate, a past-time Roq found both amusing and beneficial. He was prone to debate with himself, in fact, weighing back and forth the different sides of the issue.

Roq answered any questions that were asked of him, and so he became a favorite of inquisitive youth, despite incurring the wrath of the current librarian.

It is rarely possible to concisely summarize a decade of life, but as it were, this was actually precisely possible in the case of Roq. Roq’s next decade was spent ‘seeing it all’, so to speak, or at least seeing as much as there was for a Jedi to see. He took missions of all sorts, often commanding teams of three or four to hone his leadership skills. When it came to his Force skills, instead of learning completely new schools of thought, Roq focused on finding creative and innovative applications for skills he was already familiar with. Rarely did the Force liquefy to lightning for Roq, but the times in which it did were pivotal moments indeed. The ability was not something commanded by Roq, but rather, it was commanded fully by the Force.

He became good friends with several members of the council, simply because he was fully willing to snag them in a debate, and to get them thinking. Roq’s personality and mindsets had been so well established up until this point, that the decade did little more than accentuate these features.

Time has a habit of passing incredibly fast, and as such it devoured those ten years. More and more of the masters Roq had once revered died of old age, including his once-teachers, Seeira and Bok, and the Graarl hesitated only a moment before blessing their becoming one with the Force.

Ripples and Reflections

At the advent of Roq’s sixtieth year, he took a look back upon his career as a Jedi. Though, ‘career’ was not the right word… being a Jedi was not his job, nor was it even his vocation. Jedi wasn’t what Roq was, Jedi was who Roq was. Though he had never taken a Padawan, he had given a great many Jedi life-impacting bits of knowledge. His influence had been instrumental in many of the Jedi’s great accomplishments of the century, and yet his name had never been on the holonews. He worked behind-the-scenes, content to know his actions were making a difference, recognized or not. Roq could not be called an orthodox Jedi, for he wielded no lightsaber, and had hardly followed the usual training regimen. And yet, he epitomized many of the Jedi’s great tenants – compassion without attachment, mercy without stupidity, forgiveness with a spine, confidence without arrogance. They were the unspoken things that made Jedi, Jedi.

He had gone from a self-sure youth, to a wise and thoughtful Jedi, though somehow, he hadn’t been able to get rid of that mischief. He’d had friends for life, and friends for a season, but the Graarl realized he had never been without support. Though he had fallen to the darkness, he had learned from that mistake, and the past no longer haunted his dreams, for they were filled with the future.

It was strange to think back to when he was younger, and could never even dream of having the abilities and the understanding that he now had. Such things had been earned well through hard work and discipline, but it was humbling in that the darkness seemed to evolve at just the same pace.

The past decade really had not changed him much. It was as if he were a painting, in which the first ten years of his life decided the sort of canvas he would be. The next ten decided what frame he would stand upon, while the years after that put his frame together. By the time he had hit thirty, colors began to appear upon the canvas, but just what colors would end up there had yet to be determined. By age forty, the general form of the end painting was beginning to appear, and it seemed that age fifty had established the proper color palette. And so, the past decade had just been filling in the details, refining, adding more of the understood colors to the canvas. Perhaps a new color would appear, but it was a color Roq could not imagine, one he had never seen before. But if it came, his canvas would be ready.

Wise Council

In his sixty-first year, Roq was invited into the great Jedi Council. While Roq had attempted to be humble about the whole thing, he was not naively so, and logically, the decision made sense to him. That did not, however, negate the deep rooted honor and validation the invitation gave him. Oddly enough, however, Roq initially considered declining the invitation. After all, he knew he could still serve the Force in a less ostensible position. He didn’t feel the need to be showcased. Out of courtesy, Roq said he would sleep on the matter. As it were, sleep brought visions rather than dreams, and the Force made it very clear what Roq’s decision was to be.

