Post by Gallifreyman on Sept 1, 2012 21:59:00 GMT -5
Name: Naarsion (formerly Farsin Jor'ael)
Race: Human
Age: 38
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 181lbs
Appearance:
Naarsion is of rather average height and build, though several inches are added to his height by the boots he wears. His body is solid and well-built from years of rigorous training under Fyrion Sol, and before that, Quothon Pardik. His body is also built up from running with the gangs of Nar Shadda.
His armor is solid grey with a hint of black. His chest armor is bulky and slows him down slightly, but it provides adequate protection against conventional weapons such as a low-grade blaster, though anything that can actually pack a punch would make his armor obsolete. He wears a solid black hooded fiber-weave cape which he has had interwoven into the shoulder pads of his armor. The shoulder pads can be removed from his armor, detaching the cape and allowing freedom of movement. The most remarkable part of his armor, however, is his red mask, which provides simple, yet useful gas ventilators to allow him to breathe in conditions that would be toxic, if not outright deadly, to unmasked humans.
Underneath his armor, his skin is unnaturally pale and sickly, and his naturally blue eyes, while tinged with the customary sickly yellow of one who has given themselves to the dark side of the Force, are filled with a haunted look. He has ashy black hair that hangs down into his eyes. His fit, toned upper body is covered in a distinctive tattoo of a Kryat dragon.
Personality: Naarsion is, to those that are simply observing him, a brute, a chaotic madman with a lightsaber. In many ways, this is true. He is a rash, arrogant figure, far different from the calm, brooding Jedi apprentice who went mad fall those years ago. He has a tendency to not think things through, believing that his power in the Force and his skill with a lightsaber can solve a quandary, no matter what it be. Some speculate that he is still half-mad, and that he never fully recovered from the madness that overtook him after his Trial of Spirit, back when he was a Jedi apprentice.
His arrogance sometimes blinds him even in the bleakest of situations, sometimes turning him from an asset to a weakness in the heat of battle. Naarsion is highly selfish narcissist, believing that anything he wants should rightfully be his. He takes a twisted joy in torturing his opponents, something that many find repulsive.
However, he is still very crafty and intelligent, mainly in part to the hours of time he devoted to learning in the Jedi archives when he was a Jedi apprentice, along with the years spent running with the street gangs in Nar Shadda. His mind is constantly working, finding ways to outwit his enemies and catapult himself to a higher level of power. Many have been deceived by his brutish ways, only to find that in the end, he has tricked them into their deaths.
Birth place: Space Lanes above Coruscant
Faction: Sith Order
Rank:Master
Previous Faction:Jedi, Dark Jedi
Previous Rank: Apprentice, Knight/Master
Lightsaber:Single-blade, single-phase
Color: Pale Red
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho: 5
Makashi: 2
Soresu:5
Ataru: 4
Shien / Djem So:N//A
>>Sub-form Backhanded
Niman:N/A
>>Sub-form Jar-kai, or Dual Wield
Juyo: N/A
Double Bladed Combat:N/A
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices: Chain Lightning
Telekinetic: 4
Telepathic: 3
Body: 5
Sense: 4
Protection: 3
Healing: 1
Destruction: 8
Specialized Skills: Chain Lightning
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 6
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 4 (5 without shoulderpads on armor)
Leadership: 3
Unarmed: 3
Melee Weapons: 5
Ranged Weapons: 1
Bio:
Farsin Jor'ael was born on the trade ship Hailer above Coruscant to the wife of the ship's pilot. He was the first of two, preceding his twin brother by three minutes. Upon the ship's landing on Coruscant, the captain and his wife decided to stay for an undetermined amount of time and settle down to raise their sons until they were old enough to assist their parents with the small trading company. It was also an easy way for Farsin's father, a notorious gambler, to escape his growing debt.
Upon reaching Coruscant, Farsin was tested for latent ability in the Force. He was found to be sensitive, but his father was unnerved at the idea of his son being strong in the Force.
His family scraped together enough money to buy a small apartment on Coruscant. Things were peaceful for a time, as the parents of the two twins attempted to raise them as best as they could. Farsin and his brother Salles were doted over by their mother and gruff father. But no man can escape his vices forever, and less than a year after they settled down on Coruscant, Farsin's father was touring the casinos and bars of Coruscant. The small family's debt grew, becoming greater and greater. But Farsin's father refused to acknowledge this, hiding from his debtors.
When Farsin was two years old, he began to show enhanced abilities. Oftentimes when he and Salles were playing, he would react to his brother's movements a split second before they happened. This, however, was the extent of his latent abilities. The neighboring families and their children, who sometimes played with Farsin, thought he was a strange, unnerving boy, and went out of their way to avoid him.
Shortly after the boy's third birthday. A Jedi Knight, an Ithoran by the name of Pawruud, visited the small apartment, claiming that he had come to take Farsin to become a Jedi, and train in the Force. Farsin's father, however, was outraged, and cast the Jedi out, screaming at the Ithoran to leave, despite his wife's complaints.
Less than a month after that event, Farsin's father was killed at one of his favorite casinos by a mercenary hired by one of his debtors. Their mother, fearing that the debtor would hunt them down, too, and began packing the families supplies so that they could leave Coruscant. Shortly before their departure however, Pawruud returned again, asking to test the boys. Their mother, seeing a chance for a better future for them at the Jedi Temple, allowed him to take Farsin, and begged him to take Salles, too.
Farsin was moderately sensitive to the Force. But his brother, however, was insensitive, or at least far too weak in the Force to ever become a Jedi. However, Pawruud promised the twin's mother that he would ensure that Salles found a good foster home. The Ithoran Jedi took the two boys at the behest of their mother, taking them to the Jedi Temple, where Farsin would begin training in the ways of the Jedi.
The Ithoran Pawruud took Farsin to the Jedi Temple, and left the young boy in a small, windowless room to wait while he went to confer with the Jedi Council. Several hours later, he returned, and took Farsin to a new room, where he would stay until he was old enough to begin training. Farsin soon began to forget that he had been torn away from his family, and began to forget his memories of his brother and his mother. He fell into the general routine of the Jedi Temple.
However, every night after nightfall, Pawruud would visit Farsin in his room, and show him how to begin to come in contact with the Force. The boy was soon trained enough to lapse into a weakened, albeit useful Force meditation whenever he become upset or discouraged. Several years passed, and under Pawruud's tutelage, the boy became skilled in the Force, very strong for one his age. In this way, three years passed.
Shortly before the boy began his youngling training, Pawruud advised Farsin not to tell anyone else, not even the masters who would train him when he started training, about his meditation sessions with Pawruud. Farsin obediently respected the wishes of the Ithoran who had become a father figure to him. A short time later, he began his training. He was placed in a small class of twelve other younglings, where he was quickly branded a social outcast. Even though his personality had been affected by Pawruud's kindness, Farsin was still highly unnerving to those around him, and the other younglings avoided him, and sometimes teased him, though their training master intervened most of the time.
Disaster, however, struck when the young boy was given a training lightsaber and pitted in a training duel against another student, who had been one of his worst tormentors. Letting his anger take control, the seven-year old Farsin attacked the other youngling, smashing his lightsaber down at the other with all of his strength. Unprepared for such a brutal assault, the other collapsed to the ground. Farsin raised his saber to continue his rage-fueled attack, but was restrained by the master, who took him aside and chastised him, attempting to explain to the angry boy that his actions were wrong. He was suspended from lightsaber training for a week.That night, Pawruud took him aside and attempted to explain to Farsin about the Dark side of the force, and the rage and fear and sorrow that lead to it.
The incident came and went, and things slowly returned to normal, though a closer eye was kept on Farsin, and he was confined to practicing his lightsaber skills with a droid. After that, he progressed quickly, learning the basics of the basis of all Lightsaber forms, Shii-cho, at a rapid pace.
Three years passed, during which Farsin finished up his lightsaber training and was left with a basic knowledge of Shii-cho. The nine-year old began to hope for a master, wondering who would select him as a Padawan. One night, he went to his close friend, the Jedi Pawruud, now with an apprentice of his own and well on the way to becoming a Master, to ask if he would again take him under his wing, this time as a Padawan proper.
To his surprise, the Ithoran refused, telling Farsin that he needed to expand, and find another Master, one who was more experienced in the Force. He explained to Farsin that he believed for the youngling to truly find peace, he had to find a new master. He told Farsin that he sensed that his new Master would approach him soon. Farsin left Pawruud, contemplating over these things, upset and bewildered.
To get over his confusion, Farsin decided to go to the library and read about the ancient Jedi of old. The Padawan spent the next several months studying, and his tenth birthday came and went. His jealousy grew as he watched other younglings gain their masters and he was was passed by. But, several months before his 11th birthday, he was approached by a tall male Zabrak dressed in black robes. He told Farsin that he was Jedi Knight Quothon Pardik, and that he was considering taking him on as an apprentice. He informed the young apprentice that he had noticed his relative skill in basic lightsaber training and his strength in the Force. Farsin was stunned, but he was amazed by the incredible opportunity.
The Knight told him that he was going to put him under watch for a one-year trial period, and if he deemed Farsin ready at year's end, he would take him as apprentice.
Farsin, elated by an opportunity to become an apprentice to Quothon, began to train and prepare himself to be worthy of becoming the Zabrak Jedi's Padawan. He begged to be allowed to to train with slightly advanced combat droids, and honed his mastery of Shii-cho, making him one of the more adept younglings, at least where lightsaber training was concerned. Quothon would sometimes attend his training sessions. However, try as he might, the young Jedi couldn't sense the Jedi Master's thoughts.
Farsin spent long hours of time meditating and trying to touch the Force with his young, half-trained abilities. He spent the remainder of his time studying in the Jedi Archives. His twelfth birthday came and went, and he anxiously waited for the year the Zabrak had promised to give him to conclude.
Farsin was woken on the morning of the day he was promised, by none other than Quothon Pardik himself. In a calm, easy voice, he informed Farsin that he had chosen him to become his Padawan. Elated, Farsin sprung into his new apprenticeship with relative ease.
His new master, the Zabrak Jedi knight Quothon Pardik was a skilled jedi. It was well-known that he was a strong force-user, and that he had taken on an apprentice before Farsin. Quothon was usually silent, calm and controlled. Shortly after Farsin began his apprenticeship, Quothon began teaching Farsin the basics of Soresu, and the minor basics of Ataru, the lightsaber forms he specialized in. Quothon's training was rigorous, and the knight would sometimes have his apprentice stay up for hours into the night fighting against a programmed training droid, then allow him to get some rest, only to wake Farsin a few hours later for another round of grueling training.
Eventually, Farsin's young body became better adapted to the grueling training sessions, though not without consequence. During one of their early training sessions sometime before Farsin's 13th birthday, Farsin, exhausted from the hours of grueling combat against a training droid, collapsed from fatigue, weakened. Pouring the Force into his apprentice, Quothon took Farsin to the infirmary, where the young Padawan lay weak for several hours. Upon his regaining consciousness, Quothon was there to greet him. His master apologized for pushing him, and offered to lessen his training sessions with Farsin. To the Zabrak's surprise, Farsin refused, instead asking for his training regimen to be increased.
The padawan explained to his master that he felt weak, unable to control the course of events. He felt that all his life, his decisions had been made for him. He wanted to become stronger so that he could make his own decisions. Quothon, alarmed, yet intrigued, agreed.
Over the next several months, Farsin continued his grueling training regimen, attempting to improve himself day by day. The young Padawan began to develop a substantial personality of his own. He became highly inquisitive, and, as a result of hours of free time spent at the Jedi Archives, highly intelligent. Quothon and his apprentice begam to bond, spending time together. Slowly, Quothon became almost like an older brother to Farsin.
