Charlill Sylvorr (Done)

[Karl the Unfettered]

Name: Charlill Sylvorr ("Shar-lihl Seel-vor"), aka Shard
Race: Miraluka
Age: 50
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 170
Appearance:

Shard appears younger than he actually is to most people, due to the fact that he is one of the enigmatic Miraluka race. He is tall for his people and lithely muscular, with a commanding aura about him; his blond hair is lustrous and thick, framing a narrow, clever face that still bears smooth, if pale, skin, and he sports a neat goatee around his mouth. His eye sockets are empty, like most of his race, but he wears wide "wrap-around" glasses with severely darkened lenses all the time so that those he deals with cannot see the gaping holes, and about his neck is an old necklace of gold and rubies; it bears the taint of the Dark Side, though it has shown no special powers so far. Despite the darkened glasses he can "see" perfectly well, better than many in fact, and tricks of mere light do not fool him in the slightest; as well, Force Illusions are very hard to put over on him also.

His body is lean and muscular, reflecting his love of personal combat and physical exertion. Typically he is very well dressed, in dark robes specially made for his frame; a tight black shirt with thin, contoured metal plates fitted over it, black overtunic and hooded armorweave cloak (both with gold trim), heavy black trousers, combat boots with greaves attached, and fingerless gloves with bracers to guard his arms. The metal parts are of quadranium, laced with cortosis alloy to protect against lightsaber damage. Dangling from his belt are his two lightsabers, along with a fine rapier of Echani make and a silenced slugthrower pistol; the three-foot-and-some foil is elaborately decorated and has a sturdy basket hilt, and the pistol is of Czerka make.

Birth place: Alpheridies

Faction: Sith Order
Rank: Initiate

Previous Faction: Dark Jedi
Previous Rank: Master

Lightsabers:

Shard's main lightsaber is something to look at, blackened metal with gleaming golden fixtures and hardware. Its acid-yellow blade inflicts burning wounds due to the Barab Ore ingot contained within, and is a little over three and a half feet long; the hilt is about a foot long, carefully balanced for easy handling in one or two hands

His offhand blade is an unusual variant, the guard-shoto. It has a shorter blade, a deep reddish-orange in this case, and the hilt, also of black metal with gold hardware, has a brief handle coming off it at a perpendicular angle, just long enough for his hand. The blade is about two and a half feet in length, and the hilt is eight inches; when its attacks hit home the blade resonates loudly, slightly disorienting opponents unaccustomed to sonic attacks.

When it comes to the fighting bit of it all, he likes to dual-wield the two weapons while fighting, holding the shoto blade in a backhand grip with his off hand in a combination of Jar'kai and the Shein sub-form; he also combines a number of movements from other forms, particularly Juyo, in his technique for devastating effect.
Colors: Acid yellow (long) and deep red-orange (short)

Practiced Lightsaber forms:

Shii-Cho: 5
Makashi: 4
Shien/Djem So: 5
Backhand: 5
Jar'kai: 5
Juyo: 4

Force-Sensitive Abilities:

Telekinetic: 7
Telepathic: 8
Body: 6
Sense: 9
Protection: 4
Healing: 4
Destruction: 7

Specialized Skills:

Force Deflection
Drain Knowledge
Art of the Small

Attributes:

Physical Strength: 6
Intelligence: 7
Speed: 7
Leadership: 9

Unarmed: 8
Melee Weapons: 7
Ranged Weapons: 5

Martial Arts:
Broken Gate
Teras Kasi
Echani Unarmed
K'thri
Drunken Boxing

Languages:
Due to Drain Knowledge, Shard is a very proficient linguist
Basic
High Galactic
Miralukese
Huttese
Mando'a
Echani
Jawaese
Droidspeak (cannot speak, of course)


Force Attunement: -6

Bio- Part I:

Shard was born on Alpheridies, like any other Miraluka kid, and educated in basic seeing techniques from an early age. His parents were neither wealthy nor impoverished, but comfortably in the middle class, so his early years were mildly comfortable. Nevertheless he didn't like the stilted, uncurious way of life the rest of his people preferred, and yearned for more; his older sisters didn't help much, it must be said, since they liked to tease and make fun of him for various reasons.

So one day when he was four, he wandered curiously into the local starport, where he ran into a traveling Jedi Knight. The man spoke kindly to the young Miraluka, of the galaxy beyond and of being a Jedi. Shard was enthralled, and decided he was going to accompany the man and become a Jedi for himself one day; the man laughed, not unkindly, and explained he would have to tell his parents first. Shard ran home and begged his parents to let him go; naturally they said no at first, but after speaking with the Knight himself they decided, reluctantly, to let their boy go.

The Knight took young Shard to Dantooine, a peaceful farming world with a small Jedi Enclave not far from the town of Khoonda. The masters there examined and interviewed the boy, and decided he could be trained; this marked the start of his life as a Jedi. Naturally he learned Sensing powers quickly, being dependant entirely on the Force to see the world around him, though he showed an aptitude for other areas of study as well, notably leadership and history. As he grew older he developed his skills further, until it came time for him, at the age of eleven, to be chosen by a master and become a Padawan learner; the Knight who had brought him to Dantooine chose him, feeling that they were bound to each other somehow.

The Knight was a Guardian, one of those Jedi skilled in lightsaber combat and fighting in general, but was good with diplomacy and the Force as well. He and his student spent their time in the Archives, which Shard had a fascination for, and traveling the galaxy doing good deeds and ferreting out scum and villainy wherever they found it. One such mission took them to Duro, in the core; a band of colonists had been taken hostage by local radicals with demands. Shard's master met with the leader of the radicals, and through masterful negotiation got the captives free and satisfied the kidnappers. Understandably, Shard was in awe of how easy he'd made it look, and decided he would one day be a negotiator like that too.

Back on Dantooine, his formerly haphazard studies took on a degree of focus; namely, military history and great leaders of the past, specifically Revan and other legendary Jedi. He wanted to learn their secrets, to become a leader of others like they had been, but he quickly found out that it wasn't exactly something one could learn from old manuscripts and recordings; it was something innate, something one had to acquire through one's own effort and force of will. Nevertheless, as he progressed in these investigations he began unconsciously mimicking the great leaders in subtle ways, speech and demeanor and body language; this was not lost on his master, or the Council that presided over the Enclave.

Another mission gave Shard a chance to display his martial skills, this time closer to home; displaced war veterans had taken over a nearby cave as a base, and were disturbing the local kinrath population. By now, Shard had some confidence in his abilities as a Jedi, so his master allowed him to go in alone at first, with specific instructions to call for help if things went bad; he was still a Padawan yet, after all, and confidence had to be tempered with caution. Eager to prove himself yet still a little nervous deep inside, Shard gripped his master's extra lightsaber and walked into the cave.

The kinrath attacked almost immediately, wary of more intruders into their home. The young Miraluka evaded them skillfully, carving through their flesh with the shimmering yellow blade of his weapon, and made his way deeper inside to where the reports indicated the raiders had entrenched themselves. In time he found them, behind a barricade strewn with dead bodies out in front; the raiders were half-starved and desperate, having underestimated both their own supplies and the territoriality of the kinrath. Seeing a Jedi carving his way alone through the horde broke their spirit completely, and to a man they all threw their useless rifles down in surrender.

Somewhat disappointed but hiding it well, Shard commanded them to gather up their loot and led them back out to the open sky, where his master was waiting. The raiders had apparently been draft dodgers from the Core, and not veterans at all, which explained the rookie mistakes they'd made; the Council reprimanded them and sent them back Coreward on an in-bound shuttle. Privately, Shard admitted to his master that he had wanted something more challenging, more interesting, than retrieving a couple of draft dodgers; his master shook his head, and told the younger Jedi to be mindful of his feelings, that pride and over-confidence could lead to the dark side, or worse, to his death.

This attitude troubled Shard, but he did not let on to it. Instead he busied himself with academic work, studying unarmed fighting in addition to his lightsaber forms, and every day a few hours in the Archives. Now, though, he wasn't researching past leaders, but hunting for clues and traces of where he could locate other information, more specific than the somewhat generalized accounts given by the readily available recordings. He was led to believe he could find what he sought on Coruscant, in the greater Archives there, and asked his master if they could go there. He saw no reason not to, and after informing the Enclave masters of their trip they set off.

The trip was long, but worth it; the immense ecumenopolis filled Shard with awe, glittering beneath the sunlight like an immense multi-faceted jewel, a great teeming ball of light in his Force-reliant vision. He had never seen such a thing in his eighteen years, and his master assured him that unless they ventured into the Deep Core he would never see anything else like it. They landed at the great Temple, and were warmly received by the Jedi there; Shard's master was known here, even if Shard himself was not. A small part of him whispered that one day, everyone would know his name, and respect it, but he ignored that voice.

He and his master presented themselves to the Council, and Shard had to keep himself from staring. The beings in the room were so powerful, so radiant with the light side of the Force; they made him feel insignificant, and he did not like that feeling. Fortunately it didn't last long, and they were soon allowed to leave and look around the immense Jedi Temple. Everywhere Shard looked was filled with light and dignity, the weight of millennia of Jedi and the echoes they left behind. It was very beautiful, and he struggled to express what he saw in words for his master.

In time he found his way to the Archives, and eagerly requested the items and information he sought. To his disappointment, however, they were not allowed to reveal the specific data he sought; the ancient Jedi leadership were as often Dark Jedi as not, and only Masters could peruse such studies. This made the Miraluka mad, and it was only through a great act of will that he kept himself from simply demanding the research materials he wanted; instead he frowned at the Archive Keepers and walked away, fuming, wondering how he could get what he wanted.

Then he got a grip on himself; angry scheming wouldn't get him anywhere, and in a place like this would be more likely to bring inquisitive Knights down on him. So he composed himself and found a meditation chamber, reflecting on what he knew as he opened his mind to the Force and sought answers from it. Revan, the Qel-Dromas, Exar Kun, the Jedi Exile… all had been leaders of men and women, able to rouse others to do things they normally wouldn't have. But how did they do it? Battle Meditation, simple force of will, some form of manipulation? Or was it sheer charisma? The concepts were mind-boggling, and the question burned in his mind; how could so few so easily command so many?

There was a word for it, and in time it came to him: Influence. Somehow, the ancient Jedi and Dark Jedi, and perhaps the more contemporary leaders, could exert and exploit immense influence over people and armies. He knew he didn't have everything, but for now it was enough.

His comlink went off, in the tone that indicated it was his master; the older Jedi had received a task of sorts for the two of them to attend to. Apparently a swoop gang in the middle levels of Coruscant was getting funny ideas, and the Council had decided to intervene before it blew up in anyone's face. The two of them, being new, wouldn't be recognized right off, and Shard's studies of manipulation could be useful as well. So, down they went, ever cautious and mindful of their surroundings. The gang's headquarters were located easily enough; they weren't small anymore, after all, and could afford to announce themselves in the neighborhood.

The guards asked their names; Shard's master revealed his lightsaber, and asked for an audience with their boss. After a moment's muttering one of the guards radioed in, saying there were two Jedi looking for the boss. They were slightly surprised when the boss replied almost immediately, saying to invite the Jedi in and show them every courtesy. Still confused and not doing a good job of hiding it, the guards allowed their guests inside and showed them to the boss's office. The boss turned out to be a woman, a tall blonde woman with a firm handshake and direct, if somewhat disconcerting, blue eyes.

She said her name was Lucia, and she had a vision of the future. A future where her people, the oppressed and jaded of Coruscant's underbelly, could rise up against the bourgeoisie of the Upper City and live decent lives, in the sun and the light, away from the dank darkness and the figurative slavery. She gestured around her office, which was finely appointed without being opulent, and indicated that all those under her command lived like this. She said her gang had money, and did not have to resort to criminal acts or base actions to obtain it; many of them were respectable swoop racers, or mercenaries and bodyguards for others. Some even cooperated with the local authorities at times.

Shard was entranced. Here, now, was what he'd been reading about for so long. This force of personality, this seemingly-boundless charisma… part of him wanted to throw the mantle of Jedi aside and join her; after all, was it not his job to stand up for injustice and right the wrongs of the galaxy? Was it not the task of the Jedi to help the weak and elevate them?

In the next second he felt his master's hand on his shoulder, as the older Jedi leaned forward with a soft smile and asked, very politely, just what she expected her followers to do with all their newfound freedom when, or if, she managed to overthrow the hated rich and give them their destined utopia. Lucia opened her mouth to answer, but hesitated, and in that brief moment his master spoke again; they would riot and destroy, he said gently, being so wrapped up in their hatred and class warfare that any reminder of the ones they had fought to cast down would be a scar in their vision.

And what would then happen to Coruscant, the shining jewel of civilization in their galaxy? What would happen to the Republic, the vast and intricate laws which allowed people like Lucia to think as they liked? What would keep her followers from adopting a persecution mania and becoming the very people they had claimed to despise so much? He sat back, aware that both Lucia and Shard were staring at him like they'd just come out of a trance; the soft smile never left his lips.

As the two of them left, Shard asked his master how he had known what to say. The older Jedi replied that he had recognized Lucia was an intelligent woman who would recognize and bow down to logic; she simply hadn't thought her actions through that far, and needed someone else to point the path out to her. Shard reflected on this, and decided he would have to learn logic and reasoning as well.

Before that, though, he wanted to learn more lightsaber combat moves. He sought out one of the sparring instructors in the Temple and asked to be taught some of the basics of the backhand sub-form of Shien, which he had vague aspersions of combining with the dual-wielding his master had already taught him. He remained at the Temple another week, taking advantage of the greater facilities located there, then returned to Dantooine with his master when it came time to do so.

The sleepy Enclave and its surrounding farmlands were both a letdown and a relief for Shard. On the one hand, all the life and energy of Coruscant were overwhelming to someone like him; on the other, there was an excitement and sense of purpose there that he'd come to enjoy, to look forward to dealing with on a daily basis. He told his master of these feelings, and was told that such was normal; each place had its advantages and disadvantages, and one had to be of a particular mindset to prefer one planet over another. Shard couldn't decide which mindset he had, but for the moment had other things to worry about; he was just a few years away from being old enough for the Trials, and was intent on being ready for them.

Before that could actually happen, though, disaster struck in the form of a civil war on an industrial planet in the Mid-Rim, named Bonyssia by its inhabitants. Two factions had long vied for control of the planet's natural resources; with the utter failure of a recent peace treaty, events were about to get truly ugly. The Council called for volunteers to make a last-second attempt at peace, or failing that to end the conflict with as little loss of life as possible, before the aggressive sentiments of the people spread to other planets. Shard and his master were among those who accepted the challenge.

When they arrived, fighting had already broken out, and their ship was fired upon; were it not for the skill of their pilot they would have crashed into the side of a building and died. As it was, the embarking Jedi had little time to attempt last-second discussions as the warring factions, each assuming the Jedi to have come in aid of the other side, fired upon them. Shard and his master activated their lightsabers and blocked the blasts, attempting to discern the leaders of the advancing fighters; each knew that if you cut off enough of its heads, an army would lose cohesion and dissolve into a rabble. Unfortunately that was hard to distinguish from a distance; they would have to get closer.

Even with their lightsabers and their skill in the Force, the Jedi were outnumbered and forced to surrender by one of the factions. They were disarmed and taken as prisoners to parade before the enemy, thinking that with their Jedi allies captured they would surrender and give in. The Jedi were brought before the leadership of their captors, a small council of old men with narrow, greedy eyes and pinched faces. One of the old men introduced himself as Fal, and explained with no little candor that they were his hostages; once he revealed them before the other side they would surely give in, since his forces were so strong as to subdue and capture powerful Jedi.

Shard's master replied, very calmly, by asking what all the fighting was all about. If it was over resources, had they not thought of emigrating elsewhere, to less crowded planets? Or was it something else, perhaps some ancient feud between Fal and some other elder on the opposing side? Fal replied angrily that it was none of their business; treacherous dogs like the Jedi didn't need to know things like that when they were bound to die anyway.

As planned, the Jedi contigent, comprised of Shard, his master, and three others, were bound in chains and brought out once again, as trophies to boast of their own prowess. The other side were not impressed, since the Jedi had never been on their side anyway, so they began firing once again. Shard's master blocked the bolts of energy with his bare hands using Force Deflection, then used the chains against his captors as flails; Shard himself, unable to use such a power, nevertheless emulated his master in using the shackles as a weapon, though not before making use of a random bolt to sever them and allow his hands free. The other Jedi got free as well.

Once their captors were subdued, the enemy approached them cautiously, though Shard's master indicated he and his fellows had no desire to harm them. The commander of the group invited the Jedi to come back with them, believing that with their help they could end the war decisively. Shard and his master went along, though the other Jedi requested to be allowed to leave, and return to Dantooine.

The leaders of this faction were much younger, and more reasonable. One of them, Tillson, explained the situation to the Jedi in more depth. The people of Bonyssia had long been proud of their modest planet despite never amounting to much in the grand scheme, and this war was relatively recent. Tillson and his side wanted to expand, to grow out and achieve more in the galaxy, whereas Fal and his people were predictably traditionalist. Over time it had somehow become a squabble over planetary resources, and now it was nothing less than an all-out war for dominance; each side had its supporters among the common citizens, and whoever won would dictate the future of Bonyssia. When asked who had alerted the Republic and the Jedi to the growing disorder, Tillson only shrugged and replied that there were always people of moderation, middlemen who desired peace above all else. Such people could never lead planetary revolution, which needed men like Tillson and Fal, who recognized that peace could only be maintained through occasional conflict; that was the quandary of sentient life in this galaxy, after all.

When the meeting was over, Shard reflected on the differences between Tillson and Fal. Both were past their prime, with Fal being much the older of them; the difference was in their presence, their aura. Fal represented the old ways, the comfortable ways that would never go anywhere but wouldn't bring harm, either; Tillson was the dynamic future, with change and growth, not without its risks but with great rewards should his gambles pay off. Both men knew their responsibility and carried it well, though in Shard's view old Fal came across as just an old blowhard; he suspected that might have been because of the disparity in their ages, though.

Shard's master felt differently, though. He though the two leaders were too sophisticated in their arguments for a backwater world like this, and suspected there was something else going on. He told Shard to wander around, keep a figurative eye out for anything suspicious; he was going to go back to Fal's camp and snoop around there.

Shard did as he was told, meandering around the areas he was allowed to examine and asking innocuous questions. After a time he noticed the weaponry and armor of the soldiers not in the field were uncommonly good, considering the backwater nature of Bonyssia. Asking about it led to vague answers; none of the rank and file men knew much, and the officers gave evasive answers about connections to off-world sources. Shard's curiosity grew, and he went back to Tillson and asked about the weaponry.

The leader replied that he got around some, and knew 'a few people' off-world, but he wouldn't elaborate. Shard said he needed to know as much he could if he and his master were to help as much as they were able, but Tillson still wouldn't say any more on the subject; it was clear to Shard that he was hiding something, or lying, but at the moment nothing could be done.

His master came back later on, with grim news; he had found signs of the Sith Empire's meddling in Fal's faction, whispering words of antagonism and providing armaments and equipment. Shard reported his findings, of strangely advanced weapons and armor, and a reluctance to speak of the source. The older Jedi thought it was fishy, and went to ask Tillson himself about it.

Confronted with the fact that the Sith had been selling to Fal's people, Tillson reacted indignantly, and so revealed that he had also been receiving support from the Empire. He stopped, aghast at the admission, but Shard's master only looked grim; he had expected as much, figuring that someone in the background must have been supplying the two sides and playing them against each other. Shard himself nodded along, concealing a trace of admiration; playing two sides against each other and manipulating both for one's own gain was a tactic he hadn't considered before.

Their immediate course was clear: locate the on-world source of the armaments, whoever was accepting payments and acting as a drop-off point for shipments. Defusing the conflict would be easier once the firepower stopped coming, supposedly; once that was taken care of they could try and broker a treaty of some sort. Shard was to remain with Tillson's people and investigate there, since they were somewhat friendly, while his master would risk the more antagonistic Fal and his men to get more answers.

Now that Shard knew what to look for, he could ask more direct questions. Most of the officers still wouldn't tell him anything, though that was likely because they didn't have anything to tell; one man, though, gave off a nervous vibe as he denied the Miraluka Padawan's accusations. Shard applied greater pressure, using the persuasion and influence techniques he'd been studying about, and the man finally gave in, divulging the name of a fellow who was usually found in a cantina called the Glittering Needle.

Upon arriving there, Shard found that the Needle lived up to its name; it was a speakeasy of sorts for illegal stims, and the local headquarters of a band of smugglers and drug runners who operated in this sector of the galaxy. Unwilling to risk such a dangerous place alone, he retreated a block or so and contacted his master on the commlink, informing him of the situation; the older Jedi said he was tied up, and that he was confident Shard could handle himself in that den of iniquity. Shard wasn't so much, but he trusted his master and went in anyway.

Inside, the cantina was dark from both the smoke and fumes of burning substances and a dearth of functioning light sources. The dark didn't bother Shard since he didn't see in the normal sense, but the fumes did, and he had to make use of Breath Control to keep himself from coughing and bringing attention down on himself; it wasn't a power he had made much use of, and he wasn't certain how long it would last. He would have to hurry regardless.

