Post by Northumbria on Jun 22, 2012 17:53:16 GMT -5
Name: Plito Nado
Race: Ithorian
Age: 17
Height: 5'2''
Weight: 107 lbs
Appearance:
Like this but not thinner and wearing Jedi robes
Plito is much smaller than his Ithorian brethren, and the majority of the Jedi Order. At 5'2'' he is certainly no imposing figure. However he is a memorable one, no one would possibly mistake him for human. His skin is a very dark green. His Ithorian head is unique among humanoid species, his neck protrudes, almost straight, with a single hump and a long face on he end of it. His head has two stalks, with blue eyes on the end. Giving him an appearance of a hammerhead shark, a common nickname from his species among the galaxy's citizens. He has no hair on his head. On either side of his thick large neck are two mouths. His speech is understandable but very heavily accented. Although not visible he has four throats and is able to use his voice as a weapon. This is a natural gift of his race but he has never used it before.
His fingers are long and knobbly and he often moves them all, absent mindely, when he is in deep thought. That or tapping the fingers on his right hand on his left in repetitive motions. His fingers, unlike other humanoids, are not thinner at the top but more bulbous and circular.
His feet are straight and end in five toes that protrude out slightly and then straight downwards. He wears Jedi robes at virtually all times. He likes the uniformity that they show, a powerful organisation of brothers and sisters that defend the rights of the galaxy's citizens. Currently he wears the light brown type but one day he would like to where pure white robes. Just inside his robes, hidden from public view as he doesn't want to give the wrong impression, is his lightsaber.
He walks slower than most, though when the time calls for it he can increase his pace dramatically, and his movements also tend to be slower. More deliberate and planned.
Personality:
Plito is, in many ways, a typical Ithorian. He is a very peaceful teenager and can happily spend entire days meditating alone in total silence. In fact he prefers solitude. It allows him to focus his thoughts, his hopes, his dreams, his fears and weaknesses. A deep love of nature seems to be in his DNA and he loves all animals and plants, he is a strict vegetarian, and he despises Courscant. Well despise is harsh, but he cannot understand why anyone would do that to a planet. So if you need to find PLito quickly your best bet is the Jedi Temple Meditation Gardens.
He is very respectful, essentially to everyone he meets, but especially to the Knights and Masters of the Order. His own, late, master was the person he respected most in the Galaxy and he is struggling to come to terms with his death. However he has not told anyone, and he hides his feelings well. It is rare that he will simply tell someone how he feels, and when asked directly he will often bend the truth. One reason for this is he does not want to burden someone with his own problems. And he dislikes coming over as vulnerable. However he has no problem in helping others out with their feelings. Among Padawans his own age he is known as someone you can talk to if you don't want to involve, or bother, the higher ups. He is able to think clearly and logically which allow him to give good advice.
He is intelligent for his age and is fascinated by a range of subjects, science, politics, history and philosophy just to name a few. He is also quite skilled with languages. He is able to speak his native tongue, basic and Bothese fluently. He can understand the most common Wookiee dialect (though is unable to speak it) and has begun to learn Cerean. Studying is something he is dedicated to and something that he will never stop. He has an insatiable thirst for knowledge of all things.
His deep love for all forms of life has naturally given him an abhorrence or violence and death. Being a Jedi there are times when he has to take up the sword, that he has to strike someone down but he hates it. In his mind every act of violence is a scar on his character that he will never remove. No matter how innocent he was in the altercation. Or even, though the act of violence, he saved another's life. There for he will always try and talk his way out of a situation, to the point where even some of his fellow Jedi think he is being foolish, before attacking. This means he often fights with a lack of determination that his elders find disturbing. It is a major flaw, yet also a virtue. It is something he plans to work on, however he also wants to learn more about telekenises as he believes it is the safest way (after conversation) to end a fight.
His love of life has led him down the path of healing. He hopes to become a fully fledged Jedi healer one day and there is nothing greater, in his mind, than seeing a formerly injured person fully fit due to your hard work. He is a very dedicated Padawan who wants nothing more in life than to be a good Jedi and to help others. In fact he lacks a certain ambition that many of his friends share. If he stayed a Knight through his entire life he would be totally fine with that.
Plito has a deep respect for the Rule of Law and he believes all beings should be held accountable for what they have done. But he believes everyone is capable of redemption, that everyone can change. Some see this as naive, and in many ways it is, but he would rather be naive than cynical. His morales, like all Jedi, are strong and stalwart. But he does not always see things black and white. He certainly is not perfect, so why would a Dark Jedi be totally evil?
Plito has many qualities that would make a good Jedi. But he doesn't see it that way. He often doubts his capabilities and compares himself to others far too often. Especially the more martial members of the Order. Although he disagrees with the brashness that some of his fellow padawans have, he admires their ability to turn the tide of a battle and save innocents. He has often wondered if he has what it takes to be a Jedi. He doubts himself almost daily. Recently he is doubting that another Jedi will take him on after the recent death of his former master.
Plito, as stated before, likes quiet solitude. However he has a close knit circle of friends, most but not all of them Jedi, that he relies upon. However he rarely, if ever, tells them how he feels. Plito rarely rushes into things. He is deliberate and would rather be slow and take his time to weigh up all possible out comes before making a decision. Some would call this a smart move, carefulness. But others would call him indecisive.
Often Plito wonders what it would be like to have a family. It seems like a pleasant life but he accepts it is not the one that is to be his.
Birth place: Ithor Herdship
Faction: Jedi
Rank: Padawan
Lightsaber: Single Blade
Color: Green (His late-master's)
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho - 3
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 3
Telepathic: 3
Body: 1
Sense: 2
Protection: 1
Healing: 5
Destruction: 0
Specialized Skills:
Plant Surge (Basic Level)
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 4
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 4
Leadership: /3
Unarmed: 4
Melee Weapons: 2
Ranged Weapons: 2
Bio:
Birth to Six Years Old
Plito Nado was born, 17 years ago, aboard one of the smaller of the many Ithorian herdships that float above the lush forest world of Ithor. Plito's parents were experienced parents, and getting on quite a bit, both were in their late 40s and Pito was their 10th child and third son. From the age of 20 Plito's mother, Carna, and his father, Rono, had added another member to their family almost yearly. However there was a 9 year age gap between Plito and his youngest sibling and over 20 years between Plito and his eldest.
Plito was born at the end of the great meet that the Ithorian's observe every five years. It is a time when the independent herdships come together to celebrate and discuss important matters at the same time. And as the meet finished his parents, and their four youngest children, left the planet. His father was a merchant. His mother could of stayed on the herdship but they couldn't stand to be separated from one another.
Their small merchant ship, Baffor, was therefor where the family spent most of their time. But it was not a place any of them enjoyed. It served a purpose, that was all, and they all missed the lush plants of the Herdship Cloud-Maker and the friends and extended family that lived there.
The Herdship was inhabited only by Ithorians. So Plito's friends were all Ithorian. His closest friend was also his cousin, though Plito can only remember his name and little more. Rornan was Plito's maternal first cousin, and they were so similar in appearance that they could of easily passed for brothers. They played together daily without a single care. While adults would be discussing eco-logical problems, something called the Senate and, his father's favourite topic of discussion, fuel prices, the two boys would simply throw mud at each other or laugh at almost anything.
So the first few years of Plito's life went by without any major incident. He traveled the Galaxy with his family, his mother sang him traditional bed time songs from his home world and generally they were happy. In fact the only memory Plito has of his mother is of her voice. She had a very gentle, by Ithorian standards, voice that could of calmed an ocean. She sang with such beauty and love that, even to this day, thinking about the memory can calm him to the core. However it also brings him great sadness as soon after that memory his family docked in a small space station to deliver a small package.
It was all highly routine, nothing special at all. But as his father dropped of the package, and was about to board their roomy but slow ship, he was stopped by gun toting security and a middle aged Human Jedi. The Jedi, Arngor Herad, was firm but polite at the same time. Ordering the guards to lower their guns but demanding information about the package.
It turned out, to Plito's parent's total surprise that the delivery was not a rare and expensive juice extract from a far away exotic planet but a highly illegal drug that was being sold for countless credits across the Galaxy. Off course Plito's parents had no idea and were acquitted. They gave over all the details and latter the same Jedi arrested a major member of the smuggling ring. However the Jedi sensed Plito's sensitivity to the force.
He asked permission from his parents to take him to the temple and at first they refused. For hours the three of them debated and eventually his parents relented. They saw that their son had a gift, that he could help people, and they would be selfish to stop him doing that just so they could hold onto him. Plus they believed he was in danger if they stayed with him. Who knew who could sense him next, and there was no guarantee they would be as nice as the Jedi.
So that is how Plito's life as a Jedi began. Being carried away by a stranger as he cried for the parents he would never seen again, the parents he would never know. The Galactic Capital was a horrible place. He was only out in the open for a small space of time, from the ship to the Temple, but in that time the sheer amount of noise was deafening. He had just stopped crying but began again immediately.
The life of a baby in the Jedi temple is little different from that as a baby anywhere. But it was not long before his education began. From quite a young age 4/5 he showed small signs of being more intelligent than his peers. He also began to ask questions like crazy. And he was never satisfied with the response, his favourite word was, without a doubt, why?
The more Jedi specific education began under the watchful eye of a minder. The first meaningful bonds were made around this time. He became friends with other members of his clan. He made friends exceptionally easy, but so did all of the initiates. At that time in his life he always wanted to stand out from the crowd and be noticed. He disliked feeling like just another initiate so he always tried his hardest at whatever he did.