The Zabrak knight, while experienced enough to guide his Padawan through training, was still young enough to know how Farsin felt, and to be sympathetic with him. Farsin's 13th birthday came and went, and he became used to his training regimen. A month after Farsin's birthday, Quothon interrupted Farsin during a training session. He told his Padawan that he was considering allowing Farsin to make a lightsaber in several months, provided he keep up his current pace in training. Farsin was elated, and threw himslef into his training all the more vigorously, in the hopes of earning a lightsaber crystal.
Several months later, upon entering his room, Farsin found a small datapad lying on his bed, along with a wrapped package. Upon opening the package, he found a golden crystal, one which glowed slightly. The datapad read: My first lightsaber crystal: may it serve you well. - Quothon Pardik
Farsin spent months working, using different materials provided to him by his master, to make his lightsaber. He spent countless nights without sleep, and often Quothon would find his apprentice hunched over a worktable, bleary-eyed with exhaustion. The young Jedi grew in the force as he spent countless hours channeling his power into the lightsaber. But, at long last, nine months after he had begun, the apprentice, for the first time, activated the long, gleaming yellow blade of his lightsaber. Quothon approved, and Farsin, with pride, began to wear the ornately shaped hilt on his belt, now a year older than when he had began it, a youth of 14.
Several weeks after Farsin had finished his lightsaber, he befriended another padawan, a red-skinned Twi'lek boy named Shuul Arkin. Shuul's last master had been killed on mission in the Outer rim, and, after a while, the council had decided to assign him to a new master. Shuul struck Farsin as quiet, yet rash. Shuul was several years older than Farsin, about 15 or 16. He seemed haughty, yet over the weeks following Shuul's arrival, they began to form a close bond. Quothon and Turi'oil, Shuul's master, quietly observed the growing friendship between the two padawans.
Shuul was always quick to help the younger padawan when he didn't understand a concept. The Twi'lek often sparred with Farsin, dueling with the younger padawan to increase his skill and power. More than once a day, the two blades, one golden, one green, met in friendly battle inside the Jedi Temple.
Then, half a year after Shuul befriended Farsin, with Farsin now 15, he, his master, and Shuul were given an assignment. Quothon and his apprentice, along with Shuul, who's master had told him to go along, were to escort a cargo ship full of weapons and bombs to a shipping yard to be loaded onto Republic ships that were about to go into commission, through an area known for it's pirates. While Farsin was excited, elated even, to go on his first mission, Shuul regarded the mission as something fit for grunts with blasters, and regarded it with quiet disdain.
For the first leg of the journey, all was well. The ship skimmed the hyperdrive lanes, and Shuul, who had a liking for ships, was awestruck at the blurring lights of hyperspace. He struck up a friendship with the captain of the freighter, and talked with the weathered spacer for hours. But then, when the freighter came out of hyperspace near the shipping yard, it happened. A small wing of beaten, battered ships surrounded the old freighter, and began to board. The small crew of the republic ship grabbed their weapons, rushing to the cargo hold ready to repel the invaders. The Jedi, lightsabers in hand, rushed to the front. Farsin raised his lightsaber, deflecting blaster bolts for the first time. Shuul charged ahead, rashly meeting the pirates head-on.
Farsin swept through the cargo hold of the ship, holding back the pirates, reluctant to kill anyone. Farsin attacked the pirates, driving the invaders back, Shuul and Quothon doing the same on the other side of the cargo hold. A loud yell alerted Farsin to something behind him, and he could only watch as the old spacer captain was killed by the pirates. Outraged, Shuul attempted to attack the pirates alone. A single bolt sent him reeling, knocking him out.
Slowly, the crew around them began to fall, and Farsin's spirits with them. As even more pirates began to stream into the ship, clad in grey armor, Quothon fled with the two padawans to a battered old shuttle in the bay of the freighter, deflecting blaster bolts and the screams of maddened space pirates. Farsin was wounded by a blaster bolt, and the Jedi only survived because Quothon used a final great wave of force energy to blow back the invaders. They scrambled into the shuttle, wounded, Farsin lugging Shuul's wounded body behind him and launched it. Through a black haze, Farsin saw the freighter, and the ships surrounding it, jump into Hyperspace, even as the Republic ships from the shipping yard arrived, too late. Farsin weakly noticed Shuul, laying wounded in the shuttle near him as their master began to steer the shuttle towards the shipyard. Then, the apprentice sunk into unconsciousness.
Farsin woke in the medbay of the shipping yard, in the care of medical droids. The Apprentice was torn as he remembered hi faliure. Casting aside the worried complaints of the medical droids, he sought out his master. In a room near him, he found Shuul and Quothon, both conscious, reporting their failure to the council via holo. Quothon turned to receive Farsin, and together, the three gave a brief debriefing to the Council.
They were ordered to return home, and did so, taking a simple passage upon a cargo ship bound for Corsuscant. Shuul, Farsin noticed, acted as if he, had, in some way, been personally insulted by not being ordered to hunt down the pirates. In the months following the failed mission, Shuul grew more and more distant from Fasin and his own master, and was completely silent and cold. He even stopped sparring with his friend. Days would go by without a word from Shuul. Even on Farsin's 16th birthday, he heard nothing from Shuul. Quothon, too, was growing worried. He believed that Shuul's ego was unable to reconcile with the fact of his failure. That, he told Farsin, might lead to the Dark Side.
Then, almost a year after the failed mission, the Twi'lek Jedi vanished. A single shuttle was reported stolen near the Jedi Temple, and Shuul's lightsaber was gone. The Padawan had run away.
Farsin sunk into a depression at the loss of his friend, believing that he might have, could have, done something to stop him from leaving. The boy considered it a personal failure. But, he felt, he would have a chance to redeem himself. Two months after Shuul vanished, he received a mission. He was being sent to find the runaway Padawan. Quothon would be busy on Coruscant, along with Shuul's own former master, so he would be teaming up with two other Jedi- the Ithoran Pawruud Ro'nar, and his apprentice, Namia Kail.
Farsin was delighted to be paired up with his old friend again, and he liked Namia. A quiet, withdrawn human girl of 16, she loved nature, and could not have been more like her Ithoran master in any way. But under his general feelings of happiness, there was a slight jealousy, jealousy that she was Pawruud's apprentice, and not him.
The three took a ship to Nar Shadda, where Shuul had been reported as having fled to. Several sightings had reported a young Twi'lek brandishing a green lightsaber in some of the slums of the smugglers moon.
Upon arrival, Farsin detested the place. The squalor, the filth, the crime and the depravity...it was sickening to him. The nature-loving, life-nurturing Ithoran Pawruud obviously felt the same. Farsin could observe that his friend was disgusted with the world.
The three began to investigate the shipping docks and yards of Nar Shadda, scouring the Republic's connections there, and after spending a few credits bribing a greedy port official, they found the stolen ship-albeit abandoned in a junkyard, registered to some bar owner in Nar Shadda. The Jedi began to spread out to find the runaway. Pawruud sent the two apprentices to track down the man who had bought the ship.
On their way to the bar, Namia and Farsin talked. Farsin had not had much time to talk personally with his old master since he had become Quothon's apprentice. She told him of the beauty of the world, and how she could connect with the life inside the Force of every living thing.
The two managed to find the bar owner, who told them of a Twi'lek boy who was living in an apartment near the bar. The two split up, Namia going to find Pawruud, and Farsin going after Shuul.
Farsin entered the empty, bleak apartment, which was simply occupied by a single rotting bed and trash scattered on the floor. In the middle of the small room stood Shuul.
Farsin stepped forward, begging his old friend to return to the Jedi. Shuul scowled, and threatened to kill Farsin if he did not leave him be. The Twi'lek turned and leaped through flimsy window of the apartment. Farsin leaped out of the building, landing on a nearby roof, chasing after his wayward friend. Shuul made his way through the slums of Nar Shadda, Farsin on his tail. More than once, the two only avoided a fall to the streets below with the help of the Force.
At last, Shuul came to a dead end, stopping on the roof of a small building. A tall human man in dark clothes stood there with him, waiting for Farsin. Farsin activated his lightsaber and demanded to know the man's identity. The mysterious figure said his name was Fyrion Sol, and that he was a Dark Jedi, and Shuul his apprentice. He had laid a trap for the Jedi, and Farsin had fallen into it.
Farsin was stunned. A practitioner of the Dark Side of the force stood before him. A fallen Jedi. The apprentice was awestruck by the energy he felt radiating from Fyrion. It was evil, malicious, a perversion of the Jedi way he had grown up knowing. It repulesed him-yet at the same time it beckoned him, tempted him with the siren song of power, power unrivaled, power unmatched. The call of the Dark Side. And part of him answered the call.
But as he stood, dumbstruck, Shuul attacked. In a blind haze of confusion, Farsin clumsily brought his lightsaber up to counter the vicious blow. Fyrion watched, calmy evaluating the two apprentices. Slowly, Shuul began to push him back, Farsin simply parrying and defending, awestruck by the Dark Side. Through blows, Shuul yelled at Farsin, telling him of how the Jedi had mistreated him, blamed him for the fiasco at the shipping yards, for his master's death. And slowly, but surely, even as Shuul pushed Farsin closer and closer to the rooftop's edge, The rage within Farsin grew.
The Jedi had given Shuul everything, and in the space of two months, he had betrayed the for this...this...fallen one. Farsin struggled to contain his rage, but it grew, feeding on his malcontent like a virus. And with a scream of rage, Farsin brought his blade up viciously to parry Shuul's, gold clashing against green. Shuul was knocked back by the ferocity of the blow. And, before the Twi'lek had time to recover, Farsin struck again, and again, letting the Dark Side fuel his blows. He screamed at Shuul accusing the Twi'lek of being a traitor, of betraying the Jedi.
Finally, he forced Shuul to the ground, and, controlled by a will that was not his own, he raised his blade to end the Twi'lek. But something restrained him. Fyrion, having calmly decided that the battle had gone too far, held a single hand outstretched, effortlessly holding Farsin in stasis. He told the boy that his power was great, stronger than those of his opponent. But Farsin was too deeply attached to the Jedi. But, a callous grin spreading across his face, said Fyrion, it would not be so for long. He sensed it in the force. The Dark Side was a taint, and Farsin would be consumed by it. He dropped Farsin to the ground, still holding him in stasis, and left.
Even after the Dark Jedi was gone, Farsin lay in state on the rough rooftop of the building, his lightsaber clutched in his hand, hating himself for falling to the Dark Side. But even as he did so, a part of wanted it, the same part that had answered the call. Farsin could feel the Dark side in the back of his mind, like a taint. It scared him, and it beckoned to him, all at once.
He was barely aware, in the dark depths of his consciousness, when Namia and Pawruud arrived, and barely felt the Ithoran's rough hands lifting him up. Only on the fringed of his conciousness did he feel the bed he was lain on, and hear the metallic voice of the nurse droid.
In his mind, he grappled with the Dark Side, the enemy that he could not defeat-for part of him wanted it.
Farsin woke to the cool, soothing touch of Namia's mind on his, the power of her healing abilities in the Force flowing over him, giving his weakened, strained body respite from it's pain. He opened his eyes to find himself lying on a metal bed in the medical bay of the Republic battleship Dominion. In a calm voice, Namia told him that she and Pawruud had taken Farsin and Shuul to their ship, and gotten a ride back to Coruscant aboard the Republic ship Dominion. Shuul was still asleep, and Pawruud was healing him, for his injuries were far more extensive.
