Post by xlepermessiahxx on Mar 24, 2013 23:01:26 GMT -5
Name: Despin R'or
Race: human male
Age: 14
Height: 5'10"
Weight:140 lbs.
Appearance:
Personality: When Des was a child, he was very carefree. As he grew older however, and experienced the harsh life synonymous with that of an adolescent sand person, his outlook had begun to change. As his training began he grew more and more distant from people, unless of course they could offer him something that he wanted. His father allowed little room for mistake, and because of this, Des grew to be a perfectionist, striving only for the best in himself and others. As a child, and still learning, this led to anger issues early on. He would constantly think of himself as less than enough and would do anything to prove himself wrong. As he grew in strength, he began to learn that the best way to handle things was through careful yet forceful execution. His lust for self improvement gave him a somewhat twisted obsession with hunting. Reveling just as much in the dying breath of his prey as the hunt itself. He cares little for others, his initiation rite proving that people were only tools to him.
Birth place: Tatooine
Faction: Sith
Rank: Initiate
Previous Faction: none
Previous Rank: Force Sensitive
Lightsaber: none
Color: none
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho N/A
Makashi N/A
Soresu N/A
Ataru N/A
Shien / Djem So N/A
>>Sub-form Backhanded N/A
Niman
>>Sub-form Jar-kai, or Dual Wield N/A
Juyo
Double Bladed Combat N/A
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 1
Telepathic: 2
Body: 2
Sense: 3
Protection:1
Healing: 0
Destruction: 0
Specialized Skills: N/A
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 4
Intelligence: 3
Speed: 3
Leadership: 1
Unarmed: 2
Melee Weapons: 4
Ranged Weapons: 1
Bio:
Kaida Hodren had been a jedi knight serving in the war against the Sith empire. She fought alongside numerous Republic marines, but from the many she formed a bond with the Sen Knessos. The two became inseperable, forming a friendship tempered in blood and tears. Kaida, breaking every vow she had taken in becoming a Jedi, fell in love. They did everything they could to keep their relationship a secret from the Jedi order, but no amount of cunning could hide the growing bulge in her stomach. As Kaida’s pregnancy began to show, it wasn’t long before she was summoned to the jedi council. She and Sen both knew that this meant expulsion from the Jedi Order, so rather than face embarrassment at the hands of the council, they fled. Sen knew the penalty for desertion was death, but could not bring himself to leave Kaida to raise their child alone.
After months of running, Sen found transportation to Tatooine, he hoped that the criminal reputation of the planet would deter the Republic from following. Due to their lack of money, their next few months were spent scrounging for food, and a constant search for shelter. Just as they had begun to give up all hope of surviving the desert wastelands, they came across a small moisture farm just outside the Jundland wastes. The farmers were a kindly people, taking the two refugees without question, providing food and shelter for the both of them.
Sen began to work with the farming family to help earn their stay. Kaida did what she could to help, but the months of malnourishment in the desert had left her weak. They knew it was only a matter of time before their child was born, and they had begun to make necessary preparations for the childbirth. They had begun to purchase what little medical supplies they could afford, hoping that it would be enough.
One night, just as Sen and the others had gotten in from a long days work, Kaida went into labour. The whole family helped to do whatever they could to keep her in a stable condition, but it was all in vain: she was losing too much blood. As the first cries of their newborn child filled the room, Kaida drew her last breath.
In the months that followed Kaida’s death, Sen and the others did their best to raise the Despin. Things were harder for all of them than they had ever been. The women often had less time to work as it was often dedicated to caring for Despin, yet somehow they managed to pull through. They all anxiously awaited the time when Des would be able to hold his own as part of the family. Unfortunately, none of them would live to see such a time.
A small tribe of Sand People had been migrating through the desert, searching for a secluded place to set up camp. Their search had led them on course to discover the moisture farm. They waited until night, when everyone was asleep. The women stayed behind to watch over the bantha, while the men crept in with gaffi in hand. A group of 12 Sand people made it into the farmhouse unnoticed. They quietly searched through the house, taking whatever they could find. While searching the many rooms of the house, Girk R’or (the tribe leader’s eldest son at 24) came across Despin’s nursery. Setting down his gaffi next to the crib, he reached in and grabbed Despin, not wishing him the same fate the others would soon face. Just as he began to wrap Despin within his cloak, he heard light footsteps behind him and quickly turned t
Sen reached out to wrench his child from Girk’s grasp, but quickly retracted them as he let out a bloodcurdling shriek. Girk looked down to see the sharp end of his brother’s gaffi protruding from Sen’s stomach. Clutching, Despin with one hand, Girk grabbed his own gaffi and smashed the blunt end over Sen’s head, sending him to the ground in a crumpled heap. Girk pressed his foot down on Sen’s chest, raised the gaffi above his head, and plunged the sharp end into his skull. Screams began to fill the farmhouse, as Girk suspected the other farmers were meeting similar ends.
Girk and the others took everything from the farm, leaving none alive but Despin. With loot in tow, they made their way back to the rest of the tribe. Girk carried nothing with him but Despin. He held him close as if he were his own child, which he actually intended for him to be. He looked down at the baby, noticing something silver protruding from the blanket he was wrapped in. Lifting the small chain from the baby’s chest he read what he assumed was his given name. ‘Despin’ he thought to himself as he and the others approached the Bantha herd.
So it came to be that Des was assimilated into the tribe as one of the Uli-Ah, one of the children of the tribe. Des, being the adopted child of Girk, the eldest son of the tribe leader, was welcomed as if he were part of their own bloodline. He was raised alongside the other Uli-ah as a brother and companion. He was spared none of the ritualistic traditions of the Sand people, and as a result he never questioned who he was. Because the Sand People were forbidden to show any skin under their cloaks and other trappings, Despin assumed all his life that he was no different from his family. Mira, Girk’s wife and Despin’s adopted mother, treated Despin with the same love that she would her own biological child.