He was able to pick the academic side up very easily but the more physical tasks were a struggle. It was not rare for him to come last, or near the bottom, in a physical test in the morning and then easily top the group in a mental task in the evening. Plito disliked the quiet boring meditation practice at first. But after the first few sessions he soon grew to look forward to them. He enjoyed the feeling of peacefulness that he had not experienced since his cot in the star ship he had called home. And the closeness to the force and clarity that came with it. However as soon as the session was over he was jumping up and down like the rest of the clan.
6 - 12
As he got older he began to spend more time in the gardens. The plant life he found there was more interesting than any machine. A few of his clan-mates agreed but most were more interested in the latest technology that they had heard about. Especially fast space ships. It became a favourite place for him to meditate. Often under the exact same spot. An old, ancient, tree with crooked branches and holes in a number of places. He often wondered what stories it would tell if only it could speak to him.
Plito didn't look forward to the first lightsaber lesson like most of the other students. He had lived a sheltered life and had not witnessed any real violence, a few scuffles between the more boisterous clan mates, but nothing major. But he already felt a dislike for it that went beyond the norm. Their teacher had to reprimand him on their third or fourth lesson as Plito was not really paying attention.
It was the first time he had ever been reprimanded and it had quite an effect on him. He decided he would put his all into anything an elder asked him, even if it held no interest to him. He got better, but only slightly, over the next few years. Virtually every member of the clan surpassed him with their training sabers. He felt inadequate next to them. If they could of beat him in a fight in a few moments surely they were better protectors and guardians of the peace than he would ever be?
He became interested in politics around the age of 8. He didn't udnerstand the nuances of the Senate but it fascinated him none the less. Some of the holo reports he was not allowed to watch but most of them he was. Even the simple recordings of stuff considered unimportant and not exciting he watched. And he found it all exceptionally intriguing. He has often thought he would of went into politics, or diplomacy, if he was not force-sensitive. And from a young age he liked the idea of going on diplomatic missions on behalf of the Order.
Plito witnessed a ferocious duel between two Jedi masters in one of their training sessions. The two men had been asked to demonstrate their prowess to the younglins and they obliged. Their skill was incredible, Plito could not follow the two blazing blue blades half the time. It simply seemed like two beautiful lights were dancing with one another.
Although the spectacle was awe-inspiring Plito remembers thinking that, in a real life situation, it could of been easily avoided by a simple discussion. After the demonstration Plito approached one of the masters and asked to speak with him for a moment. He wanted to know if being a strong fighter made you a good Jedi, for if it did he doubted he would ever be classed as one. The master told him that no Jedi are the same, that they each have their own path, and that he should follow the one he felt the force was guiding him to.
That helped the young Plito but he would never quite shift the belief that those Jedi who were skilled with a blade were better than he was. You would certainly rather have them by your side in a fight.
Jangol Setta, a Human youngling, had become Plito's closest friend by the duel. Jangol was even more impressed by the spectacle than Plito. For over a week it was the only thing he wanted to talk about. He would discuss every blow, well every blow they could see, and ask Plito what he thought about it. It got rather boring after the first day for the Ithorian, but he humored his friend.
His life as a youngling was both varied and repetitive. He would wake up and the day would be filled with lessons, it was certainly not the easiest life, but the lessons were so varied that one day rarely felt the same as the last. There was so much to learn and Plito wanted to learn it all. However he know accepts there will always be more to learn, even if he lived for a thousand years.
12 - 17
Just a few days after he turned 12 he met Master Arno-Ki for the first time. The 47 year old Cathar was a well respected Jedi healer, one of the best in the order, and he was looking for a new padawan to replace his second student who had recently become a knight. He was impressed by the young Ithorian's abilities but also his modesty, a virtue often lacking in the younger members of the order. The day Plito was told he would become a padawan was the happiest of his life. He had doubted he would ever be chosen, due to his lack of martial prowess, and when he learned that his master was a celebrated healer he couldn't of been any happier.
The same year Jangol Setta was chosen as a padawan. Over the years the two boys had become exceptionally close, in fact they had become so attached their minder had considered separating them. They both knew they would see each other less now that they were progressing through the Order, but they vowed to remain friends.
Their first training lesson was something Plito was looking forward to, yet he was also apprehensive. He had been taught by many Jedi over the years but rarely one-on-one and never with his own master, as that master's padawan. The master-padawan bond was a life long one and he didn't want to do anything to harm it. He wanted to give a good impression, he wanted to come across polite and respectful.
HIs new master was easily able to put him at ease and their first lesson, covering basics that he already knew, went well. At the end of the lesson his master told him about himself. Unsurprisingly he was born on Cathar and was tested at birth and it was found he had a high midichlorian count. The Jedi were contacted and he was taken into the order. His master was a Human from Naboo called Varsus Mensa. Mensa spent most of his time searching for force sensitive children across the Galaxy, a task he took to after he was given the rank master. He had already trained two apprentices one had her own padawan now and both went on to specialise as healers.
He talked with a great sense of pride whenever he mentioned his former padawans. It made him feel self conscious. It was natural for him to compare his new padawan to those that went before him but did he find his new student didn't have the same level of potential? Off course he never asked the question, but it was a few years before it left his mind completely.
Training with his new master was daily but he never missed out on a meditation session. It would take place either in his personal quarters or the Jedi Temple's gardens. When he was 13 he once spent over 10 hours in meditation, without moving so much as an eye-lid. He felt so connected to the force, so aware and so peaceful at the same time. But it was not just sensing the force, it was not even feeling the force permeate his very being but it felt as if he had left his body and had melded with the force. When he eventually left the garden he felt cold and empty, as if a fire had been put out inside of him.
Plito was eager to learn more about healing but his master felt it prudent that he learn other skills first. Sense, telepathy and telekineses were the main things he learned in the first year or so. Although his master fully intended to train him in the use of the healing arts he felt it prudent that his new apprentice should be able to get his way out of a sticky situation. He enjoyed telekineses greatly. They had covered it in his youngling training but not to the same degree. And he enjoyed the deepening understanding that he was gaining on a daily business. He was equally skilled at telepathy. However he was always more cautious with the ability. He had no intention of intruding on someone's mind. It was their most secret and personal part of their being and he had no intention of violating it. He would do so if necessary but he would be as quick as he could be.
Healing steadily became the main focus of their lessons and it was here that Plito trully shinned. He had done huge amounts of reading on the subject and he could name virtually every part of the human body, some in a variety of languages, and how they worked.This saved valuable time and they could get onto the more advanced stuff. Much of the things he was taught he had read about, in other words he already understood much of the theory, but using it in practice was far far harder.
But he persisted. When he was having trouble he meditated, his master was more than willing to ''put their lesson on pause,'' for hours if needed. Often he would join in with his padawan, they both appreciated the calming effects it could have.
Around his 14th year he also began to get more and more interested in politics. He had enjoyed it when he was younger but now it became an obsession.
His friendship with Jangol deepened and they made friends with three female students. Together the five of them former a small group that, over the years became inseparable. However there was soon a problem for Plito. One of the girls, Momju, was a fellow Ithorian. They had not known each other when they were younger and what started as a deep friendship, based on a mutual longing to know more and to identify with their Ithorian heritage, became something more. Soon both of them felt romantic feelings for each other.
It scared Plito. He knew such feelings were totally natural, an evolutionary biological imperative, but they both knew it was forbidden. Could they hide their feelings from everyone? Even their friends? It seemed unlikely in a temple full of thousands of beings capable of sensing emotions.
Despite both of their beliefs they decided to go on a date. The date was to be in a place special to both of them, the Garden. It was a lovely night and they both enjoyed it immensely. But neither of them felt it was right. So at the end of the night they decided it was not the right thing to do.
They decided they couldn't be friends either, at least for the time being. They explained their situation to their friends and they supported them. Jangol and Plito would stay away from the girls and the girls would stay away from them.
Plito's skill grew rapidly in telekineses, sense, telepathy and especially healing. But his abilities with a lightsaber were still lacking. So for months he was drilled for hours and hours straight. It was exhausting but it did build up his strength and stamina. He was thankful for the growth in his stamina as it allowed him to use the force for longer periods of time before tiring.
His friend Jangol was the total opposite. His skill with a blade grew very quickly but his skill with the force grew slower that he would of liked. The two friends decided to help one another. Jangol showed him what he knew about dueling and Plito shared his expertise. Both improved. But not enough to satisfy either of them.
He made progress, do the same thing for ten horus a day and you'll get better at anything, but his progression was much slower than in the lessons dedicated to the force or to academic subjects. He was much better on the defensive, he has flirted with the idea of learning Soresu. He thinks his calm demeanour and defensive manner when fighting would suit it greatly. But it is much much harder than Shii-Cho and he has troubles with that.
The first few missions he went on with his master were simple and went without incident. Most consisted of helping hospitals on other planets or going to major incidents to assist. Not long after he returned back from his first mission a young Senator from Corellia arrived in the temple. He was given a tour and Plito wanted to bombard him with a variety of questions. But he didn't want to impose himself, he didn't want to be rude, so he contained himself.