Farsin nodded, taking in all this information. In a slow, quavering voice, he told Namia of the Dark Jedi Fyrion Sol, and of how he had forced him and Shuul to fight. He told of how Shuul had succumbed to the Dark Side, keeping his own fall a secret. He suddenly realized that the Force energy that had been healing him was beginning to waver. Namia was weak.
Clambering out of his bed, he strode across the room, in time to catch Namia as her power began to waver and she collapsed. He carried her to a nearby bed, and she nodded a slight thank you to him before lapsing into a healing trance. Farsin stood staring at her for a moment before going to do the same.
A sudden jolt to the ship woke him from his trance. He stood, the smell of fire wafting in the air. Namia was gone, and the smell of smoke hung in the recycled air. He grabbed his lightsaber and rushed out into the ship. He followed the sounds of blasterfire and screaming, down the halls of the pristine Republic ship.
Before long, he came upon a wounded Republic soldier, a man close to death, who managed to stutter a warning to Farsin. A half-incoherent, muttered word. Mandalorians. A chill ran down Farsin's spine. The Mandalorians. The enemies of the Republic. No doubt Namia and Pawruud would have gone to help the Republic troops hold them off. Namia...
Farsin ignited his lightsaber and rushed down the hall. Soon he began to come upon bodies-both those of the republic, and varied colors of the sinister suits of armor that the Mandalorians donned to war. Farsin emerged into the docking bay, where a large group of Mandalorians fought a small group of Republic soldiers. Among the fray, he could make out two lightsabers, one blue and one green, Namia and Pawruud.
He rushed into the fray, fighting the armor-clad warriors alongside his fellow Jedi. More than once during the battle, the Dark Side called to him, tempting him to unleash it at one of his foes. He struggled to restrain himself and fight the Mandalorians. Republic troops streamed in from across the ship, but their forces were limited, many fighting the fires that had broken out from the Mandalorian ships' bombings. The ships were old and battered, along with the Mandalorian's armor. Farsin realized that these had to be Mandalorian pirates, enacting an old grudge against the Republic.
Slowly but surely, the indomitable tide of warrior Mandalorians began to push the Republic forces back. During the battle, Farsin caught a glimpse of a fallen body-a Twi'lek. Shuul. His mind echoed with different emotions. Victory, the Dark Side, crowing it's victory over Shuul, whispering in the back of his mind that the Twi'lek had deserved to die. Sorrow, for his friend, who had fallen first to the Dark Side and then to the Mandalorians, and last but not least, an uncontrollable urge for vengeance. The Dark Side swelled up in him, and, unable to control it, he lashed out.
He began to madly lash out at the Mandalorians, all restraint gone. Without technique, without any sense of control, he began to brutally hack at the foes before him, reveling in the sense of newfound power the Dark Side brought him. In the Force, dimly, he could sense Pawruud's horror at what he was doing, at the way he was unleashing the Dark Side through himself.
His mind screamed frantically for him to stop, and slowly, he began to regain his self-control, forcing the Dark Side into the recesses of his mind.
But a mere apprentice, even one with the rage of the Dark Side flowing through him, could not beat a horde of Mandalorians. The Mandalorian pirates streamed forward, far too many of them to deal with. If the ship had had more forces, or if there were more of the Jedi, the day might have been won. But the ambush, combined with the assault on the unshielded ship, had taken to great a toll on the Republic troops. The Jedi began to fall back.
Namia rushed up to Farsin. Haggard, weak, and wounded, she told Farsin that Pawruud had told them to flee. He would hold off the Mandalorians. Farsin initally refused, but Namia said he had insisted on it. Grief welling up in him for his old friend, Farsin and Namia retreated to an old shuttle. As he slid into the shuttles' controls, powering it up, he sensed a massive burst of force energy, and the sudden disappearance of the life forces of many Mandalorians. Then, the burst of energy faded, and he knew his childhood mentor was gone. The loyal Ithoran was dead.
Farsin guided the shuttle out of the landing bay, the Mandalorians weakened by Pawruud's sacrifice. Dodging potshots by Mandalorian pirate ships, Farsin powered up the hyperdrive and aimed for Coruscant. The stars turned to shimmering blue lines as Farsin left behind all that remained of the best friend he had ever known. He and Namia grieved together, mourning their mentor and friend. They grew closer together in their sorrow, their grief bonding them closer than any friendship ever could.
The shuttle arrived at Corsucant several days later, battered and weakened, landing at the Jedi Academy. Farsin and Namia staggered out of the shuttle to be received by several Jedi. The weakened Jedi told the story of the doomed Dominion. Farsin, who was badly wounded, passed out on the steps of the academy.
He woke several days later, in a hospital, with Quothon watching over him. His master told him that Namia had told the Council what had happened, to the best of her knowledge. Farsin had lain in state for several weeks.
Over the next few months, Farsin began to recover, celebrating his 17th birthday as it came and went, and receiving frequent visits from Namia. He was called before the Council, and though they sensed the taint of the Dark Side within him, it was expected from one who had watched his mentor and friend die, and been involved in such battles as Farsin had. They told Quothon to watch him closer, and instructed Farsin to meditate upon the Force and control his rage.
The Jedi limited Farsin's actions for the next several years, watching his actions to ensure he did not succumb to the Dark Side. The confined him mainly to the temple, and he spent time sparring with Namia, who was now assigned to a new master, and training under Quothon, eventually managing to gain relative mastery of his teacher's styles, Soresu and Ataru. The friendship between him and Namia grew, and by the time they were both 20 years old, they had a burgeoning relationship. Then, when Farsin had become 21, the Jedi decided to send him on a mission.
He, Namia, and Quothon were sent to Corellia to deal with an insurgence of Corellian rebels. Over the next four years, he fought skirmishes against the Corellian rebels, learning to harness the true power of the Force in the heat of combat. When Farsin returned to the Jedi, he was 25, and believed he was ready to take the Trials become a Knight. He presented a wound on his leg that he had received during the years he had spent on Corellia as his Trial of Body, for it had left a deep scar, and though it was mainly healed, it still caused a sight limp in his leg. The Council accepted this.
He asked to be allowed to take the Trail of Spirit next, arrogant in his belief that he would not fail. The Jedi took him to a secluded room, and he closed his eyes and began to meditate deeply.
In his minds eye, he saw himself holding Namia, passionately kissing her. But even as he did so, she began to change. Her body rotted and turned to maggot flesh. The dead apparition spoke in a raspy voice, accusing him of betraying her. Even as he began to protest ever doing such a thing, he found himself on the rooftop in Nar Shadda again. Shuul lay dead at his feet, and Farsin held his lightsaber in his hand, victorious. He saw Fyrion thrusting back his hood, revealing his head to be nothing more than a hideous grinning skeletal Twi'lek head, Shuul. The Fyrion/Shuul began screaming at Farsin, accusing him of being a heretic, screaming in Quothon's voice.
His mind saw endless horrors, repeated over and over again, the Dark Side swelling up in his mind again like it had on the day he met Fyrion. And at last, a man in a black hood and a red mask, laughing, holding a crimson lightsaber, standing in the bay of the Dominion, Pawruud lying dead at his feet, with a ring of fallen Mandalorians in a circle around him. The man turned to Farsin and spoke a single word. NAARSION.
Farsin snapped. The Dark Side overwhelmed his mind, and his eyes shot open, his mouth opening in a long, wordless scream of horror.
Farsin woke in the infirmary of the Jedi Temple, Namia standing over him. The Dark Side clouded his mind like a sickness, rotting into him. He couldn't stop it-he din't truly want to. He screamed incoherently at Namia, still half in the nightmare world of his visions. Namia, using all of her skill in the Force, managed to calm Farsin's addled, maddened mind, sending him into sleep once again.
Farsin spent the next several months in a hazy twilight world, and every time he opened his eyes, he was half as likely to see the half-decomposed, cackling face of Shuul as he was to see Namia hovering worriedly over him. He spent his twenty-sixth birthday hallucinating and recovering during brief periods of lucidity
His mind slowly began to recover, stitching itself back together from the broken husk his visions had left it. The Force slowly began to repair Farsin's mind. Namia would come help him, or Quothon would, and the two managed to help him begin to exert some level of control over his power again. But Farsin could not ignore the Dark Side within him. He barely made a conscious effort to contain it anymore, and his rage, the rage he had at failing his Trial, the rage at the fact that the Dark Side was within him, that it would most likely prevent him from becoming a Knight, that same rage would unleash itself at the most unlikely times.
Farsin knew that, in time, he would be summoned before the Council. A deep shuddering fear ran through him as he wondered what might become of him. Confined to the Temple for the rest of his life-he couldn't bear such a thing. No. There was truly only one choice. He would have to leave the Jedi.
In the dead of night, Farsin left his quarters, sneaking through the Jedi Temple. He intended to steal a ship with hyperdrive capabilities, and leave Coruscant. Halfway through the Temple, however, he was stopped. Namia, having woken and not found him, had followed. She begged Farsin not to leave, but he refused. Sensing he could not be turned from his actions, she begged to be allowed to come with him.
Farsin, the Dark Side whispering in his half-maddened mind, refused, believing that she would betray him if he took her along. He pushed her away with the Force, and fled to the ship. He powered up the ship and left Coruscant. As Farsin floated in the space lanes above Coruscant, he didn't know where to go, where to run where the Jedi could not follow. He wanted power, he wanted to become stronger. He wanted to harness the Dark Side without letting it destroy him, to show the Jedi that in the end, he was the better man. But he had no idea how to do such a thing. But as he sat in the seat of dilapidated old shuttle, something stirred in his mind.
A whisper, a faint memory, of the words of Fyrion Sol, from that rooftop on Nar Shadda, all those years ago, echoed in his mind:
"You are strong in the Force. The Dark Side has already corrupted you, and it will grow...I see it. The Jedi have drilled their philosophy, their way, into your very mind. But watch, boy, and see how easily they cast you aside, like a child's broken toy. In time, you will fall. And you will come to me, and you will see the true might of the Force."
The true might of the Force...
Farsin powered up the hyperdrive on his old shuttle and seta course for Nar Shadda. As the stars of space began to blur into luuminous blue lines, Farsin realized something. He was no longer a Jedi.
He was Fallen.
Upon Farsin's arrival in the Nal Hutta system, he began to search Nar Shadda for Fyrion. He used the few credits that he found in the shuttle he'd stolen to pay off leads. Slowly, as the days grew longer and longer, Farsin grew angrier and angrier, resorting to extremes to find the Dark Jedi. But despite searching the world with the Force countless times, he was unable to find any trace of Fyrion.
At last, one morning several months after he had left the order, Farsin found something. On one of his searches for Fyrion, he sensed...something. A presence, strong in the Dark Side he was still hesitant to touch. He followed the presence through the winding streets of Nar Shadda, until, at last, he found himself in a dark, ruined slum, a place coated with industrial fog, and the smell of filth.
Out of the darkness came a familiar figure. Fyrion. He had a lightsaber clipped to his belt, and he wore a black cloak. He told Farsin he had known he would return, sensed him in the Force as he searched for him. And now, at last, he had revealed himself to the young man. He told Farsin he would make him strong, teach him the ways of those who followed a path of power, allowed themselves to break free from the constraints of the Jedi. Power. Power, power that Farsin wanted. Power he could have used to save Pawruud. Power. The former Jedi accepted, and began his path as a Dark Jedi.
