Post by Radu on Mar 16, 2010 14:29:52 GMT -5
Name: Lyrrin Terath
Race: Farghul
Age: 30
Height: 5'5"
Weight: 135
Appearance:
Above: a hypothetical image of Lyrrin observing traditional Farghul garb. As a Jedi, he doesn't adorn himself with any jewelry, nor does he use bracers; he does, however, go for brick red or amber robes and low boots, which restrain his ankles less. He is also known to keep his torso and feet bare during training and meditation, much like a regular member of his species.
From a medium height, a pair of inquisitive feline eyes, almost always in motion, regard the observer with moderate curiosity. Combined with an ironic smile and a sharp face narrowed even further by his long, pointy left ear - most of his right earlobe was destroyed by a blaster shot - , as well as his somewhat-curly, shoulder-long mane and choice of beard, one has the portrait of an interesting young sentient, if anything. His build is that of a smart athlete, rather than being ostentatiously muscular or, on the contrary, flabby - the product of Jedi training and his daily calisthenics. Well-sharpened non-retractable claws adorn the tips of his fingers; the tips of those on his toes are dulled, in order to make sure he doesn't wear through so many pairs of boots.
He carries himself with a silent sort of confidence, walking slowly and deliberately; unless absolutely needed, he will not make the slightest sudden gesture. He does, however, make use of his long prehensile tail quite often - from thorough sessions of regally scratching the back of his head and his shoulder blades, as if nobody around him mattered, to using it as an extra hand when he has something special to underline with gestures.
Birth place: Jahhnu, Farrfin
Faction: Jedi
Rank: Knight - Sentinel
Bio:
Born to Delfas and Breela, a couple of minor nobles with pro-Republic views from Jahhnu, Lyrrin, a wanted and beloved child, was the apple of his family's eye. His parents were past their prime, so they were more than grateful to have him, but they wanted their only son to lead a different life than what he would expect on the criminally-controlled planet of Farrfin. They both had their hands in a number of smuggling operations, which allowed them to lead a more-than-pleasant life, but they planned on grooming Lyrrin to become a diplomat and leave the planet and its myriad of temptations.
When Delfas encountered a Jedi Knight pursuing a criminal whom had chosen to lose himself in the Jahhnu metropolis, he was pleased to offer the Corellian both shelter and information that would, eventually, led to the capture of his target. Marl, as the Knight introduced himself, also took the opportunity to submit young Lyrrin to a midi-chlorian count before his departure. Discovering that the child was Force-sensitive, his parents were presented with a bittersweet solution to their greatest wish. He was, indeed, going to leave the planet with a noble cause, but they hadn't expected the time to come as soon as it did. With teary eyes, they parted; the young Farghul, a friendly, albeit solitary infant, didn't have any friends to say 'goodbye' to.
It wasn't easy at all, with an appearance like his and a strong Farghul accent, for Lyrrin to fit in among the Younglings, who were, mostly, human. However, typical childish cruelty aside, the vast majority settled down after he showed his claws a few times. Those who didn't, however - older bullies, mostly - gave him a fair amount of grief. Having already been reprimanded for using his claws to convince the children to leave him be, he sought the advice of a few Masters, who told him to help his classmates see the error of their ways.
It was so that the small, swift and agile Lyrrin started playing mostly-harmless pranks on his tormentors, ranging from moving their training lightsabers when they weren't looking to using his tail to stop them from chasing other Younglings like him. Eventually, he reached out to one of them, helping him succeed in a few more mentally-challenging tasks; the boy, whose name was Cal, befriended and stood up for him, while making a point out of assisting the Farghul with his lightsaber and unarmed training. It was so that the bullying ceased and Lyrrin truly connected with someone, for the first time since leaving his home, much to the satisfaction of their instructors.
Vowing to each other that they would become worthy of being Padawans as soon as possible, the duo trained diligently, day after day. No longer under the stress of being the target of larger children's ill-thought games, young Lyrrin became more and more gregarious and friendly; he was starting to develop into a typical fun-loving member of his species. While Cal relied on his strength and size more and more, his feline friend creatively and enthusiastically balanced the physical and the philosophical sides of their Jedi training, understanding the importance of both. He would often steal a couple of nightly hours to add a bit of extra studying and training.
A good couple of years after the older Cal started going on missions with his master, Lyrrin, now around the age of 11, was approached by Master Tav Sei'ges, an aged, humor-loving Bothan, whom had kept an eye on him ever since he had been brought to Coruscant. Considering him to be the ideal candidate for a student and a companion, the feline-featured Jedi took him as a Padawan. Harnessing his creativity and natural agility, Sei'ges introduced him to Ataru and its dynamic, offensive philosophy, a good year into their relationship already, as well as encouraging him to use his prehensile tail more in combat, but his training was slow and gradual. The true Masters, he believed, were those who understood and commanded the basics perfectly; while it was frustrating to progress more slowly than expected, their good-natured humor helped to forge a powerful bond that helped Lyrrin see the greater picture.