Raised by his mother, as well as the other tribe women and men, Des was taught to be suspicious of outsiders, breeding within him a certain hostility towards others and a group-centric mentality: concerned only with how he could better himself for his own good and that of his kin. His early years were spent in close companionship with his mother and the other Uli-ah. These years were filled with simple chores, which usually involved helping the tribe women cook, clean and tend to the Bantha. This was a time of great joy for Des, learning the ways of the tribe as well as becoming friends with many of the other Uli-ah. Two extremely significant relationships were formed in these early years. He became best friends with his cousin A’Grak R’or , as well as K’irda B’ror’A’Dak, a female Uli-Ah.
By the time he was old enough to ride (around 7), Des’ parents gifted him with the firstborn Bantha produced by the mating of their own mounts. Des quickly grew attached to his mount, naming him after the ferocious Krayt dragons that roamed the Jundland wastes. The relationship between a Sand Person and his mount was that of a limb to a body, and Des felt that with Krayt. Krayt was a part of him, he felt (as many others did) that if anything were to happen to his mount, it would be worse than losing his own life.
Des and his friends had grown inseperable over their childhood years, and as they all approached the calling of their ‘bloodrite’, these bonds grew even more strong. As they approached their teen years (around 9), Despin and A’Grak would accompany their fathers on raids, though their part in these was limited to playing sentry over the Bantha as the Adults completed the raids.
At this age, the young men of the tribe, still considered Uli-Ah, had begun their martial training. Each being given his own gaffi, the days were spent training for battle and hunting. Girk spared no expenses on Des’s part, his training was just as rigorous as any other Uli-Ah in the tribe. Des was a quick learner, he had no special aptitude for the physical training, other than his constant drive to better himself. Just like his father, he had little tolerance for error. Anytime that he would fall behind in any area he would stay out and practice until he had mastered that technique. The tribe's fighting style was focused on brute strength, following the philosophy that the best offence was likewise the best defence. Des was taught to give no ground in battle, and that the best victories were those won before they even started. These teachings became the basis for Des’ cold and calculating persona as an adult. Having the upperhand was everything to him, he would settle for nothing but the best in himself and others, this led to him becoming a very humble learner.
By the age of 12, Des and A’Grak had been given larger roles within the tribe. They were not yet old enough to join in on the raids, but they were old enough to hunt. Des grew to enjoy the hunt like nothing he had before. His constant need to improve and dominate fit in perfectly with the world of a hunter. The hunt would prove if he was strong enough, failure had the consequence of an empty stomach to push him forward. He would often refuse food if he felt he was undeserving, in most cases after a failed hunt. His hunger fueled his lust, his lust fueled his passion for the hunt, demanding success. Through the teachings of his father, as well as training on his own, he quickly became recognized as one of the more promising young hunters of the tribe.
As Des grew nearer and nearer to his bloodrite, he had done nothing but improve. Though he lacked speed, his strength and cunning often left him the victor in Gaffi sparring. He had also grown more and more successful in his hunting capability, rarely losing his prey. By the time Des had reached the age of 14, he had been welcomed to join in on some of the smaller raids.
His first raid was felt with a certain fear and excitement that he had never felt before. This was different than hunting dewbacks, the reward was tenfold, but the consequence of failure were absolute in their finality. The 8 men selected for the raid had stationed themselves on an overlook above a small moisture farm. They watched for hours as the several families that lived there made their way through their daily routines. As nightfall approached, they began to move in. By the time they had reached the farm, only the faint light of the second sun lingered on the desert horizon.
Des followed his father as he quietly opened the cellar door. As the two of them entered the first of the four farm houses, they began to scan the room. It was full of various meats and fruits. Des lifted the satchel he had been wearing around his back, stuffing it full with everything in his reach. His father did the same, and as they took all they could carry, they moved to the next room. Girk quickly scoped out the large kitchen they had entered, to find an elderly man leaning over the countertop caressing a thin glass of Corellian whiskey. Girk raised his hand, signaling for Des to stand back. Girk crept in close, and raised the sharp end of his gaffi level with the old man’s head. Without hesitation he plunged it quickly and fiercely through the man’s skull, killing him instantly.
They moved through the house, finding no one else. It seemed that this building had been simply an eating and lounging area. Upon realization that there was nothing else within the building, Girk and Des made their way back to the kitchen. Girk began looking through drawers, while Des examined the Corellian whiskey with fascination, having never smelled alcohol before. Des held the glass, examining its contents and turned to ask his father what it was. He dropped the glass in fear and immediately lifted his gaffi. While hey had been preoccupied searching through the room, a young boy, not much older than Des had crept into the room from the door directly behind Girk. The boy held in his hand a vibro-dagger and was stalking towards Girk. Being in the boy’s blindspot, Des had gone unnoticed, he didn’t waste time to sieze the opportunity. He lifted the blunt end of his gaffi and bludgeoned the boy to the ground. The boy dropped his knife, and fell to the ground yelping and clutching the laceration on his forehead. Des quickly moved in for the kill, repeatedly stabbing the boy in the chest before finally putting an end to his life.
Girk spun around knocking several kitchen utensils flying as he witnessed his only son kill the helpless boy. As Des lowered his weapon, Girk reached out, laying a hand on Des’ shoulder he nodded in approval. As the two of them left the building, visions of his first human kill flashed before his eyes. The intensity of the emotions overwhelmed him, the pained expression on the boys face only fueled the feeling of fulfillment within him. He did not know it at the time, but this feeling was the first whisper of the force he ever encountered, in this case he felt the dark side.
Over the next few months, his father had deemed him ready to embark on his bloodrite. The bloodrite was a brutal ritual in which the Uli-Ah, would select any prey of their choosing (including sentient beings, which often garnered more prestige), hunt them down and torture them for weeks before finally killing them. He had no idea what it was that he wanted to prey upon, but he knew something of this level of importance necessitated something more challenging than a dewback.