The next day, Roq was informally accepted into the council, and a week later, the ceremony was performed. The entire time, thoughts of Master Kat’rn drifted into Roq’s mind, as he thought upon the fact that his master had once been a part of the Council as well. One thing filled him with more joy and amusement than anything else – how absolutely apathetically unimpressed master Kat’rn would be.

~

It didn’t take long for Roq to become used to having a voice in the council. Their policy discussions weren’t all that different from that debates that Roq was used to engaging in. Though the Graarl rarely made definitive decisions, he was quite skilled at summarizing the opposing points, and getting through the nit-picky issues down to the core of things. As a member of the Council, he did not have the free time to take as many missions as he once had; however, he still took more than most of the other Council members. In many ways, he was one of the more down-to-earth of the bunch, but he was still prone to random outbursts of seemingly irrelevant wisdom, just in case his inferiors forgot that he was, after all, a Master, and had every right in the world to make no sense.

Halfway through Roq’s third year with the council, whispers and rumors of war caught the galaxy. He watched thoughtfully as the Sith assembled and began their conquest, feeling tendrils of evil begin to creep slowly across the galaxy. He observed carefully as the Supreme Chancellor declared war, and felt the tension in the air as the Council’s very own Vreem Took led the Blades into the heat of the battle.

Master Roq found himself aligned to neither side. He was the first to defend the formation of the Blades, but also the first to remind the splinter group of the value of patience, and the slow, but effective nature of the order. Thoughts of the Jedi Civil War cautioned the Jedi, and his every move was made in an attempt to prevent such a catastrophe from recurring.

Roq finally reached a conclusion, the threads coming together, drop by drop, propelled by the stream of his favorite fountain. His allegiance was not to the Council, nor the Republic, nor to any institution. His loyalty and his allegiance belonged wholly to the Force, and he would serve that entity as much as possible, be that alongside the Blades, or alongside the Council.

However, the war isn’t the only thing affecting the galaxy – it simply makes the news more often. Corruption, recklessness and crime claim more lives daily than do the Sith.

And so, wherever the Force calls him, Roq Nd’ath’terrain’akai will be.

//____________\\

[Kella]

RP Sample:

Tzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzing! sang the saber, its frustration vibrating into the paws of the aggressor. Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarg! He echoed its cry.

Breath came hot and fast to Roq, catching as his beak crushed nothing but coarse fur. Another failed attempt -- but the Graarl was not so daft as to assume tired attacks would win new results. He needed to change something, drastically, quickly.

Flares of white light made stark shadows on the wall, as the articulated saber dove again and again towards the Graarl, met every time -- almost -- by a Ray of the Force. The Shistavanen wielded his Djem So with passion, the tidal strokes buffeting the Jedi backwards, first by a step and then by bounds.

And so at last the moon eclipsed the sun.

As every ancient temple is doomed to fall, Roq's legs buckled beneath him, forming their own corner to trap him against the Shistavanen. His breath came even harder now, a chest imploding and expanding with all the contrast of a burst balloon. Life and death were measured with a ruler of milliseconds, and Roq raised a defiant claw to catch the in-bound death-blow. Searing plasma dripped from the exasperated saber, the wailing echoing in Roq's gray eyes, and in blood-shot Shistavanen yellow.

The former spoke undying perseverance, the second growled that this confrontation would not be the last. All became dark as the saber withdrew, ghosts of the light obscuring the shadows. Roq blinked away the film, as the canine silhouette dashed away.

His heavy breathing became the rally cry as his muscles picketed for rest, but Roq was not so easily stilled, and so he rose to his feet and settled his wings. He eyed the emptiness left by the aggressor's vanishing. No eclipse endured forever.

"Master Roq!" a voice suddenly yelled, hushed by Roq's severe look. The ghosts of light still insisted their impression on Roq's retina, announced by the vague nature of the creature next to him. Still, the Padawan's Zabrak form was unmistakable. "Master, you're letting him get away!"