With that in mind he looked around the dim area, searching for anyone who fit his idea of a Sith gunrunner. No one came straight to his attention, so he made his way to the bartender and asked, in a low voice, extending some credits to the fellow, where the gunrunner or any of his associates were; the barkeep replied, in an equally low voice, that the man was in the corner, and that he wouldn't appreciate a meddling Jedi kid nosing in his affairs. Shard thanked the man and went to the indicated corner anyway, pulling his cloak about him to conceal his lightsaber from view.

Once there, he asked the men seated at the table where he could find some good hardware. One of them looked up at Shard, glanced him over, scoffed and asked what a blind young man like him needed with guns. Shard replied that he wasn't asking about guns, but about 'other' weapons. This got the man's attention, and he looked up more carefully, asking what the Miraluka meant about 'other' weapons. In reply, Shard simply twitched his cloak aside for a very brief second, allowing the gunrunner to see the weapons within; no one else got a look, but the runner got a clear view of what was obviously a lightsaber. He went slightly pale, and indicated they should speak privately before getting up and walking away; Shard followed, and they went outside.

The man rounded on Shard and asked, in a querulous voice, what it was the Sith wanted from him; he was selling their junk, wasn't he? Why the enforcer all of a sudden? Shard was confused, until he realized the man had confused him for a Dark Jedi in the Sith's employ, or something; an opportunity, if he could play it right. In an imperious, demanding voice, he forcefully requested the man report where the last shipment's profits had wound up; the money hadn't arrived, and if he couldn't account for it then it would be on his head.

The gunrunner stammered in fear, then caved in and explained everything; his own sources, the men he had been in contact with in the Empire, who he'd been talking to in Tillson's faction (apparently someone else was handling Fal's side), and all the other details, apparently forgetting that he was supposedly talking to a Sith representative anyway. Shard, realizing he was just a mercenary middleman likely hired from the local smuggling rings, felt it was wise to leave him in the dark, and interrupted him harshly once he'd learned enough, ordering the man to go back in and make damn sure the money got where it was supposed to get next time.

After that, he went back to Tillson's headquarters, on the lookout for the men indicated by the gunrunner, the contacts who received the hardware. These were harder to find; the men knew he was a Jedi now, poking around into their affairs, and the Sith sympathizers weren't about to brag to some punk anyway who they worked for. After a day or so of fruitless investigating, Shard sat down and thought. What is the Empire nowadays? A political power run by moneyed aristocrats with backgrounds in business, not religion or the Force; they relied on financial and military might, not proselytizing and dark powers. Look for the men who were better off, perhaps; in this somewhat ragtag army on a backwater planet embroiled in civil war, such men presumably wouldn't be hard to find.

With these new criteria, Shard went out again, this time with better luck; unfortunately, the Sith dissenters weren't about to let some kid ruin their day, and they were waiting for him with blasters at the ready. If it hadn't been for the Miraluka's exceptional seeing ability he would have been caught completely off-guard by the ambushers, but he saw them in time and was able to bring his lightsabers to bear. He stopped before running out to engage them, though; he wasn't much good, yet, at defending specifically against blasters.

Instead he went around to go at them from behind, used the Force to yank one of their rifles to him, and opened fire himself. He wasn't much of a gunman, preferring lightsabers and his fists, but the men were caught by surprise and taken down anyway. As luck would have it the guns were set to stun; they had wanted him alive, for whatever reason, but now he had them alive instead.

The young Jedi gathered the traitors up and informed Tillson of the events; the leader was grateful, but now worried that without a supply of decent armaments his men would lose to the better-equipped Fal and his side. Shard reassured him that that wouldn't happen; his master was dealing with them, he had no doubt it would be over before dinner.

Sure enough, in a few hours Shard's master returned with good news; the Sith provocateurs in Fal's men had been rooted out once he'd explained their involvement, and Fal himself was ready to try and reason with Tillson now that opportunistic arms dealers weren't whispering violent sentiments in his ear. The two Jedi led Tillson to an open square with a defunct fountain in the center, where Fal waited for them; with the Jedi looking on, the two leaders embraced and spoke to each other for a long time about the future of their planet, preferably one without the influence of the Sith. As a symbol of their new outlook and determination, the two of them vowed to restore the fountain they stood before, in memory of their decisions and the Jedi who had helped guide them there.

On the way back to the Enclave, Shard and his master discussed what had transpired over the past week or so. The older Jedi described his efforts in Fal's camp, and Shard told about what he had done with Tillson and the gunrunners. In particular Shard wanted to know how he'd blocked those first shots with his hands; he wanted to learn such a skill as well. His master explained it was a very advanced skill; it required both fine control of the Force, and great aptitude for unarmed fighting. Shard had these qualities, or so the Miraluka insisted, but his master still hesitated.

In the end he allowed to teach the basics of the technique, and Shard would learn the rest on his own as his experiences grew. Shard agreed, and for the remainder of the trip back they were engrossed in instruction. As his master had said it was a difficult power to acquire, but Shard was determined, and he promised himself he would get it down before he attained Knighthood.

They gave their report to the Masters of the Enclave, and a recording was made so it could be transmitted to the Temple on Coruscant for the Council's viewing; they agreed it was not a lightly undertaken mission, and both Jedi were praised for their efforts. Shard in particular, for his relative lack of experience and his youth, was commended; privately, his master told him he had performed excellently, displaying a subtlety and aptitude for intimidation he himself hadn't had at the time. They rested for a while in the peace of Dantooine, meditating on the open fields and training or studying; as Shard's master liked to say, relaxation was as much a part of the Force as struggle and growth.

In time, another struggle came to light; out-of-work mercenaries had come to Dantooine, angry and looking for a diversion. They had already massacred an outlying farmstead and seized the home for a base, and were making excursions to other nearby areas; it didn't seem that negotiation was likely, so Shard and his master were ordered to go in and deal with them with more 'expeditious' means. The two of them set off with some reluctance, knowing that to take a life, however justified, was never an easy or fully right thing to do. Shard suggested that perhaps they could attempt to take them all alive and have them sent away somewhere; barring that, they could simply slay the leader, and the others would surrender quickly.

It took but an hour to reach the impromptu stronghold by landspeeder, and they were attacked almost immediately by heavy laser turrets. Shard leaped out, lightsaber snapping to life, to dispatch these distractions, while his master sped on toward the house unimpeded. The turrets fired quickly, but with the Force on his side Shard was quicker still, and he was soon able to move on toward the house.

He found his master huddled behind their speeder, ducking from a heavy barrage of blaster fire; however, he was grinning up at Shard as the Miraluka approached, apparently waiting for the younger man to show up before charging the mercenaries. Shard grinned back and focused power in his hands; he'd been practicing Force Deflection, and here was a chance to use it, prove to himself it was worth the effort. They waited for a gap in the firing, which didn't come for a while since the mercs were experienced enough to know not to reload all at once, but to stagger their firing lanes, but in time they sensed the opportune moment, leaped up and ran at the barricades.

It worked just as it was supposed to, allowing Shard to deflect blaster shots away from him without a lightsaber, and sometimes even right back at the shooters; though if he had been alone he would certainly have been slain, since his master was covering for him. The mercs panicked when they realized their rifles weren't working properly, but by then it was too late; the Jedi were among them, showing no mercy, one with a lightsaber and the other with merely his bare hands. In that brief skirmish Shard felt an unusual thing, a rush of what felt like ecstasy as he tore into his foes, kicking and punching and ripping away at them until none were left standing; when he relaxed he realized most of the bodies were at his feet. His master had stood aside after dispatching two of the mercs.

Though troubled by the brief rush, Shard could not allow doubt to fill his mind; they still had to penetrate the compound and neutralize the threat posed by the invaders. The young Jedi ignited his lightsabers, and found the steady glow comforting as he remembered his training. He felt dimly that it was only when using his hands and feet that combat gave him a rush such as he had experienced earlier, and resolved to discuss it with his master when they were done here.

Further in, they encountered a few droids, but they were cheap and easily dispatched, likely mere fodder and distraction for any would-be heroes. The living defenders were much more challenging, of course, though Shard and his master had little trouble making their way in. They made it to the master bedroom, and the older Jedi gestured for a halt; there were a great many skilled individuals in that room, he said, and they should be ready. Shard replied in kind, banishing his earlier disquiet with a cocky grin and a confident brandish of his lightsabers, and they went in, his master going first.

As the older Jedi had suspected, these were the elite of the mercenary gang, those with swordsmanship and extensive close-quarters experience; their leader had even fought Jedi before, as evidenced by the scar on his face. Shard's master engaged that one directly, allowing the Miraluka to deal with the minions; there were about seven of them, so it was bound to be a difficult fight. With his two 'sabers and his aptitude for seeing ahead, though, Shard held them off easily, making good use of this rare opportunity not to have to hold back; he could make killing strikes and debilitating slashes and not have to worry about etiquette. It was strangely exciting, and he found himself enjoying it more than he should have.

By the time they were all down, he'd been cut a few times, but they weren't serious; his master was still dueling the leader, however. Shard studied the fight for a few moments, and could tell his master was holding back, waiting for something. He couldn't tell immediately what it was, though, since the merc didn't show any signs of tiring or slowing down. Then his master winked at him, and he realized what it was; the older Jedi wanted him to finish this. Quickly the Miraluka composed himself, settled his stance, and stepped forward to get the mercenary's attention. The man turned and grinned, seeing a younger fellow ready to die, and attacked quickly.

Despite not being trained in the Force (he did have access to it, as Shard could tell, even if untrained and unfocused), the mercenary leader was a skilled adversary and formidable swordsman; the blade he wielded was sharp and light, a Mandalorian weapon known as a beskad. It was a difficult battle, and Shard wondered how his master could have fought while holding back. Perhaps he just looked like he was holding back?

Whatever the case was there, Shard himself couldn't hold back at all; the mercenary leader was an excellent swordsman, and had clearly dueled against Jedi before. Shard had to think about the fight, operate on two levels of thought; one focused on the fight itself, the other analyzing his foe for weaknesses and sore spots. He found one soon enough; the mercenary favored his left side, defending from there and compensating by unleashing wide attacks that covered both sides of his defense. Shard realized he could exploit this with relative ease with his two blades.

And he did so, improvising on the fly some new attack methods to confuse and penetrate his opponent. It worked like a charm; the mercenary blocked an overhead attack, and Shard swung up from beneath at his stomach, delivering a glancing blow. Wounded, the man fell back, and Shard pressed the advantage; the fight was over seconds later, the man losing his left hand when the Miraluka made an angled slash.

Shard's master was pleased; the young Jedi had ended the confrontation without slaying the leader of the mercs, allowing the Jedi to take him into custody for interrogation. The merc leader was taken back to the Conclave, and droids were dispatched to clean up the mess back at the house; the survivors of the farmstead dwellers were notified that their land was free again, and would soon be habitable if they chose to return. Shard refused to accept praise, however, explaining that he had lost himself during the ordeal and wished to find his balance once again. In the privacy of one of the meditation chambers, he told his master of what he had felt; the older Jedi replied that such feelings were normal, even expected, and certainly nothing to feel shame over. The trick lay in how one dealt with those feelings; the Jedi way was to accept them and allow them to pass harmlessly on, instead of dwelling on them, letting them fester and writhe inside one's soul until they consumed it and erupted into something much more horrifying. This was a mark of an old Sith faction, the Marauders, who allowed their ferocity and lust for battle to overcome them utterly.

Shard didn't want to be a Marauder, not by any means, so he did as his master advised and spent some time in reflection, considering his actions from different angles. He realized that while he had enjoyed it, it had been the fight itself, the play of his weapons against theirs, that had gotten his blood going, not the taking of lives. Somewhat reassured by this revelation, he returned to the others and recounted his view of the battle. The Masters agreed that while the loss of life was regrettable, the ending of the thread posed by the mercenaries was worth more in the long run, and Shard's disabling and capture of their leader was a boon as well; the man had already been secured and placed on a priority shuttle to Coruscant, they explained. Shard wanted to go along, and watch the Jedi of the Temple interrogate him; he was curious as to the non-violent methods Jedi used.

They told him the Jedi wouldn't do such a thing, however; instead the man would be given to Republic security for detainment and processing. Shard was disappointed, but did not let it show; he had better things to do, like learn more of fighting and tactics from his master. Also, his continued drive and dedication had at last earned him access to some of the areas in the Archives previously off-limits to him, and he spent much of his time there studying more about the ancient leaders, and whatever else he felt like studying.

In time, his master came and said they were going to Coruscant again; there were things at the great Temple that Shard needed to face, things that weren't available in the Enclave. With some trepidation Shard made his few preparations, and they departed that afternoon. Upon their arrival there were no Jedi to greet them, and his master led him straight into the Temple, going past several other Jedi with a nod and a murmured greeting, but never did they stop; several times Shard tried to stop and ask what was going on, but each time his master shook his head and gestured onward.

Eventually they came to an open chamber deep in the Temple, and Shard abruptly found himself alone; without warning a number of hidden turrets sprang to life, and three sparring droids leaped out of hidden crevices to attack the Miraluka with their 'sabers. Caught off guard and without time to draw his own weapons, he was forced to evade the droids and block the bolts of energy emanating from the turrets. Even though the machines weren't set to lethal levels, each blast of energy or slash of a 'saber left intense pain and numbness behind; this was one of the Trials, Shard realized. The Trial of Skill, where one had to prove one's skill in combat with lightsabers and the Force. Gritting his teeth and whirling his blades out in a flurry of blue, he set himself solidly and prepared his defenses.

It turned out to be but the beginning of an obstacle course, one that not only tested Shard's combat prowess but his physical conditioning and ability to focus and clear his mind of distraction; one false step would bring him down in a morass of pain, so he could not fail. It was long and hard, and many were the times the Miraluka almost slipped up, but he made it past the challenges in the end, the endless turrets and droids, the balance beams and gusting air vents, the hidden pitfalls and arcing streams of electricity. Guided as he was solely by the Force, it was little wonder in hindsight that he made it through. At the end, he met his master, who presented him with a rare crystal for the lightsaber he would eventually craft; a Dragite crystal, from M'haeli, which generated loudly resonating energy with each strike that could deafen and distract an opponent in a fight.

Upon that successful passing, Shard and his master were given another quest. Pirates on the Outer Rim planet of Aquilaris, a watery world dependant on tourism and racing, had taken over one of the floating city-ships, demanding an insane and unreasonable ransom for the safety of the city's inhabitants; the local government, unable to accede such a ransom, had appealed to the Jedi Council for aid. Shard and his master were chosen, given their record for dealing with hostiles such as pirates, and sent off with all possible haste; no one could predict the temper of the bloodthirsty pirates, so action had to be taken.

The two Jedi arrived as soon as they could, and were received by the governor himself. The politician was uneasy, yet he had a resolute face on as he thanked the Jedi for coming so soon, and proceeded to explain the situation further; apparently, the pirates had flown down aboard a tourist vessel, armed with small, yet deadly, hold-out pistols. They then had converged on the control room of the city-ship and taken its engineers hostage, shooting one of them to prove they were serious; their announcement had gone out across planet-wide radio bands, claiming that if anyone tried anything funny before the ransom was delivered they would sink the vessel, killing themselves and everyone on it. All boat docks had been blown up and underwater tunnels collapsed, save for one, which was under heavy watch for anyone approaching.

Shard's master smiled slightly, at the same time Shard thought of a way to get past the guard. He looked at the older Jedi and wondered if they were thinking of the same thing; sure enough, he asked if there were any small, light skiffs, preferably modified for speed and maneuverability though a laser battery wouldn't be amiss either. As luck had it, the governor in fact had just such a craft on hand, complete with shielding and dual quadlasers, though it took some 'persuasion' to reveal the existence of this craft and the governor begged them to return it intact; he wasn't exactly supposed to have it, he explained.

Together, the two Jedi raced off towards the besieged city-ship, Shard at the wheel; the young Jedi, despite his inherent blindness, had a strange aptitude for the driving of craft, helped by his natural manual dexterity and ability to see ahead. Their destination soon came into view; Shard threw the skiff into a power slide as his master manned the quadlasers, firing upon the pirate guards waiting nearby. None of that group survived the barrage, and Shard could not sense any others in earshot, so he and his master tied the skiff to a bit of wrecked steel dangling beneath the large vessel and climbed aboard. The older Jedi drew a silenced slugthrower pistol and set off, motioning for Shard to do the same.

The city seemed deserted, though Shard could tell most of the citizens were in hiding due to the threats of the pirates; no doubt most of them wished the governor would pay the ransom, just so the nightmare would end. They crept through alleys and side streets, sniping off pirate guards whenever they could; there weren't many, of course, since most of the crew were in the control complex and they were reliant on fear and intimidation rather than brute force and shows of strength. Eventually the two of them, following Shard's senses, found the control complex, which was heavily guards; soon would come the time to reveal themselves openly, and the two Jedi put their guns away and drew their lightsabers, holding them at their sides.

The interior of the control center was not designed for sneaking about; rather, it was an open space, well-lit, with large bay windows overlooking most of the surrounding city. There were still a few shadowy areas, and into one of these Shard's master stole, again drawing his silenced pistol; a gesture told Shard to remain where he was for a moment, and the Miraluka complied, curious as to what would happen. It soon became apparent, as his master took aim and fired quickly at the pirates directly threatening the hostages. Taking this as his cue, Shard sprang ahead, lightsabers whirling to life as he jumped the remaining pirates.

These thugs weren't anything like the skilled mercenaries they had fought before, and they were soon dispatched. Shard wondered, as he rounded up and searched the few survivors, whether all non-Force users were this easy to kill; it was a puzzle, though for once he kept it to himself instead of asking his master about it, as he rather thought such questions would be frowned upon. They announced to the city that they were free, then took the governor's skiff and their captives back to the main vessel; from there they returned to Coruscant, and reported it another successful rescue.

Instead of returning immediately to Dantooine, the two Jedi remained at the Temple for a while once again. Shard spent the time in study and training, meditating whenever he could on the conundrum that had occurred to him before, concerning those without the Force. In time it came to him, in the stillness of the meditation chambers; the Force itself was ultimately apathetic and uncaring, concerned only with maintaining balance in the universe. Its use brought great power, but also great responsibility, and those who abused the power would become slaves to it; this was why, in a galactic sense, those who could use it with any proficiency were very rare.

It was at once obscure and painfully obvious. All the greatest Jedi of the past, Revan, Exar Kun, and the rest, had known the true power of the Force to manipulate, coerce, influence, and above all, lead and command; one could bring others to one's cause, dominate lesser minds, or kill outright if subtler attempts failed. It did not often matter who, or what, or even where, just that there one with the Force who knew how to lead, and others around who needed a leader. It was these powers above all others, he saw, that set those with the Force apart from those without; the powers of command, of leadership.

Shard was filled with elation in that moment, and at last realized the purpose of the Jedi in the galaxy; he wondered how he could have missed seeing it before. They were meant to lead and command, draw others to their cause and use their combined might, the might of the people, to at last right the wrongs of the galaxy, stamp out all Dark Jedi everywhere and unite the galaxy, fulfilling the ultimate goal of the Order; a galaxy at peace, without strife or chaos, where people could live their lives quietly, prosperously.

In the next second he saw the fatal flaw in that grand purpose; the Jedi had never tried to lead or command, because it wasn't in their code. Power was an intoxicating thing, and someone who already had power, like a Jedi, ran a great risk when they tried to assume even more power. It had happened countless times, to most all the legendary figures; all the great Jedi leaders of the past who had fallen and become Dark Jedi, or Sith Lords, and had started out simply with an impatience to fix the galaxy and make things right. It was almost too much for the young Miraluka to absorb at once, and with a chuckle he realized meditation was the true danger; it brought insight, especially to those who already saw much, and one could lose one's mind if one wasn't ready.

He resolved to put it out of his mind and focus on what needed to happen now; his ascension to Knighthood. He was nearly old enough, and had passed two of the Trials; unfortunately those had been the easy ones, Courage and Skill. The harder tests, Flesh and Spirit, were yet to come. In the typical Jedi way he did not simply leap headlong into them; instead he seemed to dither about the ancient Temple, sparring with the other Jedi and taking things slowly for the most part. Almost as if he was waiting for something.

Then one day he up and left, leaving only a note to explain he was going to Alpheridies for personal reasons; his master was concerned, thinking perhaps his Padawan had left to see his family against all Jedi dogma, but the Council told him to relax. Though not a Knight yet, Shard was of an age where he could risk himself if he truly wanted, and there was no reason to panic anyway; the worst that could happen is that the Miraluka would run into his family, and he shouldn't have many memories of them if the Jedi had raised him correctly in the first place. And if he really felt uneasy he could always follow, though such would be rather impolite.

When Shard arrived at his homeworld, he found it little changed; this didn't surprise him, given the somewhat docile, lethargic state of Miraluka culture. He asked for his family, and was told they were still where they were; those he spoke to gave him odd glances when they heard his name, though none would explain and all he got was a vague sense of mournful unease. Shard's mouth went dry, but he pressed on anyway, ignoring the voice in his head that told him he was going to regret what he was doing.

He reached the Sylvorr household, knocking on the door like a stranger; the woman in black who opened the door didn't recognize him at first, though after staring at each other for a second Shard finally recognized his older sister Marinas. For her part she only smiled sadly and held the door open for him, remarking how tall he'd grown. The place was just as he vaguely recalled it from his early years, except now he was much taller and his sisters weren't making fun of him anymore; on the contrary, the other sister Faelnis took one look at him, threw herself into his arms and started sobbing, crying incoherently about something he couldn't make out.