With the best wishes of his parents, A’Grak, and the other tribe members, Des set out into the Jundland wastes armed only with his gaffi, and whatever little supplies young Krayt could carry for him. Des searched for days on end, hunting for food from time to time, but never giving up his search for a worthy prey. After weeks of searching, he was at a loss towards what to do. It was in the middle of the night, while lying beside Krayt, that Des saw it. A sudden flash of light split the darkness in the sky. Large flaming chunks of metal burned their way through the atmosphere as they hurtled down to the desert floor. Des kicked Krayt awake, climbing onto his back, he directed his mount towards the nearby hills to better inspect a large hunk of metal that had crashed nearby sending a ripple through the sand.
Des stared at the smoking heap with curiosity when it hit him. As he looked at the hunk of metal (which was in actuality an escape pod) he felt something well up within him that he had not felt since he killed the young boy on the moisture farm. Intrigued, he began to make his way to the crash site.
Though the crash was in sight, the trek across the expansive desert took him hours. The suns had begun to rise as he neared his destination. Finally he had arrived. He climbed down from Krayt, and landing softly in the sand he unlatched his gaffi from the holster on Krayt’s side. He approached the pod with caution, the sense of strength emanated from within the heap of metal. He examined the surface of the pod, it had been crumpled as it had crashed. peering around the far side of the pod, he found a small shattered window, looking inside he saw a young human boy, about the same age as himself. He was wearing a dark brown leather tunic, had a braid coming from the back of his head, and wore a strange metal tube on his belt.
Des lay down his Gaffi and yanked the unconscious boy from the metal casket. The first thing he did was reach for the metal tube on the boy’s belt. He lifted it and inspected it on all sides, there was a strange crack on the side of the tube, and a small circular opening on one of the ends. Des peered down the hole, while fiddling with the buttons. Unaware of what would happen, Des clicked the red button on the side, a few sparks shot out of the hole, and a bright green light flashed momentarily before fading away. Recognizing the tube as junk, he tossed it back into the pod.
Des struggled to lift the boy over his shoulder, but finally managed to do so. He carried him over to Krayt, and slung him over the bantha’s back, tying him up with some spare cloth within the saddlebags. Des climbed back on his bantha and made way for a large cluster of rock formations to the east.
It was nightime once again by the time that he had reached the rocky hills. A short search of the surrounding area, revealed a small cave, which Des immediately directed Krayt towards. Once inside the cave, Des removed the boy from Krayt and tied him instead to a stalagmite protruding from the ground. Preparing himself his dinner, Des waited in anticipation for the boy to wake. As the hours crept on, Des had become drowsy, struggling to keep his eyes open and soon he had fallen asleep.
Des woke to the sound of panting, and a now familiar radiance of energy filling the room. He quickly glanced over to the boy who seemed to be winning a struggle against his bonds, and just as Des leapt to his feet reaching for his gaffi, the boy broke free. The boy reached down to his belt, seemingly looking for the metal tube which Des had previously discarded. Upon discovering its absence he panicked, he raised his hand as if attempting to push Des who was yards away from the boy. Despite the distance, Des stumbled backward in shock as the impact of the force knocked him to the ground. The impact wasn’t too hard, Des knew that if he had known it was coming, he would have been able to brace himself. Des climbed to his feet to see the boy waiting with fists raised. He took two steps forward and just as the boy raised his hand, Des braced himself. The force staggered him a bit, but he pushed forward nonetheless.
The boy was getting frustrated now, he raised his hand for another attempt, but this time it barely affected Des at all as he inched closer and closer. The boy, seemingly realizing it was to no avail, rushed in to meet Des head on. He was similar size to Des, and what he lacked in strength he made up for in speed. Des swung down his gaffi in an attempt to bludgeon the boy, who raised his hands and caught the shaft of the gaffi, diverting the blow that would have shattered his right shoulder. Des forcefully rammed his foot into the boys stomach, knocking him back, and before he had a chance to recover, Des swung his gaffi around to utilize the spear end of the gaffi, and slashed out at the boys outstretched left hand, severing all of the boys fingers save his thumb.
The boy shrieked in agony, and clutched his now fingerless hand. While the boy was incapacitated , Des quickly made his way to Krayt and grabbed a pouch full of metal tent stakes and hammer from the saddlebags. Des was determined to finish his bloodrite. He had no idea what the boy had done when he had pushed him back without even touching him. The force of those impacts had left a similar aura to the one he had felt when he slew the young farm boy. He remembered the feeling of the farm boys life energy draining, and hoped that a similar effect would come from ending the now fingerless boy in the cave. Des reached down and wrenched the boys hands apart, grabbing the boys fingerless hand, he pressed it to the claylike ground, positioning the sharp end of the stake over his palm. He hammered down through bone, clay, and the shrill screams of the boy. Once his hand was firmly staked to the ground, he repeated the process with the boys other hand and feet. He made one final trip to Krayt to retrieve a large cloth wrapped bundle containing various tools such as knives and blowtorches, as well as several wood planks he would later use to craft a makeshift torture rack.. His bloodrite was about to begin.
The rush Des felt as he cut and burned was unlike anything he had ever experienced, it was the same as the boy from the farm, but ten fold. Every incision filled Des with strength as it drained the boy of his own. His sole purpose was to draw the bloodbath out as long as possible, stopping only to eat, and relish in the crying pains of the boy. Des did not know it but the energy he was basking in was that of the dark side, a force that from here on out he would stop at nothing to court. Des was also unaware that the energy radiating from the cave, would soon draw others to find him.
Unbeknownst to Des, the explosion above tatooine had brought another escape pod hurtling down through the atmosphere. The escape pod was helmed by a blood red Twi'lek known as Ka'sim, a dark lord of the sith. Ka’sim had been sent to tatooine to oversee a deal with the hutts. The Sith were making a deal with them to purchase weapons for the war, and Ka’sim had been chosen for the mission due to his history on the planet, particularly his linguistic and diplomatic skill.