While further underlining the value of all living beings in the Universe, Master Sei'ges also made a point out of offering his student an extensive personal view on the two Sides of the Force, explaining how the imperfect nature of every sentient made them vulnerable to power corruption and how neither was inherently stronger than the other. In their travels, Lyrrin learned that martial might was a small, sometimes even irrelevant part of what brought forth victory; by forcing him to ignore his weapons, going up the point where he took them away for a time, the Bothan taught him to always seek out a deeper understanding of any conflict and a peaceful resolution to any such event.
As time passed and their bond grew even stronger, the Farghul started seeing his Master as a sort of surrogate father, emulating his well-mannered, humorous way of being and training hard to, someday, match him in skill and Force mastery. They always made a point out of taking the road less traveled, which was something visible in the way in which they tracked down a particular flesh trader. The duo traveled to Tatooine, where they braved the Dune Sea and its predators, beasts and sentients alike, trusting the Force to guide them, rather than relying the slightest bit on the leads they got in Anchorage, until they reached a seemingly-nondescript cavern.
Uncannily drawn further and further into the chilly bowels of the grotto, Lyrrin discovered a pale crystalline formation; kneeling and opening his mind to the Force, he extended his hand and took a shard that seemed to come off naturally. That, Tav explained, was a Durindfire gem; in the ensuing month, as they returned to Coruscant, for the criminal's hideout had not been far from that point, the Farghul meditated intensely upon it, forming the well-needed bond with the crystal, before carefully assembling his first lightsaber around it. The process was not free of error - far from it! - , but, since he eventually understood the purpose of each part, he was capable of pulling off a dual-phase construction. That evening, the small chamber he had assigned was filled with his content laughter; as if in awe, he spent a couple of hours looking at it from every angle, testing each small setting variation and, finally, emerging with it clipped to his belt, victoriously; he was a bit over 18 years of age.
During the next few years, after a well-placed caution from his Master, who believed his young apprentice was becoming needlessly flamboyant in manner as well as combat, Lyrrin grudgingly agreed and sought his help in understanding a far more practical form, Niman. The snake of pride had already bitten him, however, and he started to believe that the Bothan's reasons were selfish in nature, as he couldn't have wanted to be outmatched by his far younger student; even so, he understood the importance of a versatile and adaptable fighting style, so he put the thoughts behind him and took a more down-to-earth approach during their following missions. His inherent need for flashy displays would almost become his downfall.
The Dark Jedi whom they were pursuing through the slums of Nar Shaddaa definitely wasn't the first the pair had apprehended. Eventually, master and student caught up with their man within a foul-smelling and dimly-lit warehouse. However, a nasty surprise awaited them there, in the form of a droid detachment scattered in a circular formation, armed with blaster and disruptor rifles. Caught by surprise and frightened, Lyrrin charged, rather than synchronizing with his master to laboriously destroy the droids and focus on the darksider.
With a burst of youthful energy and the Force by his side, the Farghul managed to put a good few droids out of commission, however, a small hesitation by Tav made him receive a blaster shot that shattered his kneecap and hit the ground, falling, roughly, over a previously-broken shoulder. Losing his cool even further, Lyrrin understood the danger and returned by his side. Standing, valiantly, with the downed body of his Master between his ankles, his heart savagely pounding, he slowly, but surely deflected the blaster bolts back to their sources, while making sure that his old friend remained untouched. A stray shot took most of his right earlobe with it, causing him to roar in frustrated pain, while a few others grazed his arms and ribs, but all that mattered was saving his teacher and doing their job to the end. He was, however, feeling like a trapped beast by the time the last droid fell; his fingers clenched on his lightsaber, he let loose a low rumble of a growl while waves of fear washed over him. He realized he had no plan and no Master to guide him, but he pushed on, fueled by adrenalin, waiting for inspiration.
It was then that Agrippa, the Dark Jedi they had been pursuing, showed himself and commended Lyrrin for his passionate display of prowess, as he put it. Icy chills danced down the Farghul's spine as the man laughed, again and again, demeaning the Jedi Order and making crude jokes about the old Master's actions - and Agrippa gave him the coup-de-grace when he stated that, should the Farghul become his apprentice, he would let the Bothan go free. At that point, Lyrrin considered saying 'yes' and cutting him down as soon as he got the chance; the Dark One could read him like a book. Ran ragged, he overlooked the possibility of being lured into a more elaborate trap; his chest moved heavily under the burden of rage, as hatred toward the man whom had, probably, cost him his Master started seeping into his soul.