Fyrion was a tough master, in many more ways than Quothon, for the Jedi had been bound by the limits of morality. Not so with Fyrion. He trained Farsin brutally, showing him how to use the Dark Side for all things, showing him how to amplify his power. Any failure would be met with severe punishment, a horrifying torture enacted through the Force. Fyrion had many ties to various gangs in the Nar Shadda underworld, and, for many of them, he was a debtor. He would rent Farsin out to many of these gangs, treating him like a mercenary. Farsin learned to survive in the underworld of Nar Shadda.
He also trained his Acolyte in the wielding of a blade, and often he would fight Farsin. Red and gold would clash in battle whenever Farsin had any spare time, and the battles were unrestrained, ferocious. The master held nothing back, and Farsin was wounded often in their fights, gaining bruises and cuts with each battle. Fyrion also began to train Farsin in his specialized technique, the power to channel to lightning. Though it oftentimes left Farsin weakened and gaunt, he began to learn to control it, harnessing a raw force of nature through his fingertips. Fyrion taught Farsin how to harness the Force to crush and destroy his foes, to wield the Dark Side.
Over the next three years, Farsin learned endurance and strength, and he began to develop an air of arrogance, acting as if all the world save himself was insignificant. His years of training under Fyrion molded a young Jedi Padawan into a hardened practitioner of the Dark Side. Farsin had one of the gangs his Master controlled make him a suit of armor, to the specifications of that of the nightmare man he had seen in his Trial of Spirit. It was intimidating, and he used it to scare his foes and enemies into submission.
One incident took place when Farsin was 29. A favorite consort of Fyrion's, a beautiful woman by the name of Namiis, had become enamored with Farsin. Seducing him into her bed, she stole his virginity. Fyrion discovered, and, enraged, killed her, and tortured Farsin brutally. Farsin was outraged, and attempted to attack his master. The older Dark Jedi managed to best Farsin, and, for his insolence, ripped apart his apprentice's mind, torturing him with the raw power of the Dark Side. Farsin lay weak, wounded for days, until he was strong enough to recover. But he swore vengeance upon Fyrion.
Under Fyrion's instruction, Farsin created his own lightsaber crystal. It took him many months of meditating, gathering the required materials, and carefully following his master's instructions. At last, more than a year after he started, Farsin completed the crystal. He cast away his old one, and turned his blade crimson.
Then, when Farsin was 31 years old, Fyrion approached him. In an ominous voice, he told Farsin it was time for his final test. He took his apprentice aboard an old shuttle, the first time he had left Nar Shadda in over four years. When the Hyperspace lines became stars once more, the shuttle floated in space over a beautiful, lush world.
Farsin was awestruck in amazement of it's primal beauty. But at the same time, he sensed danger...primal, untamed danger. He turned to his master and asked the name of the world. His master informed him that the world was called Felucia, and that, for four months, Farsin would survive there alone, using only his lightsaber and the Force as defenses.
Farsin accepted, though inside he quietly simmered with rage. He knew that his master had come to fear him in the past year, secretly believing that Farsin would betray him. This was obviously a heavy-handed attempt to kill him. Farsin gritted his teeth, wondering how to escape. His master would surely never return for him.
The shuttle descended to the planet, where Farsin was to depart. But, at the last moment, he turned on his master. Catching the Dark Jedi off guard, he managed to strike Fyrion with his Lightsaber, scarring the Dark Jedi. Fyrion brought out his lightsaber and the two began a deadly battle. Farsin allowed his rage at betrayal, his wrath, to consume him. He began to push the Dark Jedi Knight back to the door of the shuttle. With a final, rage fueled-blast of Force lightning, he blasted Fyrion out of the shuttle. Before his master could recover, Fyrion ran to the controls of the ship and lifted off, stranding his mentor on the wild planet. Farsin was exhausted from the relatively brief battle, having had to use all his skills simply to be on par with his master, a Knight.
Farsin returned to Nar Shadda, calling himself a Dark Jedi Knight. He began to fill the vacant position Fyrion had left in Nar Shadda's underworld, governing the numerous gangs Fyrion had controlled from the shadows. He began to set himself up as a minor crime lord, using the Force to control his servants. Despite gaining this power, the whispers in the back of his mind told him that it was not enough. He had to become stronger. Only then could he harness his full might, exact revenge upon the Jedi and their failed ways. He swore he would become strong enough to return to the Jedi. And then...vengance.
Farsin, now in control of a small criminal empire, one of many others in the underworld of Nar Shadda, began to expand. And expansion draws enemies. Farsin began to realize that his enemies would go to any length to kill him, and take his power. After a near attempt on his life by one of his lieutenants, Farsin decided to flee Nar Shadda. He fled the Nal Hutta system in his cruiser, the Lyrelock, controlling his organization from afar. He wandered the stars, growing more and more paranoid about being killed that he almost ever kept the Lyrelock in one place for more than a week.
Several months later, the Lyrelock was in hyperspace near the Core worlds when Farsin, on a spur-of-the-moment decision, spurred on by the whisper of the Force in his mind, told the captain to drop out of Hyperspace. Farsin's sip emerged into the middle of a tumultuous battle between a fleet of pirate ships and a small band of Republic forces. The Republic was on the losing end of the battle, and even as Farsin watched, the main ship, a large battleship, was destroyed by constant barrage from the pirate ships.
A single, damaged fighter limped away from the battle, fleeing towards space. Farsin sensed a being in the fighter, one strong in the Force. With a single command, the Lyrelock opened it's bay doors, dropping in front of the ship. Thankful, yet wary, the unknown Jedi flew their ship into the docking bay.
Farsin was there, waiting to receive the ship. It wobbily flew into the docking bay, landing haphazardly. A single figure clambered out, clutching a lightsaber, struggled on it's feet, then collapsed to the floor. Farsin stood awestruck. The unconscious was none other than Namia Kail. His first instinct was to run ,to clutch her and never let go. But then his mind and the shattered whispers of the Dark Side of the Force caught up with him. A Jedi. One that knew him, one who cared for him.
One that could be turned.
Farsin held Namia aboard the Lyrelock. When she woke, he was there to greet her, his ominous red mask off. Namia was elated to see him, but she could sense the Dark Side within him. Terrified, she asked him what he had become. He told Namia of power, of strength, the words flowing from his mouth as easily as they had from doomed Fyrion's. He told her he could make her powerful, that they could be together again. He would make her fall to the Dark Side.
She resisted. For weeks, months she resisted. Farsin's torture, his persuasion, all the skills Fyrion has taught him, slowly wore Namia down. He ripped apart her mind with the Dark Side. Slowly, he began, simultaneously, to eradicate all that remained of the padawan called Farsin Jor'ael, and to twist Namia, to turn her to the Dark Side. Farsin was forced to smother part of himself, the part that cried out in pain each time he tortured Namia to ignore her pleas.
And, at last, he succeeded. Namia was twisted, perverted into a different form of herself. Her rage at Farsin became her all, and then, it consumed her. He had made himself an apprentice. He began to pour his knowledge into her, teaching her of how to use the Force destructively. He withheld much from her, not wishing to fall like his master had. He spent several years making Namia his weapon. His organization soon came to fear Namia just as much as him, knowing that if there was a mistake, if a raid failed, Farsin would send her to punish them as she saw fit.
Farsin continued to grow stronger in the Force, harnessing the Dark Side to his will. He practiced the Chain Lightning that Fyrion had taught him to wield, and honed his skills with a lightsaber blade, sparring against Namia and testing his abilities on those around him. He began to grow strong enough in the Dark Side that he could harness the might of the Force at will, until he surpassed even Fyrion. He began to call himself a Master of the Dark Side.
Yet he still sought power. And power would be his downfall.
Farsin continued to expand his crime empire, until he had organizations on up to three worlds, all controlled by himself. But despite the fact that countless others attempted to forge an alliance with him, he refused to listen, attempting to keep all of his power to himself. Slowly, his lieutenants began to defy him, objecting his power-greedy motivations. His organization began rebel against him, until only a select few were still wholly loyal to him. And a house divided cannot stand.
Farsin's criminal empire began to fall apart. At a last-ditch meeting with his lieutenants on Nar Shadda, Farsin found a team of mercenaries waiting for the Lyrelock at the landing pad. He ordered his crew to attack, but his men turned against him. He and Namia managed to strike many of the rebels down, but, seeing he would be defeated, Farsin fled. He and Namia escaped Nar Shadda in a shuttle, jumping to hyperspace before their enemies could attack them.
The former crime lord, his empire in ruins, was outraged. The darkness in his mind began to swell up again. Hatred. A need for revenge. First the Jedi, now his own organization. Farsin fled into relative exile to lick his wounds and recuperate.
Several months after he fled Nar Shadda, Farsin heard a rumor, a shadow of shadows, of Sith, of men who wielded the Dark Side of the Force, gathering on Korriban. Where most of the galaxy saw a new threat, he saw a chance to rise to his former glory again. So he and Namia decided to go to Korriban, and join these new Sith Lords.
Farsin arrived, meeting a small, but powerful, and slowly growing group of darksiders. He watched as the hierarchy of the small band slowly began to form. Farsin used his remaining criminal ties and power to help fund the new Sith Order, and was granted the rank for this and his formidable aptitude with the Dark Side. Namia became a Sith Knight, still loyal to her Master.
He took upon himself the name of Naarsion, at last completing the vision he had seen in his Jedi Trial of the Spirit. Now he is a Master of the Dark Side, a Lord of the Sith, and he wants only one thing-power. And if all the Sith and the Jedi must fall before him, then so be it.
RP Sample:
Naarsion stepped through the desolate battlefield. His lightsaber was clutched in his hand, deactivated. His long, black cape swept across the ground as he walked. Shattered, broken bodies lay strewn across the ground. The others had done a good job, that much he could admit. They were powerful. His eyes flicked across the scene, taking it all in from behind the tinted eyes of his mask. The bodies of Republic soldiers lay strewn everywhere. The smell of burnt, cauterized flesh permeated the air. The rocky, arid ground was littered with corpses.
He sensed them moments before he saw them. They stood near a ruined Republic turret, the turret's operators lying dead on the ground at their feet. Two tall figures, both holding crimson lightsabers. They flinched when they saw him, and he casually continued to advance. With a flick of his wrist, his lightsaber hummed in his hand. With his free hand, he reached up and detached his shoulderpads from his armor, letting them drop to the ground. Opening his mouth, a slight smile twisting the corners of his lips, he spoke.
"You have abandoned the Sith Order and fled Korriban. For this, you die."
The shorter of the two charged at him, screaming, before the words had finished leaving his lips. With his free hand he reached out and grabbed the turret with the Force, launching it at the traitorous acolyte. The heavy, ruined turret smashed into the acolyte, the power of the Force behind it. The hooded figure went flying, smashing into the ground limp as a rag doll.
Without a moment's pause, Naarsion hurtled towards the other acolyte, his lightsaber crashing into the acolyte's own. The acolyte was forced back, barely able to parry Naarsion's blows. Naarsion toyed with the acolyte for a minute more, then swiftly reached out and tore the acolyte's lightsaber from his hand with the Force. He hurtled the deactivated weapon away and reached into the depths of his mind. He channeled the Dark Side into his hand, and blasted out bolts of blue, arcing lightning at his foe. The acolyte screamed as the lightning coursed through his body, blowing him backwards and leaving him a smoking heap, barely alive and groaning, through his tortured, indecipherable screams, for mercy.
The Sith plunged his lightsaber into the tortured acolyte's chest, ending him. In a few quick steps, he was standing over the other acolyte, and ended him the same way as his companion.
Naarsion turned and stalked away. His job was done.