Upon landing on the planet, Ka’sim had noticed a nearby presence, he was almost certain it was another force user, and even more certain that they weren’t an ally. Nevertheless, he continued on his mission, making sure to watch his back, but he kept getting the feeling that someone was following him. It wasn’t until he arrived in Mos Eisley that he finally found out who. Two Jedi, a master and his padawan, they had been tailing him from Mos Espa, all the way to Mos Eisley, where he was scheduled to meet a middleman to get in with the hutts.
Ka’sim decided it would be in his best interest to avoid conflict with the Jedi until after the transaction. If he initiated open combat, it could surely deter the Hutts from commencing with the deal from fear of involvement in a galactic war, and he knew that no one but another force user would be able to detect the to Jedi anyway. Best to leave things until business was finished.
The deal went smoothly as planned, credits were credits, and the Sith had plenty, brokering a deal to keep a small regiment supplied for months. When he returned to Korriban with the news, they would then send frigates pick up their first shipments. For that part of the scheme to go unhindered, he would need to deal with the two Jedi first. He acknowledged the fact that they had followed him since he landed in Mos Espa, and gathered that they must have landed either in the spaceport there, or somewhere on the outskirts. He would lead them back, feint his leave, and stow away on their ship. He would slaughter them there as they left the planet.
Upon arrival in Mos Espa, Ka’sim programmed his ship for autopilot then snuck out of the ship, using the dark side to cloud his presence. His main areas of expertise were that of diplomacy and stealth, able to mask his presence from some of the most powerful Jedi, his trick would easily fool the two shadows.
Sure enough, the two Jedi fell for the ruse, making way for their ship, and no doubt aiming to relay the information to the Jedi Council, an act that would surely cause trouble for the weapons shipment. He tailed the two to their ship, a light frigate built for speed and stealth. As the two Jedi climbed aboard, Ka’sim snuck aboard, and hid in the cargo hold until they had left the planet’s atmosphere.
As soon as the ship had left Tatooine’s atmosphere, Des climbed out of the cargo hold, still careful to mask his presence. He drew the double bladed lightsaber from his belt; Holding it at the ready, he made his way to the ship’s cockpit. The frigate was rather small, save for the cargo hold, he surmised that it had once been a smuggler ship, confiscated and re-tasked for the war effort. The circular hallway to the cockpit was quiet, a bit too quiet, then he heard it. Two lightsabers hummed to life as the Zabrak Jedi Master leapt out from behind a wall and swung down towards Ka’sim. Quickly and without hesitation, Ka’sim swirled the hilt of his lightsaber as its twin red blades sprang to life, easily catching the two violet blades of the Jedi. Ka’sim grunted as he pushed the Jedi back, causing one of his purple blades to burn a long streak along the side of the hallway. The Sith and Jedi stood about four feet apart, each holding their blades at the ready. Ka’sim’s face held a menacing snarl, “Your mission has failed Jedi” he spat out the title as if it were poison,”You, and your padawan will die here”
“You will die!” Ka’sim spun around just in time to catch the bright green blade of the Zabrak’s young padawan. He shot out his leg, causing the boy to stumble from the impact. He raised saber, and just as he swung down, the Zabrak Jedi pushed out with the force, knocking Ka’sim off balance, causing him to miss his target.
“Jarek! Run! I will take him, get off the ship!”Jarek nodded, and ran off. Befor Ka’sim could react, the Zabrak lunged forward, slashing both of his blades downward. Ka’sim caught both blades with the right end of his blade, pushing the Zabrak back, and swinging forward with the left blade. The Jedi easily parried this blow with his left lightsaber, then dodged the expected blow from the right as Ka’sim swung the right blade forward again.
They were far from an even matche, Ka’sim twisted around his saber, moving with unnatural speed, and his onslaught was unrelenting. The Zabrak was having difficulty keeping up, and before long the battle had been decided. Ka’sim slashed his saber with all his might to the right side of the Zabrak, who caught the blade, and was barely able to hold it with both of his own. Ka’sim twisted around and slashed out with the other blade from behind his back, catching the Jedi off guard, the Zabrak barely caught the blade. Des kicked out behind him, catching the Jedi square in the gut and knocking him to the ground, causing him to drop both of his sabers. Ka’sim turned off his own lightsaber and held his hands palm up in front of him. Massive amounts of energy swirled throughout the room as he conjured up dark violet lightning in his hands. The Zabrak’s eyes widened in fear as Ka’sim jammed his fists outward, sending demented forks of the volatile energy out to consume him. The Jedi screamed in agony as the lightning ripped through his body, in moments, the dark energy had ripped the life from his body.
Ka’sim quickly ran through the ship, making sure that the boy hadn’t disobeyed his master and stayed behind. Just as he arrived, one of the two escape pods was jettisoned, the padawan had fled. Ka’sim quickly made off to the cargo hold, and after searching for a moment, found a few explosive charges. He picked them up and ran off to the engine room. Once there, he placed and armed both charges. It was almost over now, all he would have to do now was take an escape pod and find the padawan before he could escape the planet.
Ka’sim stepped into the last remaining escape pod and launched it, as soon as he figured he was within safe distance, he detonated the charges, obliterating the ship in a burst of fire and metal.
Kas’im stood atop one of the millions of sand dunes in the jundland wastes. Ever since he had crash landed onto the twilit landscape of Tatooine, he could sense a faint whisper of the dark side of the force. It seemed unnatural to him, the planet held no significance to force users of the light or dark, yet it was there. He had been searching for days, sustaining himself with the power of the force, and as he drew nearer and nearer to the source, the distant hum of the force had grown in intensity.
Finally, his search led him to a small cluster of rock cliffs and other rock formations. Screams rang out through the cliffside, adding to the eeriness he was already feeling. As he climbed through the jagged stones, he came across a small cave opening, he knew immediately that he had found what he was searching for. Ka’sim stood tall as he entered the dimly lit cave, unaware as to the malign ritual he had just stumbled upon.