However it gave him a sense of pride. He was finally doing something productive for the Order that had been his entire life. For over a year his master was stationed at a huge hospital on Naboo. So it was there that his training continued. He was happy about this for a few reasons. It gave him practical experience in healing, allowed him to meet a new culture, experience a world almost as beautiful, though nowhere near as pristine, as his own and he was able to get away from Mumju. It sounds terrible but it was true. They had passed each other many many times in corridors and the garden of the temple so it gave him time to focus on his training without the possibility of seeing her.
He learned a huge amount in the hospital and he healed many many people. He loved helping and he enjoyed almost every minute. However he was around death on a daily basis. And it sickened him. He tried to comfort those he knew were dying. Those who were beyond even his master's exceptional abilities and in many cases his presence, well it was more about the Jedi robes, alone was able to do that.
On Naboo he found a sort of foster home. He eagerly learned the names of as much of the flora and fauna as he could and he took to meditating under a certain tree daily. One day he was sitting, it was pouring with rain, though he enjoyed sitting in the rain, and he had been meditating for hours. He began to think about the bunch of wildflowers, dull closed petals that had not yet opened, and wondering if the rain would speed up the time it took for them to blossom. Then, all of a sudden, he felt tired.
Loosing his concentration due to the rapid lose of energy he opened his eyes, while placing a hand on his forehead as he now felt completely light headed, and he saw half a dozen of the flowers had blossomed into the most beautiful flowers he could imagine. Such vibrant colours, every shade imaginable, had erupted out of no where.
He was proud of what he had done, even if it was a complete fluke, and he began to spend more time reading about botany. He practices the skill when he can, and it is rare that he gets no results at all, but he has to be in deep concentration for it to work. He is far from using it in battle as his more skillfull counter parts are able to.
It was also on Naboo that he and his master fought together for the first time. Reports of a group of anti-government, anti-republic, pro-human and pro-imperialism bandits had been growing. They were causing lots of trouble, they had even killed two government members, and the three Jedi on the planet (Plito, his master and the native Naboo watchman) all went together to arrest them.
Plito found it ironic that the personification of everything they hated was about to stop them. Jedi, the defenders of peace and the most visible sign of the Republic's power, and with two non-human members to boot. However he was not looking forward to the fight. His blood didn't boil for the confrontation. The three of them advanced on the heavily armed camp. They decided to announce themselves, only Plito thought it would be successful, but instead they were fired upon. The two masters blocked the bolts, in some cases sending them back and killing the person who shot them, but Plito decided evasion was his best bet.
He was slower than most, but he was still a Jedi. He had still been trained for decades in physical activities and he was quick, nimble and athletic when he needed to be. Off course he was no expert at using the force to influence his body, but these abilities allowed him to take cover without being hit. The camp was deep within a forest and Plito saw a large pile of rocks. He lifted one of the boulders and launched it at one of the shooters. It hit him square in the head, knocking him from their metal platform and onto the ground below. He remembers hoping that he was not dead, and hoping he would be permited to tend to his injuries after the fighting was done with. He repeated the attack once more, this time missing the man's head but hitting him in the chest. The stone was smaller, it had no chance of killing, but he was sure it broke a few ribs, maybe punctured a lung.
Plito lifted another rock, about to do it again, but noticed that there were no more attackers, or they had retreated into the compound, and the two masters were cutting their way through the steel with their sabers. He would of joined them in their efforts but an extra saber would only complicate things. But he did ignite his blue blade, it had been borrowed from his master as he had yet to make his own. Then they cautiously advanced. He was on the left, his master in the centre and the watchmen on the right. He was by far the shortest of the group but he was the first to spot the gun man on the left. He was not too far away, he could of killed the man if he had sprinted and impaled him, but he wanted to give him a chance.
''We are Jedi, please put down your weapons, surrender and I swear no harm will come to you our your friends.'' Perhaps it would of worked on most bandits, maybe if there were only human Jedi among their ranks. But Plito was the personification of everything the man hated. He could tell the man was about to attack, more from the vicious, animal like expression on his face, an expression that screemed:
Die, Jedi Scum!
The Human Jedi obviously saw the same things, or had sensed the man's intentions, as he used a move Plito had never seen before, he threw his lightsaber, it spun through the air like lightning and decapitated the man. Plito almost let out a gasp of air, but he kept himself under control, but it was a terrible site. To see a man's limp lifeless body fall to it's kness then on the dusty ground, his head rolling beside it, is something he would never forget. The violence he had used against the two men before hand had made him feel ill. But that was something else. Of course he didn't judge the master. He would of done the same if he could and thought it was necessary, but it didn't make it any easier. Three more men attacked and each of the Jedi attacked one of them.
Plito sprinted towards the one nearest him, he was only a few years older than he was, and there was no fight. Plito reached him before he had time to react and sliced his hand off. The man's scream was agonising, it pierced Plito's very soul, Plito went to do the same with the other hand. It was the only way he could think of that would take him out of the battle without killing him but making sure he could harm neither himself or his fellow Jedi. But the man pleaded and begged and Plito couldn't do it. Instead of bringing his weapon down across the man's hand he destroyed his firearm instead.
''Don't get involved,'' he tried to force as much authority into his voice as possible. To an Ithorian it would be easy to tell that he was doubting the words he was saying but to a Human his booming voice was so alien he doubted the man could tell. Plus his frantic nodding seemed to show he had the message. By the time he regained his fellow Jedi they had each dispatched three more men. Those still standing had been disarmed and were lying spread eagled om the floor.
''Your padawan aquitied himself with honour and skill Master Arno-Ki. You should be proud, both of him, and your skills as a trainer,'' he overheard the elder Jedi saying as he approached. His master placed his hand on his padawan's shoulder and nodded.
This happy moment was ruined however when he looked behind to see the man he had spared reaching for a small pistol in the belt of one of the two men he had knocked out. He was aiming for his master and was about to shoot. Without a work Plito pushed his master to the floor, both out of a hope to protect him and an understanding that it was his own fault that the man was able to attack his master.
The bolt had been fired and he was sure he was about to be hit. Whether he would die or not largely depended on the placing of the shot. But he accepted there was a chance he would die then and there. But at least he had saved his master from his mistake. However the pain didn't come and the bolt was stopped in mid-air by the Human Jedi. With a flick of his wrist he sent the bolt flying back towards the man.
''What happened?!?'' Demanded his master.
''It seems your padawan hardly deserves the praise I gave him...''
For what seemed like hours the elder Jedi explained in varying and colourful ways how stupid Plito was, even going far to say one of his ancestors must of bread with a Hutt, hs master stepped into defend him however and the ride back was in total silence.
Latter that night master and student discussed the day's events. He reprimanded him but also warned him not to become blood thirsty, too eager to kill or to harm. He was devastated that he had placed his master in such danger.
Soon after they left Naboo. They didn't go straight back to the temple to Illum. Once they landed it took only a short amount of time, though through a lot of snow, until they reached the cave. There were a huge number of crystals, mainly blue and green, and he settled into meditation. It was incredibly easy surrounded by so much force energy and he found himself in a state of great calm and happiness. It didn't take long until he found the crystal that was to be his. A smalller than average, dark emerald crystal. Like his master's it was green, nothing like the blue spare he carried, but a much darker blade compared to his very pale green.
Once they reached the temple Plito was given the materials to make his own saber. He had done little research into the subject so the first thing he did was go to the Jedi Archive and begin to read. He did this for days before he even began with the construction. And every evening, and often through the day, he would meditate with the green crystal.
He found it beautiful. So deep and dark coloured, he far preferred it to the light green of his master's weapon. The day he was about to begin with the construction he was called, by his master, and asked to come immediately.
Leaving behind the crystal and the pieces of metal he rushed to his master's quarters. There he was told that they were going to Naboo once more. At first Plito was happy, he would have another chance to see the beautiful world and catch up with his friends on the planet, but then he was told there was an out break of a deadly virus in a localised part of the world.
Luckily it was in a sparsely populated area and, if they acted quickly, they would be able to stop the spread to any major population. They left soon after. Plito wanted to contact his friends, warn them, but he knew they would warm their family. And they would warn people they cared about. And sooner rather than latter there was a full scale panic.
The ship landed in the centre of a gigantic plain that stretched for hundreds of miles. Neither master or padawan had been there before so they consulted their maps and headed north. After half an hour of walking they both noticed a lack of any animals. No singing birds, no scurrying rodents and no great livestock. It worried them both and Plito sensed something was wrong.
Simultaneously they drew their weapons and advanced slowly. Eventually they came across a small farm and they found nothing but death. Every animal in the farm was lying dead, the stench was terrible, they went further in and saw two elderly humans, man and wife, lying on the floor of their home.
Sadness welled up inside Pltio as he reached down to close the eyes of the two Humans. Plito knew there was a chance he could catch the disease but he didn't care. He picked up the elderly man and placed him carefully on his bed, then he repeated the motion with his wife. After consultation the two Jedi decided to burn the farm. It would stop the spread of disease and would give the two Humans some form of rest; certainly better than letting them rot in the open.
10 miles north of the farm they came across a young man. He was lying on the grass, his skin as pale as the clouds above and begging for help. The Ithorian was carrying a flask of water and gave it to the man as he held up his weak head to help him drink. Then, at the same time, his master went about analysing the man. It didn't take him long, in fact the virus was simple, though quick spreading and deadly, and he knew that he would be able to help the bio-scientists create a cure.
Plito was relieved when he heard the news but the dying man was their current priority. Plito asked if his master was about to heal him. But he shook his head, and told Plito everything he knew about the virus, and told him to try.