However, with warm, sticky blood still trickling down his skull, he paused, analyzing the situation as a whole, like Tav had taught him; it was so that he started understanding that what he had been considering was, actually, a true fall to the Dark Side - and he started breathing deeply and evenly, soothing his nerves and steeling himself for what was to come after he would give the man his final answer. A calm, serene 'no' and he stepped forward, slowly, assuming a Niman opening stance and placing himself firmly between Agrippa and his Master. The two clashed lightsabers, again and again, the Farghul steadily losing ground to the anger-fueled Juyo of his adversary, while keeping from exploding with rage at what he saw as a twisted version of himself, with everything good consumed by the Dark Side, leaving only a searing tongue that lashed his psyche again and again. The Fallen One's verbal abuse seemed to know no relent; blocking him out was well-nigh impossible and just keeping up with him was becoming more and more of a burden.
In the end, as the seedling of an idea crept into his mind, Lyrrin found the inner resources required for a serene smile. He redirected a thrust from Agrippa's lightsaber with a resolute octave parry, feigning a diagonal slash from the left; his tail sped at ground level, wrapping around the man's ankle and causing him to fall, while the Farghul took care of his weapon with a simple semicircular slash, severing its emitter, before stopping his weapon's tip close to his foe's chest. At that point, the human's taunts and encouragements toward killing him fell on nearly-deaf ears. Yes, he was tempted to do so, making sure that a creature like him didn't live to see another sunrise, but Lyrrin wasn't going to become what his defeated adversary was. Instead, he knocked him out with a punch, to make sure that he wouldn't have any further surprises in store for them, and restrained him, rushing to render badly-needed first aid to the Bothan immediately afterward.
With his wounded Master draped over his shoulder and the Dark One in tow, the Farghul struggled, but, in the end, he was able to return them both to Tav's assigned light freighter. Their journey was uneventful, but a heavy silence weighted both of them down; normally, after a successful mission, the small vessel was quickly filled with their relieved discussions and jokes. It didn't take long until Lyrrin begged his Master for forgiveness, explaining his reckless mistakes and blaming himself for the old Jedi's injuries. It was only after he repeated forgiving him a few times, commending his exemplary display that had ensued after putting more pressure on his shoulders, that the Farghul's tired mind understood what was going on and brought his demeanor closer to normal. He had been under the impression that his Jedi days were numbered.
Returning to Coruscant, Lyrrin was brought before the Council, in the Hall of Knighthood, where he, incredulously, understood he'd been told to kneel; his braid went off, the 'magic words' he had repeated in his head over and over before the incident with Agrippa were uttered and he stood, a Knight at 23 years of age. He had made mistakes, the Masters and the Grandmaster agreed, but, when and where it mattered the most, he had faced grim odds and triumphed, in the true Jedi way - although, truth be told, he didn't know what they'd have said, had they heard what he'd been almost ready to do.
The balance he had tried to maintain between lightsaber mastery and Force powers ever since taking his first steps as a Youngling noted, both Tav and Lyrrin knew all too well that he was preparing to become a Sentinel; the old Guardian knew that all too well and, wisely, kept his personal perspective from stunting his former student's growth. To this day, the Farghul eagerly listens to his old Master's advice, over a plate of food and a glass of fresh water - but let's not get ahead of ourselves.
While Tav did bring it up, not so long after the Farghul became a Knight, he wouldn't, for anything in the world, take a Padawan of his very own. In his own words, "I'd have to feed it, water it twice a week, take it out for walks - and don't get me started on teaching." The memory of his big mistake was still fresh in his mind; as far as he's concerned, he would much rather die, or be crippled, for that matter, for his own foolishness. The Bothan might have forgiven him, but, since being capable of independent missions, Lyrrin is a more cautious man - and his few injuries obtained throughout the years are proof of that.
Since he wasn't relying on the wise old Master anymore, he started focusing more on Telepathy, if only to make sure that the sentients from the worlds he would be visiting would prove themselves less challenging than they'd have expected for themselves. One particular mission, which had taken him on Nivek, stood out in particular as proof of choosing wisely: after tracking down a group of slavers there, entering their compound - even dressed as an average Farghul, as he'd been - proved itself rather challenging, until he managed to convince a rather obstinate guard that the leader expected him. The ensuing firefight, after arguing with the old Sullustan for a good half an hour, almost felt like a blessing to him.