Energy of the dark side filled the room, pulsing outward in invisible waves. The sight was appalling, a Jedi Padawan lay twisted and broken on a rack, bending him backwards leaving trails of blood down his tattered robes. His eyes were gone, one of his hands was missing almost all of its fingers and the rack had him stretched to the point that all the joints in his arms and legs had been dislocated. Kas’im recognised this ritual as the bloodrite of the young Sand person crouching over the agonized Jedi Padawan. He had heard of the ritual before, but had never imagined it to be as gruesome as the scene laid out before him.
Des rose from his crouched position, clutching his gaffi at his side. As he stood, he felt the air in the cave change, as if someone else had just walked in. He quickly flipped around, holding his weapon at the ready. The tall brooding Twi’lek appeared unphased by Des’ weapon.
“Impressive” Kas’im muttered in the tongue of the sand people, glancing over Des’ shoulder and motioning to the dying Jedi Padawan. Des’ mask hid the surprised look on his face, he had never heard anyone from outside his tribe speak in his language. “ I sense great power in you young one.” Des was slightly confused as to what the crimson Twi’lek meant, but quickly came to the conclusion that it had something to do with the energy pulsing through the room. Nevertheless, he questioned the intruder uneasily, his distrusting instincts kicking in.
“What do you mean? What power?” Des lowered his gaffi, deciding that if this alien knew the language then he must be friendly with sand people, most people wouldn’t bother with such a thing.
“Your anger, your hatred.. your passion. Your Passion gives you strength, your strength in turn gives you power. Our world is bound by an entity known as the force, it is in everything, and everything is of it. Certain individuals, such as myself, and even that pathetic child behind you can harness this force, bend it to our will. You have the potential to do so as well”
Des thought carefully on Ka’sim’s words, slightly lowering his defenses, he spoke. “wh... How can I achieve this power?”
“There are more ways than one. For example, that boy there follows the path of light, the path of the Jedi. He could have one day achieved great power, though through the teachings of the Jedi, they would have been squandered, his passion suppressed and his true potential untapped. The path of the Jedi is for the weak, those unwilling to do what is necessary to gain power. I, on the other hand, follow the path of darkness, the path of strength, the way of the Sith. Only through the dark side of the force can one achieve the full power of the force.”
“Show me” Des demanded, his blood boiling with anticipation and lust for the power the Sith spoke of. Ka’sim stared at Des for a moment, as if contemplating his next move. Ka’sim raised his hand palm up, Des could feel an intense energy forming in its center. Suddenly, flashes of blue-violet forked through the room, engulfing the Jedi padawan, cauterizing his open wounds and sending him into a writhing fit. Screams of agony filled the cave, Des was elated as he felt the waves of power emanating from the lightning. The brief glimpses of the force he had experienced before, pailed in comparison to the maelstrom ripping through the dark cave and boiling the Jedi’s skin.
Within moments the onslaught was over. Des stared in awe at the young Jedi who was now nothing more than a blackened, and lifeless husk. Dropping his gaffi in awe, he knelt at the feet of the Sith Lord. Dreams of achieving the power he had witnessed flashed through his mind, his hands trembled in anxiety. “Teach me how to harness this power, I will do whatever it is you ask of me.” He pleaded.
“I will not teach you, however I can take you to a place where you will learn. Your potential is monumental, but your determination must never waiver. The path of the Sith is not for the weak and undriven, if you ever falter in your strength you will surely be left behind. I will take you to the Sith Academy on Korriban, if you can prove to me you have what it takes. Mere potential is not enough, you must prove to me that you are willing to do whatever it takes.”
“What must I do, how can I gain your trust?” Des asked with his head bowed, and his fist placed firmly on the ground.
“Blood.” Ka’sim spat out, showing his pointed teeth in a wicked grin.
Des sat atop Krayt as he made the long trek through the desert. He thought on the task Ka’sim had given him, struggling with the implications of it. Des had never wavered in his drive to improve, yet this task seemed like it might be too much. But then again, he wondered if any price was too high to gain the power he had witnessed from Lord Ka’sim.
Ka’sim had instructed Des to slaughter his entire tribe. Des was taken aback immediately upon initially hearing the demand but as he mulled it over, he was finding less and less reasons to not follow through. This was no different from his long hunts throughout the Dune Sea and Jundland Wastes, not really. Des had always understood that hunting was a way to prove your strength; to test yourself. If he failed, then he knew he needed to grow stronger, yet Des was coming to the realization that there was nothing more to be learned from his tribe. He already rivaled some of the best hunters and fighters, he was realizing that if he ever wanted to move on, he would have to pass this final test. He had to kill them all, and if he failed, he was weak and his life was pointless. The End always justifies the means.
With the determination of a hungry Krayt dragon, Des prepared to take on his greatest challenge. He figured his best chance would have to be at night, he would take out as many as he could in their sleep and destroy whoever stood against him.
The last fires were snuffed, and darkness crept over the tribe camp, Des watched in stoic silence. His mind conflicted now, more than it had been in the hours prior to arrival, Des dismounted Krayt, taking with him only his gaffi and a dagger he kept hidden underneath the saddle. The silence was overwhelming, glimpses of his childhood fired in his mind, he had to forget. Forgetting was the only way this would be possible. He pushed his memories to the back of his mind, they served now as nothing more than a shrill annoyance on his psyche.
Des quietly snaked his way through the 12 or so tents scattering the campsite, the sand muffling his footsteps. He approached the tent farthest away from the gathering center, and lifted the flap. Three of his kin lay on bed rolls, a mother and her two children. Des stared over the bodies, torn between the life he was about to leave behind and the one that awaited him, Des quickly acted before nostalgia got the better of him. He raised his gaffi and slew all three, there was no noise but the faint gurgling of a freshly lacerated throat.