Race: Human
Age: 38
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 181lbs
Appearance:
Naarsion is of rather average height and build, though several inches are added to his height by the boots he wears. His body is solid and well-built from years of rigorous training under Fyrion Sol, and before that, Quothon Pardik. His body is also built up from running with the gangs of Nar Shadda.
His armor is solid grey with a hint of black. His chest armor is bulky and slows him down slightly, but it provides adequate protection against conventional weapons such as a low-grade blaster, though anything that can actually pack a punch would make his armor obsolete. He wears a solid black hooded fiber-weave cape which he has had interwoven into the shoulder pads of his armor. The shoulder pads can be removed from his armor, detaching the cape and allowing freedom of movement. The most remarkable part of his armor, however, is his red mask, which provides simple, yet useful gas ventilators to allow him to breathe in conditions that would be toxic, if not outright deadly, to unmasked humans.
Underneath his armor, his skin is unnaturally pale and sickly, and his naturally blue eyes, while tinged with the customary sickly yellow of one who has given themselves to the dark side of the Force, are filled with a haunted look. He has ashy black hair that hangs down into his eyes. His fit, toned upper body is covered in a distinctive tattoo of a Kryat dragon.
Personality: Naarsion is, to those that are simply observing him, a brute, a chaotic madman with a lightsaber. In many ways, this is true. He is a rash, arrogant figure, far different from the calm, brooding Jedi apprentice who went mad fall those years ago. He has a tendency to not think things through, believing that his power in the Force and his skill with a lightsaber can solve a quandary, no matter what it be. Some speculate that he is still half-mad, and that he never fully recovered from the madness that overtook him after his Trial of Spirit, back when he was a Jedi apprentice.
His arrogance sometimes blinds him even in the bleakest of situations, sometimes turning him from an asset to a weakness in the heat of battle. Naarsion is highly selfish narcissist, believing that anything he wants should rightfully be his. He takes a twisted joy in torturing his opponents, something that many find repulsive.
However, he is still very crafty and intelligent, mainly in part to the hours of time he devoted to learning in the Jedi archives when he was a Jedi apprentice, along with the years spent running with the street gangs in Nar Shadda. His mind is constantly working, finding ways to outwit his enemies and catapult himself to a higher level of power. Many have been deceived by his brutish ways, only to find that in the end, he has tricked them into their deaths.
Birth place: Space Lanes above Coruscant
Faction: Sith Order
Rank:Master
Previous Faction:Jedi, Dark Jedi
Previous Rank: Apprentice, Knight/Master
Lightsaber:Single-blade, single-phase
Color: Pale Red
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho: 5
Makashi: 2
Soresu:5
Ataru: 4
Shien / Djem So:N//A
>>Sub-form Backhanded
Niman:N/A
>>Sub-form Jar-kai, or Dual Wield
Juyo: N/A
Double Bladed Combat:N/A
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices: Chain Lightning
Telekinetic: 4
Telepathic: 3
Body: 5
Sense: 4
Protection: 3
Healing: 1
Destruction: 8
Specialized Skills: Chain Lightning
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 6
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 4 (5 without shoulderpads on armor)
Leadership: 3
Unarmed: 3
Melee Weapons: 5
Ranged Weapons: 1
Bio:
Birth and Early Years on Coruscant
Years 0-3
Farsin Jor'ael was born on the trade ship Hailer above Coruscant to the wife of the ship's pilot. He was the first of two, preceding his twin brother by three minutes. Upon the ship's landing on Coruscant, the captain and his wife decided to stay for an undetermined amount of time and settle down to raise their sons until they were old enough to assist their parents with the small trading company. It was also an easy way for Farsin's father, a notorious gambler, to escape his growing debt.
Upon reaching Coruscant, Farsin was tested for latent ability in the Force. He was found to be sensitive, but his father was unnerved at the idea of his son being strong in the Force.
His family scraped together enough money to buy a small apartment on Coruscant. Things were peaceful for a time, as the parents of the two twins attempted to raise them as best as they could. Farsin and his brother Salles were doted over by their mother and gruff father. But no man can escape his vices forever, and less than a year after they settled down on Coruscant, Farsin's father was touring the casinos and bars of Coruscant. The small family's debt grew, becoming greater and greater. But Farsin's father refused to acknowledge this, hiding from his debtors.
When Farsin was two years old, he began to show enhanced abilities. Oftentimes when he and Salles were playing, he would react to his brother's movements a split second before they happened. This, however, was the extent of his latent abilities. The neighboring families and their children, who sometimes played with Farsin, thought he was a strange, unnerving boy, and went out of their way to avoid him.
Shortly after the boy's third birthday. A Jedi Knight, an Ithoran by the name of Pawruud, visited the small apartment, claiming that he had come to take Farsin to become a Jedi, and train in the Force. Farsin's father, however, was outraged, and cast the Jedi out, screaming at the Ithoran to leave, despite his wife's complaints.
Less than a month after that event, Farsin's father was killed at one of his favorite casinos by a mercenary hired by one of his debtors. Their mother, fearing that the debtor would hunt them down, too, and began packing the families supplies so that they could leave Coruscant. Shortly before their departure however, Pawruud returned again, asking to test the boys. Their mother, seeing a chance for a better future for them at the Jedi Temple, allowed him to take Farsin, and begged him to take Salles, too.
Farsin was moderately sensitive to the Force. But his brother, however, was insensitive, or at least far too weak in the Force to ever become a Jedi. However, Pawruud promised the twin's mother that he would ensure that Salles found a good foster home. The Ithoran Jedi took the two boys at the behest of their mother, taking them to the Jedi Temple, where Farsin would begin training in the ways of the Jedi.
The Way of the Jedi
Years 3-13
The Ithoran Pawruud took Farsin to the Jedi Temple, and left the young boy in a small, windowless room to wait while he went to confer with the Jedi Council. Several hours later, he returned, and took Farsin to a new room, where he would stay until he was old enough to begin training. Farsin soon began to forget that he had been torn away from his family, and began to forget his memories of his brother and his mother. He fell into the general routine of the Jedi Temple.
However, every night after nightfall, Pawruud would visit Farsin in his room, and show him how to begin to come in contact with the Force. The boy was soon trained enough to lapse into a weakened, albeit useful Force meditation whenever he become upset or discouraged. Several years passed, and under Pawruud's tutelage, the boy became skilled in the Force, very strong for one his age. In this way, three years passed.
Shortly before the boy began his youngling training, Pawruud advised Farsin not to tell anyone else, not even the masters who would train him when he started training, about his meditation sessions with Pawruud. Farsin obediently respected the wishes of the Ithoran who had become a father figure to him. A short time later, he began his training. He was placed in a small class of twelve other younglings, where he was quickly branded a social outcast. Even though his personality had been affected by Pawruud's kindness, Farsin was still highly unnerving to those around him, and the other younglings avoided him, and sometimes teased him, though their training master intervened most of the time.
Disaster, however, struck when the young boy was given a training lightsaber and pitted in a training duel against another student, who had been one of his worst tormentors. Letting his anger take control, the seven-year old Farsin attacked the other youngling, smashing his lightsaber down at the other with all of his strength. Unprepared for such a brutal assault, the other collapsed to the ground. Farsin raised his saber to continue his rage-fueled attack, but was restrained by the master, who took him aside and chastised him, attempting to explain to the angry boy that his actions were wrong. He was suspended from lightsaber training for a week.That night, Pawruud took him aside and attempted to explain to Farsin about the Dark side of the force, and the rage and fear and sorrow that lead to it.
The incident came and went, and things slowly returned to normal, though a closer eye was kept on Farsin, and he was confined to practicing his lightsaber skills with a droid. After that, he progressed quickly, learning the basics of the basis of all Lightsaber forms, Shii-cho, at a rapid pace.
Three years passed, during which Farsin finished up his lightsaber training and was left with a basic knowledge of Shii-cho. The nine-year old began to hope for a master, wondering who would select him as a Padawan. One night, he went to his close friend, the Jedi Pawruud, now with an apprentice of his own and well on the way to becoming a Master, to ask if he would again take him under his wing, this time as a Padawan proper.
To his surprise, the Ithoran refused, telling Farsin that he needed to expand, and find another Master, one who was more experienced in the Force. He explained to Farsin that he believed for the youngling to truly find peace, he had to find a new master. He told Farsin that he sensed that his new Master would approach him soon. Farsin left Pawruud, contemplating over these things, upset and bewildered.
To get over his confusion, Farsin decided to go to the library and read about the ancient Jedi of old. The Padawan spent the next several months studying, and his tenth birthday came and went. His jealousy grew as he watched other younglings gain their masters and he was was passed by. But, several months before his 11th birthday, he was approached by a tall male Zabrak dressed in black robes. He told Farsin that he was Jedi Knight Quothon Pardik, and that he was considering taking him on as an apprentice. He informed the young apprentice that he had noticed his relative skill in basic lightsaber training and his strength in the Force. Farsin was stunned, but he was amazed by the incredible opportunity.
The Knight told him that he was going to put him under watch for a one-year trial period, and if he deemed Farsin ready at year's end, he would take him as apprentice.
Farsin, elated by an opportunity to become an apprentice to Quothon, began to train and prepare himself to be worthy of becoming the Zabrak Jedi's Padawan. He begged to be allowed to to train with slightly advanced combat droids, and honed his mastery of Shii-cho, making him one of the more adept younglings, at least where lightsaber training was concerned. Quothon would sometimes attend his training sessions. However, try as he might, the young Jedi couldn't sense the Jedi Master's thoughts.
Farsin spent long hours of time meditating and trying to touch the Force with his young, half-trained abilities. He spent the remainder of his time studying in the Jedi Archives. His twelfth birthday came and went, and he anxiously waited for the year the Zabrak had promised to give him to conclude.
Farsin was woken on the morning of the day he was promised, by none other than Quothon Pardik himself. In a calm, easy voice, he informed Farsin that he had chosen him to become his Padawan. Elated, Farsin sprung into his new apprenticeship with relative ease.
His new master, the Zabrak Jedi knight Quothon Pardik was a skilled jedi. It was well-known that he was a strong force-user, and that he had taken on an apprentice before Farsin. Quothon was usually silent, calm and controlled. Shortly after Farsin began his apprenticeship, Quothon began teaching Farsin the basics of Soresu, and the minor basics of Ataru, the lightsaber forms he specialized in. Quothon's training was rigorous, and the knight would sometimes have his apprentice stay up for hours into the night fighting against a programmed training droid, then allow him to get some rest, only to wake Farsin a few hours later for another round of grueling training.
Eventually, Farsin's young body became better adapted to the grueling training sessions, though not without consequence. During one of their early training sessions sometime before Farsin's 13th birthday, Farsin, exhausted from the hours of grueling combat against a training droid, collapsed from fatigue, weakened. Pouring the Force into his apprentice, Quothon took Farsin to the infirmary, where the young Padawan lay weak for several hours. Upon his regaining consciousness, Quothon was there to greet him. His master apologized for pushing him, and offered to lessen his training sessions with Farsin. To the Zabrak's surprise, Farsin refused, instead asking for his training regimen to be increased.
The padawan explained to his master that he felt weak, unable to control the course of events. He felt that all his life, his decisions had been made for him. He wanted to become stronger so that he could make his own decisions. Quothon, alarmed, yet intrigued, agreed.
Over the next several months, Farsin continued his grueling training regimen, attempting to improve himself day by day. The young Padawan began to develop a substantial personality of his own. He became highly inquisitive, and, as a result of hours of free time spent at the Jedi Archives, highly intelligent. Quothon and his apprentice begam to bond, spending time together. Slowly, Quothon became almost like an older brother to Farsin.