He nodded and told the man to relax. Plito sat behind the man, in such a way that he could rest his head upon the Ithorian's legs, he placed his green hands over the man's head and began to search the man's body.
He could sense the different cells. He sensed the virus but didn't attack it. instead he went to the man's anti-bodies and gave them the information needed to fight of the attack. Eventually the man would get better.
Helping the man to his feet they were told there was a small town a few miles north. The two Jedi helped the man and when they got to the town they asked if anyone was ill. Then they helped those that were. It took Plito considerably longer and he only helped one or two while his master, who always took the more seriously ill, healed over a dozen.
After they had helped the town they communicated the same hospital they had been stationed at. Then Maser Arno-Ki told them what they needed to do to create a vaccine.
The two Jedi headed back to their ship when they sensed an even more dangerous threat. Two Dark Jedi. They headed towards the men. They both knew the Dark side twisted an individual. And that these men needed to be taken into custody. The two Jedi would try and arrest the men without a fight, but the chance of that working were slim to none.
''Stay calm, ready yourself,'' Master Arno-Ki said. The Cerean then took the lead as they advanced towards the Dark Jedi. The taller, and he assumed elder Dark Jedi, was a Kel Dor. The younger one was a Human, and at least 5 inches taller than Plito.
They demanded the Dark force users surrender, but they didn't even get a response. Instead they were attacked. The two men moved faster than any natural being, Plito deduced they both were Ataru users. The Human that attacked Plito was easily better skilled than he was and it was immediately clear that he was out matched. His best hope was defence. He was able to repulse the attack's at first but soon he would be overwhelmed.
Then all hope was lost.
Then, less than five minutes into the battle, he both saw and felt his master being impaled in the stomach. Plito lost all self control. Anger, rage and all the emotions that were forbidden by the order boiled inside of him. He felt a power that he had never had before and with it he blew the two attackers off their feet and several meters backwards. He ran to his master and dragged him to their ship. He could hear him talking, but not understanding most of it, and ran to controls. He was not a great flyer but he managed to get the ship into the air, on course and send an SOS.
As they headed to Courscant he went to speak with his master. But it was too late, he was gone, to the Nethreworld of the Force.
He had lost more than a master, he was a friend and mentor.
Plito was sad, but didn't cry, for he was more angry than upset. Once he reached the Temple five masters greeted him; two of them council members. He walked down the ramp of the ship and told them what had happened. Then he walked, absentmindedly, into the temple.
Plito went to the gardens. Where he sat under an especially large tree and thought about his master. The times they had worked together and what they had missed. But he didn't meditate, he was not in the right state of mind to meditate.
The next day Jangol came to visit him. But Plito said little. But having his friend with him was helpful and they sat, drinking tea. It didn't cross his mind that he needed a new Master. But if he wants to become a Knight he needs to find someone willing to take on his training.
RP Sample:
''Where exactly are we heading Master,'' asked the young Ithroain padawan, he spoke in Galactic basic but his voice was slower than most, it was also deep and booming as it echoed around the docking bay of the Jedi Temple. It was early in the morning and the room was all but empty, except the many ships that served to transport the Jedi Knights to all corners of the Galaxy daily in their quest for justice, peace and harmony. However there were two Jedi standing hurrying through the entrance, both dressed in robes of light brown, as they headed towards a small ship.
The Ithorian padawan was towered over by his 6'3'' Cathar master. But the two moved in unison, a pattern mastered over years of working side by side in dangerous, even deadly, situations. They trusted each other completely. ''Not far, just to the other side of the City, a hospital needs our assistance.''
As the two Jedi boarded the ship they did the same thing they had done for years. Master Arno took the helm and Plito took a seat on the cold met floor. As he crossed his legs over one another, and as the cold floor sent a single through his spine, Plito began to meditate. It was not long before a warm feeling filled him and he was able to focus on the task at hand. Well the task he thought was at hand. He knew that his master was one of the most talented healers in the Order, and he was a decent enough healer for a padawan, so it made sense that they were rushing over to help with some sort of emergency.
The roar of the engines made him loose focus for a few moments and then his master's voice interrupted him. ''It'll take us only a few minutes to get to the hospital, please prepare yourself.'' Said his master. His voice was deep. Not as deep as his own but certainly more commanding and confidence. It was a voice that oozed strength and knowledge.
''Master, what exactly should I be preparing for?'' Asked Plito. He was still meditating, though not very deeply due to the conversation, and his eyes were tightly shut.
''We received an urgent message from the hospital asking for immediate assistance. They weren't very detailed but it seems like there was a large number of viechles involved in a crash just outside the hospital.''
Plito was worried. The Doctors on the planet were among the best in the Galaxy, if not the best, yet they had felt it prudent to ask for the help of the Jedi. It didn't bode well. Already sure he knew the answer, though hoping he was wrong, he asked solemnly.
''Did anyone die?''
''Yes, I'm not sure how many, but yes their were fatalities,'' the Cathar sighed, ''but don't let that worry you. Clear your mind, for we are almost there, focus not on the dead, for you can do nothing for them, but on the living that you can save.''
''Yes master,'' Plito replied. This was not a new complaint. Whenever death was involved Plito's emotions flowed to the surface. Life was so precious, yet so fragile. The more experienced Jedi had counseled him to control his feelings in such situations. But Plito found it nigh impossible to achieve.
He pushed himself up and walked over, standing behind his master's chair. A few moments latter the hospital came into view and Plito's eye's bulged as he took in the view.
Outside of the hospital was at least 20 veichles that had been zooming through the skies of the City not so long ago. Few were recongisable, most had been crushed by weight of the other cars, the force of the impact had twisted and contorted their shapes. Even from so far away there seemed to be a large amount of blood and two of the veichles were on fire, though they were being tackled with torrents of water.
As his master landed the ship Plito jumped out of it as quick as a Jedi launching himself into a battle. After all that was what it was. But not a battle to kill, a battle to save.
His master followed behind him quickly. The carnage was horrible, cires of pain came from every direction, nurses and doctors running. The Cathar sped off in the other direction. They had been in similar situations before, not that it dulled the situation in the Ithorian's two large eyes, and they knew their abilities and their roles.
His master began to co-ordinate with the head doctor. Then he went about healing the men and woman who were dying. His abilities were exceptional. Holes, caused by steel shrapnel, that were the size of hiis palm healed before onlookers eye's. Muscle, tendons, bone and skin were built anew and the man was saved.
Plito admired his master's skills, though he doubted he would ever be as good. However he knew his own abilities palled in comparison. Unlike his Master he usually had to be in meditation to heal all but the smallest of injuries. So he sat once more, crossing his legs and closing his eyes.
Focus, focus, focus, focus to help them. Have to help them. He thought.
To an onlooker it would be a strange picture. In the haze of activity surrounding the scene there was a single green Ithorian, obviously a Jedi, as peaceful as could be (well that is how he appeared). The force filled him and he began to expand his view. He reached out witht he force, invisible tendrils, until he reached an injured man.
Plito could feel his pain and could tell something had harmed his thigh. Not usually a vital place but the blood loss would kill him in a few minutes if no action was taken. Plito was pretty sure all he needed to do was close the wound and the rest would take care of itself. So, in his mind, he imagined the man's leg, bloodied and bruised, healing.
Slowly the man's skin began to itch. The young human was in so much pain he didn't notice and as the healing began he passed out due to blood loss. Then the skin began to grow and soon it covered the wound. Plito was pleased, he would survive.
But there was so much more to do. He extended his mind once more and found a young woman. He was about to start healing her when he heard his master shout:
''PLITO, OVER HERE, NOW!"
Without a second thought Plito stood and ran in the direction of the voice. Whenever he passed someone in pain he felt an insatiable urge to tend to them, but he knew he had to obey, he knew he had to do as he was told. As he arrived he asked his master what he needed.
Plito noticed that his master had healed almost a dozen men in the time he had healed one. It made him feel inadequate, almost useless. But that was close to jealously and he buried the feeling deep down and focused on the task.
''I want you to observe, not with your eyes but with the force, this not an easy thing to do.''
Plito was confused, then he saw what he meant, a child, no more than six, was lying unconscious on the floor; and sticking out of her skull was a large piece of metal. The site horrified Plito, his mouths fell open, and he felt ill. However he knew there was little he could do here and there were others he could be helping, but he didn't question his master.
He extended his mind so he was observing the girl. It was more than just looking at her, something far deeper, and as his master began to use the force to heal her he sensed every motion. The doctors could do nothing for her. Even if they could remove the piece of metal, which seemed unlikely, they would have little chance of repairing the girl's most precious organ. And no chance of avoiding catastrophic and permenant brain damage.
The first thing the Cathar did was staunch the bleeding from the inside. Healing the blood vessels around the piece of metal so the blood would flow around it. He knitted them together like a piece of wool and then he slowly extracted the piece of metal. It moved very slowly. The site was grotesque but eventually the piece of metal came out.
The skull was healed next, little more than bone it was pierced back together in moments. And then he went about healing the brain. It was exceptionally complex and the tissues melded back together very slowly. Time seemed to pass very very slowly. It was as if days passed for the Ithorian but eventually the brain, and the little girl, was saved.
Luckily the part of the brain affected had little to do with personality. It was mainly the motor control centre. So the girl would suffer no personality differences. As the two Jedi focused once more on the surrounding area Plito noticed the look of amazement on all who witnessed the event.
After that Plito continued helping those he could, he saved a good number of people, and the two Jedi, asking for nothing in return, left for the temple.