The point of no return, Des knew it had passed, and now that he had begun, his fear and hatred returned to him with the fiery passion of the twin Tatooinian suns. He moved with guile and precision through the camp, slaughtering men women and Uli’ah without hesitation. Each kill fueled his anger and his fear, making him quicker, making him stronger.
It was almost over now, Des approached the last two tents at the center of the camp. On the left, was his family’s tent, and on the right was his cousin’s. He had to do this. He stepped into A’Grak’s tent, looking over his cousin and his uncle. Des raised his gaffi high over his head, grunting in hesitation. Just as Des was about to strike, Grak (his uncle) woke. Seeing Des with weapon raised, he made a move to gather his own gaffi. Des quickly swung the sharp end of his gaffi down, severing his uncles arm. Grak howled in pain, waking the others in the tent. Des panicked and in one quick motion jammed the gaffi through his uncles skull. A’Grak leapt to his feet, grabbing his own gaffi.
“Despin! What have you done you bastard!” he raised his gaffi, swinging it in a berserker rage. Des easily parried the blow, but was nonetheless caught off guard by his cousins speed. A’Grak swung his gaffi down only to be parried by Des’ weapon. Des smashed the blunt end of his gaffi into A’grak’s stomach, causing him to stumble momentarily. Moving in to finish him, Des Swung the blade end in a horizontal arc. Des screamed in fury as he cleaved his best friend’s head clean off his neck.
“No!” In the heat of battle, Des had failed to notice his father come in the tent behind him. He was thrown to the ground as Girk tackled him. Des flailed and kicked as his father attempted to wrestle his son’s gaffi away. Girk slammed his fist into the side of Des’ face, knocking him temporarily into submission. Des howled as he struggled with his father. In a fight like this, strategy meant little, it was a test of strength that Des knew he couldn’t win if it lasted much longer. He knew his only chance was if he could reach the dagger hidden in his boot. As soon he noticed a break in his fathers assault, Des quickly raised his foot and drew the dagger, plunging it directly into his father’s stomach. His father let out a yelp as he fell onto his back, clutching the dagger protruding from his stomach. Des straddled his father’s legs and grabbed the blade’s hilt, wrestling it from his father’s grip, he pried it out of his punctured torso. He raised the dagger above his head, and in one swift motion, he stabbed down with all his might and ended his father’s life. All that was left of the tribe now, was Des, and his mother. She lay huddled in the corner of their tent, defenseless she cried out for her son to end the bloodshed. He obliged by slashing her neck open, spilling the last of his kin’s blood.
Des sat in the center of the camp with his gaffi laid out over his crossed legs. Ka’sim had instructed him to wait there once the task was completed, and that he would meet him there. It had been about a day since the night Des had slaughtered his tribe, their blood soaked bodies were still strewn about the tents, and Des’ clothes were covered in blood.
It was nearing nightfall, and as the first sun began to sink below the horizon, Des saw him. A single Sith cruiser jetted across the skyline, circled around the camp a few times before coming to land just on its edges. As the ramp opened in the back of the cruiser, Ka’sim glided out onto the desert floor. The blood stains on Des’ cloak telling him all he needed, he motioned for Des to rise. Des stood up, obeying the Sith Lord’s orders.
“You have proven yourself worthy young one, I will train you in the ways of the darkside. You have rejected peace, and are now forever placed on the path to power.
Initiate
The months following his acceptance as Ka’sim’s apprentice were grueling. After clearing the cave that Des had performed his bloodrite in, the two of them had set up a camp within its shelter. Des’s days were filled with training exercises, aimed at focusing his mind, and teaching him how to reach out and bend the force to his will. When he wasn’t studying about the force, he was either practicing his basic ( a skill which Ka’sim deemed necessary for a life beyond the sand people), or learning the complicated art of the lightsaber.
Des had abandoned the garb of the sand people on Ka’sim’s command. The fear and hostility invoked by the appearance of the iconic trappings of a sand person, was not something the two of them needed. He instead donned the traditional black robes and cloak of the Sith. The two of them spent several months within the cave travelling outside, only to retrieve supplies. The bulk of this time was spent honing Des’s basic, as well as his force abilities.
After about 3 months had passed, Des has gained enough of a grasp on galactic basic to understand most of the things Ka’sim would say to him. Ka’sim had explained to Des, that he would only be preparing him for the academy on Korriban, that his position within the Sith would not allow for him to take on an apprentice full time. After a final month of training, Ka’sim had come to the decision that Des had grasped Galactic Basic, the tenants of the Sith Code, and the basics of Force manipulation well enough to take him to the academy. The two of them set off to Korriban, where Ka’sim had told Des that he would be instructed with the other initiates, and if he was lucky, that another Sith would take him as their apprentice.
Des stood across from A'Grak, watching in amused silence as he waited to see if his cousin would make the first move. Des glanced over to his father who simply nodded. The first training duel of the day was about to begin.
Des firmly gripped his gaffi, and uncontent to wait any longer, charged at his older cousin. Des was filled with determination to prove to his father that he was the strongest of the R'or bloodline, and as he sprinted through the sand, he left a wake of dust and hatred flowing behind him. He knew within seconds what his cousin was going to do. Just as he was within reaching distance, Des slid feet first, dodging the swing that he had anticipated mere seconds before. Des collided with A'Grak, knocking the elder boy of his feet.
Des leapt to his feet as A'Grak hit the ground. He raised his gaffi over his head, aiming to bat his cousins gaffi from his hands. A'Grak raised his own gaffi just in time to catch Des' as it swung down towards him. A'Grak pushed back, causing Des to stagger slightly, and allowing him to get back on his feet. Des panicked as he struggled to regain his balance, he nervously glanced over to his father who simply shook his head in dissapointment. Fueled with temporary anger towards A'Grak, he lashed out with all his might, swinging his gaffi at breakneck speed he attacked. Blow after blow after blow, A'Grak's defences were beginning to wear down. Knowing the fight was nearing its end, Des smashed his gaffi toward A'Grak's right side, then to his left, top, right, left, until finally he swung down so hard with his gaffi he ripped A'grak's weapon from his hands. Refusing to quit, Des howled and rammed the blunt end of his gaffi into A'Grak's stomach, knocking him to the ground before finally lowering his weapon. Des looked over to his father, knowing he had gained his true victory, he stormed off to his tent.