As the years went by, Lyrrin felt that he was gradually distancing himself from his more zealous, Light Side-praising comrades. While he wasn't any more fond of the Dark Side than he had been in his fierce confrontation with Agrippa, the Dark Jedi from Alderaan, the Farghul wasn't above using the Force to convince the dock authorities to let him in without a fee, or to loosen up the occasional tongue, when he was pursuing more difficult targets and his leads yielded little in the way of useful information. He seldom did so in the presence of more traditional Jedi he teamed up with, but, when time was of the essence, he never hesitated - albeit he didn't like it too much. He remembered his temptations and strived to understand how and why they had managed to seep into his psyche as they did.
For a good 7 years now, Lyrrin Terath has helped the galaxy, playing a part in stopping corrupt officials, power-hungry authority figures, slavery rings and a number of other unsavory individuals and groups. He has developed a certain understanding of the downtrodden and the criminal elements on various worlds, during his travels, but the good-natured Sentinel doesn't mind what the more snobbish members of the Order assume and whisper about him. Despite the temptations, he serves the Light Side of the Force; at this point, he is able to sacrifice anything for the greater good to be achieved.
Lightsaber: Single-bladed, dual-phase
Color: Silver
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho 5
Makashi N/A
Soresu N/A
Ataru 4
Shien / Djem So N/A
>>Sub-form Backhanded N/A
Niman 3
>>Sub-form Jar-kai, or Dual Wield N/A
Juyo N/A
Double Bladed Combat N/A
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 5
Telepathic: 3
Body: 6
Sense: 2
Protection: 1
Healing: 2
Destruction: 0
Specialized Skills:
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 7
Speed: 6
Leadership: 5
Unarmed: 6
Melee Weapons: 4
Ranged Weapons: 2
Force Attunement: +3
Password: Vornskr
RP Sample:
"I will not give up my valued customers just because this whelp doesn't understand business!" The Rodian, stubby and flush-faced, spoke uncomfortably close to the Jedi Knight. The tactic might have served him well with any other sentients, but Lyrrin was unfazed; amused, perhaps, but he didn't want to show it. He was there to reconcile a couple of shopkeepers, of which at least one knew where the assassin he was after liked to go when nosy investigators caught wind of her.
"This old relic wouldn't know business if it danced, naked, right in front of him!" Admirably, the young Twi'lek his other businessman acquaintance had been bickering with for a while was fiery and loudmouthed enough to fight for each bit of what they both saw as acceptance from the Farghul. Throughout their conversation, he had agreed with one or the other on different topics, keeping them reeled in and making sure they both respected his final judgment - one which, he was sure, wouldn't satisfy either of them.
Raising his hand, as if to demand silence and attention, since the duo had, once again, started accusing each other of the dirtiest things they could think of and a number of saucy insults had been uttered - Lyrrin took a mental note of several - , the Jedi looked over both of them, as if deep in thought, and spoke his mind. "What if Peedo here carried general items, while Koff specialized in droid parts and armor? You could trade the wares the other needs at a good price for both... Wait, hear me out," he spoke, feeling that both of them would pop their top off soon, "that way, you'd both have a niche of your own, virtually the same clientele and nobody would have to move. People would respect you and speak highly of the two smart traders who knew how to hook them and keep them coming."
It had worked well enough, he could feel it, but it was hard for someone who'd invested so much energy into arguing to simply stop and agree; he knew that all too well. "Why should we even trust a Farghul?" the fiery Twi'lek enquired, as his counterpart was seriously considering Lyrrin's proposal. It had gotten to that, again; the Jedi sighed and nodded. "You're right; you shouldn't. I'll fetch my old Trandoshan master, instead." He could see the duo tensing up; that angle worked, so he worked it further.
"He's very fun to be around," the Farghul slyly added. "Don't get startled when he swings his lightsaber toward your necks; he's only joking. Of course, he's almost blind, so his aim is terrible these days, but hey..." He trailed off, shrugging, with a careless expression on his face, while telling himself about the amusement he and Tav would share when he would tell him. "No, no! Your solution is good, Jedi!" The Rodian, whom had needed no further convincing, cracked; his rival was nodding, hastily, in approval.
Looking at the pair with a happy, benevolent smile, Lyrrin decided to try the weaker-minded of the two further and see how much he knew about what really interested him. "Now, if that's settled, maybe you could help my master with a little something. Where would he find Royi Telor?" Calling upon the Force to make himself more persuasive, he added: "You don't want to get on his bad side." With a horrified look on his face, the Twi'lek muttered something about returning to his shop; Lyrrin told himself to keep an eye on that one. His rival, however, was far more useful. "Come see me after closing time," the Rodian told him, as he mirrored his rival's gesture.
All was well, the Farghul Knight told himself, satisfied; soon, another outlaw would have to answer before the law for her transgressions.