Once he extracted himself and got them to calm down, they told him what was wrong; their father was deathly ill, certain to pass on before the day was out. Shard was devastated, or relatively so; he'd been away too long to really be connected, yet it was still his father in there dying, a fellow couldn't just ignore that unless he was a right heartless bastard. He didn't know much about healing, but he knew some, so he said he would go in and try to do something; they said he should ask mother first.

Hesitantly, Shard walked into the bedroom, and beheld a sadly common sight; a grieving yet resolute wife at the bedside of her dying husband. Her name was Elena, and his father was called Falos; he lay beneath the sheets, covered in sweat, and Shard could tell that unless something happened he would not be long for the world. Elena looked up, recognized her only son, and started crying again, burying her face in Falos' shoulder. Shard felt helpless; this was his family, he knew they were, yet he hadn't seen them in years. He told his mother he would do what he could, but she shouldn't get her hopes up; he was only a Padawan yet, and wasn't specialized in healing. She nodded slowly and stepped back, allowing her son space.

The Miraluka Jedi kneeled beside his father, placing his hands on the man's head. He focused, calling upon the Force, willing it to flow into Falos' body. It went easily, and he felt the fever fade away beneath him, but the inner distress did not go away. Shard knew it was beyond his skill, whatever it was, but at least he had lessened the suffering a little. He was about to stand when Falos stirred slightly, waking up to see his son at his side; the older man knew it had been Shard who had relieved his suffering, and with a slight smile asked him to stand up and back so he could look at all of him. Shard did so, and his father nodded, saying he could tell he was a strong young man and would become a fine Jedi one day soon.

Feeling awkward, Shard nodded and smiled, stepping out of the room so his mother and sisters could gather around the revitalized man. They came out a few minutes later, thanking Shard again, and wondering if he had a place to stay; he didn't, and of course they said he could stay with them until he had to go back. Naturally he didn't tell them he had left the Temple without permission, and decided to wait for his father to pass on. This didn't take long, as the elder Sylvorr passed quietly in his sleep the following morning. His mother and sisters wanted him to be at the funeral, but Shard declined; he was a Jedi, he said, and Jedi weren't supposed to have families. They nodded their understanding, and bade him a melancholy farewell.

It was only afterward, when he realized how badly he'd been sweating, that he knew that was the hardest thing he had ever had to say. He was shocked to further realize he'd subconsciously considered actually staying here, with them, and abandoning the Jedi; that would never do, never do at all. He made his way back to the starport, and to his great surprise found his master waiting there; the elder Jedi had been worried, and followed his student a few days after he'd left. Shard explained why he was there, the sudden feeling he'd gotten from the Force that he was needed on Alpheridies, and what he had found there. As well, he related how he had dealt with these events, and the feelings and revelations proceeding thereof. His master nodded after a moment, and congratulated Shard; in renouncing his family he had passed the Trial of the Flesh, and was one step closer to becoming a Knight. There was only the Trial of the Spirit left, he said.

They returned to the Temple on Coruscant, and went before the Council to report on the situation. Shard was reprimanded for departing without warning or permission, yet they allowed he had comported himself as a Jedi should, and overall the matter was a great success all around. After that it was another few weeks not doing anything much, except for sparring with his master and studying in the Archives; his master said his lightsaber technique was coming along quite well, and that he might consider being an instructor for the younglings. Teaching something was an excellent way of learning about a thing for yourself, after all. Shard refused, though, saying he still felt like a youngling himself around the senior instructors of the Temple, not to mention his own master himself; that made the older Jedi laugh.

[Karl the Unfettered]

Bio- Part II:

One evening, then, Shard was meditating atop one of the great spires, a place he had come to like because of the view it commanded of Coruscant; the teeming life of the city-planet below had become relaxing, a dull murmur that never truly faded, an endless source of spiraling lights and life-forces to his peculiar vision. The physical sounds, of the never-ending streams of airspeeders and ships, had ceased to bother him; shutting out such noise was one of the first things a Jedi learned to do, after all. Most of the previous day had been spent in the Archives again, pouring over accounts of conflicts and warfare from ages past, and he was up here to clear his mind for the next day's endeavors.

Suddenly, he was confronted with the revelations he'd seen before, of the role of the Jedi in the galaxy. It was much stronger this time, with darker and more forceful undertones; Shard wasn't at all sure where these impulses were coming from, all he knew was he had to put them out of his mind or they would consume him. Desperately he called on the Jedi Code, repeating it over and over to himself, as the darkness pressed in on him. The serene peace of the spire seemed distant, the noise of the planet below but an echo; all his being, all his attention, was focused inward on this irrational, lustful part of himself that seemed intent on dominating him tonight. There was no reason for this, no rational explanation, yet there it was all the same; Shard had contemplated dark desires at one time, and now they were coming back for him.

In his panic he called out to his master, subconsciously, for when the older Jedi burst out onto the meditation platform, the young Miraluka had fainted away. He was rushed to a medical bay and watched by the Healers for the rest of the night; there nothing physically wrong with him, all they could say was he had endured some sort of trauma, and they could only wait for him to come out of it. Shard lay asleep there until morning, his master never leaving his side; as the light of morning slid into the room, the Miraluka came awake, reaching out for his master.

He explained what had happened, the dark feelings that had washed over him whilst meditating on the city. He held nothing back this time, going so far as to explain the first instance of when it happened; he finished by saying the darkness seemed to be gone, he couldn't feel it anymore at any rate, and he was just a little shaken now. The older Jedi was silent, absorbing what he had been told, then he gave Shard's hand a squeeze, and said that if the Council agreed, with this personal victory over himself, he was now a Jedi Knight; all he had to do was craft his own lightsaber.

The Council did agree, though they advised Shard to keep a close watch on his feelings for a while, in case the darkness showed even a slight hint of coming back. With that they made the journey to Ilum, the icy planet famous in the histories of the Jedi for its breath-taking crystal caverns. Thousands of Jedi had come here before, and thousands more would come in the future, to find their crystals and construct their lightsabers; this knowledge was comforting to the Miraluka, the knowledge that others had done this before and there was no danger to the path ahead. With confidence he walked down the ramp, the special crystal he had earned in the Temple securely in his pocket; his master gave him a few more bits of advice, then gestured toward the opening of the caverns. From here on, it was up to the Miraluka.

It was cold, but his robes were thick and he was not unduly bothered by the chill; he had more important things to do, like locate the crystals that would make his lightsaber a thing of beauty. He had studied lightsaber construction during the voyage, but knew that in the end it would be his own designs, his own intuition, that led him to the final construction. In an open area he sat down on the ground, bowing his head and opening his senses wide, to get a feel for the area. He saw the endless caverns of glowing crystals, resonating softly and beautifully in his vision; he saw the flickering shades that denoted other Jedi in the area, his master among them; he saw himself, kneeling serenely in the middle of a cave lined with blue and green.

Finally, he glimpsed a peculiar resonance, deep inside another string of caverns. Curious, he stood up, gathering his awareness back in as he set off to investigate the oddity. He passed through several other caves and went by a few of his fellow Jedi, giving a nod or a brief word of greeting at these instances, but he was preoccupied and eager to get to the source of whatever had caught his attention. As he drew near he detected a nest of Gorgodons; unfortunately there seemed to be no other way of reaching the oddity that so drew on his curiosity. He gritted his teeth and brandished the lightsabers he had been carrying up until now, striding forth without fear in his heart; these were mere beasts, mindless in their savage hunger, and there was no need to hold back against them.

There were five of the things, two adults and three young; the largest of them, the alpha male perhaps, had already sensed Shard's approach and was waiting. Immediately it charged, dislodging a glob of brown spit at the Miraluka and swinging its arms wide; instinctively he rolled aside, a good idea as the spit struck the wall and stiffened. If it had hit him, he would have been slowed down considerably, if not stuck outright. The beast didn't slow, swinging its tail out as it continued to charge; again Shard dodged, propelling himself upward and over, flicking the blade of his weapon out at the back of the beast's head. The slash struck home, severing its spinal cord and instantly slaying the beast; Shard didn't stop to gloat, he turned to the rest of the nest and raised a horrendous battle cry, cowing the monsters through sound and fury alone. That, plus the sight of their dead leader, subdued the things, and Shard passed.

The rest of the hike passed without further incident, aside from Shard getting lost between two identical passages. Finally he made it to the chamber that had been drawing him forward, a small cul-de-sac deep inside the caverns; the crystal he'd been seeking so long was here. It was a green one, and in Shard's vision it was the most beautiful crystal out of all the innumerable crystals in those caves; clearly the one for him, then. Carefully he pried it away from the wall, placed it carefully in an inner pocket, and set off back to the outer temple areas.

He found his master, who smiled and gestured toward another chamber, a large open one reached by a bridge that spanned gaping chasms; at the center was a raised dais, and it was here that young Jedi completed their blades. Shard took a box of components, hovering behind him with Telekinesis, and walked out to the dais, feeling the weight of centuries of Jedi and the Force upon his shoulders. At the center, he took out the crystal he'd earned before and the one he had acquired in the caves, and meditated over each one, seeking their innermost secrets; he could feel his master looking on from afar, a comforting presence in the Force.

Once he felt he had attuned himself with the small stones, he held them suspended in the air and focused on the components he had before him. He would create two lightsabers, to go with the style he'd been developing up until now, which combined dual-wielding with the backhand form. For about a month he remained on Ilum, working at the weapons which would define him, pausing only to meditate further on the crystals and take some minimal sustenance when his body couldn't stand it further. In the end, after a month and a half, they were finished; he held them each in his hand, the silvery rods fitting so well he wasn't sure he was holding separate objects, as he focused on the final mantras of power and activation.

Dimly, he sensed his master drawing close, calmly walking up to stand behind his student. In a quiet voice, the elder Jedi recited the words of the ritual:

The crystal is the heart of the blade.
The heart is the crystal of the Jedi.
The Jedi is the crystal of the Force.
The Force is the blade of the heart.
All are intertwined: the crystal, the blade, the Jedi.
You are one.

Shard felt a rush, a quiet surge within the Force, emanating from his blades; needing no more urging, he activated the weapons, and their steady glow filled the wide chamber. One blade was shorter than the other, as was the hilt, but each was a deep blue color like a winter sky. Filled with elation, the Miraluka swung the blades through the air, marveling at how natural they felt; it was as if they were extensions of his arms, instead of separate weapons. In that moment, he knew beyond any doubt that from now on, he was a Jedi.

The two Jedi returned, not to Coruscant, but to Dantooine, where Shard had been officially educated. His Knighthood ceremony was held there, after the requisite day and night of fasting and meditation; it was not a complex ritual, simply the Masters saying a few words and Shard's braid being removed. Afterward, the young Miraluka was shocked to realize his master was no longer his master; he was his own man, now and forever.

One of the first things he did was return to Alpheridies so he could let his family know of his ascension. It was a much more cheerful meeting than before; without the pall of the father's dying close at hand, they could be more like a family and less like mourners. He held out his braid to his mother with a shy smile on his face, explaining in a low voice that he was now a Knight and he wanted them to have the braid; it represented his early years, he said, and he could think of no better custodian for the memory of those years than his own flesh and blood. He stayed there a few days, relating incidents from his training, then decided he'd better leave before anyone got curious again as to why that Jedi fellow was hanging around the Sylvorrs so much.

For a few years, then, he did the whole Jedi thing, gallivanting about the galaxy saving the days and damning the nights, beating up on pirates and terrorists and what have you, and generally having as much fun as a Jedi can have beating up on people. He was good at it too, being one of the better unarmed fighters in the Order as well as a deadly swordsman and lightsaber duelist; blasters, not so much, but then again few Jedi really focused on the ungainly things anyway.

One mission in particular had him attempting to free some hostages from a gang in Coruscant; they had so far repelled regular police forces, so they had asked for assistance from a Jedi. The gang members were Zabraks, the hot-headed alien race known for their spiky heads and fierce independence; why they had taken hostages on Coruscant was not known, but Shard was determined to find out. He took a speederbike to their lair and jumped off, entering the abandoned cantina with open hands; predictably he was fired upon as soon as he came in the doorway, but he was able to deflect the attacks and rapidly close in on the gunmen. A flurry of controlled, methodical attacks took them down, and he was able to move on to the rest of the building. The resistance was heavy there, too, but Shard was well up to it, and once they figured out there was a fellow moving in on them that blasters weren't hurting they surrendered quickly.

As it turned out, they were a band of mercenaries, newly formed, who had been promised a contract with the Republic; when the deal fell out for whatever reason they lost their tempers and did something rash. Shard assured them he would talk to someone about it and had the hostages released, none the worse for wear; the mercenaries accompanied him to the Temple, where the matter was resolved to everyone's satisfaction and no one else had to die.

He wasn't always a success, however. Another mission took him to an asteroid belt in the Mid-Rim, adjacent to a minor trade route in that sector; a merchant vessel carrying valuable ores had gone missing, and no word or sign had been heard since. The shipping company didn't trust normal investigators, so they had petitioned the Council for aid. Shard took a hyperdrive-equipped starfighter and ventured toward the asteroids, on the lookout for anything suspicious. Once there, he stretched his senses out wide, letting his awareness caress each floating ball of rock; he didn't want to hit one and die in a fiery crash, after all. After about an hour he came across signs of life, and made his way in their direction.

What he found was rather odd; built into the side of one of the larger and more stable and isolated of the asteroids was an abandoned mining colony, which had apparently been reactivated recently. The signs of life came from there, so he flew in for a closer look. Suddenly his radio crackled to life, and the fellow on the other end demanded to know why a Jedi starfighter was in their area; Shard replied that he was investigating a missing merchant ship and her crew, and that search had led him here. The fellow on the other end laughed gratingly, and a tractor beam began pulling Shard's ship into the landing bay of the old facility.

The ship landed and Shard leaped out, to be confronted by a group of the pirates. One of them, a scarred fellow with a large-ish rifle, stepped forward, exuding arrogance in every step; he declared the crew of the merchant ship was dead, the ship itself and her cargo waiting to be fenced off, and as for this little Jedi meddler, the fine men behind him would see to that. Shard tried to reason with them, but it was to no avail; the pirates opened fire while their leader slipped away, forcing the Miraluka to take drastic measures. Their rifles were too powerful to deflect, so he had to draw his lightsabers and take the offensive; they were shooting to kill, and he had no choice but to reply in kind.

Once they were taken down, he collected himself and moved on, seeking out the leader; he was not hard to find, for the facility was relatively empty given how only part of it was being used as the pirate base, and Shard saw people in terms of lifeforce and ability. Of course there were other pirate guards, all willing to die to stop the Miraluka; he reckoned the leader must have been quite the silver-tongued devil, to get so many to die for him. He was at one of the other hangers, presumably preparing an escape vessel; he was taking a while, and Shard wondered why he hadn't had one already ready to launch at a moment's notice.

He made it to the hanger, and found the pirate leader had not, in fact, been getting a shuttle prepped; he'd simply been there to lure Shard into a trap. With a grin and a small wave, a magcon field sizzled into place as he walked through another hallway, and the larger field blocking the vacuum of space began flickering; it was losing power, the Jedi saw, and would shut down entirely very shortly. He had seconds, maybe, in which to act. Glancing across, he saw the control panel by the hallway in which the pirate leader was gloating; he drew his blaster and fired, shorting the panel out and causing that field to sizzle out once more. The pirate panicked and pressed a switch on a remote, causing the field into space to solidify once again; he didn't want to die along with some Jedi meddler, after all.

That brief second was all Shard needed, expending a measure of the Force in a swift burst to shoot forward and grab the man in a sleeper hold. Unfortunately he misjudged his own power, and ended up strangling the pirate to death; it wasn't a great loss, yet the young Knight was still affected by a death at his own hands. He decided then and there that no one else would know exactly about this incident, and put it out of his mind utterly; he then went to the intercom and announced to the entire facility and any pirates left in it that their leader was dead, and they should throw their weapons down and surrender or face a similar fate. He concentrated on the Force, and felt a wave of despair and resignation from the remaining pirates; he knew that it was all over, and set the self-destruct mechanism on the station.

Gathering them all up, he had them load what swag and prisoners they had on their flagship, and directed them to Coruscant with the stolen merchant vessel on a slave circuit behind them. There, he informed the Council that he had had no choice but to slay the pirate leader and most of the pirates, and that the original goal, the crewmen of the captured ship, were already dead by the time he got there; the Council expressed their desire for a more favorable outcome, but acknowledged that not every mission ended in victory, adding that with the recovery of some of the stolen loot and some prisoners it hadn't been a complete loss.

Soon after this, Shard's master came back to him. He was himself a Master now, and had taken on another Padawan; a young Zabrak girl, peppy and cheerful. The Miraluka wasn't immediately sure if he liked her or not, liking to think of himself as more serious and sedate, but he knew that time and the Force would tell in the end. His master said they needed his help; a number of Padawans and younger Knights had been disappearing recently, with signs of struggle and great numbers involved. It was a serious matter, being kept quiet for now; the friends of the missing Jedi had been asked not to say anything, since the Council didn't want a panic. Intrigued, Shard said he would do what he could, and asked to go to one of the scenes of violence.

They led him to a dark alley down in the Lower City, which had been roped off even though it was normally abandoned anyway. Here, the Miraluka used his unique vision to examine the area, looking for trace signs of the Force that would reveal a picture for him, a trail of events. He didn't go by footprints, or spent casings, or anything like that, but traces in the air and imprints in the aura of the Force that would show who had come and gone. He detected the Jedi's trail almost immediately, noting how it was heavily tinged with desperation and fear; frowning, he looked closer at the other signs, and what they represented. Or rather, who.

What he saw made him quite nervous, even if it was an imperfect impression; a gang of at least ten men, armed with stunning weapons, had ambushed the young Jedi and taken her prisoner. For what purpose, he couldn't say, but it was alarming to say the least. He relayed his impressions to his master, who reacted with alarm and said the Council had to be told immediately.

Upon hearing the news, their faces became grim. There weren't many reasons a person would kidnap a Jedi, yet the list was just long enough to make it a challenge; Shard and his master, and the Zabrak Padawan, were assigned to the investigation. The Miraluka suggested they check the local slave markets first; it was an extreme longshot, but he felt that if there were any connections there it would be well worth it. Slavery was of course outlawed, but like any bureaucracy, slavers could grease the right palms and get their trafficking done anyway, and the slum areas of cities like Coruscant were prime gathering spots for slave rings. Without delay, the three Jedi donned disguises and went down to check things out.

The slave markets were a tangled, dirty, infested place full of leering men and ragged slaves, many of them female and half-naked. Acting like first-time buyers, the older Jedi asked around about who they should speak to for… special acquisitions; he got strange looks, and several people told him to shove off (or worse), but eventually, when he flashed enough credits, he and his two fellows were led to a back room by a large, scarred fellow with a great many tattoos. These inner chambers were much nicer and cleaner, occupied by wealthier buyers and more sophisticated hawkers; the scarred fellow led the three of them to another man, svelte and casual in formal evening wear, and whispered in his ear for a moment or two.

The svelte fellow nodded and turned to the three spies, smiling slightly as he spoke with the older man in front. He said he had heard of disappearances, kidnappings, and wanted in on it; the fellow denied such acts, claiming the merchandise before him didn't come from filthy places like dark alleys and back roads; the Jedi pressed further, and waved a well-loaded credit chip beneath the fellow's nose, demanding one more time to see the special merchandise or lose out on a valuable sale; the svelte fellow, not so svelte now, harrumphed and muttered for a second, then gave in. He went away briefly, and came back with a scared and disoriented girl in chains behind him, a strange bulky collar around her neck; it was one of the kidnapped Jedi! The three others swiftly hid their shock, and the Master held out a credit chip, making a hefty offer; the svelte fellow, knowing he wouldn't get a better sale any time soon, accepted, and handed the chains over.

There was something strange about her, in Shard's vision, but there wasn't time for that. Without further delay, they left the slave market through a side exit, making their way to Upper City before unchaining the girl and removing the collar; she stumbled about, blinking and gasping, a look of such profound relief on her face that Shard felt he was watching something indecent. It was only then that he realized what had been strange about her; when the collar was removed, her aura blossomed outward, though it needed a moment to resume what seemed to be its full strength. Then the Miraluka realized how horrible that collar had been; it was a Force Collar, designed to cut off a person from the Force. On a normal person, it had little effect, but on a Jedi or someone more sensitive it was like cutting off all their senses at once, suddenly and violently; he didn't even dare to imagine how it would affect him, or any other Miraluka, with their total dependence on the Force to interact with the galaxy around them.

Gently, his old master asked the girl what had happened after her capture; she said she didn't know much, they had clapped the hated collar around her neck immediately after incapacitating her with the stun carbines. He urged her to think as much as she could, anything she could reveal would help immensely; slavers kidnapping and selling Jedi, right beneath the Temple's nose, was a serious threat, and they needed all the info they could get. The girl thought harder, but shook her head and said she needed more time, apologizing as well. It wasn't much to go on, nothing at all in fact, but something had to be done; these people had to be infiltrated from the inside out.