Race: Ithorian
Age: 17
Height: 5'2''
Weight: 107 lbs
Appearance:
Like this but not thinner and wearing Jedi robes
Plito is much smaller than his Ithorian brethren, and the majority of the Jedi Order. At 5'2'' he is certainly no imposing figure. However he is a memorable one, no one would possibly mistake him for human. His skin is a very dark green. His Ithorian head is unique among humanoid species, his neck protrudes, almost straight, with a single hump and a long face on he end of it. His head has two stalks, with blue eyes on the end. Giving him an appearance of a hammerhead shark, a common nickname from his species among the galaxy's citizens. He has no hair on his head. On either side of his thick large neck are two mouths. His speech is understandable but very heavily accented. Although not visible he has four throats and is able to use his voice as a weapon. This is a natural gift of his race but he has never used it before.
His fingers are long and knobbly and he often moves them all, absent mindely, when he is in deep thought. That or tapping the fingers on his right hand on his left in repetitive motions. His fingers, unlike other humanoids, are not thinner at the top but more bulbous and circular.
His feet are straight and end in five toes that protrude out slightly and then straight downwards. He wears Jedi robes at virtually all times. He likes the uniformity that they show, a powerful organisation of brothers and sisters that defend the rights of the galaxy's citizens. Currently he wears the light brown type but one day he would like to where pure white robes. Just inside his robes, hidden from public view as he doesn't want to give the wrong impression, is his lightsaber.
He walks slower than most, though when the time calls for it he can increase his pace dramatically, and his movements also tend to be slower. More deliberate and planned.
Personality:
Plito is, in many ways, a typical Ithorian. He is a very peaceful teenager and can happily spend entire days meditating alone in total silence. In fact he prefers solitude. It allows him to focus his thoughts, his hopes, his dreams, his fears and weaknesses. A deep love of nature seems to be in his DNA and he loves all animals and plants, he is a strict vegetarian, and he despises Courscant. Well despise is harsh, but he cannot understand why anyone would do that to a planet. So if you need to find PLito quickly your best bet is the Jedi Temple Meditation Gardens.
He is very respectful, essentially to everyone he meets, but especially to the Knights and Masters of the Order. His own, late, master was the person he respected most in the Galaxy and he is struggling to come to terms with his death. However he has not told anyone, and he hides his feelings well. It is rare that he will simply tell someone how he feels, and when asked directly he will often bend the truth. One reason for this is he does not want to burden someone with his own problems. And he dislikes coming over as vulnerable. However he has no problem in helping others out with their feelings. Among Padawans his own age he is known as someone you can talk to if you don't want to involve, or bother, the higher ups. He is able to think clearly and logically which allow him to give good advice.
He is intelligent for his age and is fascinated by a range of subjects, science, politics, history and philosophy just to name a few. He is also quite skilled with languages. He is able to speak his native tongue, basic and Bothese fluently. He can understand the most common Wookiee dialect (though is unable to speak it) and has begun to learn Cerean. Studying is something he is dedicated to and something that he will never stop. He has an insatiable thirst for knowledge of all things.
His deep love for all forms of life has naturally given him an abhorrence or violence and death. Being a Jedi there are times when he has to take up the sword, that he has to strike someone down but he hates it. In his mind every act of violence is a scar on his character that he will never remove. No matter how innocent he was in the altercation. Or even, though the act of violence, he saved another's life. There for he will always try and talk his way out of a situation, to the point where even some of his fellow Jedi think he is being foolish, before attacking. This means he often fights with a lack of determination that his elders find disturbing. It is a major flaw, yet also a virtue. It is something he plans to work on, however he also wants to learn more about telekenises as he believes it is the safest way (after conversation) to end a fight.
His love of life has led him down the path of healing. He hopes to become a fully fledged Jedi healer one day and there is nothing greater, in his mind, than seeing a formerly injured person fully fit due to your hard work. He is a very dedicated Padawan who wants nothing more in life than to be a good Jedi and to help others. In fact he lacks a certain ambition that many of his friends share. If he stayed a Knight through his entire life he would be totally fine with that.
Plito has a deep respect for the Rule of Law and he believes all beings should be held accountable for what they have done. But he believes everyone is capable of redemption, that everyone can change. Some see this as naive, and in many ways it is, but he would rather be naive than cynical. His morales, like all Jedi, are strong and stalwart. But he does not always see things black and white. He certainly is not perfect, so why would a Dark Jedi be totally evil?
Plito has many qualities that would make a good Jedi. But he doesn't see it that way. He often doubts his capabilities and compares himself to others far too often. Especially the more martial members of the Order. Although he disagrees with the brashness that some of his fellow padawans have, he admires their ability to turn the tide of a battle and save innocents. He has often wondered if he has what it takes to be a Jedi. He doubts himself almost daily. Recently he is doubting that another Jedi will take him on after the recent death of his former master.
Plito, as stated before, likes quiet solitude. However he has a close knit circle of friends, most but not all of them Jedi, that he relies upon. However he rarely, if ever, tells them how he feels. Plito rarely rushes into things. He is deliberate and would rather be slow and take his time to weigh up all possible out comes before making a decision. Some would call this a smart move, carefulness. But others would call him indecisive.
Often Plito wonders what it would be like to have a family. It seems like a pleasant life but he accepts it is not the one that is to be his.
Birth place: Ithor Herdship
Faction: Jedi
Rank: Padawan
Lightsaber: Single Blade
Color: Green (His late-master's)
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho - 3
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 3
Telepathic: 3
Body: 1
Sense: 2
Protection: 1
Healing: 5
Destruction: 0
Specialized Skills:
Plant Surge (Basic Level)
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 4
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 4
Leadership: /3
Unarmed: 4
Melee Weapons: 2
Ranged Weapons: 2
Bio:
Birth to Six Years Old
Plito Nado was born, 17 years ago, aboard one of the smaller of the many Ithorian herdships that float above the lush forest world of Ithor. Plito's parents were experienced parents, and getting on quite a bit, both were in their late 40s and Pito was their 10th child and third son. From the age of 20 Plito's mother, Carna, and his father, Rono, had added another member to their family almost yearly. However there was a 9 year age gap between Plito and his youngest sibling and over 20 years between Plito and his eldest.
Plito was born at the end of the great meet that the Ithorian's observe every five years. It is a time when the independent herdships come together to celebrate and discuss important matters at the same time. And as the meet finished his parents, and their four youngest children, left the planet. His father was a merchant. His mother could of stayed on the herdship but they couldn't stand to be separated from one another.
Their small merchant ship, Baffor, was therefor where the family spent most of their time. But it was not a place any of them enjoyed. It served a purpose, that was all, and they all missed the lush plants of the Herdship Cloud-Maker and the friends and extended family that lived there.
The Herdship was inhabited only by Ithorians. So Plito's friends were all Ithorian. His closest friend was also his cousin, though Plito can only remember his name and little more. Rornan was Plito's maternal first cousin, and they were so similar in appearance that they could of easily passed for brothers. They played together daily without a single care. While adults would be discussing eco-logical problems, something called the Senate and, his father's favourite topic of discussion, fuel prices, the two boys would simply throw mud at each other or laugh at almost anything.
So the first few years of Plito's life went by without any major incident. He traveled the Galaxy with his family, his mother sang him traditional bed time songs from his home world and generally they were happy. In fact the only memory Plito has of his mother is of her voice. She had a very gentle, by Ithorian standards, voice that could of calmed an ocean. She sang with such beauty and love that, even to this day, thinking about the memory can calm him to the core. However it also brings him great sadness as soon after that memory his family docked in a small space station to deliver a small package.
It was all highly routine, nothing special at all. But as his father dropped of the package, and was about to board their roomy but slow ship, he was stopped by gun toting security and a middle aged Human Jedi. The Jedi, Arngor Herad, was firm but polite at the same time. Ordering the guards to lower their guns but demanding information about the package.
It turned out, to Plito's parent's total surprise that the delivery was not a rare and expensive juice extract from a far away exotic planet but a highly illegal drug that was being sold for countless credits across the Galaxy. Off course Plito's parents had no idea and were acquitted. They gave over all the details and latter the same Jedi arrested a major member of the smuggling ring. However the Jedi sensed Plito's sensitivity to the force.
He asked permission from his parents to take him to the temple and at first they refused. For hours the three of them debated and eventually his parents relented. They saw that their son had a gift, that he could help people, and they would be selfish to stop him doing that just so they could hold onto him. Plus they believed he was in danger if they stayed with him. Who knew who could sense him next, and there was no guarantee they would be as nice as the Jedi.
So that is how Plito's life as a Jedi began. Being carried away by a stranger as he cried for the parents he would never seen again, the parents he would never know. The Galactic Capital was a horrible place. He was only out in the open for a small space of time, from the ship to the Temple, but in that time the sheer amount of noise was deafening. He had just stopped crying but began again immediately.
The life of a baby in the Jedi temple is little different from that as a baby anywhere. But it was not long before his education began. From quite a young age 4/5 he showed small signs of being more intelligent than his peers. He also began to ask questions like crazy. And he was never satisfied with the response, his favourite word was, without a doubt, why?
The more Jedi specific education began under the watchful eye of a minder. The first meaningful bonds were made around this time. He became friends with other members of his clan. He made friends exceptionally easy, but so did all of the initiates. At that time in his life he always wanted to stand out from the crowd and be noticed. He disliked feeling like just another initiate so he always tried his hardest at whatever he did.