The Zabrak knight, while experienced enough to guide his Padawan through training, was still young enough to know how Farsin felt, and to be sympathetic with him. Farsin's 13th birthday came and went, and he became used to his training regimen. A month after Farsin's birthday, Quothon interrupted Farsin during a training session. He told his Padawan that he was considering allowing Farsin to make a lightsaber in several months, provided he keep up his current pace in training. Farsin was elated, and threw himslef into his training all the more vigorously, in the hopes of earning a lightsaber crystal.
Several months later, upon entering his room, Farsin found a small datapad lying on his bed, along with a wrapped package. Upon opening the package, he found a golden crystal, one which glowed slightly. The datapad read: My first lightsaber crystal: may it serve you well. - Quothon Pardik
The Call of The Dark Side
Years 13-16
Farsin spent months working, using different materials provided to him by his master, to make his lightsaber. He spent countless nights without sleep, and often Quothon would find his apprentice hunched over a worktable, bleary-eyed with exhaustion. The young Jedi grew in the force as he spent countless hours channeling his power into the lightsaber. But, at long last, nine months after he had begun, the apprentice, for the first time, activated the long, gleaming yellow blade of his lightsaber. Quothon approved, and Farsin, with pride, began to wear the ornately shaped hilt on his belt, now a year older than when he had began it, a youth of 14.
Several weeks after Farsin had finished his lightsaber, he befriended another padawan, a red-skinned Twi'lek boy named Shuul Arkin. Shuul's last master had been killed on mission in the Outer rim, and, after a while, the council had decided to assign him to a new master. Shuul struck Farsin as quiet, yet rash. Shuul was several years older than Farsin, about 15 or 16. He seemed haughty, yet over the weeks following Shuul's arrival, they began to form a close bond. Quothon and Turi'oil, Shuul's master, quietly observed the growing friendship between the two padawans.
Shuul was always quick to help the younger padawan when he didn't understand a concept. The Twi'lek often sparred with Farsin, dueling with the younger padawan to increase his skill and power. More than once a day, the two blades, one golden, one green, met in friendly battle inside the Jedi Temple.
Then, half a year after Shuul befriended Farsin, with Farsin now 15, he, his master, and Shuul were given an assignment. Quothon and his apprentice, along with Shuul, who's master had told him to go along, were to escort a cargo ship full of weapons and bombs to a shipping yard to be loaded onto Republic ships that were about to go into commission, through an area known for it's pirates. While Farsin was excited, elated even, to go on his first mission, Shuul regarded the mission as something fit for grunts with blasters, and regarded it with quiet disdain.
For the first leg of the journey, all was well. The ship skimmed the hyperdrive lanes, and Shuul, who had a liking for ships, was awestruck at the blurring lights of hyperspace. He struck up a friendship with the captain of the freighter, and talked with the weathered spacer for hours. But then, when the freighter came out of hyperspace near the shipping yard, it happened. A small wing of beaten, battered ships surrounded the old freighter, and began to board. The small crew of the republic ship grabbed their weapons, rushing to the cargo hold ready to repel the invaders. The Jedi, lightsabers in hand, rushed to the front. Farsin raised his lightsaber, deflecting blaster bolts for the first time. Shuul charged ahead, rashly meeting the pirates head-on.
Farsin swept through the cargo hold of the ship, holding back the pirates, reluctant to kill anyone. Farsin attacked the pirates, driving the invaders back, Shuul and Quothon doing the same on the other side of the cargo hold. A loud yell alerted Farsin to something behind him, and he could only watch as the old spacer captain was killed by the pirates. Outraged, Shuul attempted to attack the pirates alone. A single bolt sent him reeling, knocking him out.
Slowly, the crew around them began to fall, and Farsin's spirits with them. As even more pirates began to stream into the ship, clad in grey armor, Quothon fled with the two padawans to a battered old shuttle in the bay of the freighter, deflecting blaster bolts and the screams of maddened space pirates. Farsin was wounded by a blaster bolt, and the Jedi only survived because Quothon used a final great wave of force energy to blow back the invaders. They scrambled into the shuttle, wounded, Farsin lugging Shuul's wounded body behind him and launched it. Through a black haze, Farsin saw the freighter, and the ships surrounding it, jump into Hyperspace, even as the Republic ships from the shipping yard arrived, too late. Farsin weakly noticed Shuul, laying wounded in the shuttle near him as their master began to steer the shuttle towards the shipyard. Then, the apprentice sunk into unconsciousness.
Farsin woke in the medbay of the shipping yard, in the care of medical droids. The Apprentice was torn as he remembered hi faliure. Casting aside the worried complaints of the medical droids, he sought out his master. In a room near him, he found Shuul and Quothon, both conscious, reporting their failure to the council via holo. Quothon turned to receive Farsin, and together, the three gave a brief debriefing to the Council.
They were ordered to return home, and did so, taking a simple passage upon a cargo ship bound for Corsuscant. Shuul, Farsin noticed, acted as if he, had, in some way, been personally insulted by not being ordered to hunt down the pirates. In the months following the failed mission, Shuul grew more and more distant from Fasin and his own master, and was completely silent and cold. He even stopped sparring with his friend. Days would go by without a word from Shuul. Even on Farsin's 16th birthday, he heard nothing from Shuul. Quothon, too, was growing worried. He believed that Shuul's ego was unable to reconcile with the fact of his failure. That, he told Farsin, might lead to the Dark Side.
Then, almost a year after the failed mission, the Twi'lek Jedi vanished. A single shuttle was reported stolen near the Jedi Temple, and Shuul's lightsaber was gone. The Padawan had run away.
Farsin sunk into a depression at the loss of his friend, believing that he might have, could have, done something to stop him from leaving. The boy considered it a personal failure. But, he felt, he would have a chance to redeem himself. Two months after Shuul vanished, he received a mission. He was being sent to find the runaway Padawan. Quothon would be busy on Coruscant, along with Shuul's own former master, so he would be teaming up with two other Jedi- the Ithoran Pawruud Ro'nar, and his apprentice, Namia Kail.
Farsin was delighted to be paired up with his old friend again, and he liked Namia. A quiet, withdrawn human girl of 16, she loved nature, and could not have been more like her Ithoran master in any way. But under his general feelings of happiness, there was a slight jealousy, jealousy that she was Pawruud's apprentice, and not him.
The three took a ship to Nar Shadda, where Shuul had been reported as having fled to. Several sightings had reported a young Twi'lek brandishing a green lightsaber in some of the slums of the smugglers moon.
Upon arrival, Farsin detested the place. The squalor, the filth, the crime and the depravity...it was sickening to him. The nature-loving, life-nurturing Ithoran Pawruud obviously felt the same. Farsin could observe that his friend was disgusted with the world.
The three began to investigate the shipping docks and yards of Nar Shadda, scouring the Republic's connections there, and after spending a few credits bribing a greedy port official, they found the stolen ship-albeit abandoned in a junkyard, registered to some bar owner in Nar Shadda. The Jedi began to spread out to find the runaway. Pawruud sent the two apprentices to track down the man who had bought the ship.
On their way to the bar, Namia and Farsin talked. Farsin had not had much time to talk personally with his old master since he had become Quothon's apprentice. She told him of the beauty of the world, and how she could connect with the life inside the Force of every living thing.
The two managed to find the bar owner, who told them of a Twi'lek boy who was living in an apartment near the bar. The two split up, Namia going to find Pawruud, and Farsin going after Shuul.
Farsin entered the empty, bleak apartment, which was simply occupied by a single rotting bed and trash scattered on the floor. In the middle of the small room stood Shuul.
Farsin stepped forward, begging his old friend to return to the Jedi. Shuul scowled, and threatened to kill Farsin if he did not leave him be. The Twi'lek turned and leaped through flimsy window of the apartment. Farsin leaped out of the building, landing on a nearby roof, chasing after his wayward friend. Shuul made his way through the slums of Nar Shadda, Farsin on his tail. More than once, the two only avoided a fall to the streets below with the help of the Force.
At last, Shuul came to a dead end, stopping on the roof of a small building. A tall human man in dark clothes stood there with him, waiting for Farsin. Farsin activated his lightsaber and demanded to know the man's identity. The mysterious figure said his name was Fyrion Sol, and that he was a Dark Jedi, and Shuul his apprentice. He had laid a trap for the Jedi, and Farsin had fallen into it.
Farsin was stunned. A practitioner of the Dark Side of the force stood before him. A fallen Jedi. The apprentice was awestruck by the energy he felt radiating from Fyrion. It was evil, malicious, a perversion of the Jedi way he had grown up knowing. It repulesed him-yet at the same time it beckoned him, tempted him with the siren song of power, power unrivaled, power unmatched. The call of the Dark Side. And part of him answered the call.
But as he stood, dumbstruck, Shuul attacked. In a blind haze of confusion, Farsin clumsily brought his lightsaber up to counter the vicious blow. Fyrion watched, calmy evaluating the two apprentices. Slowly, Shuul began to push him back, Farsin simply parrying and defending, awestruck by the Dark Side. Through blows, Shuul yelled at Farsin, telling him of how the Jedi had mistreated him, blamed him for the fiasco at the shipping yards, for his master's death. And slowly, but surely, even as Shuul pushed Farsin closer and closer to the rooftop's edge, The rage within Farsin grew.
The Jedi had given Shuul everything, and in the space of two months, he had betrayed the for this...this...fallen one. Farsin struggled to contain his rage, but it grew, feeding on his malcontent like a virus. And with a scream of rage, Farsin brought his blade up viciously to parry Shuul's, gold clashing against green. Shuul was knocked back by the ferocity of the blow. And, before the Twi'lek had time to recover, Farsin struck again, and again, letting the Dark Side fuel his blows. He screamed at Shuul accusing the Twi'lek of being a traitor, of betraying the Jedi.
Finally, he forced Shuul to the ground, and, controlled by a will that was not his own, he raised his blade to end the Twi'lek. But something restrained him. Fyrion, having calmly decided that the battle had gone too far, held a single hand outstretched, effortlessly holding Farsin in stasis. He told the boy that his power was great, stronger than those of his opponent. But Farsin was too deeply attached to the Jedi. But, a callous grin spreading across his face, said Fyrion, it would not be so for long. He sensed it in the force. The Dark Side was a taint, and Farsin would be consumed by it. He dropped Farsin to the ground, still holding him in stasis, and left.
Even after the Dark Jedi was gone, Farsin lay in state on the rough rooftop of the building, his lightsaber clutched in his hand, hating himself for falling to the Dark Side. But even as he did so, a part of wanted it, the same part that had answered the call. Farsin could feel the Dark side in the back of his mind, like a taint. It scared him, and it beckoned to him, all at once.
He was barely aware, in the dark depths of his consciousness, when Namia and Pawruud arrived, and barely felt the Ithoran's rough hands lifting him up. Only on the fringed of his conciousness did he feel the bed he was lain on, and hear the metallic voice of the nurse droid.
In his mind, he grappled with the Dark Side, the enemy that he could not defeat-for part of him wanted it.
A Fallen Jedi
Years 16-26
Farsin woke to the cool, soothing touch of Namia's mind on his, the power of her healing abilities in the Force flowing over him, giving his weakened, strained body respite from it's pain. He opened his eyes to find himself lying on a metal bed in the medical bay of the Republic battleship Dominion. In a calm voice, Namia told him that she and Pawruud had taken Farsin and Shuul to their ship, and gotten a ride back to Coruscant aboard the Republic ship Dominion. Shuul was still asleep, and Pawruud was healing him, for his injuries were far more extensive.