Race: Farghul
Age: 30
Height: 5'5"
Weight: 135
Appearance:
Above: a hypothetical image of Lyrrin observing traditional Farghul garb. As a Jedi, he doesn't adorn himself with any jewelry, nor does he use bracers; he does, however, go for brick red or amber robes and low boots, which restrain his ankles less. He is also known to keep his torso and feet bare during training and meditation, much like a regular member of his species.
From a medium height, a pair of inquisitive feline eyes, almost always in motion, regard the observer with moderate curiosity. Combined with an ironic smile and a sharp face narrowed even further by his long, pointy left ear - most of his right earlobe was destroyed by a blaster shot - , as well as his somewhat-curly, shoulder-long mane and choice of beard, one has the portrait of an interesting young sentient, if anything. His build is that of a smart athlete, rather than being ostentatiously muscular or, on the contrary, flabby - the product of Jedi training and his daily calisthenics. Well-sharpened non-retractable claws adorn the tips of his fingers; the tips of those on his toes are dulled, in order to make sure he doesn't wear through so many pairs of boots.
He carries himself with a silent sort of confidence, walking slowly and deliberately; unless absolutely needed, he will not make the slightest sudden gesture. He does, however, make use of his long prehensile tail quite often - from thorough sessions of regally scratching the back of his head and his shoulder blades, as if nobody around him mattered, to using it as an extra hand when he has something special to underline with gestures.
Birth place: Jahhnu, Farrfin
Faction: Jedi
Rank: Knight - Sentinel
Bio:
The first years
Born to Delfas and Breela, a couple of minor nobles with pro-Republic views from Jahhnu, Lyrrin, a wanted and beloved child, was the apple of his family's eye. His parents were past their prime, so they were more than grateful to have him, but they wanted their only son to lead a different life than what he would expect on the criminally-controlled planet of Farrfin. They both had their hands in a number of smuggling operations, which allowed them to lead a more-than-pleasant life, but they planned on grooming Lyrrin to become a diplomat and leave the planet and its myriad of temptations.
When Delfas encountered a Jedi Knight pursuing a criminal whom had chosen to lose himself in the Jahhnu metropolis, he was pleased to offer the Corellian both shelter and information that would, eventually, led to the capture of his target. Marl, as the Knight introduced himself, also took the opportunity to submit young Lyrrin to a midi-chlorian count before his departure. Discovering that the child was Force-sensitive, his parents were presented with a bittersweet solution to their greatest wish. He was, indeed, going to leave the planet with a noble cause, but they hadn't expected the time to come as soon as it did. With teary eyes, they parted; the young Farghul, a friendly, albeit solitary infant, didn't have any friends to say 'goodbye' to.
The Youngling
It wasn't easy at all, with an appearance like his and a strong Farghul accent, for Lyrrin to fit in among the Younglings, who were, mostly, human. However, typical childish cruelty aside, the vast majority settled down after he showed his claws a few times. Those who didn't, however - older bullies, mostly - gave him a fair amount of grief. Having already been reprimanded for using his claws to convince the children to leave him be, he sought the advice of a few Masters, who told him to help his classmates see the error of their ways.
It was so that the small, swift and agile Lyrrin started playing mostly-harmless pranks on his tormentors, ranging from moving their training lightsabers when they weren't looking to using his tail to stop them from chasing other Younglings like him. Eventually, he reached out to one of them, helping him succeed in a few more mentally-challenging tasks; the boy, whose name was Cal, befriended and stood up for him, while making a point out of assisting the Farghul with his lightsaber and unarmed training. It was so that the bullying ceased and Lyrrin truly connected with someone, for the first time since leaving his home, much to the satisfaction of their instructors.
Vowing to each other that they would become worthy of being Padawans as soon as possible, the duo trained diligently, day after day. No longer under the stress of being the target of larger children's ill-thought games, young Lyrrin became more and more gregarious and friendly; he was starting to develop into a typical fun-loving member of his species. While Cal relied on his strength and size more and more, his feline friend creatively and enthusiastically balanced the physical and the philosophical sides of their Jedi training, understanding the importance of both. He would often steal a couple of nightly hours to add a bit of extra studying and training.
The Padawan
A good couple of years after the older Cal started going on missions with his master, Lyrrin, now around the age of 11, was approached by Master Tav Sei'ges, an aged, humor-loving Bothan, whom had kept an eye on him ever since he had been brought to Coruscant. Considering him to be the ideal candidate for a student and a companion, the feline-featured Jedi took him as a Padawan. Harnessing his creativity and natural agility, Sei'ges introduced him to Ataru and its dynamic, offensive philosophy, a good year into their relationship already, as well as encouraging him to use his prehensile tail more in combat, but his training was slow and gradual. The true Masters, he believed, were those who understood and commanded the basics perfectly; while it was frustrating to progress more slowly than expected, their good-natured humor helped to forge a powerful bond that helped Lyrrin see the greater picture.