Back at the Temple, Shard and the others discussed their options. The older Jedi wanted to leave the Miraluka out of it completely; he was most at risk, after all, since all anyone needed was one glance at his uncovered, empty sockets to know he was a Force user. Shard disagreed, claiming he could simply wear a scarf and claim to be blind, which was half true; besides, they had come to him, had they not? And he didn't need his lightsabers to defend himself in any case. In the end, Shard made up his own mind that he would go in by himself, regardless of what anyone said, and before his former master could summon any arguments he up and left, leaving his lightsabers on the table.

Shard made his way back to the area with the dark alley, knowing his ragged and dusty costume would help him blend in just enough; the torn scarf about his head marked him as blind, and though he couldn't do much to hide his muscular build, that would serve to make him more enticing to the slavers, if they were there. Fortunately they were there, and drawn to the groping, blinded fellow like flies to honey; perhaps he was a wounded veteran who slipped through the cracks? Whatever, he was young and seemed pretty fresh despite the blindness, and some customers had been asking for blind servants for whatever reason. It went off with only a few hitches; the blind guy, despite being blind, managed to beat back two of the assailants with the metal rod he'd been using as a walking stick before they got their stun carbines out. After that it was easy, for them anyway; for Shard it was rather painful, and he had to concentrate on his training to block out the pain.

When he woke up he was in a cell, in the middle of a long low line of them; the rumbling he felt meant he was on a ship, a small one at that. He supposed he must have already been sold, though who would want a supposedly blind slave was beyond him. They apparently hadn't discovered he was a Jedi or a Miraluka yet, since he didn't have a Force Collar on and the scarf was undisturbed; privately he wished it would keep that way, too. There were other slaves in the hold, and he called out to them softly, asking where they were and who was in charge. Many of them were new as well, but a few had been around a few times, and knew a little more; this was one of many slaving vessels, with hidden compartments for the slaves. From the talk, Shard gathered he was the only Jedi aboard, obvious or not. This was both good and bad; good, in that he wouldn't have to worry about being revealed through a casual slip-up, bad in that he wouldn't have any backup if things went south.

After a long journey they landed on Corellia, which struck the young Jedi as odd; didn't the Corellians frown on slavery, being part of the Republic? Then again, the place did have a well-known criminal element, but still; he detected no obvious attempts at stealth, so either they didn't care or they were exceptionally well connected. Before he could ruminate further, the doors were thrown open, and a band of toughs came in, yelling and shouting and cracking electro-whips; Shard feebly raised his hands, in keeping with his blinded veteran act, and did as he was ordered. He and the others lined up outside and were told to wait; apparently they were going to be inspected. He could tell it was nighttime, and they were in the middle of a starport landing pad; the slave ship hulked behind him, and around him was the fear and anxiety of the potential slaves.

At the far end, an exceptionally brutish fellow, a Trandoshan, was starting the inspection. Surrounding him and hectoring the slaves were a bunch of other thugs with energy batons and stun guns; though the large fellow snarled whenever they were too harsh, behind his back and out of his sight they beat and flayed on the cowering beings before them. Shard quivered with anger at the display, yet there was nothing he could do about it that wouldn't tip his hand; he began to regret leaving his lightsabers behind.

Shard was near the end of the middle line, so it took them a while to reach him. Once they did, the Trandoshan towered over him, sniffing and asking questions; he could understand basic, and the undercover Jedi surprised them when he revealed he understood the reptile's primitive snarlings, as well. The slavers gathered around him, wondering with ill-disguised contempt how a lowly human slave knew alien languages. Cursing himself and feigning fear, fighting back a rapid sinking sensation in his gut, he stammered out that he had side-lined as a translator in the Republic Navy, but after a badly timed fight had ruined his eyes he'd been discharged and forgotten about; probably because his family wasn't as connected as some of the others, he added with a trace of belligerence, or else he wouldn't be here.

That had been the wrong thing to say; the Trandoshan snapped his hand out, catching Shard hard about his head, and one of the thugs reached in and ripped the scarf away. Immediately they all shouted, and Shard's cheeks burned with shame; it was the highest taboo of Miraluka culture never to allow one's empty sockets to be seen in public, and here he was, practically naked before everyone. The other slaves screamed and scattered, and an unreasoning rage filled the Miraluka's heart; these scum had degraded their last slave, he would make them pay once and for all!

And for a few minutes, he did. The slavers, unused to such rebellion, fell back before Shard's onslaught, watching helplessly as he slew three of their fellows in less than a second with just his hands and feet. The Trandoshan was also caught off guard at first, though he recovered swiftly and roared at the others to shoot the damn Jedi before he killed them all. Recovering from their shock they did just that, blasting at Shard from all sides with their stun carbines; he deflected some, but there were too many to block all of them, and the pain and numbness swiftly overcame his system, and he stumbled to his knees, helpless. One of them came forward with a bulky collar, and made to wrap it around the Miraluka's neck; he shouted and tried to get away, and they stabbed him with their batons, making him fall prone on the ground, twitching and shivering from the energy discharge.

Then the collar was around his neck, clasped tight and activated; just like that, Shard's world became a living hell, far worse than any nightmare or vision of darkness he could ever conceive. The infinite teeming life of the galaxy fell away like the setting sun; the swirls and auras of life, so beautiful even in a cesspool like this slave pit, were torn asunder, replace with abject nothingness. Even the Force, with its slow, subtle guidance, had been taken; without it, his body felt slow and heavy, pointless, so much pulsing matter that couldn't ever have any meaning at all. Without it, without the Force, without the sight that was his link to the galaxy, his perceptions were slammed down into a paltry space; echoes of mere sound and vibration, tactile sensation from his fingertips and skin, and… smell.

He was perceiving the galaxy without the Force, some distant part of him realized, the part that wasn't screaming out in horror and revulsion, flopping around on the ground in helpless fury, clawing at the hardened surface for purchase as if he was about to spin off into the silent, empty void of space. That was how it actually felt, despite the fact that he was clinging to the ground with all his strength; nothing made sense anymore, he felt as if he was spinning through a dark void, absent the grand perceptions he had long since grown used to. Then, mercifully, unconsciousness descended, though as he later found it wasn't complete; he found himself recalling the talk of the slavers as they carried him away, wondering aloud what sort of slave a blinded Miraluka would make.

For a week he hovered between wakefulness and dark, unable to tell the difference between either. Finally, he managed to gain some sense of his surroundings, forcing himself to hear and feel and smell; he heard kind voices calling out to him, steady and reassuring hands holding him down, and smells he refused to dwell on entering his nose. Slowly he made himself sit up, and someone brought a bowl of bland slop to his mouth. He felt he knew how an infant felt, helpless and totally reliant on others just for basic sustenance, and that dark rage filled him once again. He saw the face, the aura, the memory of his old master, and remembered how it had been he who had invited him into this; he recalled every word and action in a new light, and realized he had been manipulated into this from the start. His old master, jealous of the power his former student had attained, had contrived to have him shamed and removed, sent far away from the Jedi forever.

Naturally he swore he would have revenge, but for now he had to deal with a much more depressing reality; he had a Force Collar bound inarguably around his neck, and others, presumably his fellow slaves (they smelled like slaves, certainly), were being nice to him. He asked where he was and who they were, and why they were helping him; their answers were as he thought: they were slaves too, they were still on Corellia in the slave pens there, and they were helping him because he needed it. He'd been out of it for over a week, and the slavers wouldn't call a doctor; perhaps they wanted him to die, yet for some reason couldn't do it themselves, they speculated. With an effort Shard pushed aside his dark thoughts of revenge, and thanked the other slaves for helping him out; he introduced himself, and they introduced each other, speaking slowly so the Miraluka could match names to voices.

Over the course of a month, Shard learned how to live in hell. He learned to "see" through a combination of hearing, touch, and general intuition, and became modestly adept at it. Luckily the slavers hadn't yet found a buyer for him, though the other slaves came and went; not all of them were as nice as the ones he'd landed with at first, but enough were that it was tolerable. He learned to walk, he learned the caution and care someone who couldn't truly see, in any sense, had to take in every second of his life; these lessons, while enlightening in their own way, only reinforced the fact that those with the Force were superior to those without it.

In time a buyer did show interest, a Hutt out of Nar Shaddaa who was looking for gimmicks to stock his arena with; a blind Miraluka Jedi who could kill with his bare hands was certainly gimmicky enough. Credits were paid out, Shard was seized and taken away, and his life as a toadie in an arena began. It wasn't as bad as perhaps it could have been, he supposed; he just had to stand in the middle of a roaring arena and pretend to defend himself while new fighters beat up on him a bit. Deep down, he knew he was better than all of them, but until he could fight on sound and echoes alone he was helpless, and with the constant screaming of the crowds grating against his ears that was difficult.

He wasn't just a toadie, either; his new master seemed to find it amusing to have a Jedi slave serve it as some sort of butler, though it had to be some sort of huge farce since he was always spilling stuff and tripping over almost everything in his way, with the laughter of the Hutt and its guests ringing in his ears. He knew he wasn't any good for manual labor, not without the Force, and since they wouldn't dare remove the collar around his neck he was stuck to shameful things like this (as if there was anything not shameful about being a slave). The shame built up, along with the dark desires that ran rampant within him now that he couldn't hear the Force; he knew he would snap soon, and looked forward to it.

It happened one evening in the arena, against yet another rising challenger. The Miraluka wasn't sure afterward what had caused it; perhaps the noise was a little too loud, or perhaps the heat of the spotlights on his skin got too much to handle. Regardless, when he judged the man to be within reach, he let out a roar and lunged forward; his hands found his opponent and went to work, going on instinct to break down the man's guard and mercilessly beat him down. The crowd roared in surprise and glee, especially from the few who had beat on Shard despite the fact he was supposedly the lowest fighter out there. It was no good sending the guards out, that would imply the fights were rigged; they had no choice but to stand there while the toadie beat the snot out of the new guy.

When it was finally over, when the red haze cleared from Shard's mind, he just stood over the unconscious, battered form of his challenger, sick to his stomach at the brutality he'd just let loose within himself. More sickening yet, though, was the furious glee he felt at finally striking back against the impudent fools who thought they could own him; for a second he could imagine the hated Collar wasn’t around his neck anymore. But it was, and he knew he'd have to face some sort of punishment for going outside his role, whether that night or the next.

To his surprise, however, the Hutt was overjoyed; upsets in the arena were always profitable, and tonight had been quite the upset. Shard's losing control had made the slug more money, and as a reward they would loosen his collar just a little. The Miraluka was stunned; he was being rewarded for giving into the lust to destroy (one of the darkest of emotions), if only a little? He hardly noticed as the guards came forward, weapons at the ready, while one of them reached in to adjust the collar; he did notice, though, when the guard was done and he could feel the Force again at last. It was as if the sun had come up over some inner horizon in his mind, flooding it with the light of life; the Force flowed inside him once again, if only a little.

It was different from before, though, and not just because it was limited by the collar; it felt darker, somehow, as if it was being filtered through red glass or something. This, he realized, was the Dark Side of the Force; he wasn't surprised to realize he didn't care, not anymore. It only made sense, after all, that the Force would be tainted for him after going without it for so long, being without its guidance. Maybe he should have been distressed, or at least mildly alarmed, but all he felt was such relief at feeling the Force once again that he didn't care about minor semantic differences; besides, it fit in rather well with the dark thoughts that had plagued him of late.

Just like that, he became something of a star, though he was still enslaved. Now that he could watch and observe once again, he was able to learn from the other fighters, their fighting techniques and styles, and he had little trouble incorporating them into his own methods. Swords, axes, blasters, all sorts of things; his particular specialty came around when he discovered the tonfa, or nightstick as it was sometimes called. Basically a thick rod with a handle off to the side at a perpendicular angle, it was used by police forces everywhere as a backup to their stun batons, and was very similar to an obscure lightsaber variant known as the guard shoto; with a dueling rapier in one hand and a tonfa in the other, he became known as the Unsung Warrior in the arena.

But he never forgot his vows of vengeance; always, he whispered in the ears of the other slaves, of guards who seemed even a little sympathetic. Slowly, very slowly, the mood changed among the lower echelons of the power structure, from loyalty to the Hutt to vague discontent, then to murmuring disquiet. He whispered of escape, of a better life and more power without the festering reach of the Hutt in everyone's pockets, around their necks. Many, the slaves especially, took to his rhetoric like flies to honey; even among the guards and higher servants it took root, which was mildly surprising.

In time, he felt the opportune moment had arrived; the guards stationed outside for the evening were sympathetic to his murmurs, and willing to listen. As simple as winking he had the doors to the slave pens opened, and those who could wield weaponry were armed; this was mostly himself and the other gladiator-slaves, though a few others said they were able and received a gun or a sword. Quietly they stole through the Hutt's lair, gathering men and slaying those who objected, always being careful not to trip the alarm until Shard said it was time to; that was as simple as allowing a single enemy to live, to reach a security room, to press the alluring red button before he got a knife thrown through the back of his head.

On they went, abandoning stealth for speed, gaining momentum until they burst through the doors to the Hutt's main chambers. Immediately, as planned, those with the steadiest trigger fingers shot down the slavemasters, the ones who carried the remotes that could detonate everyone's collars or implants; with the threat of instant death removed they surged forward, taking out the Hutt's most loyal and elite men through sheer numbers and surging power. Shard himself was at the lead, coldly focused on the bloated, yelling figure before him, redolent on a dais; he threw his sword, piercing the thing's eye, and ducked aside to avoid its thrashing death throes. Not everyone was as lucky, and got battered by the tail as it flailed about.

And then it was over. The Hutt was dead, the sadistic guards either dead also or going to join it soon, and Shard was elated; he had lead his first revolt! All that studying of dead leaders wasn't a waste of time after all! He ordered the others to find the tools that would pry away the hated Collar, for it could not simply be forced off or else it would explode. There were others with collars on too, though of course they waited for the Miraluka; he had led them to this, after all. Finally someone found them, on the dead body of one of the slavemasters, and they were brought forward; the slave who came up to work at it fumbled a few times because his fingers were shaking so bad, but at last it came off.

The very second it loosened, all his perceptions and abilities came back to him; he felt as if he was on fire, except it was a cold and deadly fire instead of a burning deluge. Though it wasn't such a good idea to unleash it all at once; it would have been smarter to loosen the Collar by degrees, allowing the Force back in a bit at a time. Letting it all in at once, all of Shard's considerable talent and ability, after so long adjusting and getting on without it, was like blowing up a dam and letting all the water out at once; it rushed in, barreling along and destroying everything in its path with the sheer magnitude of its onslaught. The Miraluka couldn't handle it, not all at once; losing the Force had caused his sanity to crack severely, getting it back had shattered it once and for all.

He screamed and fell to his knees, trying to draw in great gulps of breath; the others gasped and gathered around, but in the next second he waved them off, still panting heavily. For a few moments he lay there, trying to assimilate all his old perceptions and teachings, the ways of the Jedi that had guided him, but it was no good; he had been alone with dark thoughts of revenge for so long, the Jedi and their code was nothing more than a bitter joke. Out of the swirling cacophony arose the face of his old master, and his face twisted into a grim snarl; that was the one who had done this to him, brought him so low that he had to count slaves and lowly guardsmen as his allies. Again, he vowed a painful vengeance upon that person.

First, though, he had to deal with the present, again. That being, this time, the fact that he had just killed a Hutt and was surrounded by cheering slaves. There was nothing to hold him back this time; they were in the palm of his hand already. It was easy, almost too easy, to say the words with the right inflection and body language, just as he imagined the old Jedi had done, Revan and Exar Kun and the Exile and all them; this time there was no Jedi teachings whispering in his mind to hold back the lust to control, to lead, to stand at the fore and be the glorious Jedi master. Well, Dark Jedi, now, but still.

Without further delay, he ordered the Hutt's vaults emptied, the contents taken to the largest combat-worthy ship in the hangar; two of them, if need be, there was much to be done. A power vacuum had just been created, and it wouldn't do in the least to be at the center of it when the storm coalesced. As luck had it, there were a pair of frigate-sized freighters in the hangars, illegally modified so they could resist pirates; their crews had been persuaded to join the revolt, so that was good. Feeling he could now relax, Shard went down to observe the sacking of the vaults. He saw a lot of artwork, rare weaponry and of course credit ledgers galore; suddenly his gaze was drawn to a necklace, being carried carelessly on the edge of a crate full of other goods.

It was of gold, with a large blood-red ruby as the centerpiece of the amulet; to Shard's vision it seemed to glimmer and wink. Imperiously he ordered the man to halt, and strode forward to seize the necklace for his own. When he had it in hand, he could feel a darkness within; it wasn't a relic of Sith Alchemy or Magicks, but simply a tainted item, an object that had been too long in the presence of a strong aura of the Dark Side. Grinning smugly, he put it around his own neck, and its dark warmth was a comfort to his soul. Also in the crate, innocuous and out of place, was a pair of large, expensive sunglasses, what was called the "wrap-around" style; the Miraluka took these also, putting them on and removing the ragged cloth that had hid his empty sockets. They made him feel oddly elegant, and he laughed quietly to himself.

Once it was all aboard, Shard ordered everyone who was with him to board the ships as well, and for someone to find an itemized list of all the swag; fortunately one was available, and he perused it while the ships lifted off. He noted several weapons, of all sorts, but lightsabers were not among them; there were, however, a few crystals, and a couple entries for random mechanical parts seemed likely to have the bits he would need to construct new ones for himself. And that would be a fine thing, for sure and certain. But for that, one needed time and solitude, which weren't well-provided for when one was being chased by loyalist Hutt forces; he ordered his men to make for Corporate Sector space, knowing a pair of freighters would pass with little comment but an attack squadron wouldn't.

They dropped out of hyperspace around the Colonies planet Commenor, known for its criminal element, where Shard hoped to dock and outfit the ships, fence some of the Hutt's stash, and find a quiet place to build his new weapons; also, if any parts were missing, he would find them here. Some of the crew dispersed, Shard bribed and persuaded the requisite dock officials for the appropriate reasons, and he went to inspect his crystals and parts; the crystals were good, and he had all but a few parts to make a pair of new lightsabers. This was no great setback; Commenor saw all sorts of trade, unusual electronic or mechanical pieces would be among the easier things to find.

So he made sure his glasses were securely attached to his nose and set off into the spaceport, in search of his parts. Along the way he thought it might be a good idea to try and sell one of the ships; it would make them less conspicuous, and he honestly didn't expect they'd get that much swag anyway. What they would be doing that would be getting them swag in the first place was a question he decided could wait for later.

He approached a likely vendor and looked around inside; the shopkeeper bustled up, politely inquiring what the tough-looking fellow wanted, and Shard replied with innocuous questions about the usual clientele, what they tended to buy, that sort of thing. The shopkeeper answered just as innocuously, with the sort of misleading answers Shard was looking for; with a surreptitious glance around, the Miraluka inquired about "unusual" components for "rare" weaponry, to which the shopkeeper smiled demurely and gestured for him to go to the backroom.

Back there, were boxes and rows of higher-quality components, and the Miraluka suspected higher prices would be found as well. But before they could get down to thingyering, there was a shout from the front, and sounds of many men barging in; the shopkeeper cringed and wrung his hands, making Shard wonder what it was all about. He asked about it, but the shopkeeper merely waved his hands and dithered about gangs and criminal elements; Shard frowned and ventured out to confront the thugs, who were surprised to find another customer in the place, as he had rather suspected.

The lead thug recovered and brought his bluster up, demanding to know what the Miraluka was doing in the shop when it was clearly closed; Shard replied that it hadn't been closed when he came in, that he had been quietly doing business with the owner, and that he wanted to know who the thug and his men thought they were that they could crash into this humble shop and make unreasonable demands. Again the thugs were taken aback, and they got mad; the leader snarled about how no one would make Gruzny's men look like fools, and they circled around the Dark Jedi in preparation for taking him down.

From Shard's point of view, this was a big mistake; he had dealt with stronger opponents, both before and during his few years as a slave. He was stronger now than he had been then, and unless they had some new trick or other for groups fighting a single foe, this would be little more than a work out. As it turned out, they did have a new trick, or at least an unusual variant on an old one; some of them went in to distract Shard up close, not enough to crowd each other out, while the others hung back, waiting to move in should their companions falter. He noted that none of them drew blasters or anything more obvious than bits of metal pipe that would fit inside their fists, and realized they still feared the local law enforcement; this Gruzny wasn't as powerful as one might have assumed, then.

The thugs moved in for the attack, going for different areas at once; two aimed high, the others low. Shard admired their technique even as he tore it to shreds, ducking the high blows and sweeping his legs out to trip them up over the low attackers. Skilled hands found weak spots with lightning speed, and without a glance at the defeated men he turned to stare down the rest; the rest growled again and abandoned subtlety, yanking stun batons out and surging in to overcome the Miraluka through sheer numbers. He almost laughed; blindly attacking a prepared and unbowed foe never worked. Precise application of the Force, slight touches of Telekinesis here and there, had the would-be wave taken out almost in less time than the first group; again, he faced the next threat without a backward glance. The lead thug gaped at his minions, clearly shaken, and looked at Shard, asking what he wanted.