Farsin nodded, taking in all this information. In a slow, quavering voice, he told Namia of the Dark Jedi Fyrion Sol, and of how he had forced him and Shuul to fight. He told of how Shuul had succumbed to the Dark Side, keeping his own fall a secret. He suddenly realized that the Force energy that had been healing him was beginning to waver. Namia was weak.
Clambering out of his bed, he strode across the room, in time to catch Namia as her power began to waver and she collapsed. He carried her to a nearby bed, and she nodded a slight thank you to him before lapsing into a healing trance. Farsin stood staring at her for a moment before going to do the same.
A sudden jolt to the ship woke him from his trance. He stood, the smell of fire wafting in the air. Namia was gone, and the smell of smoke hung in the recycled air. He grabbed his lightsaber and rushed out into the ship. He followed the sounds of blasterfire and screaming, down the halls of the pristine Republic ship.
Before long, he came upon a wounded Republic soldier, a man close to death, who managed to stutter a warning to Farsin. A half-incoherent, muttered word. Mandalorians. A chill ran down Farsin's spine. The Mandalorians. The enemies of the Republic. No doubt Namia and Pawruud would have gone to help the Republic troops hold them off. Namia...
Farsin ignited his lightsaber and rushed down the hall. Soon he began to come upon bodies-both those of the republic, and varied colors of the sinister suits of armor that the Mandalorians donned to war. Farsin emerged into the docking bay, where a large group of Mandalorians fought a small group of Republic soldiers. Among the fray, he could make out two lightsabers, one blue and one green, Namia and Pawruud.
He rushed into the fray, fighting the armor-clad warriors alongside his fellow Jedi. More than once during the battle, the Dark Side called to him, tempting him to unleash it at one of his foes. He struggled to restrain himself and fight the Mandalorians. Republic troops streamed in from across the ship, but their forces were limited, many fighting the fires that had broken out from the Mandalorian ships' bombings. The ships were old and battered, along with the Mandalorian's armor. Farsin realized that these had to be Mandalorian pirates, enacting an old grudge against the Republic.
Slowly but surely, the indomitable tide of warrior Mandalorians began to push the Republic forces back. During the battle, Farsin caught a glimpse of a fallen body-a Twi'lek. Shuul. His mind echoed with different emotions. Victory, the Dark Side, crowing it's victory over Shuul, whispering in the back of his mind that the Twi'lek had deserved to die. Sorrow, for his friend, who had fallen first to the Dark Side and then to the Mandalorians, and last but not least, an uncontrollable urge for vengeance. The Dark Side swelled up in him, and, unable to control it, he lashed out.
He began to madly lash out at the Mandalorians, all restraint gone. Without technique, without any sense of control, he began to brutally hack at the foes before him, reveling in the sense of newfound power the Dark Side brought him. In the Force, dimly, he could sense Pawruud's horror at what he was doing, at the way he was unleashing the Dark Side through himself.
His mind screamed frantically for him to stop, and slowly, he began to regain his self-control, forcing the Dark Side into the recesses of his mind.
But a mere apprentice, even one with the rage of the Dark Side flowing through him, could not beat a horde of Mandalorians. The Mandalorian pirates streamed forward, far too many of them to deal with. If the ship had had more forces, or if there were more of the Jedi, the day might have been won. But the ambush, combined with the assault on the unshielded ship, had taken to great a toll on the Republic troops. The Jedi began to fall back.
Namia rushed up to Farsin. Haggard, weak, and wounded, she told Farsin that Pawruud had told them to flee. He would hold off the Mandalorians. Farsin initally refused, but Namia said he had insisted on it. Grief welling up in him for his old friend, Farsin and Namia retreated to an old shuttle. As he slid into the shuttles' controls, powering it up, he sensed a massive burst of force energy, and the sudden disappearance of the life forces of many Mandalorians. Then, the burst of energy faded, and he knew his childhood mentor was gone. The loyal Ithoran was dead.
Farsin guided the shuttle out of the landing bay, the Mandalorians weakened by Pawruud's sacrifice. Dodging potshots by Mandalorian pirate ships, Farsin powered up the hyperdrive and aimed for Coruscant. The stars turned to shimmering blue lines as Farsin left behind all that remained of the best friend he had ever known. He and Namia grieved together, mourning their mentor and friend. They grew closer together in their sorrow, their grief bonding them closer than any friendship ever could.
The shuttle arrived at Corsucant several days later, battered and weakened, landing at the Jedi Academy. Farsin and Namia staggered out of the shuttle to be received by several Jedi. The weakened Jedi told the story of the doomed Dominion. Farsin, who was badly wounded, passed out on the steps of the academy.
He woke several days later, in a hospital, with Quothon watching over him. His master told him that Namia had told the Council what had happened, to the best of her knowledge. Farsin had lain in state for several weeks.
Over the next few months, Farsin began to recover, celebrating his 17th birthday as it came and went, and receiving frequent visits from Namia. He was called before the Council, and though they sensed the taint of the Dark Side within him, it was expected from one who had watched his mentor and friend die, and been involved in such battles as Farsin had. They told Quothon to watch him closer, and instructed Farsin to meditate upon the Force and control his rage.
The Jedi limited Farsin's actions for the next several years, watching his actions to ensure he did not succumb to the Dark Side. The confined him mainly to the temple, and he spent time sparring with Namia, who was now assigned to a new master, and training under Quothon, eventually managing to gain relative mastery of his teacher's styles, Soresu and Ataru. The friendship between him and Namia grew, and by the time they were both 20 years old, they had a burgeoning relationship. Then, when Farsin had become 21, the Jedi decided to send him on a mission.
He, Namia, and Quothon were sent to Corellia to deal with an insurgence of Corellian rebels. Over the next four years, he fought skirmishes against the Corellian rebels, learning to harness the true power of the Force in the heat of combat. When Farsin returned to the Jedi, he was 25, and believed he was ready to take the Trials become a Knight. He presented a wound on his leg that he had received during the years he had spent on Corellia as his Trial of Body, for it had left a deep scar, and though it was mainly healed, it still caused a sight limp in his leg. The Council accepted this.
He asked to be allowed to take the Trail of Spirit next, arrogant in his belief that he would not fail. The Jedi took him to a secluded room, and he closed his eyes and began to meditate deeply.
In his minds eye, he saw himself holding Namia, passionately kissing her. But even as he did so, she began to change. Her body rotted and turned to maggot flesh. The dead apparition spoke in a raspy voice, accusing him of betraying her. Even as he began to protest ever doing such a thing, he found himself on the rooftop in Nar Shadda again. Shuul lay dead at his feet, and Farsin held his lightsaber in his hand, victorious. He saw Fyrion thrusting back his hood, revealing his head to be nothing more than a hideous grinning skeletal Twi'lek head, Shuul. The Fyrion/Shuul began screaming at Farsin, accusing him of being a heretic, screaming in Quothon's voice.
His mind saw endless horrors, repeated over and over again, the Dark Side swelling up in his mind again like it had on the day he met Fyrion. And at last, a man in a black hood and a red mask, laughing, holding a crimson lightsaber, standing in the bay of the Dominion, Pawruud lying dead at his feet, with a ring of fallen Mandalorians in a circle around him. The man turned to Farsin and spoke a single word. NAARSION.
Farsin snapped. The Dark Side overwhelmed his mind, and his eyes shot open, his mouth opening in a long, wordless scream of horror.
Farsin woke in the infirmary of the Jedi Temple, Namia standing over him. The Dark Side clouded his mind like a sickness, rotting into him. He couldn't stop it-he din't truly want to. He screamed incoherently at Namia, still half in the nightmare world of his visions. Namia, using all of her skill in the Force, managed to calm Farsin's addled, maddened mind, sending him into sleep once again.
Farsin spent the next several months in a hazy twilight world, and every time he opened his eyes, he was half as likely to see the half-decomposed, cackling face of Shuul as he was to see Namia hovering worriedly over him. He spent his twenty-sixth birthday hallucinating and recovering during brief periods of lucidity
His mind slowly began to recover, stitching itself back together from the broken husk his visions had left it. The Force slowly began to repair Farsin's mind. Namia would come help him, or Quothon would, and the two managed to help him begin to exert some level of control over his power again. But Farsin could not ignore the Dark Side within him. He barely made a conscious effort to contain it anymore, and his rage, the rage he had at failing his Trial, the rage at the fact that the Dark Side was within him, that it would most likely prevent him from becoming a Knight, that same rage would unleash itself at the most unlikely times.
Farsin knew that, in time, he would be summoned before the Council. A deep shuddering fear ran through him as he wondered what might become of him. Confined to the Temple for the rest of his life-he couldn't bear such a thing. No. There was truly only one choice. He would have to leave the Jedi.
In the dead of night, Farsin left his quarters, sneaking through the Jedi Temple. He intended to steal a ship with hyperdrive capabilities, and leave Coruscant. Halfway through the Temple, however, he was stopped. Namia, having woken and not found him, had followed. She begged Farsin not to leave, but he refused. Sensing he could not be turned from his actions, she begged to be allowed to come with him.
Farsin, the Dark Side whispering in his half-maddened mind, refused, believing that she would betray him if he took her along. He pushed her away with the Force, and fled to the ship. He powered up the ship and left Coruscant. As Farsin floated in the space lanes above Coruscant, he didn't know where to go, where to run where the Jedi could not follow. He wanted power, he wanted to become stronger. He wanted to harness the Dark Side without letting it destroy him, to show the Jedi that in the end, he was the better man. But he had no idea how to do such a thing. But as he sat in the seat of dilapidated old shuttle, something stirred in his mind.
A whisper, a faint memory, of the words of Fyrion Sol, from that rooftop on Nar Shadda, all those years ago, echoed in his mind:
"You are strong in the Force. The Dark Side has already corrupted you, and it will grow...I see it. The Jedi have drilled their philosophy, their way, into your very mind. But watch, boy, and see how easily they cast you aside, like a child's broken toy. In time, you will fall. And you will come to me, and you will see the true might of the Force."
The true might of the Force...
Farsin powered up the hyperdrive on his old shuttle and seta course for Nar Shadda. As the stars of space began to blur into luuminous blue lines, Farsin realized something. He was no longer a Jedi.
He was Fallen.
The Path of the Dark Jedi
Years 26-32
Upon Farsin's arrival in the Nal Hutta system, he began to search Nar Shadda for Fyrion. He used the few credits that he found in the shuttle he'd stolen to pay off leads. Slowly, as the days grew longer and longer, Farsin grew angrier and angrier, resorting to extremes to find the Dark Jedi. But despite searching the world with the Force countless times, he was unable to find any trace of Fyrion.
At last, one morning several months after he had left the order, Farsin found something. On one of his searches for Fyrion, he sensed...something. A presence, strong in the Dark Side he was still hesitant to touch. He followed the presence through the winding streets of Nar Shadda, until, at last, he found himself in a dark, ruined slum, a place coated with industrial fog, and the smell of filth.
Out of the darkness came a familiar figure. Fyrion. He had a lightsaber clipped to his belt, and he wore a black cloak. He told Farsin he had known he would return, sensed him in the Force as he searched for him. And now, at last, he had revealed himself to the young man. He told Farsin he would make him strong, teach him the ways of those who followed a path of power, allowed themselves to break free from the constraints of the Jedi. Power. Power, power that Farsin wanted. Power he could have used to save Pawruud. Power. The former Jedi accepted, and began his path as a Dark Jedi.