Roq shook flat his risen scales, dismissing the Padawan's cry. "All evil will fall eventually. For now, let the good survive to fight another day."

A puzzled silence. "Where is Master Tba--"

"Hush, We will find your master. Eventually. Be wary of rushing ahead, padawan. This little chapter isn't even over..."

Dramatic timing is a device most reserved for fiction. Reality's malevolence lies in the silences, vacuums of space and time that feed on confidence, leaving only what is left -- such as the self-doubt that slunk through the Zabrak's mind.

The Graarl was not so afflicted, as accustomed to silence as he was to noise. There was never true silence for a Graarl, as is always for one whose whole body serves like an ear. However, the present noise was pain, as sharp in the core of bruised muscles as the raw edges of burned scales. No exception to this was a semi-circular burn on the fringe of his wing, joining a myriad of other scars in the soft leather.

"I hear something..." Whispered the Zabrak, and Roq's eyes scanned the darkness, for he was deaf to it.

"What is it?"

"Like a faint, high-pitched screeching..."

Roq reached out into the Force, but felt nothing. Then, a slight change in the air currents behind him... He spun just in time to see the cloud of creatures approach, invisible to the light, but a dull gray in the spectrum of heat.

The Padawan screamed as the swarm descended, thousands of furry bodies, fingered wings, and needle-teeth prepared to burrow for blood and so much more. The sudden green glow of a saber reflected off each blind white eye. The Padawan still possessed his wits, and began to swat at them with his saber, cutting them down and driving them back with the glow. "What are they?" demanded the horrified voice.

"Scrawlers," Roq growled, snapping one from the air and breaking its neck with his jagged beak. Calling on the Force, Roq raised his wings and drove them forward, a ripple of the Force surging forward and stripping scores of scrawlers of their senses. A whole column of them fell, revealing for a moment the velvet ceiling, before another hundred took their place. And yet, Roq had not the strength to do anything more than stun the creatures; their vast majority quickly returning to the fray. The Zabrak screamed; Roq now knew the learner was not faring as well as he had hoped. Beating back the swarm, Roq sunk his mind into a moving meditation, called upon the living Force... Blue flickers of the anticipated shell appeared about the Padawan, but nothing more. The well was dry, Roq was scraping the bottom of the dish. There was a limit, a wall to every stamina, and he was quickly approaching this breaking point.

But not... yet...

"Run!" he yelled to the Padawan.

"Which way?"

"By the Force, child!" he snapped, "Use your training!" It only took the moment of distraction as the green light bobbed away for Roq's defenses to fall. A pained growl bellowed from his chest as a sharp new pain sunk into his flank. Roq twisted his beak around and snapped the culpable scrawler in two, barely resisting the urge to wretch at the taste of its foul blood.

He too began to run; a mind exhausted of using the Force burdened a ragged body to carry on alone. Like a living hail, the Scrawlers pummeled him again and again, thick and dense as a quagmire. Roq persisted, and then he prevailed, finally emerging from the suffocation into clean air, gasping through fiery lungs and crossing the broad threshold. A shuddering slam echoed behind him, handiwork of the Padawan who had not been idle in his master's absence. The green saber emerged once more to strike down the few Scrawlers who had managed an escape.

Silence.

A quick glance revealed the Zabrak's wounds to be only minor, a victorious smile already on his face. Rog sprawled out on his side, heaving a massive exhale. "Good work, Padawan," he panted, curving the fleshy root of his beak into a smile, "This might finally make up for you feeding my lunch to that Acklay." Though each allowed themselves an exhausted chuckle, they could not ignore the pounding of the Scrawlers upon the barred door, almost as persistent as the escaped Jedi. "It seems our Fallen Friend likes to make deals with the natives."

The Zabrak nodded emphatically, guilt at having earned a scold forgotten. "Stupid Shistavenen. First the Quets, now these Scratter things, or whatever. I think the Quets were scarier, they had too many eyes. Though, I th-- Master! You're bleeding!"