He was able to pick the academic side up very easily but the more physical tasks were a struggle. It was not rare for him to come last, or near the bottom, in a physical test in the morning and then easily top the group in a mental task in the evening. Plito disliked the quiet boring meditation practice at first. But after the first few sessions he soon grew to look forward to them. He enjoyed the feeling of peacefulness that he had not experienced since his cot in the star ship he had called home. And the closeness to the force and clarity that came with it. However as soon as the session was over he was jumping up and down like the rest of the clan.
6 - 12
As he got older he began to spend more time in the gardens. The plant life he found there was more interesting than any machine. A few of his clan-mates agreed but most were more interested in the latest technology that they had heard about. Especially fast space ships. It became a favourite place for him to meditate. Often under the exact same spot. An old, ancient, tree with crooked branches and holes in a number of places. He often wondered what stories it would tell if only it could speak to him.
Plito didn't look forward to the first lightsaber lesson like most of the other students. He had lived a sheltered life and had not witnessed any real violence, a few scuffles between the more boisterous clan mates, but nothing major. But he already felt a dislike for it that went beyond the norm. Their teacher had to reprimand him on their third or fourth lesson as Plito was not really paying attention.
It was the first time he had ever been reprimanded and it had quite an effect on him. He decided he would put his all into anything an elder asked him, even if it held no interest to him. He got better, but only slightly, over the next few years. Virtually every member of the clan surpassed him with their training sabers. He felt inadequate next to them. If they could of beat him in a fight in a few moments surely they were better protectors and guardians of the peace than he would ever be?
He became interested in politics around the age of 8. He didn't udnerstand the nuances of the Senate but it fascinated him none the less. Some of the holo reports he was not allowed to watch but most of them he was. Even the simple recordings of stuff considered unimportant and not exciting he watched. And he found it all exceptionally intriguing. He has often thought he would of went into politics, or diplomacy, if he was not force-sensitive. And from a young age he liked the idea of going on diplomatic missions on behalf of the Order.
Plito witnessed a ferocious duel between two Jedi masters in one of their training sessions. The two men had been asked to demonstrate their prowess to the younglins and they obliged. Their skill was incredible, Plito could not follow the two blazing blue blades half the time. It simply seemed like two beautiful lights were dancing with one another.
Although the spectacle was awe-inspiring Plito remembers thinking that, in a real life situation, it could of been easily avoided by a simple discussion. After the demonstration Plito approached one of the masters and asked to speak with him for a moment. He wanted to know if being a strong fighter made you a good Jedi, for if it did he doubted he would ever be classed as one. The master told him that no Jedi are the same, that they each have their own path, and that he should follow the one he felt the force was guiding him to.
That helped the young Plito but he would never quite shift the belief that those Jedi who were skilled with a blade were better than he was. You would certainly rather have them by your side in a fight.
Jangol Setta, a Human youngling, had become Plito's closest friend by the duel. Jangol was even more impressed by the spectacle than Plito. For over a week it was the only thing he wanted to talk about. He would discuss every blow, well every blow they could see, and ask Plito what he thought about it. It got rather boring after the first day for the Ithorian, but he humored his friend.
His life as a youngling was both varied and repetitive. He would wake up and the day would be filled with lessons, it was certainly not the easiest life, but the lessons were so varied that one day rarely felt the same as the last. There was so much to learn and Plito wanted to learn it all. However he know accepts there will always be more to learn, even if he lived for a thousand years.
12 - 17
Just a few days after he turned 12 he met Master Arno-Ki for the first time. The 47 year old Cathar was a well respected Jedi healer, one of the best in the order, and he was looking for a new padawan to replace his second student who had recently become a knight. He was impressed by the young Ithorian's abilities but also his modesty, a virtue often lacking in the younger members of the order. The day Plito was told he would become a padawan was the happiest of his life. He had doubted he would ever be chosen, due to his lack of martial prowess, and when he learned that his master was a celebrated healer he couldn't of been any happier.
The same year Jangol Setta was chosen as a padawan. Over the years the two boys had become exceptionally close, in fact they had become so attached their minder had considered separating them. They both knew they would see each other less now that they were progressing through the Order, but they vowed to remain friends.
Their first training lesson was something Plito was looking forward to, yet he was also apprehensive. He had been taught by many Jedi over the years but rarely one-on-one and never with his own master, as that master's padawan. The master-padawan bond was a life long one and he didn't want to do anything to harm it. He wanted to give a good impression, he wanted to come across polite and respectful.
HIs new master was easily able to put him at ease and their first lesson, covering basics that he already knew, went well. At the end of the lesson his master told him about himself. Unsurprisingly he was born on Cathar and was tested at birth and it was found he had a high midichlorian count. The Jedi were contacted and he was taken into the order. His master was a Human from Naboo called Varsus Mensa. Mensa spent most of his time searching for force sensitive children across the Galaxy, a task he took to after he was given the rank master. He had already trained two apprentices one had her own padawan now and both went on to specialise as healers.
He talked with a great sense of pride whenever he mentioned his former padawans. It made him feel self conscious. It was natural for him to compare his new padawan to those that went before him but did he find his new student didn't have the same level of potential? Off course he never asked the question, but it was a few years before it left his mind completely.
Training with his new master was daily but he never missed out on a meditation session. It would take place either in his personal quarters or the Jedi Temple's gardens. When he was 13 he once spent over 10 hours in meditation, without moving so much as an eye-lid. He felt so connected to the force, so aware and so peaceful at the same time. But it was not just sensing the force, it was not even feeling the force permeate his very being but it felt as if he had left his body and had melded with the force. When he eventually left the garden he felt cold and empty, as if a fire had been put out inside of him.
Plito was eager to learn more about healing but his master felt it prudent that he learn other skills first. Sense, telepathy and telekineses were the main things he learned in the first year or so. Although his master fully intended to train him in the use of the healing arts he felt it prudent that his new apprentice should be able to get his way out of a sticky situation. He enjoyed telekineses greatly. They had covered it in his youngling training but not to the same degree. And he enjoyed the deepening understanding that he was gaining on a daily business. He was equally skilled at telepathy. However he was always more cautious with the ability. He had no intention of intruding on someone's mind. It was their most secret and personal part of their being and he had no intention of violating it. He would do so if necessary but he would be as quick as he could be.
Healing steadily became the main focus of their lessons and it was here that Plito trully shinned. He had done huge amounts of reading on the subject and he could name virtually every part of the human body, some in a variety of languages, and how they worked.This saved valuable time and they could get onto the more advanced stuff. Much of the things he was taught he had read about, in other words he already understood much of the theory, but using it in practice was far far harder.
But he persisted. When he was having trouble he meditated, his master was more than willing to ''put their lesson on pause,'' for hours if needed. Often he would join in with his padawan, they both appreciated the calming effects it could have.
Around his 14th year he also began to get more and more interested in politics. He had enjoyed it when he was younger but now it became an obsession.
His friendship with Jangol deepened and they made friends with three female students. Together the five of them former a small group that, over the years became inseparable. However there was soon a problem for Plito. One of the girls, Momju, was a fellow Ithorian. They had not known each other when they were younger and what started as a deep friendship, based on a mutual longing to know more and to identify with their Ithorian heritage, became something more. Soon both of them felt romantic feelings for each other.
It scared Plito. He knew such feelings were totally natural, an evolutionary biological imperative, but they both knew it was forbidden. Could they hide their feelings from everyone? Even their friends? It seemed unlikely in a temple full of thousands of beings capable of sensing emotions.
Despite both of their beliefs they decided to go on a date. The date was to be in a place special to both of them, the Garden. It was a lovely night and they both enjoyed it immensely. But neither of them felt it was right. So at the end of the night they decided it was not the right thing to do.
They decided they couldn't be friends either, at least for the time being. They explained their situation to their friends and they supported them. Jangol and Plito would stay away from the girls and the girls would stay away from them.
Plito's skill grew rapidly in telekineses, sense, telepathy and especially healing. But his abilities with a lightsaber were still lacking. So for months he was drilled for hours and hours straight. It was exhausting but it did build up his strength and stamina. He was thankful for the growth in his stamina as it allowed him to use the force for longer periods of time before tiring.
His friend Jangol was the total opposite. His skill with a blade grew very quickly but his skill with the force grew slower that he would of liked. The two friends decided to help one another. Jangol showed him what he knew about dueling and Plito shared his expertise. Both improved. But not enough to satisfy either of them.
He made progress, do the same thing for ten horus a day and you'll get better at anything, but his progression was much slower than in the lessons dedicated to the force or to academic subjects. He was much better on the defensive, he has flirted with the idea of learning Soresu. He thinks his calm demeanour and defensive manner when fighting would suit it greatly. But it is much much harder than Shii-Cho and he has troubles with that.
The first few missions he went on with his master were simple and went without incident. Most consisted of helping hospitals on other planets or going to major incidents to assist. Not long after he returned back from his first mission a young Senator from Corellia arrived in the temple. He was given a tour and Plito wanted to bombard him with a variety of questions. But he didn't want to impose himself, he didn't want to be rude, so he contained himself.
However it gave him a sense of pride. He was finally doing something productive for the Order that had been his entire life. For over a year his master was stationed at a huge hospital on Naboo. So it was there that his training continued. He was happy about this for a few reasons. It gave him practical experience in healing, allowed him to meet a new culture, experience a world almost as beautiful, though nowhere near as pristine, as his own and he was able to get away from Mumju. It sounds terrible but it was true. They had passed each other many many times in corridors and the garden of the temple so it gave him time to focus on his training without the possibility of seeing her.