Shard replied, with a derisive chuckle, that he simply wanted to do business here in peace, without interruption from insolent braggarts and extortionists. The thug scowled, but knew it would be useless to press the point, or at least he feigned such; admitting defeat he turned to walk out of the shop, spinning at the last second with a hold-out blaster in his hand, a snarl on his face as he pulled the trigger. It was the last look he would ever make, as the bolt of energy bounced off the Dark Jedi's fist and flew into his chest, singeing a hole through his heart. With a shrug he turned back to the shopkeeper, who had been in the back watching the altercation with fear and awe; he had never seen such a display of martial talent, and declared that his savior must have been some sort of Jedi. To this, the Miraluka shrugged again, said he was only a former Jedi, and asked again about who the thugs were.

Relieved to be alive and with his profits intact, he answered as he could. The thugs had been agents of Grozny, a corrupt official within the bureaucracy of Commenor; several criminal elements had a presence on Commenor, and Grozny was their central contact for influence and clearances. They could not operate openly, however, since the Corporate Sector authorities frowned on blatant criminality and extortionism. The situation presented the Miraluka with a quandary; if he had been a Jedi he would have immediately and selflessly volunteered to tackle the corruption and weed it out, but he wasn't a Jedi and so had no duty to tackle anything. Nevertheless he felt he needed to do something about it, reasoning that they would find out about the little scuffle here today and then he'd be hunted down, again; he didn't fancy having both Hutts gangs and organized criminal forces out for his head. Dealing with this would benefit himself as much as anyone else; besides, there were sure to be a number of grateful people who would be more than willing to generously compensate him for his time and effort.

With this in mind, Shard bade the shopkeeper a curt farewell and set off back to his ship, to ponder and prepare. Before he got there, though, he sensed a group of men coming up behind; backup for the failed first attempt, or observes sent to watch over a man losing his touch? Whatever the case, the Miraluka was intrigued, and he ducked out of sight so he could watch the men as they went by. They were much the same as the last group, he saw, though perhaps more aware; all they knew was their boys had gone in, and only some punk in glasses and black robes came out, and that wasn't cool. Shard decided to mess with them a little, and took off over the nearby roofs, keeping them in sight.

The first one was picked off with a shot from Shard's silenced slugthrower; the next was lynched when the Miraluka happened upon a length of wire. The next two got their necks snapped from behind, and only then did they catch on to the fact they were being taken out from the shadows. Unfortunately they didn't handle it right, got antsy and spread out at random; from Shard's point of view, it was perfect. They fell swiftly after that, leaving only the leader, calling desperately on the short-range radio and getting only static; Shard had also smashed each one's radio as he killed them. Only then did he come out into the open, seizing the last thug about the collar and demanding to know where he could meet with the boss. The crackle of energy in his hands told the thug it would be very stupid to contradict the Miraluka, and he caved rather swiftly; he didn't get to meet Grozny directly, none of them did, they got their orders from intermediaries, usually over encrypted radio. The code to decipher was in his wallet, too.

Now that the man was useless, Shard killed him too, leaving the body where he dropped it and taking the wallet; it wouldn't be hard to locate the signal and transceiver, since such ciphers usually had their frequency requirements within the code. Left alone once again, he returned to his ship and typed in the radio code, receiving an incoming transmission almost immediately; there was to be a meeting of subordinates the next day, at a local cantina, shortly after lunchtime. Plenty of time for a man of ways and means to get ready, and Shard was a man of plentiful means, if not ways.

So he changed into something inconspicuous and went to the cantina, to get a feel for the place. Not that there was much to get a feel for; if you'd seen one spaceport cantina, you've seen them all. This one didn't break that mold, from the outside anyway, but he still made a circuit around the place, noting any obvious exits or large windows, before going inside. It didn't exceed expectations in there, either; a dimly lit hall, with a bar at one end and smoke in the air. Any normal newcomer might have been put off by the dimness and the smoke, but Shard was not normal; he merely coughed, very politely and softly, before striding on.

He went up to the bar, heedless of the other patrons, and asked the bartender about Grozny; the fellow replied that that was a dangerous name to be asking about, would the good and intelligent man like a drink? Shard replied that he knew the dangers and was quite certain he was up to dealing with them, at the same time as he slid some credits across the bar; the fellow took them without looking, sighed, and mentioned a meeting here tomorrow which he might drop in on, and he didn’t hear it from anyone here today. Shard thanked the man and left, leaving as he came. Outside, he smiled and hummed a tune as he returned to the ship again, having gotten a good view of the interior of the cantina; he felt he was ready for tomorrow.

At the ship, he went to his quarters and sat down cross-legged to meditate, placing the dark medallion in his lap as he did so; he could feel its taint lurking as he opened his senses, and welcomed it inside him. He felt the ship around him, heard the ticking of the power couplings, the hum of the maintenance droids going about their work; some of the crew began to come back, and he felt them too, the lingering elation of freedom and the hesitation and doubt that came from not knowing what to do with that freedom. It made the Miraluka smile to himself, knowing how easily such feelings could be twisted and manipulated.

In time, one of them came to inquire if he needed anything; the rest was fixing a meal of sorts, and thought it'd be more proper to let their leader eat first. Shard was about to dismiss the girl since he honestly wasn't hungry yet, when inspiration struck; instead he told the Twi'lek to come inside, shut the door and stand in the middle of the room, he wanted to do an experiment. Confused, but unwilling to disobey the man who had freed her, she came in and did as she was told. Shard told her to just relax, all he wanted was to try something on her… Carefully he focused on her through telepathy, peering into her mind; for someone of his skill, peering into someone's thoughts was easy. Removing thoughts, and any skills or knowledge that went with them, was the hard part, and explicitly forbidden by the Jedi as doing so could injure and scar the victim.

Naturally, Shard didn't give a fig for the Jedi anymore, and focused more intently, glancing through the girl's memories; she had been a dancer and serving girl, he noted, not ill-treated since scarred dancers weren't worth much, but as any slave her life had not been easy. He noted that she wasn't sure how useful she would be on the ship, and feared being relegated to the role of entertainer or general servant again; he didn't really care, but to make her relax he asked her what she planned to do while she was with them. She brightened a little, but said she wasn't quite certain, and hoped she wouldn't have to dance again; Shard replied that she was free now, and could leave to make her own way if she liked. But she shook her head, saying she didn't have many skills unrelated to being a slave girl, and had hoped him or the other slaves could teach her useful things before she left.

All this time, the Miraluka had been carefully prodding, visualizing the process in an abstract way like prying bricks from mortar. It took concentration to operate on separate levels, small talk and telepathic devilry, but he managed it. Finally he felt one "wiggle" a little, as it were, the girl's dancing skills; simultaneously she grabbed her forehead and moaned, saying she suddenly had a headache. This close to success, of a sort, Shard wasn't about to let her leave, and he bore down harder, tugging with his mind until it came lose; he felt his limbs tingle as his mind absorbed the girl's knowledge of dancing, at the same time as she let out a whimper and fainted away.

Frowning slightly, Shard stood up and walked over to her, wondering why, exactly, he had wanted to learn how to dance. After a moment's thought, he realized it hadn't been the actual talent, but the fact that he could do it, steal skill and knowledge from other peoples' minds; doubtless it would be harder in the future, since not everyone was a scared and weak-minded former dancing girl, but with time and practice he was certain he could make this into something useful. As an afterthought he looked into her mind again; she still had the dancing skill, he hadn't permanently ripped it away then. That was good; she was still a little useful yet.

[Karl the Unfettered]

Bio- Part III:

Satisfied with himself for the moment, he went to the galley and looked in on the others; they were making stew, as it turned out, and had decided to go ahead and eat without them. They jumped as he came in, but he waved them off and told them to relax and go on eating; he wasn't their master, they were all free men, and if they chose to follow him they did so of their own free will. To that, some of them said he had more of an aura and a sense of being a leader about him than any ten of their old masters put together, and if they were free to go along, go along they would; that made the rest of them cheer, and Shard smiled to himself. Easily manipulated, indeed.

He got himself a bowl and sat down with the rest, just one of the guys, a former slave like any of them; it was part of being a leader, he told the exhausted and irritable part of himself, he had to at least pretend to be accessible and open or he could never go on with the rest of it. One of them asked about the girl who had gone for him, and he said they had spoken for a few minutes when she suddenly complained of a headache; immediately after she had fainted, and he had taken her to the medical bay. In truth one of the droids had done that, but no one would know since they'd never think to question his word, much less take after the machines. The food was actually pretty good, and he had two bowls before declaring he needed rest and leaving them to their own meals.

On the way back to his quarters, he reflected on the previous day. A great many responsibilities had fallen on his shoulders recently, not least of which were two ships of former slaves and loot from a slain Hutt's stash; he had to tread carefully, or he and everyone else under his command, or control, would end up recaptured or dead. He didn't care about any of them in particular, beyond the fact that they could become useful to his plans later on (and he would have to work out what those plans were, since a vague vengeance quest wasn't much of a plan), but about himself he cared very much; he had no desire to go back to being a gladiator and a slave, regardless of what happened.

He sensed someone else in his quarters again, and was about to get irritable when he decided to take a look beforehand; it was another girl, a human girl this time, and there were waves of lust rolling off her, along with a spark of the Force. Curious, he went inside and found a voluptuous redhead; she gave him a sultry smirk, explaining she used to be a prostitute and quite a good one, and wanted to show her appreciation for her newfound freedom more… personally. Shard decided it wouldn't kill him to accept, and did just that; afterward, after finding out she was quite right about being good at it, he thought he might test her later and see if she wouldn't mind being his apprentice.

The next morning Shard got up, irritated with himself because he had slept; he hadn't actually gone to sleep in months, always making use of the restorative meditations taught by the Jedi for his nightly recuperation. But it passed quickly when he recalled the day's purpose, and how it would hopefully end up. He warned the crew, for he supposed they were his crew by now, that there might be 'reactions' to certain previous events, and that some of them should stay aboard and keep a guard; they replied that no one would be taking their ships while they had anything to say about it. Thus reassured, he left the ship and melted into the city, to kill time until the meeting.

Just before the meeting, he went back to the cantina, figuring he may as well eat something to keep his energy up, and because he somehow figured they wouldn't be looking for intruders already in the cantina beforehand. He went up to the bar, winked at the fellow and asked for something light to eat; then he sat down in the corner and waited for the rest to show up. They weren't long in doing so; Shard hunched in on himself to be inconspicuous, which wasn't hard considering the smoky dimness and his dark clothes.

Not surprisingly, their discussion was about him; a pale fellow in black, with dark glasses to hide his eyes, who killed with his bare hands. The Miraluka could tell they were scared, despite the forced bravado of their plans; it radiated off of them like a gas, and Shard breathed it in with a twisted grin. He waited a little longer for the opportune moment; when he judged it had come he stood up, facing the little gathering and throwing his arms wide. Here he was, he said gaily; come and get some.

Half of them got up to go get some; half of them died in a shower of dark side energy. The rest sat back in stunned amazement, realizing they were dealing with a Jedi, and a powerful one at that. Now that they were properly cowed, Shard explained what he was after; he wanted Grozny, and he didn't care how many bodies he left behind to get him. The men dithered, until one of them stood up, regarding Shard with a cool eye; he said Grozny didn't speak to bloodthirsty thugs, no matter how powerful they were, and he could kill as many as he liked, it would only eliminate the chain of people who could get him to what he sought.

That was just fine with the Miraluka; he'd gotten what he wanted anyway, now. He turned as if to leave, and the men relaxed; he turned back, his pistol in his hand, and shot down all but one of them in a series of short coughs. The remaining gangster was the one who had stood up moments before, and Shard had only shot him in the knee instead of the head; he rolled on the ground, clutching his knee and cursing up at his assailant. Shard paid his curses no heed as he bent over him, placing his hand on the man's forehead and concentrating on his recent memories; as he suspected it wasn't nearly so easy extracting thoughts from an angry mobster as it was from a confused dancer, and he could only be thankful the rest of the cantina was empty, for even the slightest distraction would have ruined everything.

This time he wasn't looking for any sort of skills, but knowledge; where the higher-ups in Grozny's hierarchy met, who they were, what they did in the daytime. He had to fight the man's indigent fury every step, but in the end he managed to extract what he needed; the man was useless now, so he shot him in the forehead and made to leave. The bartender called out to him, asking who was going to clean up the mess; Shard simply threw a few credits back at the fellow and said a few drones would come around later to fix it all up, or something.

With his next steps in mind he proceeded to the nearest government building, where he introduced himself as Tavion Muirr and asked to speak to a fellow by the name of Kurtz; based on what he had learned from the last guy, Colonel Kurtz was a decorated veteran with a slight imbalance, relegated to appropriations and record-keeping for ordinance, munitions, and other military-type supplies. He was also one of Grozny's closest compatriots in their little power games, or so the last fellow thought, and if he was right Shard suspected he could end this quickly. Luckily, Kurtz was available, and the secretary waved the Miraluka on.

The man's office was at the top of the stairs, and Shard went up, alert for any sign of treachery. He picked up on Kurtz almost immediately; the man was unaware of trouble, though it was clear he could react to trouble quickly. The other man's idea of a "slight imbalance" was a bit off; Kurtz was a few steps shy of being a complete maniac, having to take an uncomfortable amount of drugs to function properly as a paper-pusher. Shard wondered if this was of his own volition, or if the mysterious Grozny had persuaded him into it; if it was the latter, and Kurtz was merely a disciple, then Grozny must be a formidable fellow indeed, and Shard licked his lips at the thought.

First, though, he had to deal with the Colonel, and knocked on the door; a gravelly voice told him to come inside, and Shard did so. He beheld a great mountain of a man, rangy and muscular, with a rigid crew cut and direct, menacing brown eyes, glaring up from the papers on his desk in a silent order for the Miraluka to explain himself or get the hell out; clearly an impatient man, then. Shard said he was on the trail of some miscreants, and that trail had led him here, would the good Colonel mind answering a few questions? The Colonel grumbled a bit to himself, then pointed at a chair and snapped out something about being more comfortable seated; Shard did so, knowing the fellow would be easier played with if he thought he was in a superior position.

The Miraluka began with evasive inquiries about small-timers in Grozny's organization, implying that the men had been involved in certain incidents over the past few days. Kurtz' eyes narrowed, and he asked how he knew about those incidents; the newshounds had been told to keep them quiet, it was strange a private investigator would have any inkling. Shard merely shrugged, smiled, and said he had seen a thing or two after the fact that led him to poke around, and then went on with the questions.

Inevitably Kurtz became annoyed at the stalling and slammed his fist on the desk, saying if Shard didn't get to the point he'd have him thrown out of the building. To that, the Miraluka merely chuckled and leaned forward; alright, he would get to the point. Grozny, where was he, how could he be reached? Everyone knew his name, it seemed, yet no one knew anything concrete beyond that, and he needed to get to the bottom of the open secret. Kurtz stared, blinked, then laughed, saying he had guts coming in here; if he knew enough to be asking the munitions dispatcher, he should know Grozny wasn't a man to be touched by some curious guy in a hood.

Abruptly his face went purple and he lunged across the desk, his hands grasping for Shard's throat; the movement was so abrupt it would have worked on anyone not attuned to the Force. The Miraluka was, however, and shoved himself backward in time to avoid the clawing hands; he then seized those hands and twisted, leveraging the thumbs and yanking Kurtz out from behind the desk and into an arm lock. The soldier wasn't about to let himself go that easily, however, and broke the lock through sheer muscle power alone, heaving his torso so violently Shard couldn't hold on. It was a stalemate, then, with the two of them trading blows and neither keeping the upper hand for long, until Kurtz started laughing; Shard asked what was so funny, and Kurtz replied that those moves were only taught to the Jedi, and the funny part was that Grozny had a dark one after him.

Shard then saw how disturbed Kurtz really was, when the man told him all about Grozny's setup, how he had most of the shopkeepers scared and the gangs under his thumb and all the big criminals fighting to get schedules for police rounds so they could extort and steal and all that. It was rather confusing, and Shard wondered why he was selling his boss out so easily; Kurtz laughed and said it was amusing, and if it was ok with him he'd call ahead and let the boss know there was a guy with a grudge coming for him pretty soon. Shard figured that was ok, it'd make things more interesting. He was about to leave, when he realized the man might get in trouble, so he turned again and asked what Kurtz planned to do once it was all blown over; the soldier grinned and said one master was as good as another, right? Besides, serving under a rogue Jedi was bound to be more exciting than pushing papers and rerouting arms shipments for some piss-ant in an office.

With that bit of down-to-earth logic ringing in his ears, the Miraluka left the office, pondering how he would go about taking Grozny down. He had no doubt there were guards around the office; not soldier types, but agent types, with small guns and large fists. Kurtz in a suit, with manners and a straighter head; men not to be lightly trifled with. Shard could deal with such men, but if there were a lot of them he figured it might be wise to bring backup along, and considered the members of his crew for likely gunfighters and swordsmen; several came to mind straight off, and he returned to the ship to round them up. He called a meeting in the main hold, got up on a box and gave a speech; it was about dedication, and burning bridges, and how one mustn't shirk from death or dealing out of such. It wasn't the best speech, but it got their blood going and that was all it was meant to do.

He asked for strong men and women, with swift hands and steady arms, to come with him tonight for a thing of justice and vengeance, blood and sweat and tears; there was a cancer here on Commenor, he proclaimed, and it had fallen to him, and those who would go with him, to undo it, to burn it out of existence with the fires of righteousness and light. Granted, he didn't give a charred rat for righteousness and light, but it worked on them; by the time he was done he had all of them clambering to go along. He had to chose just ten or twelve, however, and they had to be the hardest and sturdiest of the lot; the rest could stay back and guard the ships, in case some low-down lily-livered cads came to stab them in the back, as it were.

In the end he had the ones he wanted, and as nightfall drew on they set out, clad in light armor and black to cover it, with silenced guns and short, sharp daggers; it wasn't so much a crusade as an assassination, in fact assassination was exactly what it was, and Shard suspected more than a few of them knew it, but that was all to the good. They wouldn't shrink from the task if they knew what they were about, after all. It was a dark night, and some sort of holiday in the region; outer security of Grozny's apartment was lax, which troubled Shard slightly. What troubled him more was that he could not see more than a few steps ahead; normally his powers of sight were such that he could tell what to do a fair degree in advance, but this was unusual.

But he shook his head and motioned for his men to follow him, and they moved in, disabling electronic security as they came across it and silently slaying the few guards patrolling the outer perimeters. When they were able they moved in; Shard still couldn't see far enough ahead, but he couldn't pull them out now that they were in, so he forged on regardless. As he had earlier suspected, the guards inside were dangerous and competent, and more than once he had to go ahead on his own to take out one or another of them; he didn't want to risk an alarm until it was too late for it to matter.

When he reached the bedroom, he halted to peer closely, focusing his talents; he could discern Grozny inside, a dark presence beside the window, but no other guards. That was disconcerting; was the man so overconfident in himself, or did he truly possess the skill to defend against incursions on his own? It was too late for second thoughts; with a wave of his hand he kicked the door in, and his men fanned out inside, Shard in the middle, shouting out at the figure by the window. He turned, twitching his cloak aside with a casual gesture; Shard beheld a grizzled face wreathed in a welcoming smile, powerful arms spread wide, and… a lightsaber?!

Before he could move, Grozny unleashed a blast of Force Lightning, casting half his men to the wall; the red blade hissed to life as he darted in to carve the others to bits, but Shard jumped in his way, cortosis-laced dueling foil held aloft to counter the slash. Grozny laughed and directed his attack on Shard, mocking him as he did so; he had been aware of Shard's presence ever since he landed, and had known they would inevitably clash, just like this. He admitted that the Miraluka's tactics were interesting, and tonight's infiltration doubly so; none had gotten by his personal entourage before. But none of that mattered, since they would all be dying tonight if Shard and his men didn't surrender. Shard said no, he'd come this far to kill a man in his way, and he wouldn't back down; besides, he could loot the man's stash when he was done.

As they fought, Shard noticed the darkness hindering his sight was receding, and he saw that Grozny was sweating from effort; he wasn't a focused duelist then, but more like a Consular or Sentinel. The Miraluka grinned and pressed the attack, mixing it up suddenly with a burst of telekinesis, slamming Grozny into the wall; the other man grunted and tried to fight back, but Shard slammed him down again, saying he was out of practice and needed to take a break for a while. Before Grozny could move again the Miraluka pulled a syringe from his pocket and stuck it in his neck, plunging the contents down; it would knock him out and keep him there for some time. Then he straightened up and told his men to search the place, round up any survivors and force their surrender, and haul any valuables and loot back to the ship; he would be along shortly, and he was not to be disturbed until he came out.

When they were all gone, he turned to the fallen Dark Jedi and placed his hand on his forehead, concentrating. He swiftly discovered the mind of a trained Force user was the hardest to penetrate yet, with unconscious walls and defenses all over. He was unconscious, however, whereas Shard was awake and very aware, concentrating on the mind before him; he went after the man's past first, curious to see what had brought him to where he was. Naturally, Grozny had begun life as a Jedi, a savior of the galaxy, though after Knighthood he had chafed at the restrictions of the Order, and one day simply left; from there he got high notions of being whatever, and one thing led to another, and after a while he ended up the boss of the bureaucratic underworld on Commenor. Not anymore, not if Shard was going to have his way; and he would have his way.