"Am I?" Roq looked up at the Padawan, good humor in his eyes. If silence was a vacuum, conflict was a mighty wind; Roq's sole remnant proved to be that good humor. Gracelessly, He flopped his tail up to land in front of his nose, stirring a halo of dust as it landed. Sure enough, blood oozed from a wicked gash that traced the whole length of the larger of his tail fins. "So I am, it seems."

Exhaustion seemed to have aged the Graarl another century, and he hauled groaning bones back up to stand. A moment he dedicated to preening, flicking away the broken-off needle noses of a few unfortunate scrawlers. Blood also trickled from the deep wound of Roq's flank, splitting around his scales to draw some cryptic crimson message on the battle-dulled gray. Though the wound was open and jagged, mercy ruled that it held no needle. Even so, Roq had not escaped some of the numbing poison, and though he could still move his left leg, he could not feel it in the least.

"We'll find Tamora first," Roq ruled, "And then your master."

"But--"

"Tamora will take good care of us. And we're no use to Tbarasan if we're dead, are we?"

The Padawan sighed. "No..."

"Off we go, then. No dawdling." Without the Force to ease his pain, Roq bore the full burden of all his injuries. And yet, he proved himself a robust creature. Though his wingtips dragged on the ground, and the raw edge of his tail mingled with the dust, his head stayed up and his eyes were forward. The numbness of his left leg rocked his body with a strange limp, but still, Roq moved forward.

"What a disaster..." Moaned the Padawan.

"Battles are won, and battles are lost. What matters is persisting so that you can win the war."

"Persistence. I'm adding that to my list."

"Hm?"

"My list. Tbarasan calls it, 'The Ten Attributes of a Jedi', I call it 'Ten things that make Jedi so damn annoying to everyone else'. Persistence is going above patience... I only have four! Tbarasan won't even give me any hints, because she says every Jedi is different, blah blah blah. Surely there has to be something..."

The Padawan continued, word after word of the same timbre. The convenience of one-sided conversation was that it allowed Roq's mind to dwell sinlessly on other things -- mainly repetition of the scientific domains of plants on Alderaan, so as to chase the pain away.

And so the master and the Padawan trudged deeper into the abandoned ville; regrets, like blood, trailing behind.

[Deleted]

Since this thing is so darn long I'll label under which heading I found the mistake (IF I find any xD )



A truer test

enveloped by a sleep that would not release them for some t time.

X) an extra "t" here that I thought I should point out.



"you're Promoted" "I quit"

However, the Graarl confirmed a think he had only suspected in the past –

perhaps you wanted the word "thing" rather then "think"



Things Change

Aged 46, Roq was looking for a way to expand his horizons,

Aged looks wrong to meh X) maybe you wanted "Age"

ok read the whole thing ^^ I can't believe you wrote that much and only made three mistakes (that I found) xD if there are more it will take greater minds then mine to find them.

I saw other stuff that doesn't fit the usual Jedi setup but... well YOU are the mod of this section, so you know what you're doing and I'm not even gonna comment on it.

Personal note: I was Enthralled beginning to end X) Can't wait to see the RP sample when you get that up. Truly Epic Ash (y)

[Dutch]

I gotta ask- is that last name REALLY necessary? XDDDD

<3

[Kella]

Thankaverrehmuch, Hax! I really appreciate the feedback. X) Errors corrected.

And as for you, sir Dutch...

Yes. Yes it is.

[SlipLihte]

Hmmm, since I'm still new here, I'll limit my thoughts to what I know of the Star Wars universe and leave the stats and what not to people who actually know what they're doing.

First, just a quick list of a few spelling and grammar mistakes I found:

1. In the bio, you spell the Graal language as Graat, but on the Custom Race page it's Graaat. Not sure which is correct, so I just thought I'd point it out.