He learned a huge amount in the hospital and he healed many many people. He loved helping and he enjoyed almost every minute. However he was around death on a daily basis. And it sickened him. He tried to comfort those he knew were dying. Those who were beyond even his master's exceptional abilities and in many cases his presence, well it was more about the Jedi robes, alone was able to do that.
On Naboo he found a sort of foster home. He eagerly learned the names of as much of the flora and fauna as he could and he took to meditating under a certain tree daily. One day he was sitting, it was pouring with rain, though he enjoyed sitting in the rain, and he had been meditating for hours. He began to think about the bunch of wildflowers, dull closed petals that had not yet opened, and wondering if the rain would speed up the time it took for them to blossom. Then, all of a sudden, he felt tired.
Loosing his concentration due to the rapid lose of energy he opened his eyes, while placing a hand on his forehead as he now felt completely light headed, and he saw half a dozen of the flowers had blossomed into the most beautiful flowers he could imagine. Such vibrant colours, every shade imaginable, had erupted out of no where.
He was proud of what he had done, even if it was a complete fluke, and he began to spend more time reading about botany. He practices the skill when he can, and it is rare that he gets no results at all, but he has to be in deep concentration for it to work. He is far from using it in battle as his more skillfull counter parts are able to.
It was also on Naboo that he and his master fought together for the first time. Reports of a group of anti-government, anti-republic, pro-human and pro-imperialism bandits had been growing. They were causing lots of trouble, they had even killed two government members, and the three Jedi on the planet (Plito, his master and the native Naboo watchman) all went together to arrest them.
Plito found it ironic that the personification of everything they hated was about to stop them. Jedi, the defenders of peace and the most visible sign of the Republic's power, and with two non-human members to boot. However he was not looking forward to the fight. His blood didn't boil for the confrontation. The three of them advanced on the heavily armed camp. They decided to announce themselves, only Plito thought it would be successful, but instead they were fired upon. The two masters blocked the bolts, in some cases sending them back and killing the person who shot them, but Plito decided evasion was his best bet.
He was slower than most, but he was still a Jedi. He had still been trained for decades in physical activities and he was quick, nimble and athletic when he needed to be. Off course he was no expert at using the force to influence his body, but these abilities allowed him to take cover without being hit. The camp was deep within a forest and Plito saw a large pile of rocks. He lifted one of the boulders and launched it at one of the shooters. It hit him square in the head, knocking him from their metal platform and onto the ground below. He remembers hoping that he was not dead, and hoping he would be permited to tend to his injuries after the fighting was done with. He repeated the attack once more, this time missing the man's head but hitting him in the chest. The stone was smaller, it had no chance of killing, but he was sure it broke a few ribs, maybe punctured a lung.
Plito lifted another rock, about to do it again, but noticed that there were no more attackers, or they had retreated into the compound, and the two masters were cutting their way through the steel with their sabers. He would of joined them in their efforts but an extra saber would only complicate things. But he did ignite his blue blade, it had been borrowed from his master as he had yet to make his own. Then they cautiously advanced. He was on the left, his master in the centre and the watchmen on the right. He was by far the shortest of the group but he was the first to spot the gun man on the left. He was not too far away, he could of killed the man if he had sprinted and impaled him, but he wanted to give him a chance.
''We are Jedi, please put down your weapons, surrender and I swear no harm will come to you our your friends.'' Perhaps it would of worked on most bandits, maybe if there were only human Jedi among their ranks. But Plito was the personification of everything the man hated. He could tell the man was about to attack, more from the vicious, animal like expression on his face, an expression that screemed:
Die, Jedi Scum!
The Human Jedi obviously saw the same things, or had sensed the man's intentions, as he used a move Plito had never seen before, he threw his lightsaber, it spun through the air like lightning and decapitated the man. Plito almost let out a gasp of air, but he kept himself under control, but it was a terrible site. To see a man's limp lifeless body fall to it's kness then on the dusty ground, his head rolling beside it, is something he would never forget. The violence he had used against the two men before hand had made him feel ill. But that was something else. Of course he didn't judge the master. He would of done the same if he could and thought it was necessary, but it didn't make it any easier. Three more men attacked and each of the Jedi attacked one of them.
Plito sprinted towards the one nearest him, he was only a few years older than he was, and there was no fight. Plito reached him before he had time to react and sliced his hand off. The man's scream was agonising, it pierced Plito's very soul, Plito went to do the same with the other hand. It was the only way he could think of that would take him out of the battle without killing him but making sure he could harm neither himself or his fellow Jedi. But the man pleaded and begged and Plito couldn't do it. Instead of bringing his weapon down across the man's hand he destroyed his firearm instead.
''Don't get involved,'' he tried to force as much authority into his voice as possible. To an Ithorian it would be easy to tell that he was doubting the words he was saying but to a Human his booming voice was so alien he doubted the man could tell. Plus his frantic nodding seemed to show he had the message. By the time he regained his fellow Jedi they had each dispatched three more men. Those still standing had been disarmed and were lying spread eagled om the floor.
''Your padawan aquitied himself with honour and skill Master Arno-Ki. You should be proud, both of him, and your skills as a trainer,'' he overheard the elder Jedi saying as he approached. His master placed his hand on his padawan's shoulder and nodded.
This happy moment was ruined however when he looked behind to see the man he had spared reaching for a small pistol in the belt of one of the two men he had knocked out. He was aiming for his master and was about to shoot. Without a work Plito pushed his master to the floor, both out of a hope to protect him and an understanding that it was his own fault that the man was able to attack his master.
The bolt had been fired and he was sure he was about to be hit. Whether he would die or not largely depended on the placing of the shot. But he accepted there was a chance he would die then and there. But at least he had saved his master from his mistake. However the pain didn't come and the bolt was stopped in mid-air by the Human Jedi. With a flick of his wrist he sent the bolt flying back towards the man.
''What happened?!?'' Demanded his master.
''It seems your padawan hardly deserves the praise I gave him...''
For what seemed like hours the elder Jedi explained in varying and colourful ways how stupid Plito was, even going far to say one of his ancestors must of bread with a Hutt, hs master stepped into defend him however and the ride back was in total silence.
Latter that night master and student discussed the day's events. He reprimanded him but also warned him not to become blood thirsty, too eager to kill or to harm. He was devastated that he had placed his master in such danger.
Soon after they left Naboo. They didn't go straight back to the temple to Illum. Once they landed it took only a short amount of time, though through a lot of snow, until they reached the cave. There were a huge number of crystals, mainly blue and green, and he settled into meditation. It was incredibly easy surrounded by so much force energy and he found himself in a state of great calm and happiness. It didn't take long until he found the crystal that was to be his. A smalller than average, dark emerald crystal. Like his master's it was green, nothing like the blue spare he carried, but a much darker blade compared to his very pale green.
Once they reached the temple Plito was given the materials to make his own saber. He had done little research into the subject so the first thing he did was go to the Jedi Archive and begin to read. He did this for days before he even began with the construction. And every evening, and often through the day, he would meditate with the green crystal.
He found it beautiful. So deep and dark coloured, he far preferred it to the light green of his master's weapon. The day he was about to begin with the construction he was called, by his master, and asked to come immediately.
Leaving behind the crystal and the pieces of metal he rushed to his master's quarters. There he was told that they were going to Naboo once more. At first Plito was happy, he would have another chance to see the beautiful world and catch up with his friends on the planet, but then he was told there was an out break of a deadly virus in a localised part of the world.
Luckily it was in a sparsely populated area and, if they acted quickly, they would be able to stop the spread to any major population. They left soon after. Plito wanted to contact his friends, warn them, but he knew they would warm their family. And they would warn people they cared about. And sooner rather than latter there was a full scale panic.
The ship landed in the centre of a gigantic plain that stretched for hundreds of miles. Neither master or padawan had been there before so they consulted their maps and headed north. After half an hour of walking they both noticed a lack of any animals. No singing birds, no scurrying rodents and no great livestock. It worried them both and Plito sensed something was wrong.
Simultaneously they drew their weapons and advanced slowly. Eventually they came across a small farm and they found nothing but death. Every animal in the farm was lying dead, the stench was terrible, they went further in and saw two elderly humans, man and wife, lying on the floor of their home.
Sadness welled up inside Pltio as he reached down to close the eyes of the two Humans. Plito knew there was a chance he could catch the disease but he didn't care. He picked up the elderly man and placed him carefully on his bed, then he repeated the motion with his wife. After consultation the two Jedi decided to burn the farm. It would stop the spread of disease and would give the two Humans some form of rest; certainly better than letting them rot in the open.
10 miles north of the farm they came across a young man. He was lying on the grass, his skin as pale as the clouds above and begging for help. The Ithorian was carrying a flask of water and gave it to the man as he held up his weak head to help him drink. Then, at the same time, his master went about analysing the man. It didn't take him long, in fact the virus was simple, though quick spreading and deadly, and he knew that he would be able to help the bio-scientists create a cure.
Plito was relieved when he heard the news but the dying man was their current priority. Plito asked if his master was about to heal him. But he shook his head, and told Plito everything he knew about the virus, and told him to try.