Race: human male
Age: 14
Height: 5'10"
Weight:140 lbs.
Appearance:
Des is a somewhat tall and muscular human male. His arms and heavy hands show the beginnings of serious muscle in later life. As a result of his strength training Des postures himself at all times in an upright manner, rarely slouching. His life spent under the iconic trappings of the Sand People has left his facial appearance unrecognized to even himself, causing him to feel naked without his mask. However,underneath that mask lies the face of a young adolescent boy. His black hair kept at nothing more than stubble, so as not to conflict with his mask. He has a strong jaw line that squared out, and deep eyes blacker than the belly of the sarlaac. His eyes carry a certain longing in them, showing his own insecurity.
Personality: When Des was a child, he was very carefree. As he grew older however, and experienced the harsh life synonymous with that of an adolescent sand person, his outlook had begun to change. As his training began he grew more and more distant from people, unless of course they could offer him something that he wanted. His father allowed little room for mistake, and because of this, Des grew to be a perfectionist, striving only for the best in himself and others. As a child, and still learning, this led to anger issues early on. He would constantly think of himself as less than enough and would do anything to prove himself wrong. As he grew in strength, he began to learn that the best way to handle things was through careful yet forceful execution. His lust for self improvement gave him a somewhat twisted obsession with hunting. Reveling just as much in the dying breath of his prey as the hunt itself. He cares little for others, his initiation rite proving that people were only tools to him.
Birth place: Tatooine
Faction: Sith
Rank: Initiate
Previous Faction: none
Previous Rank: Force Sensitive
Lightsaber: none
Color: none
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho N/A
Makashi N/A
Soresu N/A
Ataru N/A
Shien / Djem So N/A
>>Sub-form Backhanded N/A
Niman
>>Sub-form Jar-kai, or Dual Wield N/A
Juyo
Double Bladed Combat N/A
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 1
Telepathic: 2
Body: 2
Sense: 3
Protection:1
Healing: 0
Destruction: 0
Specialized Skills: N/A
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 4
Intelligence: 3
Speed: 3
Leadership: 1
Unarmed: 2
Melee Weapons: 4
Ranged Weapons: 1
Bio:
conception-birth
Kaida Hodren had been a jedi knight serving in the war against the Sith empire. She fought alongside numerous Republic marines, but from the many she formed a bond with the Sen Knessos. The two became inseperable, forming a friendship tempered in blood and tears. Kaida, breaking every vow she had taken in becoming a Jedi, fell in love. They did everything they could to keep their relationship a secret from the Jedi order, but no amount of cunning could hide the growing bulge in her stomach. As Kaida’s pregnancy began to show, it wasn’t long before she was summoned to the jedi council. She and Sen both knew that this meant expulsion from the Jedi Order, so rather than face embarrassment at the hands of the council, they fled. Sen knew the penalty for desertion was death, but could not bring himself to leave Kaida to raise their child alone.
After months of running, Sen found transportation to Tatooine, he hoped that the criminal reputation of the planet would deter the Republic from following. Due to their lack of money, their next few months were spent scrounging for food, and a constant search for shelter. Just as they had begun to give up all hope of surviving the desert wastelands, they came across a small moisture farm just outside the Jundland wastes. The farmers were a kindly people, taking the two refugees without question, providing food and shelter for the both of them.
Sen began to work with the farming family to help earn their stay. Kaida did what she could to help, but the months of malnourishment in the desert had left her weak. They knew it was only a matter of time before their child was born, and they had begun to make necessary preparations for the childbirth. They had begun to purchase what little medical supplies they could afford, hoping that it would be enough.
One night, just as Sen and the others had gotten in from a long days work, Kaida went into labour. The whole family helped to do whatever they could to keep her in a stable condition, but it was all in vain: she was losing too much blood. As the first cries of their newborn child filled the room, Kaida drew her last breath.
Birth- Abduction
In the months that followed Kaida’s death, Sen and the others did their best to raise the Despin. Things were harder for all of them than they had ever been. The women often had less time to work as it was often dedicated to caring for Despin, yet somehow they managed to pull through. They all anxiously awaited the time when Des would be able to hold his own as part of the family. Unfortunately, none of them would live to see such a time.
A small tribe of Sand People had been migrating through the desert, searching for a secluded place to set up camp. Their search had led them on course to discover the moisture farm. They waited until night, when everyone was asleep. The women stayed behind to watch over the bantha, while the men crept in with gaffi in hand. A group of 12 Sand people made it into the farmhouse unnoticed. They quietly searched through the house, taking whatever they could find. While searching the many rooms of the house, Girk R’or (the tribe leader’s eldest son at 24) came across Despin’s nursery. Setting down his gaffi next to the crib, he reached in and grabbed Despin, not wishing him the same fate the others would soon face. Just as he began to wrap Despin within his cloak, he heard light footsteps behind him and quickly turned t
Sen reached out to wrench his child from Girk’s grasp, but quickly retracted them as he let out a bloodcurdling shriek. Girk looked down to see the sharp end of his brother’s gaffi protruding from Sen’s stomach. Clutching, Despin with one hand, Girk grabbed his own gaffi and smashed the blunt end over Sen’s head, sending him to the ground in a crumpled heap. Girk pressed his foot down on Sen’s chest, raised the gaffi above his head, and plunged the sharp end into his skull. Screams began to fill the farmhouse, as Girk suspected the other farmers were meeting similar ends.