While further underlining the value of all living beings in the Universe, Master Sei'ges also made a point out of offering his student an extensive personal view on the two Sides of the Force, explaining how the imperfect nature of every sentient made them vulnerable to power corruption and how neither was inherently stronger than the other. In their travels, Lyrrin learned that martial might was a small, sometimes even irrelevant part of what brought forth victory; by forcing him to ignore his weapons, going up the point where he took them away for a time, the Bothan taught him to always seek out a deeper understanding of any conflict and a peaceful resolution to any such event.
As time passed and their bond grew even stronger, the Farghul started seeing his Master as a sort of surrogate father, emulating his well-mannered, humorous way of being and training hard to, someday, match him in skill and Force mastery. They always made a point out of taking the road less traveled, which was something visible in the way in which they tracked down a particular flesh trader. The duo traveled to Tatooine, where they braved the Dune Sea and its predators, beasts and sentients alike, trusting the Force to guide them, rather than relying the slightest bit on the leads they got in Anchorage, until they reached a seemingly-nondescript cavern.
Uncannily drawn further and further into the chilly bowels of the grotto, Lyrrin discovered a pale crystalline formation; kneeling and opening his mind to the Force, he extended his hand and took a shard that seemed to come off naturally. That, Tav explained, was a Durindfire gem; in the ensuing month, as they returned to Coruscant, for the criminal's hideout had not been far from that point, the Farghul meditated intensely upon it, forming the well-needed bond with the crystal, before carefully assembling his first lightsaber around it. The process was not free of error - far from it! - , but, since he eventually understood the purpose of each part, he was capable of pulling off a dual-phase construction. That evening, the small chamber he had assigned was filled with his content laughter; as if in awe, he spent a couple of hours looking at it from every angle, testing each small setting variation and, finally, emerging with it clipped to his belt, victoriously; he was a bit over 18 years of age.
During the next few years, after a well-placed caution from his Master, who believed his young apprentice was becoming needlessly flamboyant in manner as well as combat, Lyrrin grudgingly agreed and sought his help in understanding a far more practical form, Niman. The snake of pride had already bitten him, however, and he started to believe that the Bothan's reasons were selfish in nature, as he couldn't have wanted to be outmatched by his far younger student; even so, he understood the importance of a versatile and adaptable fighting style, so he put the thoughts behind him and took a more down-to-earth approach during their following missions. His inherent need for flashy displays would almost become his downfall.
The Trials
The Dark Jedi whom they were pursuing through the slums of Nar Shaddaa definitely wasn't the first the pair had apprehended. Eventually, master and student caught up with their man within a foul-smelling and dimly-lit warehouse. However, a nasty surprise awaited them there, in the form of a droid detachment scattered in a circular formation, armed with blaster and disruptor rifles. Caught by surprise and frightened, Lyrrin charged, rather than synchronizing with his master to laboriously destroy the droids and focus on the darksider.
With a burst of youthful energy and the Force by his side, the Farghul managed to put a good few droids out of commission, however, a small hesitation by Tav made him receive a blaster shot that shattered his kneecap and hit the ground, falling, roughly, over a previously-broken shoulder. Losing his cool even further, Lyrrin understood the danger and returned by his side. Standing, valiantly, with the downed body of his Master between his ankles, his heart savagely pounding, he slowly, but surely deflected the blaster bolts back to their sources, while making sure that his old friend remained untouched. A stray shot took most of his right earlobe with it, causing him to roar in frustrated pain, while a few others grazed his arms and ribs, but all that mattered was saving his teacher and doing their job to the end. He was, however, feeling like a trapped beast by the time the last droid fell; his fingers clenched on his lightsaber, he let loose a low rumble of a growl while waves of fear washed over him. He realized he had no plan and no Master to guide him, but he pushed on, fueled by adrenalin, waiting for inspiration.
It was then that Agrippa, the Dark Jedi they had been pursuing, showed himself and commended Lyrrin for his passionate display of prowess, as he put it. Icy chills danced down the Farghul's spine as the man laughed, again and again, demeaning the Jedi Order and making crude jokes about the old Master's actions - and Agrippa gave him the coup-de-grace when he stated that, should the Farghul become his apprentice, he would let the Bothan go free. At that point, Lyrrin considered saying 'yes' and cutting him down as soon as he got the chance; the Dark One could read him like a book. Ran ragged, he overlooked the possibility of being lured into a more elaborate trap; his chest moved heavily under the burden of rage, as hatred toward the man whom had, probably, cost him his Master started seeping into his soul.