He nodded and told the man to relax. Plito sat behind the man, in such a way that he could rest his head upon the Ithorian's legs, he placed his green hands over the man's head and began to search the man's body.
He could sense the different cells. He sensed the virus but didn't attack it. instead he went to the man's anti-bodies and gave them the information needed to fight of the attack. Eventually the man would get better.
Helping the man to his feet they were told there was a small town a few miles north. The two Jedi helped the man and when they got to the town they asked if anyone was ill. Then they helped those that were. It took Plito considerably longer and he only helped one or two while his master, who always took the more seriously ill, healed over a dozen.
After they had helped the town they communicated the same hospital they had been stationed at. Then Maser Arno-Ki told them what they needed to do to create a vaccine.
The two Jedi headed back to their ship when they sensed an even more dangerous threat. Two Dark Jedi. They headed towards the men. They both knew the Dark side twisted an individual. And that these men needed to be taken into custody. The two Jedi would try and arrest the men without a fight, but the chance of that working were slim to none.
''Stay calm, ready yourself,'' Master Arno-Ki said. The Cerean then took the lead as they advanced towards the Dark Jedi. The taller, and he assumed elder Dark Jedi, was a Kel Dor. The younger one was a Human, and at least 5 inches taller than Plito.
They demanded the Dark force users surrender, but they didn't even get a response. Instead they were attacked. The two men moved faster than any natural being, Plito deduced they both were Ataru users. The Human that attacked Plito was easily better skilled than he was and it was immediately clear that he was out matched. His best hope was defence. He was able to repulse the attack's at first but soon he would be overwhelmed.
Then all hope was lost.
Then, less than five minutes into the battle, he both saw and felt his master being impaled in the stomach. Plito lost all self control. Anger, rage and all the emotions that were forbidden by the order boiled inside of him. He felt a power that he had never had before and with it he blew the two attackers off their feet and several meters backwards. He ran to his master and dragged him to their ship. He could hear him talking, but not understanding most of it, and ran to controls. He was not a great flyer but he managed to get the ship into the air, on course and send an SOS.
As they headed to Courscant he went to speak with his master. But it was too late, he was gone, to the Nethreworld of the Force.
He had lost more than a master, he was a friend and mentor.
Plito was sad, but didn't cry, for he was more angry than upset. Once he reached the Temple five masters greeted him; two of them council members. He walked down the ramp of the ship and told them what had happened. Then he walked, absentmindedly, into the temple.
Plito went to the gardens. Where he sat under an especially large tree and thought about his master. The times they had worked together and what they had missed. But he didn't meditate, he was not in the right state of mind to meditate.
The next day Jangol came to visit him. But Plito said little. But having his friend with him was helpful and they sat, drinking tea. It didn't cross his mind that he needed a new Master. But if he wants to become a Knight he needs to find someone willing to take on his training.
RP Sample:
''Where exactly are we heading Master,'' asked the young Ithroain padawan, he spoke in Galactic basic but his voice was slower than most, it was also deep and booming as it echoed around the docking bay of the Jedi Temple. It was early in the morning and the room was all but empty, except the many ships that served to transport the Jedi Knights to all corners of the Galaxy daily in their quest for justice, peace and harmony. However there were two Jedi standing hurrying through the entrance, both dressed in robes of light brown, as they headed towards a small ship.
The Ithorian padawan was towered over by his 6'3'' Cathar master. But the two moved in unison, a pattern mastered over years of working side by side in dangerous, even deadly, situations. They trusted each other completely. ''Not far, just to the other side of the City, a hospital needs our assistance.''
As the two Jedi boarded the ship they did the same thing they had done for years. Master Arno took the helm and Plito took a seat on the cold met floor. As he crossed his legs over one another, and as the cold floor sent a single through his spine, Plito began to meditate. It was not long before a warm feeling filled him and he was able to focus on the task at hand. Well the task he thought was at hand. He knew that his master was one of the most talented healers in the Order, and he was a decent enough healer for a padawan, so it made sense that they were rushing over to help with some sort of emergency.
The roar of the engines made him loose focus for a few moments and then his master's voice interrupted him. ''It'll take us only a few minutes to get to the hospital, please prepare yourself.'' Said his master. His voice was deep. Not as deep as his own but certainly more commanding and confidence. It was a voice that oozed strength and knowledge.
''Master, what exactly should I be preparing for?'' Asked Plito. He was still meditating, though not very deeply due to the conversation, and his eyes were tightly shut.
''We received an urgent message from the hospital asking for immediate assistance. They weren't very detailed but it seems like there was a large number of viechles involved in a crash just outside the hospital.''
Plito was worried. The Doctors on the planet were among the best in the Galaxy, if not the best, yet they had felt it prudent to ask for the help of the Jedi. It didn't bode well. Already sure he knew the answer, though hoping he was wrong, he asked solemnly.
''Did anyone die?''
''Yes, I'm not sure how many, but yes their were fatalities,'' the Cathar sighed, ''but don't let that worry you. Clear your mind, for we are almost there, focus not on the dead, for you can do nothing for them, but on the living that you can save.''
''Yes master,'' Plito replied. This was not a new complaint. Whenever death was involved Plito's emotions flowed to the surface. Life was so precious, yet so fragile. The more experienced Jedi had counseled him to control his feelings in such situations. But Plito found it nigh impossible to achieve.
He pushed himself up and walked over, standing behind his master's chair. A few moments latter the hospital came into view and Plito's eye's bulged as he took in the view.
Outside of the hospital was at least 20 veichles that had been zooming through the skies of the City not so long ago. Few were recongisable, most had been crushed by weight of the other cars, the force of the impact had twisted and contorted their shapes. Even from so far away there seemed to be a large amount of blood and two of the veichles were on fire, though they were being tackled with torrents of water.
As his master landed the ship Plito jumped out of it as quick as a Jedi launching himself into a battle. After all that was what it was. But not a battle to kill, a battle to save.
His master followed behind him quickly. The carnage was horrible, cires of pain came from every direction, nurses and doctors running. The Cathar sped off in the other direction. They had been in similar situations before, not that it dulled the situation in the Ithorian's two large eyes, and they knew their abilities and their roles.
His master began to co-ordinate with the head doctor. Then he went about healing the men and woman who were dying. His abilities were exceptional. Holes, caused by steel shrapnel, that were the size of hiis palm healed before onlookers eye's. Muscle, tendons, bone and skin were built anew and the man was saved.
Plito admired his master's skills, though he doubted he would ever be as good. However he knew his own abilities palled in comparison. Unlike his Master he usually had to be in meditation to heal all but the smallest of injuries. So he sat once more, crossing his legs and closing his eyes.
Focus, focus, focus, focus to help them. Have to help them. He thought.
To an onlooker it would be a strange picture. In the haze of activity surrounding the scene there was a single green Ithorian, obviously a Jedi, as peaceful as could be (well that is how he appeared). The force filled him and he began to expand his view. He reached out witht he force, invisible tendrils, until he reached an injured man.
Plito could feel his pain and could tell something had harmed his thigh. Not usually a vital place but the blood loss would kill him in a few minutes if no action was taken. Plito was pretty sure all he needed to do was close the wound and the rest would take care of itself. So, in his mind, he imagined the man's leg, bloodied and bruised, healing.
Slowly the man's skin began to itch. The young human was in so much pain he didn't notice and as the healing began he passed out due to blood loss. Then the skin began to grow and soon it covered the wound. Plito was pleased, he would survive.
But there was so much more to do. He extended his mind once more and found a young woman. He was about to start healing her when he heard his master shout:
''PLITO, OVER HERE, NOW!"
Without a second thought Plito stood and ran in the direction of the voice. Whenever he passed someone in pain he felt an insatiable urge to tend to them, but he knew he had to obey, he knew he had to do as he was told. As he arrived he asked his master what he needed.
Plito noticed that his master had healed almost a dozen men in the time he had healed one. It made him feel inadequate, almost useless. But that was close to jealously and he buried the feeling deep down and focused on the task.
''I want you to observe, not with your eyes but with the force, this not an easy thing to do.''
Plito was confused, then he saw what he meant, a child, no more than six, was lying unconscious on the floor; and sticking out of her skull was a large piece of metal. The site horrified Plito, his mouths fell open, and he felt ill. However he knew there was little he could do here and there were others he could be helping, but he didn't question his master.
He extended his mind so he was observing the girl. It was more than just looking at her, something far deeper, and as his master began to use the force to heal her he sensed every motion. The doctors could do nothing for her. Even if they could remove the piece of metal, which seemed unlikely, they would have little chance of repairing the girl's most precious organ. And no chance of avoiding catastrophic and permenant brain damage.
The first thing the Cathar did was staunch the bleeding from the inside. Healing the blood vessels around the piece of metal so the blood would flow around it. He knitted them together like a piece of wool and then he slowly extracted the piece of metal. It moved very slowly. The site was grotesque but eventually the piece of metal came out.
The skull was healed next, little more than bone it was pierced back together in moments. And then he went about healing the brain. It was exceptionally complex and the tissues melded back together very slowly. Time seemed to pass very very slowly. It was as if days passed for the Ithorian but eventually the brain, and the little girl, was saved.
Luckily the part of the brain affected had little to do with personality. It was mainly the motor control centre. So the girl would suffer no personality differences. As the two Jedi focused once more on the surrounding area Plito noticed the look of amazement on all who witnessed the event.
After that Plito continued helping those he could, he saved a good number of people, and the two Jedi, asking for nothing in return, left for the temple.