2. Under New Wings, New Eyes, you spell his name Kruun instead of Kruuun, as it was in the previous section.

Ok, I admit this is only nit-picking. Really, there are so few things to comment on concerning the content that I have little else to say. Anyway,

3. You use finally twice in the first sentence in New Wings, New Eyes. Perhaps one could be replaced with a synonym?

4. You use drug as a verb in places. Though I know what you're trying to say, drug is technically a verb for dosing with something. Perhaps dragged would be better?

5. In It’s Not Goodbye When You’re Going Home, I think you used world instead of word in the sentence "In Graat, the Graarl language, the world carried great connotation"

6. There are a few places where the code

[Twysper]

Herro Kella. x)

I have already poked you about everything I noted, so consider Roq read by yet another being. =3

[Jenno]

You need to have the 'High Council Member' rank before the name in the thread title.

I believe I've already raised a few issues with you. Meira said she'd go through go through this one since there's not another Jedi mod around.

~Jenno

[Otterling]

Hey Kell. No, I'm not a mod or anything but I read through your HCM and didn't find anything at all that wasn't already pointed out. All I can say is that I'm looking forward to meeting him. XD

[Mara]

This is not something about the profile or bio directly, as I just skimmed so far, but I did notice, at least with my monitor resolution where you use a dark gray text for the stats and then later for titles in the bio (chapter 3, I think), it's hard to read, at least for me.

[Meira]

Alrighty Kells. Since I used to be the Jedi mod, I think it's only fitting that I step back in to review your app. And what an app it is! First of all, I haven't gone through the whole thing (I'm up to him coming to the Temple), but already, it reads like a story. You've got great imagery. I can literally see Roq flying and playing. It's great.

Now, I'm sure you knew this was coming, so we're gonna get this out of the way right now. I'm going to talk out my issue with his age at acceptance.

Now, Obviously, when working with alien creatures that are very dissimilar to humans, we pretty much have to throw the book out the window. So, looking at the Graal information, I can see that physical and mental maturation are likely to be quite different. As I understand it, a Graal physically matures at 10 years. This means that the Graal is at its adult height and weight, correct?

But we can't expect a creature that can live to 130 years to be mentally mature at this age, same as we can't expect an 18 year old human to have the mental maturity of a 70 year old human. So my question is, can I expect Roq to have the same mental maturity level as a human 6 year old?

Now, this being a special case, and likely the first time a Graal has ever been considered by the Jedi, we can assume that some slight leeway might be given. The Jedi are not above experimentation, I'm sure.

Mainly, the mind of a 6-8 year old, yes?


With the above being my main concern before everything else, I would like for us to be super clear on that before we move on.

But one other note... I'm surprised that Kruuun would change his name just because one person can't say it. Such a name seems so personal to me the change just doesn't make any sense... no matter how fitting the second name might be.


Actually, two other notes. When he arrives at the Temple... we're thrown abruptly into talk of his training. I would have expected a deliberation, a meeting with the council even. I mean... This is a highly unusual case. I would expect the Jedi to consider it carefully. And thinking about that now, I would expect that he'd be taken to Coruscant under the conditions that he might have to return should the Jedi determine this endeavor TOO risky.

Anywho, those are my thoughts thus far. I know I'm not too into it, but this is something that I simply have to make sure we're good on before I can continue.

[Kella]

After months of leaving poor Roq neglected due to feelings of guilt at the rest of the section feeling so abused, I have returned!!!!

*begins to dig through feedback, fixing things and making note of the remarkable bits*

4. You use drug as a verb in places. Though I know what you're trying to say, drug is technically a verb for dosing with something. Perhaps dragged would be better?

*glare of death* Do not mess with my non-standard verb usages!

16. In Wise Council : "Thoughts of the Jedi Civil War cautioned the Jedi, and his every move was made in an attempt to prevent such a catastrophe from recurring." Recurring is an adjective, I think you were looking for reoccurring?

Blast, and reoccurring isn't a word either... I take artistic license, and declare that to recurr is now a verb! Simply because I can!!