He went on through the man's mind, particularly his training and skills. Subterfuge and manipulation were there, of course, but Shard already knew those; what he didn't have was a nearly encyclopedic knowledge of the regional underworld, encompassing contacts and criminals and ganglords of all sorts. This would come in handy, and he ripped it away from his mind, along with whatever dark side techniques he knew, in particular the ability he had to cloud the sight and senses of others; he didn't simply copy, this time, he ripped it away so the man wouldn't have it again unless he went through the trouble of learning it all over again (except for his criminal knowledge, of course). It took longer than he would have liked, and he was helpless throughout; fortunately nothing happened behind his back, and he was able to remove what he needed and leave well before the sun came up.

Outside, he looked around to make sure there was no obvious signs of intrusion, then followed his men back to the ship; he had been absorbed in Grozny's memories long enough that they had managed to sack everything. He made his way to the ship, gave his men a congratulatory speech and told them to take the day off, and went to compose a report for the proper authorities; in it, he wrote down everything he'd learned about Grozny's operations, giving his full and proper name along with his rank as a Knight of the Jedi Order, which he assumed would still apply to him. Once it was complete he took it in himself, feeling pretty fine now that he had ruined another man and potential rival.

Afterward, he waited around for the expected gratitude, and it wasn't long in coming; Grozny's influence had been oppressive indeed, and not only the shopkeepers but the proper government officials were glad to have him gone. Even the criminals, too, were thankful; Grozny had always demanded too much of a cut from their dealings with him, and it had only gotten worse as time went on. Shard managed to sell the loot from the Hutt as well as Grozny, and the extra ship, for excellent prices indeed, and after giving his crew handsome sums (or what seemed handsome to them) and stocking the ship for an extended voyage he put the rest away for future operations.

Finally, he could acquire parts for his new lightsabers, and did so without further hesitation. He stripped Grozny's weapon of its crystals and components, and with the other parts in his possession he ordered a course set for deep space; he wanted to get away from any and all trade routes for a while, so he could build his weapons in solitude and quiet. When they found a likely place he ordered the engines powered down, but not shut off, and told them not to disturb him except when he sent word; then he locked himself in his quarters with the dark amulet and the components, and set to work.

The two blades took a month and a half, and were substantially darker in tone than his previous blades; he would have been done sooner, perhaps, were it not for the fact that the woman whom he had slept with before, the one sensitive to the Force, had been keeping him company as well. She was a pliable girl, obedient and attentive, yet with a stubborn streak in her that would prove an asset should she choose to pursue training in the Force; her presence was relaxing in a strange way, and he was able to pursue the construction with a clear head and empty body because of it.

When they were done, he held them up, noting again that they fit so well to his palms that they felt a part of his hands, extensions of them. The larger one, his main hand blade, had a burning crystal in it from Barab I; the smaller one another Dragite crystal similar to what his former off-hand blade had contained, yet subtly different in its harsher vibrations and harmonics. Activating them, he marveled at their beauty, their harsh colors, yellow and red-orange; truly, the weaponry of a fallen Jedi. He turned to the girl and grinned madly, telling her that she had the Force in her; she could build a lightsaber too if she chose to undertake the training. The offer took her by surprise at first, though after a moment she saw he was serious; she thought about it, and accepted, as he had thought she would.

As Shard left his quarters, he found that the addled Kurtz had previously snuck aboard, and had ingratiated himself to the crew during the Miraluka's seclusion; the Colonel merely laughed and spread his hands when Shard confronted him, saying he had been invited to come along and had simply accepted the invitation. That wasn't quite how it had gone, but the Miraluka decided not to press the issue; Kurtz could prove a useful tool, and besides, not everyone had their very own former SpecOps kath hound at their beck and call. So he told the man to inspect the ship's defenses and come back later with a report on their battle-readiness, and recommendations on possible upgrades.

Then he was faced with what to do next. On the one hand they could keep on as they were, wandering about the galaxy doing odd jobs here and there for favors; that grated on him, and he rejected the notion out of hand for being beneath one of his skill and talent. On the other hand, they could take the fight to their former owners, give those pirates and slavers a taste of their own medicine; that was better, both in his estimation and in what he judged his crew would accept. They would need a better ship, though, and better equipment and weapons, but that would come in due time; he had faith in the Force, as always.

In the meantime, they had to get their ship outfitted for war, or perhaps sell it and buy a new one; this modified freighter, while perhaps up to defending from pirate attacks, likely wasn't up to instigating such things. In retrospect he figured he should have gotten the transponder codes changed on the thing; they could have simply gone back to Nar Shaddaa and gotten whatever they needed. The original codes made them a neon target for anyone thinking of avenging the dead Hutt, and Shard didn't care to deal with half a planet's armed forces gunning for him. He could always return to Commenor, of course, but that would be dull.

He was interrupted in his musings by Kurtz' return; he had made his inspections and had the report. As Shard had thought the vessel was not fit for prolonged battle, but to his surprise the former soldier revealed there was a tractor beam of some description among the ship's meager armaments, and the engines and hyperdrive exceeded the typical specifications; mundane weapons included medium quadlaser turrets, one on each side and one at the top of the ship. Better than the Miraluka had hoped, but still not up to what he ultimately wanted; it would be enough to go on for the moment.

So he gathered the crew and gave another speech, about retribution and revenge, giving the bad guys their own medicine and taking back what was theirs; he said that the good Colonel would be on hand to train them in fighting, both in close range and from behind a turret, so that they could be ready when the time came. Of course, they all loved it, since the idea of getting back at pirates and slavers was something they had all thought about at one time or another.

Their first target, once Kurtz declared they had enough trained raiders, was a convoy of stolen goods, which Shard knew of thanks to the knowledge stolen from Grozny; they hid in a good place, and when the convoy came by they swooped in for the attack, blasting away at the engines and shield generator nodes. Naturally they scrambled a fighter escort, but these were blasted out of the sky in short order as well; with their shields down and engines crippled the convoy should have surrendered, but being arrogant pirates themselves they elected to fight it out, a notion Shard was quite willing to accommodate.

The boarding party consisted of Shard, his apprentice with a training 'saber, Kurtz, and ten of the crew armed with heavy stun rifles and non-lethal batons; they charged the other ship, blasting away, Kurtz and the Miraluka at the fore using their bare hands to subdue the resistors, and the apprentice behind them slashing away. The enemy was taken aback by the ferocity of the assault, and gave ground swiftly until they were hemmed up in the bridge; stun bolts flew forth, taking down the mere crew, and Shard stepped forward to deal with the officers personally, lightsaber in hand.

It was over quickly; with the lead ship taken out, their fighter escort demolished, and no way of escaping, the other ships in the convoy surrendered. The haul was plenty rich, and the officers made good prisoners; they destroyed the convoy ships once all the swag was taken off, and then Shard had them return to Commenor. As he had hoped they still had a spot for him, and a ready place to fence off his swag; again he gave his full name and rank as a Jedi, knowing in due time it would reach the Temple and someone would come for him. It was an opportunity to be relished, and he did not pass up the chance. Nor did he forget, this time, to have the transponder codes changed around; he had them swapped out for Jedi insignia, though, to act as a further beacon.

Now that it was only a matter of time, he left with no specific destination, targeting pirate vessels and illicit goods convoys at random; a year or so passed in this fashion, and with every raid he and his crew grew bolder. In time they amassed enough to purchase a proper pirate vessel, along with decent weaponry and armor, and with that they stepped up their strikes, targeting Hutt ships and minor legitimate merchant vessels now; every attack was a message to the Jedi, one of their own was acting out of accord with the Code. Kurtz was alight with glee at the action and the blood, and his apprentice was coming along very well in her training despite the short amount of time.

And then, it happened. A Jedi found them, and boarded their ship with lightsaber burning; Shard ordered his crew to fall back and let her approach the bridge, where he awaited her challenge. She came, and he was disappointed; they had sent but a Knight! A human, a Sentinel judging from the color of her blade, and a skilled practitioner of Makashi; Shard himself wasn't the best Makashi duelist, but he was nevertheless more than her match, in the Force if not in a straight duel. He toyed with her for a while, taunting and teasing and watching as she lost her temper and control, then in a flash he switched to the offensive and bore her to the wall in a few quick, powerful slashes, carefully timed so she could just block them and be forced backward at the same time. Now he had her where he wanted her, and he disarmed her with a flick of his wrist; his apprentice caught the blade and put it away, and the Jedi was trapped.

He said he would let her go, and she would serve as a warning; she spat in his face and declared she would as soon die as be anyone's puppet, especially a fallen Jedi's. To that he merely laughed, and gestured for his men; they surrounded her, clapping heavy chains around her so she couldn't get away, and hauled her off to the brig. The brig was something new, simply a small empty space with a hatch in its ceiling, through which Shard had prisoners thrown; it was completely dark and soundless when the hatch was shut and its grate sealed, and a few days down there could drive anyone mad. The Miraluka expected better from his new Jedi prisoner, though.

He was only half-right, though; after a day he went to check on her, and at the first sign of light she had flung herself upward and tried to grab his face, shouting and clawing madly. He laughed uproariously and flung her hands aside, yanking her out of the hole and against the bulkhead of the ship; before she could make another move he clamped a hand against her forehead and invaded her mind, wholesale, without subtlety or design. She went deathly pale and tried to scream, but he silenced her with a glare; inwardly he couldn't help but laugh at her discomfort. In some ways it was the worst kind of rape, having your mind invaded by someone else, but he was long past caring for such niceties.

When he pulled away she slumped to the deck, numb, barely conscious; the Miraluka laughed again and knelt beside her, holding her head in his hand again. This time he went about his poking around more carefully, searching for useful skills; he absorbed her skill in Makashi, of course, but after that he went a little farther in, searching for bad memories and fears. Sure enough, she was afraid of failure, and had undergone many perilous and horrifying missions in her past that she tried not to think about anymore. Grinning nastily he dragged them to the fore and forced her to relive them, over and over and over, for several minutes; the shock and horror became too much, and abruptly he felt something give way in her mind.

Looking down, he saw she had fainted, or perhaps had become comatose; he laughed again, realizing he had discovered another useful talent for making people miserable in their own heads. Since the Jedi was useless now, he had her sent back to Coruscant sans lightsaber, which he was going to allow his own apprentice to disassemble for parts when it came time for her to craft her own. She was annoyed at the restriction and furious that she hadn't got the chance to fight the Jedi herself, but he insisted she keep the training saber for now; her technique was still imperfect, and that Jedi would have slaughtered her easily. There was strength in the ways of the Jedi, he explained, despite their many and varied imperfections; he had himself been one, years ago.

Some weeks after that, Kurtz interrupted Shard's meditations to inform him there was a caller waiting for him on the holo-transceiver; he wouldn't say who it was, just that the Miraluka didn't want to refuse it. Annoyed yet curious, the Miraluka got up to see who wanted to talk to him so badly. He was only mildly surprised to see his old master, standing there in the hologramatic light, a look of mild reproof on his face; he really was old by now, and Shard thought that he wasn't so young himself anymore. It began politely enough, with the old man expressing his wish that Shard was in good health, and inquiring whether he knew of any Jedi who had been sent to persuade him to come back to the fold; Shard said no, but there had been a half-trained, impudent whelp with a lightsaber come around a few weeks ago looking for him. Persuasion hadn't been on her mind, though; not the typical sort, anyway. He had, after a bit of fun, shown her the door, as it were.

The old man sighed, and Shard asked how they had found out where he was; the Jedi replied that how could they not, after hearing so many reports from Commenor about an older Miraluka Knight who flew a ship with Jedi codes? It was almost as if he had been inviting them to find him, after so many years. Then he asked where the Miraluka had been for so long, and why he hadn't come back when he had the chance.

Shard frowned, replying that he should know the answer himself; wasn't it he who had betrayed Shard, planted the idea of penetrating the slave ring so long ago? Wasn't it he who hadn't searched for him, who had kept his own apprentice safe while the Miraluka went to his certain doom? Where had he been when they had put the Force Collar around his neck, cutting him off from the galaxy and forcing him to look at it without the Force; where had he been when they had forced him to fight, blind and helpless, in the arena of a tyrannical Hutt?

He had quite lost his temper by then, and was shouting his long-held accusations and hatreds at the man who had come to represent them. For his part, the old Jedi bore the brunt of the Miraluka's rage, then in a quiet voice explained that none of it was true; after losing track of Shard they had made every effort to track him down, but everyone involved was either dead or unwilling to talk to a Jedi. Not a day had gone by when he didn't think of his former apprentice with deep mourning and sadness, dreading the thought that one day the news of his death might come. Shard only scoffed and said he hadn't tried hard enough, and the Jedi he once knew had died the day he lost the Force; the old man's face betrayed the pain those words inflicted, and the Miraluka only laughed.

The old Jedi bowed his head in defeat, and declared that he had tried, no matter what delusions the Dark Side fed to him, and if Shard was set on this path of darkness there was nothing more to be said. The Miraluka laughed harder at this, and said they weren't by any means finished with each other; his hatred and rage went too deep for mere words. They were bound to fight each other, he had seen it in his meditations, and anyway they were still bound through the Force to each other; the old man replied that if it was a fight he wanted, he had but to name the time and place, and a fight he would have.

That was too easy for the Miraluka, though; he replied that it couldn't be arranged, the old man had to come out and find him, then they would fight. In the meantime, until he did, Shard would cause trouble and chaos until he had no choice but to come out himself; the old man was the only one who knew him well enough to stand a chance against him in a duel, after all. The old Jedi begged him not to harm any more than he already had, but he must have known it was in vain, for Shard merely laughed again and cut the signal.

After that, the Miraluka had to think. Despite his bravado he knew a fight with his old master would not be easy; even when he had been the man's Padawan he was one of the best duelists, and it was absurd to think he hadn't been training himself over these years. Complacency killed, after all, even if one didn't go out and seek deathmatches all the time. He knew he would have to hone his own skills in preparation for the fight, and called on his apprentice and the good Colonel Kurtz for sparring and training matches whenever a chance came up in the ensuing weeks. There weren't many chances; he had his raiders doing their thing whenever he could, and they were starting to attract attention from local navies as well. Fortunately his ship was quite fast, and well able to evade the attentions of the better-armed out there.

During that time, another Jedi came for them; a Guardian this time, a Zabrak male, who proved a better challenge than the last. It was all the better because, as it turned out, he hadn't been sent by the Council; the girl they had sent in the first place had been a friend of his, and this was a personal thing for him. Shard grinned and raised his blades, taunting the Jedi to attack him. Growling, the hot-headed warrior did just that, using Djem So with all his might. Which was fine, since Djem So was one of the forms Shard used as well. They went back and forth, Shard pretending to give ground now and then; when he noticed the Zabrak starting to lose breath he stopped toying around and surged forward, overpowering the alien's guard with a lightning barrage of attacks.

Abruptly he brought his foot smashing upward into the Jedi's jaw, sending him crashing back into the wall; his lightsaber fell from his lifeless fingers, and he slumped to the deck. Shard knelt beside him and searched his mind for anything useful; there were some passwords and security details regarding the Jedi, and he took those. Then, having no more use for the unconscious Jedi, he handed him over to his apprentice, who seemed overjoyed at the prospect of finally having one of the hated Jedi to do with as she liked.

In time they sent that one back, too, and went on doing what they did best; pirating. Most of their crew had, by then, been replaced, since in the end slaves didn't make the best warriors. Shard's men consisted of murderers, escaped criminals, and retired veterans who hadn't gotten their fill of violence and death; those few of the original crew left were little better than that, violent people of all races who had been enslaved because those in charge had no recourse left. They were frighteningly efficient, and most of them didn't need much in the way of pay; for them, the acts of piracy and raiding were enough. Which was good for the Miraluka, since it meant he could put more away towards future endeavors; he could see a future beyond his vengeance now, spreading chaos and the message of the Dark Side to all. For those who refused to hear it, a simple punishment was in store; death.

By then the heat had died down on Nar Shaddaa, and they could dock there at need. It was on one such planet-side excursion that Shard finally detected what he had been waiting for; the approaching violence of his old master. Overjoyed at the prospect of at last facing the old man and enacting his revenge, he called his apprentice to him and told his crew where to send the old Jedi if he came to their ship first; then he left, headed for a disused open square in one of the more upscale areas of Nar Shaddaa (upscale, in this context, meaning slightly cleaner and more open, with less beggars filling the sidewalks). There, they waited, Shard meditating calmly while his apprentice paced back and forth, impatient for the long-awaited bloodshed.

After an hour it approached, and Shard stood up, his hands going to his lightsabers; there, at last, the old Jedi stepped out of the gloom, his own blades already out but not activated. Behind him was his apprentice, though she was by now a Knight in her own right; she must have insisted on coming along, Shard thought. Very well, it would be a good challenge for his own student, who had advanced quickly in the past few months and had finally built her own lightsaber; it was a fell dark thing with a purple blade, and she already had it out. Impatient girl, but no matter.

Shard stepped forward, his apprentice just behind and to the side, until he and the old man were but three paces from each other. The old man asked, with a note of sincere anguish in his voice, if Shard would even now lay down his arms and surrender; he had the word of the Jedi he would be unharmed, and brought safely before the Council for their judgment. Strangely, the words touched the dark Miraluka, and for a brief second he allowed himself to consider atonement; to be welcomed back into the Order, forgiven his transgressions, healed of the anger and torment that plagued his soul.

Oh, doubtless he would have to perform some chore or other, and in all likelihood it would be most unpleasant, but that was to be expected; he had, after all, fallen to the Dark Side. It wouldn't be at all easy, and he might very well end up crippled, or even dead, but it could be worth it; he could recall from his youth the warmth of the Light, of his years as a Jedi Knight, and for a brief second it brought a smile to his face. For a brief second, he almost accepted; for a brief second, he was almost able to cast aside almost twenty years of pain and anger, hatred and cold fury.

In the next second he remembered that it had been this very man who had started him down the path of darkness, and the brief moment of sunlight faded away. He shook his head, and replied that it was too late; no, it was much, much too late for that sort of thing. He thanked the old man for the effort, though, for the final offer of peace between them; but, on the whole, it couldn't end that way and be anything less than a farce, and Shard had never allowed his life to be a farce if he couldn't help it. The regret in his voice as he said it was sincere, and his former master nodded quietly in acceptance.

Then there were no more words, only the calm before the storm. Their apprentices stepped away, eyes fixed on each other, preparing for their own struggle, but that would be but an echo of the clash that was about to occur; master against student, Light against Dark, sorrow against rage. All sound fell away, all sight and vision tunneled, narrowed; focus tightened in, became sharp and deadly. Poetry could have been composed, entirely around the way their cloaks moved as their shoulders pulled back, or around the precise path of the bead of sweat that trickled down Shard's temple, or the old Jedi's nose…

The moment passed; yellow and orange ignited in Shard's hands, solid blue from the old man's; three colors and four blades flashed, crashing into each other faster than the unaided eye could follow, and the duel was on. Each man knew that death awaited the loser; there could be no other ending, it was written in every slash, denied in every dodge and evasion. It was one of the few times in his life the Miraluka had ever been able to unleash all his skill, all the tricks and techniques he had ever learned, into a lightsaber duel; it was almost a pleasure to see each one blocked, evaded, parried, and another complex, yet flawlessly delivered attack sent in its stead, in its turn to be faultlessly deflected aside.

Shard couldn't help but begin to laugh, even as he called on the Force to propel him faster and harder, even as the old man did the same; it was so perfect, so utterly unscripted yet so damned perfect, he should have brought a camera. The air boomed and cracked with the force of their swings, the immovable 'saber locks and the precisely timed blasts of telekinetic power; one would fly backward and the other would follow close behind, ready to deliver the killing stroke, yet always at the last minute the first would have his blade up just in time, to parry and aim another deadly slash.

Eventually they fell to the next lower level, yet this did not stop them; blue and yellow and orange kept up their furious dance of death, none of them willing to concede. For to concede meant defeat, and defeat meant death, and no one wanted that. Especially not these two, locked as they were in mortal combat. Shard could see the old man had at last given up on his former pupil, and saw only the threat he posed to the galaxy; in the true Jedi way his only goal was to eradicate that threat and make the galaxy safer, and he would deal with his personal feelings later.

It was a stalemate, then; neither man could get the upper hand on the other long enough to put in any decisive blows. Shard opened himself to the Dark Side, using the amulet about his neck as a focus to draw on even more power; anger and fury overtook his reason, and he became an unfeeling engine of brutal destruction. At the same time, he felt the old man at last begin to lag; he was an old man, after all, and no amount of Force ability could ever change that. Subtly the battle began shifting in Shard's favor; his attacks were cutting just a little closer toward the old man's guard, his defenses sliding in just that much farther ahead of the Jedi's thrusts and slashes.

And then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped. Light and Dark paused, stepped back, lowered their blades; each regarded the other, panting for breath, for some reason waiting for something neither could at first identify. Shard said that the old man fought very well, for an old man, to which the Jedi chuckled breathlessly, and replied that the dark one was awfully hard to kill for a dark one. The moment passed, and the Jedi aimed a sudden slash out of nowhere at Shard's neck; the Miraluka blocked and countered with a thrust of his own, and the fight went on.

Abruptly, Shard got tired of the duel; while it was a great workout and all, it was taking too long for him to wear the old Jedi down the usual way. He leaped back and threw his hand out, sending a powerful wave of telekinesis at his former master's feet; the old man jumped it, and Shard flew forward again, slamming into the Jedi and wrapping his arms around him in a sleeper hold, at the same time plunging into his mind and dragging up whatever fears or bad memories he found. The old Jedi was not ready for such a sudden assault, especially one of that nature, and fell to the ground, beaten.