However, with warm, sticky blood still trickling down his skull, he paused, analyzing the situation as a whole, like Tav had taught him; it was so that he started understanding that what he had been considering was, actually, a true fall to the Dark Side - and he started breathing deeply and evenly, soothing his nerves and steeling himself for what was to come after he would give the man his final answer. A calm, serene 'no' and he stepped forward, slowly, assuming a Niman opening stance and placing himself firmly between Agrippa and his Master. The two clashed lightsabers, again and again, the Farghul steadily losing ground to the anger-fueled Juyo of his adversary, while keeping from exploding with rage at what he saw as a twisted version of himself, with everything good consumed by the Dark Side, leaving only a searing tongue that lashed his psyche again and again. The Fallen One's verbal abuse seemed to know no relent; blocking him out was well-nigh impossible and just keeping up with him was becoming more and more of a burden.
In the end, as the seedling of an idea crept into his mind, Lyrrin found the inner resources required for a serene smile. He redirected a thrust from Agrippa's lightsaber with a resolute octave parry, feigning a diagonal slash from the left; his tail sped at ground level, wrapping around the man's ankle and causing him to fall, while the Farghul took care of his weapon with a simple semicircular slash, severing its emitter, before stopping his weapon's tip close to his foe's chest. At that point, the human's taunts and encouragements toward killing him fell on nearly-deaf ears. Yes, he was tempted to do so, making sure that a creature like him didn't live to see another sunrise, but Lyrrin wasn't going to become what his defeated adversary was. Instead, he knocked him out with a punch, to make sure that he wouldn't have any further surprises in store for them, and restrained him, rushing to render badly-needed first aid to the Bothan immediately afterward.
With his wounded Master draped over his shoulder and the Dark One in tow, the Farghul struggled, but, in the end, he was able to return them both to Tav's assigned light freighter. Their journey was uneventful, but a heavy silence weighted both of them down; normally, after a successful mission, the small vessel was quickly filled with their relieved discussions and jokes. It didn't take long until Lyrrin begged his Master for forgiveness, explaining his reckless mistakes and blaming himself for the old Jedi's injuries. It was only after he repeated forgiving him a few times, commending his exemplary display that had ensued after putting more pressure on his shoulders, that the Farghul's tired mind understood what was going on and brought his demeanor closer to normal. He had been under the impression that his Jedi days were numbered.
Returning to Coruscant, Lyrrin was brought before the Council, in the Hall of Knighthood, where he, incredulously, understood he'd been told to kneel; his braid went off, the 'magic words' he had repeated in his head over and over before the incident with Agrippa were uttered and he stood, a Knight at 23 years of age. He had made mistakes, the Masters and the Grandmaster agreed, but, when and where it mattered the most, he had faced grim odds and triumphed, in the true Jedi way - although, truth be told, he didn't know what they'd have said, had they heard what he'd been almost ready to do.
The Knight
The balance he had tried to maintain between lightsaber mastery and Force powers ever since taking his first steps as a Youngling noted, both Tav and Lyrrin knew all too well that he was preparing to become a Sentinel; the old Guardian knew that all too well and, wisely, kept his personal perspective from stunting his former student's growth. To this day, the Farghul eagerly listens to his old Master's advice, over a plate of food and a glass of fresh water - but let's not get ahead of ourselves.
While Tav did bring it up, not so long after the Farghul became a Knight, he wouldn't, for anything in the world, take a Padawan of his very own. In his own words, "I'd have to feed it, water it twice a week, take it out for walks - and don't get me started on teaching." The memory of his big mistake was still fresh in his mind; as far as he's concerned, he would much rather die, or be crippled, for that matter, for his own foolishness. The Bothan might have forgiven him, but, since being capable of independent missions, Lyrrin is a more cautious man - and his few injuries obtained throughout the years are proof of that.
Since he wasn't relying on the wise old Master anymore, he started focusing more on Telepathy, if only to make sure that the sentients from the worlds he would be visiting would prove themselves less challenging than they'd have expected for themselves. One particular mission, which had taken him on Nivek, stood out in particular as proof of choosing wisely: after tracking down a group of slavers there, entering their compound - even dressed as an average Farghul, as he'd been - proved itself rather challenging, until he managed to convince a rather obstinate guard that the leader expected him. The ensuing firefight, after arguing with the old Sullustan for a good half an hour, almost felt like a blessing to him.