I fancy wanderlust more of a... personality trait than a desire, per-se. X) It's not entirely forgotten later on, it's just very subtle. There are times in which Roq is itching to get away from the temple for a few years, but at the same time, Graarls easily form fond-spots for certain particular places. For Roq, this is his fountain, and it's present at enough important times in his life as to almost be a character in his story. So, it's made very subtle by his Jedi training, but is present along the way... and I don't want to bring too much attention to it, so I think I'll leave it as it is under the guise of foreshadowing. X)


The Padawan bit and the Memory bit are the easy answers. X) Roq never took a Padawan because, indeed, he really couldn't teach saber combat. However, and I think I might have to insert this, he did do a lot of running classes, for younglings, Padawans, and Masters alike. So, he imparted his knowledge, and quite a bit of it -- just not dedicatedly to one particular Padawan. I touched upon this when I mentioned all the teaching he did, but obviously, I didn't quite tie it into the padawan thing. X) As it is, depending on my whim, that may or may not find permanent inscription somewhere in Roq's bio... *mutters* Where, of course, I have no idea...

As for the memory, it's the simple matter that Roq likes to repeat things to himself. Or liked or whatever. I attempted to mention this with the fact that Roq never does nothing -- that is, he's always doing something, and that something is usually repeating things so he does not forget them. It's the encoding that Graarls have trouble with, that is, pushing things from short-term to long-term storage. Therefore, any Graarl with a good knowledge of Mnemonic devices can compensate for the difficulty. So, theoretically, if a Graarl worked hard enough, they could remember events and things in much clearer detail than a human, if they were skilled with Mnemonic devices -- as Roq ultimately trained himself to be. As an author, it's a device to relieve the burden of longevity for ancient Graarls. X) As a character, it's something Roq had to overcome. Which, while it could be mentioned... isn't something that really contributes to who he is overall, nor do I really want to call attention to it... so I'll leave it assumed/implied.
There's a Hall of Knighthood??? O.O And it has WINDOWS? *jumps upon opportunity*
I'm far too excited by this new knowledge to be embarrassed at the fact that I should already know this. Hm.



Concerning the seeming ignoring of his fall to the dark-side, I have only one thing to say.

Dangnabit.

It's not like me to overlook such a plot thread, but as it were, it seems that that is what happened. As per your advice, I do think I'll work back through and make a couple passing mentions of it, especially when/if he ends up joining the council... *ponders to self*

And oh! Meira, you're quite right about the lack of deliberation. In my head, I had a whole lot more going on, but I appear to have forgotten all that in my eagerness to get back to young Roq. Hrrrrrrum... I was going to do that now, but I'm too tired to do a good Job of it... In any event, I'll come back with a good meaty paragraph or two on that subject. As par the naming thing, a few explanatory sentences have been added. X)



The bit about his maturation was a odd, sticky subject, And I'm hoping the following fiddling around makes sense of it...

Since I'm way too used to watching Animal Planet specials, I took it to be sexual maturation. So at age 10, a Graarl would neither be fully mentally mature, nor fully grown, but at least on the way there. Mental maturation varies as widely among Graarls as it does among humans. However, a Graarl spends a much smaller percentage of its life in development than a Human. *muses* In fact, Graarls mature extremely rapidly in relation to their lifetimes, but those are quirks for another day. X)

Anyway, there is the matter of his state of mind upon being accepted to the Jedi. At age 8, his mental state probably would have been comparable to a 9 or 10 year old human child. However, the crux of the matter comes down to the nature of the Graarl culture -- it's strikingly similar to the fundamentals of the Jedi culture, where patience and intellect are prized, emotions downplayed, and there is a general similarity of morals. Violence only if absolutely necessary, etc. Living on a planet as isolated as Astrum V kind of produces a small-town mentality, almost... in that Roq was completely naive to the galaxy and its troubles as a child. Therefore, he was less jaded and more open than most human children half his age. (Especially since it seems every other Padawan observed his/her parents being brutally murdered. -_-) It was only taking all this into account that the Jedi accepted the little Graarl...