Seeing his old master in such a pathetic state reignited the Miraluka's rage all over again, and he kicked at the fallen Jedi several times; the feeble moans only spurred him on harder, until the man was nearly unconscious. Then the Miraluka kneeled beside him, putting a hand on his forehead; this time, he was going to take it all. Talents, skills, Force abilities, memories and knowledge… all of it. Naturally the old Jedi's defenses were quite strong, but he was weak and unconscious; Shard was still strong, and he fought his way to what he wanted, uncaring of what he left behind him.

Scores of images flashed across his vision, the memories and experiences of a man with eyes; it was alien and strange to Shard's view, these images of crude matter and material devoid of the Force, and his anger only grew. He learned that the old man had been holding back all those years, and finally figured out the origin of some of the unfamiliar moves he had used in their duel; he was a practitioner of Juyo, and a skilled one at that. A grin filled the Miraluka's face as the old man's skills were integrated into his own; now he was the master, not this helpless Jedi.

However, he also learned a few other things, too. The old man really hadn't meant to betray him, had never held any animosity or jealousy; he had only ever felt pride, and concern, and later, after his disappearance, grief and remorse at his inadvertent part in Shard's fall. He saw that it had only been his own pride and overconfidence that had led him to the slavers, his own blindness that had kept him from seeing his inevitable downfall until it was far too late. He saw that, despite the depth of his fury, his life had in fact been a farce, from the moment he discarded his old lightsabers; a farce of his own doing, a lie he had told himself without knowing it was a lie, and that was one of the deadliest and most effective farces ever.

Faced with that fact, Shard could only sit back in shock, trying not to scream from the horror of it all. He couldn't deal with it, couldn't make it process; he could only sit there next to the old man and keep himself from falling apart. Then he felt a hand on his ankle, and glanced down; his old master had awaken, and was looking up at him with a pitying eye. The Miraluka almost couldn't believe it; even now, after all he had done, to this man and to others, he was still trying to reach through, to redeem and forgive him. It was too much, much too much; the emotionally battered Miraluka couldn't take it anymore, the anger and remorse and hatred, and he lashed out at his old master one last time, in a savage burst of Force energy.

When it faded, the old man's body was across the way, and Shard couldn't see any sign of life coming from it. That was it, then, his vengeance was complete, he was free after all these years to do whatever he liked; yet it was a hollow victory. His insides were tangled up in an emotional knot, and he felt like he wanted to scream; he was startled when someone else did the screaming for him, instead. Whirling around, he saw the female Zabrak Jedi, standing there with an aghast look on her face; she must have slain his own student a little earlier, then.

Without even a glance at Shard she ran forward to the dead Jedi, sliding to a stop beside him and holding his head, begging him to not be dead. Naturally he didn't respond, and she started crying, a wordless keening wail that grated on Shard's frayed nerves. He stepped forward, intent on doing… something, to make her stop, when she looked up and stopped on her own. In a quiet voice she asked the Miraluka if he had killed her master; he replied that he had been his master first, and yes, he had killed him. Her body shook with unfamiliar passions, and she glared at Shard with eyes full of rage and tears; he regarded her coolly back, greatly amused that he appeared indifferent to her fury.

When she attacked, as of course she was bound to, it was without any of the control and discipline she had spent years learning from the Jedi; her master had just died, the Force bond between them brutally severed, and she knew only one way of dealing with it. Shard wasn't much better, since he had just suffered two losses, his master and his apprentice, yet he was still in better control of himself. Nevertheless, the difference in skill between them was too great; he was toying with her, and she knew it, which only made her rage all the greater.

He could end it whenever he wanted, and he did so when he got bored; he reached out and seized her by the neck, shaking her until she dropped her lightsabers, then threw her against the wall; a few quick flicks of his own blade left her robes in a pile at her feet. He knew what he was about to do would be dangerous for both of them; the holes left behind by the freshly severed Force bonds would seek the easiest way of repairing themselves, and this was it. But he needed a new apprentice, and she was already fully trained in the basics; he wouldn't have to start from the ground up. Or so he told himself, anyway, as he forced himself on her, into her, listening to her sobs, then her moans, then her screaming as he used her body as a release for all the tangled pain in his chest.

When he returned to the ship, his master's lightsabers at his belt and his new student following behind, still in a daze and wrapped in the old Jedi's cloak, he told his crew that he was at last free of what had consumed him, and they could finally go about their real business. That wasn't completely true, though; he was more consumed by it than ever, and now he had someone to drag down with him. On the surface, life was good; crazy Dark Jedi warlord with a servile apprentice and a ship full of hard men ready to die at a moment's notice.

Yet he was worried, and he knew why. With this latest slaying, the Jedi would be after him harder than ever, and likely so would the Republic Navy; he couldn't have that, not so early in the game. There had to be a way to hide himself, conceal his power, but he knew that to hide one's presence was among the more difficult powers to acquire; granted he could likely figure it out, he just wasn't sure he had the time. After a while, he figured out what he would do; he would focus on making himself insignificant, unimportant. Dim, even, like the bums on the street one walks by without a second or even a first glance; commonplace, inconsequential, not worth even a passing glance.

And this is what he did. Whenever he had time to meditate and rest, he concentrated on being tiny, insignificant. After a few months of this he felt he had it, and while concentrating on that state of mind he went before his apprentice; he was right in front of her, he made rude hand gestures, he danced and did all manner of silly things, and neither her nor anyone else ever noticed. This made him inordinately happy, but there was no time to dwell; he had a piracy to run, after all.

After a while, though, it occurred to him that running a piracy was an expensive proposition; arming, feeding, supplying and paying his crew, maintaining the ship, and the minutiae of his own lifestyle as a high-class pirate commander all took their toll on what should have been grand, bountiful spoils. He needed backing, support, sanction of some form; he was on the verge of what passed for despair in his darkly optimistic and ne'er-do-well world when a tidbit of rumor came to his attention. It wasn't anything much, really, just some gossip overheard at a random spaceport cantina, yet it sent shivers of inspiration and premonition down his spine.

It was two merchants whispering over a few pints, and Shard happened to be sitting just behind them. One of them said that the Republic had recently captured a prominent Sith power broker, and were holding him in a maximum security prison awaiting charges; what those charges were, no one seemed to know, or so the merchant had heard. Shard had an idea they would be fabricated charges, and so long as they followed the letter of their laws, if not the spirit, there was nothing the Empire could do without causing a major diplomatic scene. He knew they wouldn't risk open war over what amounted to an over-hyped bureaucrat, however much it set them back. There was a chance here, an opportunity he couldn't afford not to seize.

Then it occurred to him; free this man, this mysterious broker, and gain the favor of powerful individuals within the Empire! It was such an obvious plan, yet he made himself stand back from it momentarily; obvious plans were obvious for a reason, after all. Granted he was a Dark Jedi, and a powerful one at that, but this was a prison break; one just didn't simply barge in lightsabers blazing, a cadre of brawny fellows with heavy repeaters following along. Then he thought, why not? It was certainly much easier than sneaking around in the back of a transport with a couple stealthy fellows at his heels. Hell, a man might do just as well to walk in with nothing but a fountain pen!

In the end he decided he would ask the ex-soldier Kurtz, veteran of many campaigns and unsavory missions; if anyone would have a clue about breaking a Sith officer out of a Republic prison, he would. The Miraluka found his madman and made his inquiries; the soldier laughed delightedly, saying he had been waiting for just such a chance as this, a mission that would stick it to those rat bastards but good! He recommended the stealthy approach for getting in, but once the fellow was out of his cell and in their custody they could raise hell as they made their escape; that way it would look like an inside job. Maybe incite a riot to cover up for their real purpose, while they were at it; that and riots were fun, so why not start one anyway?

That logic appealed to Shard's sense of the dramatic, so he called up twelve of his hardest men and told them they were going back to prison. Naturally they objected, rather strenuously, but the Miraluka calmed them down and explained what he was on about; once they heard the plan, and realized they were just going to be inside men and not actual prisoners again, they thought it very swell and decided to go along. Shard gave them some training in escaping from bonds and disarming guards, then sent them on their way; he figured he would know when they were in, the underworld would likely have the news of recaptured murderers after all.

Sure enough, barely a week later news came down the grapevine about nine of the convicts being retaken and placed into custody; soon after, it was known they had been transferred to the maximum security prison, the same one where a prominent Sith politician was awaiting trial for various heinous misdeeds. The other three followed along within a day; now all that the Miraluka had to do was get there himself, preferably not as a prisoner. Oh he was sure it wouldn't have been a bother; he could survive, barely, with a Force Collar, and he was one of the best unarmed combatants anywhere, but that route still didn't appeal to him at all. It was… predictable, plus the minions had already done it.

No, the only option was to sneak inside with Kurtz and his apprentice, and take things as they found them from there; a decidedly risky endeavor, but the potential rewards, that of a privateering license and potential new recruits, far outweighed the risks of capture, dishonor and ridicule, and possibly death. There was no time to delay, so they set off immediately, strapped to the gills with as much hardware, Kurtz in particular, as they had. The shuttle trip there was tense, mostly silent, as Shard and his apprentice meditated or sparred and the retired SpecOps vet did… whatever he did; then the alarm went off, indicating they were almost there.

The ruse was simple, on the surface; with so many violent criminals being held, and a dangerous Sith prisoner as well, security was being temporarily boosted through mercenaries and independent Jedi. Normal Jedi had apparently refused the request for aid, something about not having the manpower around to provide a full-time prison security team; this was to Shard's advantage, since not only would the presence of Jedi complicate things greatly, he might be able to turn some of the mercs and gray Jedi to his own cause. Their plan was to pose as some of the mercs being hired, and meet up with their men inside.

The shuttle docked, and inspectors came to do cursory interviews; they took one look at Shard's lightsabers, those of the Zabrak student, and Kurtz' general aura of death, and decided the questions would be brief. The first part was done, the outer ring penetrated, but that was perhaps the easiest part; the rest wouldn't be nearly so easy. They had to make their way to the high security areas, where the dangerous criminals (their own men, and the Sith fellow) were held. Shard knew they would only be allowed so much free reign of the facility; if they overstepped whatever bounds were in place for the temporary guardsmen, who knew what would happen? He could tell the normal guards were anxious and resentful over the hired mercs, and suspected this could be incited further if needed. Perhaps during the riot?

Inside, the prison was something of a maze, long halls with dim lighting connected by twisting warrens. Guards on tense alert were everywhere; more than a few jumped as Shard and his cohorts approached, but a few also expressed relief at the sight of competent backup. The irony had Kurtz giggling, and even the apprentice was smiling beneath her veil; Shard himself had to struggle to keep from showing any sign of it either, though he didn't stop them from doing such.

[Karl the Unfettered]

Bio- Part IV:

The three saboteurs carefully made their way farther in, taking note of the layout of each passage and hall they went through. The place was large, designed to keep prisoners inside; accordingly, much of the security measures were directed inward, with only cursory attention put to the outer areas. The assumption, apparently, was that no one would bother trying to break in, and if they did the outer security would be able to sound the alarm soon enough for them to react properly; Shard intended to prove them false, oh so very, very false.

The farther they got, the more inquisitive and hostile the native guards became; proportionately, the guards were becoming deadlier and more skilled farther in. Which made a sort of sense, since it was here that the most dangerous and unstable prisoners were held, so they would of course need dangerous and stable guards. This was not unexpected, since they understood logic of this sort, but it would still present problems.

Finally, they came to the area they were after, the section which housed their fellows and the Sith prisoner. The final guard station refused to let them through; they couldn't run the slightest risk of letting them out, they rather rudely said, and anyway the mercenaries weren't supposed to be this far in anyway. Shard argued briefly, but they snarled and threatened them with guns; accidents happened in a place like this, who were they to try and keep a few petty mercs alive if they insisted on going where they weren't needed?

To this, the Miraluka merely sighed, and gave his two followers a nod; Kurtz threw his knives at the guards before any of them could blink, and the rest were decimated as the apprentice threw her lightsabers at a neck-level arc. It was part of the plan; he had rather thought the last set of guards would be stubborn, so he had told his inside fellows to look out for the sound of their lightsabers as the signal to start things up. Naturally he met them as he and the other two strode into the sector; they were overjoyed to find their leader alive, and quite tired of prison life even if it had only been a short while. Of course they knew where the Sith man was held, and they took the Miraluka there straight away.

The bureaucrat had once been handsome, but months of incarceration had not been good for him; he was scrawny, his eyes sunk and the skin of his face pulled tight, but even so Shard could sense the man yet had some force of personality about him. Even as he stepped inside, and the sounds of an outbreak began stirring in the halls beyond, the Sith regarded the Dark Jedi with a calm eye, asking what he wanted that was worth the trouble of a prison break; Shard replied with the truth, that he was after a privateering license, and he expected the gratitude of the rest of the Empire upon receiving their lost fellow would certainly accede to that. The man shrugged and replied it might, then gestured for them to lead on.

Outside, it became clear Shard's men had not been idle; already half of the violent psychos had gotten loose, freed by the men at the signal, and were causing trouble. With the guard station disabled the alarm was slow in getting out, but once they realized the gates were unmanned they all rushed into the next outer ring, and that tripped the alarm. Shard, Kurtz, and the apprentice kept the Sith close to them as they slid through the chaos; this was the most dangerous part, for any of them could fall prey to a stray blow or shot amidst the fracas that surrounded them. The Force was with them, however, and they succeeded in reaching the outermost rings once again.

By now the guards, and those mercenaries who were truly loyal to their current paychecks, had organized around the outside and had set up an effective barricade. Shard had most of the convicts and prisoners at his back, however, in addition to the less scrupulous mercs; he also had Kurtz and his apprentice, and it turned out that the Sith fellow wasn't a bad hand with a blaster either. Despite the efforts of the guards and the loyal mercs, Shard's men were too determined to be free, and overran their position through sheer numbers. Then it was a matter of organizing them into appropriate ships, a surprisingly easy task, and coordinating everyone so they were on the same track.

When it was all straightened out they lifted up and set off, for freedom and the galaxy; someone had even had the sense to think ahead and disable the perimeter ion turrets, saving the attempt from a short and brutal end. Shard got on the comm and gave an impassioned speech about freedom, opportunity, death and carnage, enough bloodshed and spoils to sate even the greediest killer; when he was done he had nearly all of them eating from his hand, almost, and with a satisfied grin he ordered a course set for the capital of the Empire: Muunilinst.

They came out over the temperate planet with weapons powered down, halting at a respectful distance so that scanners could observe them from afar. Shortly a radio hail came, demanding names and purposes; Shard gave them the name of their vessel and his own moniker, stating they had a person of interest aboard the ship whom Imperial leadership would be extremely interested in seeing. They were ordered to remain in place while they considered the proposal; it did not take long at all before they came back, saying an escort would arrive shortly to guide them to a designated landing pad. Shard smiled and allowed himself to enjoy his success; they were expected, it seemed.

Upon landing, he and the liberated bureaucrat were escorted, with Kurtz and the apprentice in tow, towards the meeting hall. It was a grand thing, that hall, with sweeping pillars and a long wide roof; in some respects pretty, but in others completely hideous. Shard decided he liked it, as the door swung open and he walked inside, the others in tow behind him (somehow it just seemed natural for the Miraluka to be in the lead, even if he didn't know the layout). His sight led him unerringly to the designated room, and he swept inside with a flourish of cape and air. Before him, seated about a table, were the leaders of the Empire, merchants and generals; the former prisoner stepped forward, and there was much handshaking and slapping of backs all around.

Then they sat down, and gestured for Shard to do the same, an invitation he accepted; Kurtz and the apprentice remained standing, though, right behind and to either side of his chair. Shard told them what he wanted, why he had gone to such trouble to rescue their compatriot, which was that he wanted a privateering commission from them; after some deliberation his request was granted, and he was told to take his ship to Imperial shipyards for outfitting and rearmament. He said he would do just that, as soon as he found a ship worth fixing up in that manner; the one he had now wasn't suitable for military hardware, he explained.

After some looking around, he chose a Nebulae-class mass cargo ship, a sufficiently large and well-crewed ship that also came with adequate native armaments and fighter bay capacity; this meant they wouldn't have to hack into it too much. He sold his old ship to acquire adequate funds, then took it back to Muunilinst for the requisite upgrades; while there he sold off what cargo and booty he had, released a few crewmembers, and let the rest have a break while the ship was being worked on. He himself stuck around to make sure the work went as it was supposed to; it was his ship, after all.

Eventually it was finished, and he had to give her a name; sailing a new ship without a good name was an excellent way of attracting bad luck, after all. After some deliberation and a brief inquiry of his crew, he came up with a suitable moniker; The Midnight Sun. They broke a bottle of Corellian Firewhiskey over the prow, more bottles were passed around, and a party was had aboard that night; naturally they got a late start the next morning, not least because Shard had had quite a few drinks himself. But they did get started, and the Miraluka was determined to earn his keep; they gave him the location of a rich caravan to raid, a place where it would be easy to assault and board, and he made straight for it.

The location was a small asteroid belt, orbiting just close enough to a large nearby star that hyperspace travel in the region had to be forgone; sublight drives were required, and some quirk of local gravity forced passage close to the asteroids, in some spots through them. It was at one of these spots that Shard and his men waited, their new ship primed and ready; right on schedule the merchant caravan came through, fighter escorts on point and ready for anything. Well, almost anything.

The Midnight Sun swooped in from behind her asteroid, coming in at the side of the caravan, her own small group of fighters screaming ahead for the kill. Their prey wasn't completely caught off guard, but the pirates still had some element of surprise, which gave them a precious few seconds to strike critical blows; they made devastating use of those seconds, destroying the fighter escort almost to a man. Then they set about harassing the larger caravan vessels and mopping up the remaining fighters, while the Sun made use of her ion cannon and tractor beam to bring the choice merchant ships into range for boarding.

From there it was almost annoyingly easy to put a boarding party onto the vessels, scouring each ship one-by-one while the others floated, defenseless, in the void of space; it took time, and the ships had stout defenders, but with Shard himself at the lead, and Kurtz and the apprentice at his back, none could stand for long. It was only a matter of time before all the swag was hauled aboard the Midnight Sun, and the best of the surviving caravan ships were slave-circuited to her, with their crews held prisoner in their own ships by the more intimidating of the Miraluka's men. They made their way back to Muunilinst and presented the product of their first successful run as privateers; it was a relatively rich haul, and the Empire had ready buyers on hand as always to relieve the packed holds of their cargo.

In time, the Miraluka received a strange message, from no less an eminent personage than the leadership of the Exchange, the criminal syndicate which controlled most of the organized crime in the galaxy; they had been watching him, it seemed, and now wished a more direct examination. This meant a face-to-face meeting, Shard assumed; not wanting to offend anyone so powerful as the Exchange he made his way to the indicated location of the meet as quickly as he could. Oddly enough it was on Corellia, which forced the Miraluka to travel without his ship and crew; this made things a bit slower than they would have, but with his special talents he was confident he could get there unmolested. Of course he went in disguise, which wasn't hard.

He arrived on the planet just in time, and made his way to the building; it was but one among many in a slightly squashed line of similar constructs. Walking inside the first one, he was met by a group of intimidating fellows with scanners and stun weapons; he was ordered to remove all weaponry and submit to a non-invasive search of his person, which he complied with to avoid trouble even if he could have taken down every mother's son of them with only his bare hands. Once that was over with he was escorted down a dark hall and into a room, where he was faced with a man wearing a mask; curious, Shard used his senses to peer behind the mask, getting an impression of an older man with a great deal of confidence in himself.

Then the man began to speak, and Shard listened. He said he was aware of the Miraluka's power, which didn't surprise him since it was only relatively recently that he had bothered hiding it; the man was aware of certain exploits the Dark Jedi had played a part in, from the death of the Hutt to the more recent "premature release" of the Sith power broker. That surprised Shard, and he realized this man had contacts within the Empire; intrigued, he questioned the man's motives and reasons for the meeting, saying that if he knew of what he had done in the name of the Empire he surely knew of his status as a servitor and profiteer of said Empire.

To this, the mysterious Exchange boss merely laughed, saying he had simply wanted to meet Shard and get a first-hand glimpse of such a capable fellow, and to say that he had an… interest in keeping an eye on men like him. Shard just shook his head and asked if there was anything else, since there wasn't, he took his leave. At the door he was given his effects back and sent on his way, with the politely worded request to not come back uninvited ringing in his ears.

Halfway down the street he realized, why not stick around and have a look-see? It wasn't every day one like him got to see Corellia, after all, and he could always get another shuttle; the risk of meeting another Jedi and getting into a fight, powers of stealth or not, only made the idea more enticing. So he detoured down a side alley, no particular destination in mind, his only goal to see what sights there were and maybe have a bit of fun.

Said fun was soon to show up, in the form of a couple thugs beating up a fellow who owed money; it wasn't usually his thing to intervene in shakedowns, so Shard stepped back momentarily, to watch the technique of the thugs. It wasn't the greatest, but it wasn't amateur either; one thug held the man's arms and head in a Nelson grip while the other punched at the torso and stomach, demanding the amount owed over and over.