As the years went by, Lyrrin felt that he was gradually distancing himself from his more zealous, Light Side-praising comrades. While he wasn't any more fond of the Dark Side than he had been in his fierce confrontation with Agrippa, the Dark Jedi from Alderaan, the Farghul wasn't above using the Force to convince the dock authorities to let him in without a fee, or to loosen up the occasional tongue, when he was pursuing more difficult targets and his leads yielded little in the way of useful information. He seldom did so in the presence of more traditional Jedi he teamed up with, but, when time was of the essence, he never hesitated - albeit he didn't like it too much. He remembered his temptations and strived to understand how and why they had managed to seep into his psyche as they did.
For a good 7 years now, Lyrrin Terath has helped the galaxy, playing a part in stopping corrupt officials, power-hungry authority figures, slavery rings and a number of other unsavory individuals and groups. He has developed a certain understanding of the downtrodden and the criminal elements on various worlds, during his travels, but the good-natured Sentinel doesn't mind what the more snobbish members of the Order assume and whisper about him. Despite the temptations, he serves the Light Side of the Force; at this point, he is able to sacrifice anything for the greater good to be achieved.
Lightsaber: Single-bladed, dual-phase
Color: Silver
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho 5
Makashi N/A
Soresu N/A
Ataru 4
Shien / Djem So N/A
>>Sub-form Backhanded N/A
Niman 3
>>Sub-form Jar-kai, or Dual Wield N/A
Juyo N/A
Double Bladed Combat N/A
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 5
Telepathic: 3
Body: 6
Sense: 2
Protection: 1
Healing: 2
Destruction: 0
Specialized Skills:
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 7
Speed: 6
Leadership: 5
Unarmed: 6
Melee Weapons: 4
Ranged Weapons: 2
Force Attunement: +3
Password: Vornskr
RP Sample:
"I will not give up my valued customers just because this whelp doesn't understand business!" The Rodian, stubby and flush-faced, spoke uncomfortably close to the Jedi Knight. The tactic might have served him well with any other sentients, but Lyrrin was unfazed; amused, perhaps, but he didn't want to show it. He was there to reconcile a couple of shopkeepers, of which at least one knew where the assassin he was after liked to go when nosy investigators caught wind of her.
"This old relic wouldn't know business if it danced, naked, right in front of him!" Admirably, the young Twi'lek his other businessman acquaintance had been bickering with for a while was fiery and loudmouthed enough to fight for each bit of what they both saw as acceptance from the Farghul. Throughout their conversation, he had agreed with one or the other on different topics, keeping them reeled in and making sure they both respected his final judgment - one which, he was sure, wouldn't satisfy either of them.
Raising his hand, as if to demand silence and attention, since the duo had, once again, started accusing each other of the dirtiest things they could think of and a number of saucy insults had been uttered - Lyrrin took a mental note of several - , the Jedi looked over both of them, as if deep in thought, and spoke his mind. "What if Peedo here carried general items, while Koff specialized in droid parts and armor? You could trade the wares the other needs at a good price for both... Wait, hear me out," he spoke, feeling that both of them would pop their top off soon, "that way, you'd both have a niche of your own, virtually the same clientele and nobody would have to move. People would respect you and speak highly of the two smart traders who knew how to hook them and keep them coming."
It had worked well enough, he could feel it, but it was hard for someone who'd invested so much energy into arguing to simply stop and agree; he knew that all too well. "Why should we even trust a Farghul?" the fiery Twi'lek enquired, as his counterpart was seriously considering Lyrrin's proposal. It had gotten to that, again; the Jedi sighed and nodded. "You're right; you shouldn't. I'll fetch my old Trandoshan master, instead." He could see the duo tensing up; that angle worked, so he worked it further.
"He's very fun to be around," the Farghul slyly added. "Don't get startled when he swings his lightsaber toward your necks; he's only joking. Of course, he's almost blind, so his aim is terrible these days, but hey..." He trailed off, shrugging, with a careless expression on his face, while telling himself about the amusement he and Tav would share when he would tell him. "No, no! Your solution is good, Jedi!" The Rodian, whom had needed no further convincing, cracked; his rival was nodding, hastily, in approval.
Looking at the pair with a happy, benevolent smile, Lyrrin decided to try the weaker-minded of the two further and see how much he knew about what really interested him. "Now, if that's settled, maybe you could help my master with a little something. Where would he find Royi Telor?" Calling upon the Force to make himself more persuasive, he added: "You don't want to get on his bad side." With a horrified look on his face, the Twi'lek muttered something about returning to his shop; Lyrrin told himself to keep an eye on that one. His rival, however, was far more useful. "Come see me after closing time," the Rodian told him, as he mirrored his rival's gesture.
All was well, the Farghul Knight told himself, satisfied; soon, another outlaw would have to answer before the law for her transgressions.