*sigh* Oddly enough, I had all this in mind when I first begun the character, but in my excitement, I glazed over this important bit of detail when I should not have. X) In retrospect, I skimmed over that more than I had ever intended to...

As it were, I ought to be able to bundle all that ^ up, as well as going into more detail on the Jedi's deliberation over Roq's future.

Tomorrow.

Or sometime in the future.

As for right now, here are the bits I changed:

Brinks was steadfastly determined to find the Graarl a name palatable by the average tongue. Kruuun, still bewildered by it all, could find no will to protest. After all, maybe that's just what they did in this strange, new galaxy. He already had two names, what was one more?

~~~~~

And so it was settled; the next day, Roq would be officially knighted.

Finally, Master Kat’rn, who had been standing next to Roq this whole time, went and reclaimed his seat in the Council circle. Thus was completed the cycle, Master to apprentice, apprentice to Master.

Roq stood in the hall of Knighthood, the last pink blush of sunrise slipping away, overcome by the bright shafts of new day's light. The broad windows revealed a brilliant view of the city-scape. It was the same city Roq saw from his perch on the roof, but something about viewing it from between the Hall's ancient pillars cast it in a whole new color.

Roq was enveloped by the sound of the sabers' humm, his entire body capturing the vibrations as they flowed through him, filling him with a strength like a rushing river. The sabers belonged to the masters that knelt around him now, forming a circle. There was no beginning, no end to the flow of knowledge and force, as it twirled around and around and around...

The sabers reached crescendo as they glided through the air, a ceremonious salute.

Roq Nd'ath'terrain'akai was a Jedi Knight.

A ctrl+F search for some unique phrase will find both of these in their respective spots. X)

[Jace]

Alright here we go. Interesting stuff, a little too much dialogue for me but to each his own.


1.

He was fascinated by the stories of old, Tales of Revan and the Jedi Civil War, of Bastilla and her battle meditation, of the Exile whose name no one seemed to remember… Of the fall of the Sith, of the rise of the Jedi

The Jedi Civil War may have been known to most but on a very vague level. The chances of people knowing about Revan or Bastilla and their specific exploits is very limited. While I understand this information would be available in the archives, I highly doubt its something a padawan would be able to access.

2.

The Graarl’s defenses were impassable, however, and the Cathar became exhausted.

While this is earlier in the bio, I have seen a consistent pattern in the others. Every one of the opponents Roq seems to face or either easily overwhelmed or unable to penetrate his defenses. You mention his opponents tiring out, but never him. I know you are a fair(as in RP fairness) writer, its easy to forget that even powerful characters get fatigued and the like. Just keep it in mind.

3.

It would not be simple. Killing him was the only thing to be done.

Don't you think he jumped to that conclusion just a little too fast for a Jedi?

4.

An odd feeling of complete peace overcame Roq. Time ceased to be. He allowed his shield to fall, absorbing it into himself. For a moment, an exhilarating moment, Roq was full to the brim of the Force, steeped within a great power that was not his own. With great beauty, the Force spilled from Roq once more, forming streams and rivers in the Force, dancing lines of lightning that flicked languidly back and forth. The liquid river swept outward, overwhelming Cruor. The Force had an embrace even deadlier than the Anzat, and soon Cruor’s body had submitted to the entity whose existence he had refused to recognize. The beautiful, flickering tongues of lighting faded slowly, dissipating into the Force around, sending a subtly humming ripple into the breeze. No life remained in the Anzat, for it had been stolen away, diffused with the sparks into the anonymous Force.

Honestly I just need an explanation for what exactly just happened here.

6.Jennos and I have both discussed this, and we both agree. Roq must attain knighthood at 22, no sooner. The rule applies to every character.

7.I can has RP sample plox?

That being said, Roq is quite an amazing individual, one whom I hope to RP with soon.

[Kella]

Suh-weet. ^^