Fyrion was a tough master, in many more ways than Quothon, for the Jedi had been bound by the limits of morality. Not so with Fyrion. He trained Farsin brutally, showing him how to use the Dark Side for all things, showing him how to amplify his power. Any failure would be met with severe punishment, a horrifying torture enacted through the Force. Fyrion had many ties to various gangs in the Nar Shadda underworld, and, for many of them, he was a debtor. He would rent Farsin out to many of these gangs, treating him like a mercenary. Farsin learned to survive in the underworld of Nar Shadda.
He also trained his Acolyte in the wielding of a blade, and often he would fight Farsin. Red and gold would clash in battle whenever Farsin had any spare time, and the battles were unrestrained, ferocious. The master held nothing back, and Farsin was wounded often in their fights, gaining bruises and cuts with each battle. Fyrion also began to train Farsin in his specialized technique, the power to channel to lightning. Though it oftentimes left Farsin weakened and gaunt, he began to learn to control it, harnessing a raw force of nature through his fingertips. Fyrion taught Farsin how to harness the Force to crush and destroy his foes, to wield the Dark Side.
Over the next three years, Farsin learned endurance and strength, and he began to develop an air of arrogance, acting as if all the world save himself was insignificant. His years of training under Fyrion molded a young Jedi Padawan into a hardened practitioner of the Dark Side. Farsin had one of the gangs his Master controlled make him a suit of armor, to the specifications of that of the nightmare man he had seen in his Trial of Spirit. It was intimidating, and he used it to scare his foes and enemies into submission.
One incident took place when Farsin was 29. A favorite consort of Fyrion's, a beautiful woman by the name of Namiis, had become enamored with Farsin. Seducing him into her bed, she stole his virginity. Fyrion discovered, and, enraged, killed her, and tortured Farsin brutally. Farsin was outraged, and attempted to attack his master. The older Dark Jedi managed to best Farsin, and, for his insolence, ripped apart his apprentice's mind, torturing him with the raw power of the Dark Side. Farsin lay weak, wounded for days, until he was strong enough to recover. But he swore vengeance upon Fyrion.
Under Fyrion's instruction, Farsin created his own lightsaber crystal. It took him many months of meditating, gathering the required materials, and carefully following his master's instructions. At last, more than a year after he started, Farsin completed the crystal. He cast away his old one, and turned his blade crimson.
Then, when Farsin was 31 years old, Fyrion approached him. In an ominous voice, he told Farsin it was time for his final test. He took his apprentice aboard an old shuttle, the first time he had left Nar Shadda in over four years. When the Hyperspace lines became stars once more, the shuttle floated in space over a beautiful, lush world.
Farsin was awestruck in amazement of it's primal beauty. But at the same time, he sensed danger...primal, untamed danger. He turned to his master and asked the name of the world. His master informed him that the world was called Felucia, and that, for four months, Farsin would survive there alone, using only his lightsaber and the Force as defenses.
Farsin accepted, though inside he quietly simmered with rage. He knew that his master had come to fear him in the past year, secretly believing that Farsin would betray him. This was obviously a heavy-handed attempt to kill him. Farsin gritted his teeth, wondering how to escape. His master would surely never return for him.
The shuttle descended to the planet, where Farsin was to depart. But, at the last moment, he turned on his master. Catching the Dark Jedi off guard, he managed to strike Fyrion with his Lightsaber, scarring the Dark Jedi. Fyrion brought out his lightsaber and the two began a deadly battle. Farsin allowed his rage at betrayal, his wrath, to consume him. He began to push the Dark Jedi Knight back to the door of the shuttle. With a final, rage fueled-blast of Force lightning, he blasted Fyrion out of the shuttle. Before his master could recover, Fyrion ran to the controls of the ship and lifted off, stranding his mentor on the wild planet. Farsin was exhausted from the relatively brief battle, having had to use all his skills simply to be on par with his master, a Knight.
Farsin returned to Nar Shadda, calling himself a Dark Jedi Knight. He began to fill the vacant position Fyrion had left in Nar Shadda's underworld, governing the numerous gangs Fyrion had controlled from the shadows. He began to set himself up as a minor crime lord, using the Force to control his servants. Despite gaining this power, the whispers in the back of his mind told him that it was not enough. He had to become stronger. Only then could he harness his full might, exact revenge upon the Jedi and their failed ways. He swore he would become strong enough to return to the Jedi. And then...vengance.
The Corruption of the Sith
Years 32-38
Farsin, now in control of a small criminal empire, one of many others in the underworld of Nar Shadda, began to expand. And expansion draws enemies. Farsin began to realize that his enemies would go to any length to kill him, and take his power. After a near attempt on his life by one of his lieutenants, Farsin decided to flee Nar Shadda. He fled the Nal Hutta system in his cruiser, the Lyrelock, controlling his organization from afar. He wandered the stars, growing more and more paranoid about being killed that he almost ever kept the Lyrelock in one place for more than a week.
Several months later, the Lyrelock was in hyperspace near the Core worlds when Farsin, on a spur-of-the-moment decision, spurred on by the whisper of the Force in his mind, told the captain to drop out of Hyperspace. Farsin's sip emerged into the middle of a tumultuous battle between a fleet of pirate ships and a small band of Republic forces. The Republic was on the losing end of the battle, and even as Farsin watched, the main ship, a large battleship, was destroyed by constant barrage from the pirate ships.
A single, damaged fighter limped away from the battle, fleeing towards space. Farsin sensed a being in the fighter, one strong in the Force. With a single command, the Lyrelock opened it's bay doors, dropping in front of the ship. Thankful, yet wary, the unknown Jedi flew their ship into the docking bay.
Farsin was there, waiting to receive the ship. It wobbily flew into the docking bay, landing haphazardly. A single figure clambered out, clutching a lightsaber, struggled on it's feet, then collapsed to the floor. Farsin stood awestruck. The unconscious was none other than Namia Kail. His first instinct was to run ,to clutch her and never let go. But then his mind and the shattered whispers of the Dark Side of the Force caught up with him. A Jedi. One that knew him, one who cared for him.
One that could be turned.
Farsin held Namia aboard the Lyrelock. When she woke, he was there to greet her, his ominous red mask off. Namia was elated to see him, but she could sense the Dark Side within him. Terrified, she asked him what he had become. He told Namia of power, of strength, the words flowing from his mouth as easily as they had from doomed Fyrion's. He told her he could make her powerful, that they could be together again. He would make her fall to the Dark Side.
She resisted. For weeks, months she resisted. Farsin's torture, his persuasion, all the skills Fyrion has taught him, slowly wore Namia down. He ripped apart her mind with the Dark Side. Slowly, he began, simultaneously, to eradicate all that remained of the padawan called Farsin Jor'ael, and to twist Namia, to turn her to the Dark Side. Farsin was forced to smother part of himself, the part that cried out in pain each time he tortured Namia to ignore her pleas.
And, at last, he succeeded. Namia was twisted, perverted into a different form of herself. Her rage at Farsin became her all, and then, it consumed her. He had made himself an apprentice. He began to pour his knowledge into her, teaching her of how to use the Force destructively. He withheld much from her, not wishing to fall like his master had. He spent several years making Namia his weapon. His organization soon came to fear Namia just as much as him, knowing that if there was a mistake, if a raid failed, Farsin would send her to punish them as she saw fit.
Farsin continued to grow stronger in the Force, harnessing the Dark Side to his will. He practiced the Chain Lightning that Fyrion had taught him to wield, and honed his skills with a lightsaber blade, sparring against Namia and testing his abilities on those around him. He began to grow strong enough in the Dark Side that he could harness the might of the Force at will, until he surpassed even Fyrion. He began to call himself a Master of the Dark Side.
Yet he still sought power. And power would be his downfall.
Farsin continued to expand his crime empire, until he had organizations on up to three worlds, all controlled by himself. But despite the fact that countless others attempted to forge an alliance with him, he refused to listen, attempting to keep all of his power to himself. Slowly, his lieutenants began to defy him, objecting his power-greedy motivations. His organization began rebel against him, until only a select few were still wholly loyal to him. And a house divided cannot stand.
Farsin's criminal empire began to fall apart. At a last-ditch meeting with his lieutenants on Nar Shadda, Farsin found a team of mercenaries waiting for the Lyrelock at the landing pad. He ordered his crew to attack, but his men turned against him. He and Namia managed to strike many of the rebels down, but, seeing he would be defeated, Farsin fled. He and Namia escaped Nar Shadda in a shuttle, jumping to hyperspace before their enemies could attack them.
The former crime lord, his empire in ruins, was outraged. The darkness in his mind began to swell up again. Hatred. A need for revenge. First the Jedi, now his own organization. Farsin fled into relative exile to lick his wounds and recuperate.
Several months after he fled Nar Shadda, Farsin heard a rumor, a shadow of shadows, of Sith, of men who wielded the Dark Side of the Force, gathering on Korriban. Where most of the galaxy saw a new threat, he saw a chance to rise to his former glory again. So he and Namia decided to go to Korriban, and join these new Sith Lords.
Farsin arrived, meeting a small, but powerful, and slowly growing group of darksiders. He watched as the hierarchy of the small band slowly began to form. Farsin used his remaining criminal ties and power to help fund the new Sith Order, and was granted the rank for this and his formidable aptitude with the Dark Side. Namia became a Sith Knight, still loyal to her Master.
He took upon himself the name of Naarsion, at last completing the vision he had seen in his Jedi Trial of the Spirit. Now he is a Master of the Dark Side, a Lord of the Sith, and he wants only one thing-power. And if all the Sith and the Jedi must fall before him, then so be it.
RP Sample:
Naarsion stepped through the desolate battlefield. His lightsaber was clutched in his hand, deactivated. His long, black cape swept across the ground as he walked. Shattered, broken bodies lay strewn across the ground. The others had done a good job, that much he could admit. They were powerful. His eyes flicked across the scene, taking it all in from behind the tinted eyes of his mask. The bodies of Republic soldiers lay strewn everywhere. The smell of burnt, cauterized flesh permeated the air. The rocky, arid ground was littered with corpses.
He sensed them moments before he saw them. They stood near a ruined Republic turret, the turret's operators lying dead on the ground at their feet. Two tall figures, both holding crimson lightsabers. They flinched when they saw him, and he casually continued to advance. With a flick of his wrist, his lightsaber hummed in his hand. With his free hand, he reached up and detached his shoulderpads from his armor, letting them drop to the ground. Opening his mouth, a slight smile twisting the corners of his lips, he spoke.
"You have abandoned the Sith Order and fled Korriban. For this, you die."
The shorter of the two charged at him, screaming, before the words had finished leaving his lips. With his free hand he reached out and grabbed the turret with the Force, launching it at the traitorous acolyte. The heavy, ruined turret smashed into the acolyte, the power of the Force behind it. The hooded figure went flying, smashing into the ground limp as a rag doll.
Without a moment's pause, Naarsion hurtled towards the other acolyte, his lightsaber crashing into the acolyte's own. The acolyte was forced back, barely able to parry Naarsion's blows. Naarsion toyed with the acolyte for a minute more, then swiftly reached out and tore the acolyte's lightsaber from his hand with the Force. He hurtled the deactivated weapon away and reached into the depths of his mind. He channeled the Dark Side into his hand, and blasted out bolts of blue, arcing lightning at his foe. The acolyte screamed as the lightning coursed through his body, blowing him backwards and leaving him a smoking heap, barely alive and groaning, through his tortured, indecipherable screams, for mercy.
The Sith plunged his lightsaber into the tortured acolyte's chest, ending him. In a few quick steps, he was standing over the other acolyte, and ended him the same way as his companion.
Naarsion turned and stalked away. His job was done.