Seized by a sudden boredom, the Miraluka stepped out of the shadows and inquired whom the thugs worked for, and if they were aware they were on Exchange turf. The thug holding the man loosened his grip, and the other one paused in his beating; both of them looked over at the darkly garbed fellow in the wide sunglasses, wondering if he needed a lesson in manners or if he was an actual Exchange representative. Something about his manner indicated he was a man of authority, whatever else he may have been, and after a harried conference they backed off, loudly declaring that some local loanshark would be after him for this impudence. Shard watched them slink off with a smirk on his face, then turned to the unfortunate debtor.

The man had fallen to the ground, clutching his stomach and moaning. When he got a grip on himself he sat up and looked at Shard, fear in his eyes; the Miraluka muttered something reassuring and held out his hand, saying in a louder voice that whoever he owed money to wouldn't want to cross the Exchange, and all he had to do was go to them and say their territory was being encroached upon. The man obviously hadn't thought of that, and went away still clutching his stomach yet with a wondering look on his face; Shard grinned to himself, imagining the sort of echoes and reactions that would come of this, then went on his way again.

In time he left Corellia and made his way back to his own ship; from there they set a course for Commenor again, where Shard hoped to find a smith capable of working cortosis. The mineral was exceedingly expensive, but he had sufficient funding for at least a partial suit of such armor, or so he hoped. Arriving there, he discovered he still had friends despite working for the Empire, and put the word out about what he wanted; it took a while, but eventually he got a favorable response. An armorsmith could craft what he needed, for the right price, and he was available currently; the Miraluka wasted no time in going down to the fellow's address to get measurements taken for the armor.

Of course it took some time to make, but in the end it didn't cost nearly as much as Shard had expected; he was quite happy with the results, though, a fine set of robes with subtle cortosis-alloy armor plating underneath. It looked good and was easy to wear, which was itself certainly an excellent bonus; Kurtz and his apprentice liked it as well, though that didn't matter so much. He also purchased an Echani sword and a light, easy-to-use slugthrower pistol with a silencer kit, for no other reason than that they caught his eye and seemed like the sort of thing he could get a lot of use out of.

After that, he left Commenor, and resumed his adventures across the galaxy. He still does so even now, with his nefarious crew at his back and his apprentice by his side, and Kurtz the former black ops agent somewhere in the background too.

RP Sample:

"There she is, cullies," the tall fellow in the glasses whispered, pointing out the main viewport. "A Republic merchant cruiser, ripe for the picking." The bridge was dark; all unnecessary systems had been put on standby to reduce their chances of detection, ready to activate again at a moment's notice. Behind him were the gunners and the boarding party; the fighter pilots were already in their ships, waiting for the word.

"What's on this'n, Boss-man?" a languid drawl asked; the voice belonged to a muscular fellow in a rigid crewcut, wearing medium-grade durasteel alloy battle armor and cleaning his nails with a razor sharp combat knife. "Anythin' tasty, like th' last one?" Their last raid had in fact been a luxury cruise liner, full of wealthy females and their mostly spineless husbands or boyfriends; that haul had been quite rich, and not just in wealth either.

"You're disgusting, Colonel," a female voice interceded. "Master, let me lead the raid this time; I haven't done anything around here in days!" That voice belonged to the tall fellow's student, a Zabrak woman wearing strappy leather armor and a pair of lightsabers; her dyed-red hair fell about her tattooed face in carefully-arranged strands, a habit he thought of as vain.

"Well… I don't see why not," he replied, in a thoughtful voice. "Very well then, Valda dear, you shall lead the raid this time." He turned and regarded his two closest followers, the impetuous student and the bloodthirsty soldier, with a grin. "But I'm coming too, or else what sort of captain am I?" and he walked out to his men. "What sort of captain stays back, comfortable in his command chair, while his men risk their lives at his orders?!" he thundered, raising his arms; the crew cheered wildly, besotted as they were by their leader's every word.

The captain lowered his arms, and silence fell with them. "You've all done this dozens of times," he went on, glancing about; the dark, wide glasses didn't seem to affect his sight at all. "But don't go thinking this will be just a routine raid; no raid is ever routine. That sort of thinking gets you killed!" There was a rousing chorus of denials and negatives from the men, and he grinned again. "Any second now…"

"Captain Shard, they're in range!" came the cry from one of the consoles, more specifically one of the young techies working it. "Activating ion cannons and tractor beam now; full power to the engines, all ahead!" Lights flashed as the ship came to life and swooped ahead, the matched cannons sending their sizzling bolts of energy through space; the convoy shields cracked and spat, then gave out, leaving the engines and exhaust ports painfully vulnerable to further disabling blasts.

"Launch the fighters!" cried the captain, a golden medallion flashing on his armored chest in the flickering lights; his blond hair was combed back, out of his face, and his dark glasses obscured all view of what lay beneath. "Concussion missiles only, don't risk serious damage to the ship!" On cue, the quick little ships burst out and flew into a swarm formation, surrounding the foundering ship and pouring their missiles forth; combined with the withering ion blasts, and she was soon disabled, if not crippled outright.

"Tractor beam!" the captain shouted. "Bring her in range, ready the boarding tubes!" With a wild cheer his men swarmed out of the bridge and toward the hatches, impatient for the tubes to extend and penetrate their prey so they could plunder and pillage; the apprentice rushed ahead of them, as eager and bloodthirsty as they were.

Kurtz remained behind, though. "What'cha waitin' for, Boss-man?" he asked, tossing the knife up and down.

"For the tubes to extend, of course," Shard replied, lowering his glasses; beneath them, the sockets were empty, gaping holes that were quite disconcerting. Kurtz suppressed a shudder at the sight, wishing he could get used to it; the Miraluka only chuckled and slid them back up his nose, pulling his silenced pistol out as he started forward. "Come then, my good Colonel; let us do our thing…"

Once the boarding tubes were in place and the hatches slid open, Valda darted forward, her lightsabers raised to slice down any who stood in her way; the men swarmed in after, Kurtz bringing up the rear. Shard hesitated, however, closing his eyes and thinking hard; after a few moments he became completely inconspicuous, something one's eyes simply slid over, seeing without really noticing. His physical appearance did not change at all, merely the way people saw him. "What now, what now," he said gaily, holding pistol up by his cheek as he moved ahead.

As expected, the victims were putting up fierce resistance; they had been expecting pirates, apparently, and had hired a group of mercenaries to fend off boarders. They were good mercenaries too, moving with confidence and firing in volleys; they had in fact forced the pirates back somewhat, an uncommon but not unheard-of event. Valda and Kurtz were coordinating a counter-attack of sorts, but Shard knew it would take too long. "Watch for my signal," he said into Valda's ear, before slipping away again; she started and looked around wildly, but gave up and went back to her planning.

Down the hall, Shard found some of the mercs had gotten the same idea he had; sneak around behind the enemy and take them by surprise. "Nice trick," he remarked idly, releasing his concentration, "but you're no Jedi." The men panicked and swung their blasters around; the Miraluka deflected their blasts with his bare hands, darting forward to engage them at range. "Too slow!" he crowed victoriously, delivering sharp kicks and punishing chops with his hands; in short order the group was taken down, and Shard went on.

Turning the corner, he discovered some of the native crew, huddling behind an overturned table, clutching outdated carbines. "How sad," the Miraluka murmured, raising his pistol. None of them noticed the silent coughs that heralded their deaths, until the last man happened to look around; with a scream of horror he realized he was alone, though he was quickly silenced when Shard stepped forward. "How badly do you want to live?" he asked harshly, shoving the hot barrel into the man's forehead.

"P-P-Please don't k-kill me!" the fellow stammered, dropping his weapon.

"Then give me the access codes," the Miraluka replied coldly, digging the gun in. Cowed, the man gave over the codes for the secure storage holds, whereupon Shard shot him anyway, leaving a splatter of brains and gore on the wall as he walked onward.

After a few more dark hallways, he came to the side entrance to the bridge, where the mercenaries and the remainder of the crew had holed up. Calmly he raised his gun again, firing until the clip ran out; he didn't bother reloading, instead he holstered it again and drew his lightsabers, running forward with a shout to decimate what was left of the defenders.

It was over quickly after that, and Shard had the captain and officers rounded up. "Alrighty then, cullies," he crooned, standing over the bound men, "you're prisoners. Be good and we'll give you back for a ransom, but cause too much trouble and you'll end up like the rest of your fellows."

The captain spat at the Magalia's feet with a sneer. "Jedi swine!" he snarled. "Go ahead, shoot us! I bet ye ain't got th' stomach the fight me without yer precious laser-swords!" His men nodded and jeered their agreement; Shard was unfazed.

"Simple blades, is it?" he asked politely, pulling his own from beneath his cape; the Echani-forged weapon glinted in the light, and the prisoners gasped at the speed it had been drawn with. "Very well, how's this; if all four of you can best me at once, you go free, but if not I get to torture every one of you until you give up your secrets." Unable to believe the Dark Jedi's whimsy, the four men almost didn't react as they were released and given a dueling foil each, but they recovered quickly enough, sniggering and jeering as they circled about to surround the Miraluka, who stood still in the center with his own blade held in a neutral position.

As he had thought, the men were not especially trained in group tactics; this would be an easy victory. Two of them rushed forward at once, attacking from the same vector, and the Miraluka parried in a single wide sweep; the motion sent the first man stumbling into the other, and both went down in a tangle of limbs and blades. "Who's ne-eext?" he sang out, not turning around, leaving his back open to the others. Or so they thought, as one of them moved ahead and the other went to the right; quick as lightning Shard slammed himself backward, just inside the slash of his enemy, bashing the pommel of his sword up into his solar plexus.

Deprived of breath he stumbled backward, and Shard turned to finish him off; a quick slice across the midriff, just shallow enough to be painful but little else, and a swift blast of Force power to send him crashing into the wall. "Too easy," he said, as if to himself, feeling the last one, the captain, rushing up behind him.

"Gotcha!" he shouted in victory, wrapping his arms around the Miraluka and sticking the edge of the sword at his neck. "You're mine now, freak," he muttered, preparing to draw it across Shard's neck.

"Not quite," the Miraluka whispered, waiting until just the right moment; then he shoved backward with his head, catching the man on his nose. He grunted and clapped a hand to it, releasing Shard in the same motion, and he slammed the edge of palm against the side of his head. "You two stay down!" he snapped at the first pair, who had only now disentangled themselves. "I won, so… I get to torture y'all!" he exclaimed gleefully, sheathing his sword and clapping his hands; his men cheered at their captain's victory.

"Bind them again!" he ordered; they came forward with the chains, and secured the captives once again. "So then, cullies…" the Miraluka purred, stepping towards them; something about the blind Jedi, some subtle change in his manner and physical countenance, seemed indefinably more terrifying now. He stepped round to the captain and poked his nose. "You'd be the cap'n… so you'd be knowing things, yes?"

"That's f-for me to know and you to n-never find out," the captain said, a trace of fear in his eyes; he was doing a decent job hiding it behind a show of bravado, though, and his mates took heart from it. That wouldn't do, not in the long run.

"Oh, but finding out is my specialty," Shard replied, putting an ominous emphasis on specialty. "Did you know, the Force lets one reach into the minds of others and rip away memories, knowledge, skills?" he went on, placing the tip of a finger on each of the captain's temples. "With just… a twist of the mind… put the man… in a hefty bind…" he sang softly with a sadistic smile, gently rubbing the skin and skull. He felt sweat begin to bead beneath his light grasp, and his smile widened. "Annnnd…"

Without warning he tore his way into the man's mind, violently, without regard for protocol or safety; dimly he heard him screaming, struggling against the inarguable chains, and the panicked shouts of the mates as they too fought fruitlessly to get free. His focus was inside, however, seeking out the corporate identity of this merchant captain; captains always knew good codes and identification protocols, or at least the ones worth their salt did.

The man gave one final scream and fainted away, and Shard slowly opened his eyes. "He'll never wake up again," he explained conversationally. "I have rendered him a vegetable." He was about to go on when footsteps came from the hall beyond; he looked up, an expectant look on his face.

"Cap'n, it's all up," one of Shard's raiders said happily. "All da swag offa 'dem boats, we got alla it." His rough, bewhiskered face broke into a wide, aw-shucks grin. "Boy, what swag i' was, too!"

"Ahh, good, good," the Miraluka replied. He glanced at the remaining crew, then shrugged and handed the husky young pirate a small knife. "Be creative," were his last words as he stepped out of the room and back to his business; the pirate gave a nasty chuckle and went toward the captives, who's eyes had gone rather wide…

[Karl the Unfettered]

64 pages
37,150 words
339 paragraphs
2 months and 9 days

Yes, he's finished at last. Critique away.

[Jace]

<Approved>

[Karl the Unfettered]

Ok, much has happened so I think it's time to update.

First, I would like to raise his Physical Strength and Body each by one point to 7, since in the months of the Sith Temple's construction he for the most part disdained fancy Force usage in favor of physical effort, as mentioned here and here.

Then I would like to raise Soresu by one point to 3, and Protection by two points to 6; an agreement made between Shard and Rugs' character Visari was made, wherein each will instruct the other on their areas of expertise (offense and defense, respectively). The agreement is mentioned here, and Rugs and I further agreed to leave the training behind the scenes, as it were, to save time.

Then I would like to raise his Healing by one point, to the Dark Side maximum of 5; in this thread and this thread he made use of healing powers, on the same person no less.

Then I would like to add Battle Precognition and Force Illusions to the list of specialized powers. He's been using Illusions practically since I started RPing with him, and they're good ones too, so I suppose it should be noted somewhere that he can do this, and this seems as good a place as any; regarding Battle Precognition, he is a high-level master of Echani Martial Arts (I can edit his backstory to account for this if need be), and he is not only skilled at reading minds and emotions but also body language and the subconcious physical cues of close-quarters combat.

Then, I've made numerous references to a sort of aura that surrounds him, one of great heat and insanity; those within the sphere of this aura feel an indescribable heat that doesn't originate in the environment (they actually feel it in the Force), and they hear dark whispers that are sort of a sub-audible manifestation of the madness Shard himself possesses. I would like to call this a Chaos Aura, and add it as well to his special powers.

Finally I feel I should raise his allignment, from -6 to -5, as he isn't quite as puppy-kickingly evil and twisted as I had thought he was (as evidenced by his relationship with Shandari, and his treatment of Marie).

Pending all that, I shall also expand his bio to account for events occuring in the course of RP, no easy feat since I may have to juggle paragraphs from post to post.

EDIT: Almost forgot... I ought also to increase his age, from 49 to 50; he'll officially be an old man. xD

[sparrow]

I'll address these one by one...

Dec 12, 2009 0:15:29 GMT -5 Karl the Unfettered said:

First, I would like to raise his Physical Strength and Body each by one point to 7, since in the months of the Sith Temple's construction he for the most part disdained fancy Force usage in favor of physical effort, as mentioned here and here.

Since you say he didn't use the Force, I see no reason for the raise in Body.

Because there are only ten numbers to represent all strengths for totally decrepit to stronger-than-a-rabid-wookiee, the difference between a 6 and 7 is actually quite significant, like the difference between a fit man who exercises regularly and a pro athlete. So Shard lifted some rocks over a limited period of time, went to a gym a few times. It should take more than that, especially for someone of his age, to make gains in strength. Regular, consistent training, at the expense of regular, consistent training in other things.

Then I would like to raise Soresu by one point to 3, and Protection by two points to 6; an agreement made between Shard and Rugs' character Visari was made, wherein each will instruct the other on their areas of expertise (offense and defense, respectively). The agreement is mentioned here, and Rugs and I further agreed to leave the training behind the scenes, as it were, to save time.

One thing currently on the staff discussion list is making some guidelines for stat-ups, but one thing everybody agrees on is that you need a thread. If not, every other characters is suddenly going to experience rigorous off-screen training and spontaneously become stronger. Soresu should be difficult for him because the philosophy of it runs completely counter to the mindset required for his current favored style. It's not something that can be handwaved away.

Then I would like to raise his Healing by one point, to the Dark Side maximum of 5; in this thread and this thread he made use of healing powers, on the same person no less.

He used healing that he is already practiced in. Twice. Lots of Jedi use Force push regularly.

Then I would like to add Battle Precognition and Force Illusions to the list of specialized powers. He's been using Illusions practically since I started RPing with him, and they're good ones too, so I suppose it should be noted somewhere that he can do this, and this seems as good a place as any; regarding Battle Precognition, he is a high-level master of Echani Martial Arts (I can edit his backstory to account for this if need be), and he is not only skilled at reading minds and emotions but also body language and the subconcious physical cues of close-quarters combat.

Battle Precog is implied in Sense. All Jedi/Sith have that ability to a limited degree. It's what allows them to deflect blaster bolts and do other cool things.

As for Illusions, the way you described it sound more like playing up his abilities when writing than him actually developing new skill.

Then, I've made numerous references to a sort of aura that surrounds him, one of great heat and insanity; those within the sphere of this aura feel an indescribable heat that doesn't originate in the environment (they actually feel it in the Force), and they hear dark whispers that are sort of a sub-audible manifestation of the madness Shard himself possesses. I would like to call this a Chaos Aura, and add it as well to his special powers.

No made-up powers. Sorry.

Finally I feel I should raise his allignment, from -6 to -5, as he isn't quite as puppy-kickingly evil and twisted as I had thought he was (as evidenced by his relationship with Shandari, and his treatment of Marie).

Go ahead.

EDIT: Almost forgot... I ought also to increase his age, from 49 to 50; he'll officially be an old man. xD

I'd like a reason as to why you wish to do this. Once you have one, go ahead.

So yeah... most of these are denied for several reasons...
- not enough justification was given to support so many stat increases. The higher a stat is, the more difficult it should be to increase.
- Shard is already a very powerful character. Being able to up his stats so quickly means you'll end up with a character with no flaws or weaknesses.
- In relation to previous point, some characters when approved are very offense-based characters, others are very defense-based and others are in-between. Some will focus more on Force, saber, or other skills. Unless there is very good reason, they should for the most part stay that way.
- Tying in with above point about higher stats being harder to increase, Master characters in generally will be more restricted than knights and padawans in how and how often they can advance in skills. They're masters, after all.

[Karl the Unfettered]

So you're saying he's stuck and I can't advance him anymore?

[Dire Wolf]

Thats not what Sparrow is saying, Karl, he's just saying that you need more RP time with your fellow before you can advance him.

Now... onto my little issue. x)

I've read your work in that duel between shard and visari... and I must say, you use Force Illusion completely wrong. =/ If you check wookieepedia, it says that the power is near worthless against a trained force sensitive. Yet... you use it on Force sensitives like it works. I'm not trying to raise a complaint, just making you aware. And, I mean, Rhissai is just barely learning the skill (+ a nine in telepathy) and she can only just barely affect an area of about 10 feet around her. More with concentration.

Carry on, my unnecessary and probably unwanted opinion is now thrown into the pot. x)

[sparrow]

Shard can still advance, but only by so much.

[Karl the Unfettered]

The thing with the Temple is, if it's any sort of decently-sized Temple (which I assume it is) it didn't just come up overnight. Ancient temples, pyramids and the like, took decades to build with hundreds of slaves and engineers; even nowadays, it takes like a year and a half to put up a skyscraper. We had maybe fifty people, and Force or no Force they had to be careful what they did so the Republic wouldn't notice a large influx of building materials headed for Korriban. So figure at least a year and a half, realistically. And construction is grueling physical labor, you should try it some time; I figure it'd go without saying that a fellow would use the Force to enhance his strength for stuff like that.

I'm sure Rugs would be amenable to making a thread for our training, so that's alright.

About the healing, I specifically said he wasn't as good at doing that particularly, and that it took a good few hours to do it the second time. It's a low score anyway, what more should be needed to raise it up one measly point?

You have a fair point on the specialized powers, so no worries there.

As for why I want to make him older? Look at my first line of reasoning; he's been around and gotten older, quite simple.

I should also say, as I told Dire on MSN, that I don't give a flying flip about who's stronger, or strongest, or what the hell ever. I've been actively RPing him for over six months, he's experienced things and done stuff and I want the profile to reflect that.

Oh, and I forgot from before. I also wanted to list out what languages and martial arts he knows, also.

[Karl the Unfettered]

It's been almost two weeks. Have I been blacklisted or something?

[Squee]

Approved stats:

Practiced Lightsaber forms:

Shii-Cho: 5
Makashi: 4
Shien/Djem So: 5
Backhand: 5
Jar'kai: 5
Juyo: 4

Force-Sensitive Abilities:

Telekinetic: 7
Telepathic: 8
Body: 6
Sense: 9
Protection: 4
Healing: 4
Destruction: 7

Specialized Skills:

Force Deflection
Drain Knowledge
Art of the Small

Attributes:

Physical Strength: 6
Intelligence: 7
Speed: 7
Leadership: 9

Unarmed: 8
Melee Weapons: 7
Ranged Weapons: 5

Martial Arts:
Broken Gate
Teras Kasi
Echani Unarmed
K'thri
Drunken Boxing

Languages:
Due to Drain Knowledge, Shard is a very proficient linguist
Basic
High Galactic
Miralukese
Huttese
Mando'a
Echani
Jawaese
Droidspeak (cannot speak, of course)


Force Attunement: -6

[sparrow]

Moving to inactive by request.