Shoot for the moon, and if you miss, at least you land among the stars. xD

Personality section added, per new template!

1. Vagued-up a bit. ^^

He had applied his memory not just to the usual code… but to histories, writings, and ancient manuscripts as well. He was fascinated by the stories of old, Tales of the origin of the order, of the terrible wars…

2. Dude, you're totally right... xD Which is weird, because I wrote him to have a lot of scars... Anyway, I could go through the whole bio, which I'd have to do later, or I can just give you my RP sample and the events within as a peace offering? :3
As it were, I kind of imagine him as Soresu personified, in way of combat. Drastic action opens up his defenses, while sometimes he can't do anything but just sit there and wait it out, especially against multiple enemies... The point of which is just to say that I did give aforethought to his weaknesses... I was just having too much fun to write all about them. X)

*blinks* Duuuuuuuuude, I think I just figured out my problem. I just really, really like the word 'impenetrable'. Not really what it means, or anything, just, like, the way it's spelled, and the way it sounds... I think I like typing it. xD
GoodnessIhaveissues.....

3. Any living Anzat is eatin' brains, and Roq just made that one mad, which effectively made it a battle to-the-death. Certain things are just better dead. xD The Jedi couldn't have done anything but starve an Anzat to death, or let him escape to continue murdering people, so a quick death is actually quite merciful. I can spell this out during the encounter, but I'm really bad about over-explaining things, so I tried to cut it out where I could. xD

4. I have failed you. v.v
Either that, or I just did too much reading about the Anzat. They refuse to recognize the Force as being real, so I figured it'd be sweet irony if he was killed by Force Lightning/Electric Judgement/whatever-you-want-to-call-it. I wanted to present the power in a way that it isn't usually presented... i.e., I didn't want to go, 'und then LIGHTNINGZ0RZ came frum his eeeeeeyes!' xD So yeah. He killed the Anzat with electric judgemnt.

6. Not a problem. ;D I like to see what I can get away with. X)

Roq’s patience finally paid off. Not only did he have new rank, but new freedom -- and new responsibility -- as well.

Thus passed days, then weeks, then months, then a year, and by the time Roq was twenty-three, his life had settled into this general pattern.

Two other minor edits were made to preserve continuity, but I didn't think them worthy of transcribing here.

7. POSTED! A rather concise piece if I do say so myself... the last thing this app needed was more fluff. X)

[Jace]

Right then you almost have everything but I still think one thing needs elaboration. This 'variation' of electrical judgment. Yes you used it against the Anzat but that was a spur of the moment thing. I see no mention of training or working on it....thus at this point its not really a skill that Roq could use consistently. If ya wanna use it, then I will need some more integration of it into the bio.

Aside from that, everything looks dandy.

[Kella]

The idea of it is that it's not trained, or refined, or perfected. If it had been, then it probably wouldn't have been undiscovered, for Plo Koon to discover three thousand years later. xD If we assume a bit of Canon. But anyway, I wanted to build in that him using it was a very rare occurrence indeed, to discourage myself from abusing it. X) My intent is for it to not be pre-meditated, or planned, but to only come when Roq's connection to the Force is at its strongest, and when the Force wills it. In like with Roq's view of the living Force, and it's seeking of balance, he would say that it's most likely to overcome him, when the Force wishes to use him to eliminate some element that was severely disturbing the balance. An Anzat would be such a creature. Of course, his manipulation of it was much more intentional when he had fallen, but that stemmed from anger and hate, and since Roq has eliminated those in his present state, he'd never be able to use it consciously.

That being said, in RP, it would be less of a 'power' and more of a plot device. In light of this, I'd really rather not develop it more in-bio, because it's not really meant to be developed. However, if this doesn't clear things up, please let me know, and I'll accommodate.

[Jace]

sexy, welcome to the council

<Approved>