Girk and the others took everything from the farm, leaving none alive but Despin. With loot in tow, they made their way back to the rest of the tribe. Girk carried nothing with him but Despin. He held him close as if he were his own child, which he actually intended for him to be. He looked down at the baby, noticing something silver protruding from the blanket he was wrapped in. Lifting the small chain from the baby’s chest he read what he assumed was his given name. ‘Despin’ he thought to himself as he and the others approached the Bantha herd.
Abduction-childhood
So it came to be that Des was assimilated into the tribe as one of the Uli-Ah, one of the children of the tribe. Des, being the adopted child of Girk, the eldest son of the tribe leader, was welcomed as if he were part of their own bloodline. He was raised alongside the other Uli-ah as a brother and companion. He was spared none of the ritualistic traditions of the Sand people, and as a result he never questioned who he was. Because the Sand People were forbidden to show any skin under their cloaks and other trappings, Despin assumed all his life that he was no different from his family. Mira, Girk’s wife and Despin’s adopted mother, treated Despin with the same love that she would her own biological child.
Raised by his mother, as well as the other tribe women and men, Des was taught to be suspicious of outsiders, breeding within him a certain hostility towards others and a group-centric mentality: concerned only with how he could better himself for his own good and that of his kin. His early years were spent in close companionship with his mother and the other Uli-ah. These years were filled with simple chores, which usually involved helping the tribe women cook, clean and tend to the Bantha. This was a time of great joy for Des, learning the ways of the tribe as well as becoming friends with many of the other Uli-ah. Two extremely significant relationships were formed in these early years. He became best friends with his cousin A’Grak R’or , as well as K’irda B’ror’A’Dak, a female Uli-Ah.
By the time he was old enough to ride (around 7), Des’ parents gifted him with the firstborn Bantha produced by the mating of their own mounts. Des quickly grew attached to his mount, naming him after the ferocious Krayt dragons that roamed the Jundland wastes. The relationship between a Sand Person and his mount was that of a limb to a body, and Des felt that with Krayt. Krayt was a part of him, he felt (as many others did) that if anything were to happen to his mount, it would be worse than losing his own life.
Childhood-Bloodrite
Des and his friends had grown inseperable over their childhood years, and as they all approached the calling of their ‘bloodrite’, these bonds grew even more strong. As they approached their teen years (around 9), Despin and A’Grak would accompany their fathers on raids, though their part in these was limited to playing sentry over the Bantha as the Adults completed the raids.
At this age, the young men of the tribe, still considered Uli-Ah, had begun their martial training. Each being given his own gaffi, the days were spent training for battle and hunting. Girk spared no expenses on Des’s part, his training was just as rigorous as any other Uli-Ah in the tribe. Des was a quick learner, he had no special aptitude for the physical training, other than his constant drive to better himself. Just like his father, he had little tolerance for error. Anytime that he would fall behind in any area he would stay out and practice until he had mastered that technique. The tribe's fighting style was focused on brute strength, following the philosophy that the best offence was likewise the best defence. Des was taught to give no ground in battle, and that the best victories were those won before they even started. These teachings became the basis for Des’ cold and calculating persona as an adult. Having the upperhand was everything to him, he would settle for nothing but the best in himself and others, this led to him becoming a very humble learner.
By the age of 12, Des and A’Grak had been given larger roles within the tribe. They were not yet old enough to join in on the raids, but they were old enough to hunt. Des grew to enjoy the hunt like nothing he had before. His constant need to improve and dominate fit in perfectly with the world of a hunter. The hunt would prove if he was strong enough, failure had the consequence of an empty stomach to push him forward. He would often refuse food if he felt he was undeserving, in most cases after a failed hunt. His hunger fueled his lust, his lust fueled his passion for the hunt, demanding success. Through the teachings of his father, as well as training on his own, he quickly became recognized as one of the more promising young hunters of the tribe.
As Des grew nearer and nearer to his bloodrite, he had done nothing but improve. Though he lacked speed, his strength and cunning often left him the victor in Gaffi sparring. He had also grown more and more successful in his hunting capability, rarely losing his prey. By the time Des had reached the age of 14, he had been welcomed to join in on some of the smaller raids.
His first raid was felt with a certain fear and excitement that he had never felt before. This was different than hunting dewbacks, the reward was tenfold, but the consequence of failure were absolute in their finality. The 8 men selected for the raid had stationed themselves on an overlook above a small moisture farm. They watched for hours as the several families that lived there made their way through their daily routines. As nightfall approached, they began to move in. By the time they had reached the farm, only the faint light of the second sun lingered on the desert horizon.
Des followed his father as he quietly opened the cellar door. As the two of them entered the first of the four farm houses, they began to scan the room. It was full of various meats and fruits. Des lifted the satchel he had been wearing around his back, stuffing it full with everything in his reach. His father did the same, and as they took all they could carry, they moved to the next room. Girk quickly scoped out the large kitchen they had entered, to find an elderly man leaning over the countertop caressing a thin glass of Corellian whiskey. Girk raised his hand, signaling for Des to stand back. Girk crept in close, and raised the sharp end of his gaffi level with the old man’s head. Without hesitation he plunged it quickly and fiercely through the man’s skull, killing him instantly.
They moved through the house, finding no one else. It seemed that this building had been simply an eating and lounging area. Upon realization that there was nothing else within the building, Girk and Des made their way back to the kitchen. Girk began looking through drawers, while Des examined the Corellian whiskey with fascination, having never smelled alcohol before. Des held the glass, examining its contents and turned to ask his father what it was. He dropped the glass in fear and immediately lifted his gaffi. While hey had been preoccupied searching through the room, a young boy, not much older than Des had crept into the room from the door directly behind Girk. The boy held in his hand a vibro-dagger and was stalking towards Girk. Being in the boy’s blindspot, Des had gone unnoticed, he didn’t waste time to sieze the opportunity. He lifted the blunt end of his gaffi and bludgeoned the boy to the ground. The boy dropped his knife, and fell to the ground yelping and clutching the laceration on his forehead. Des quickly moved in for the kill, repeatedly stabbing the boy in the chest before finally putting an end to his life.
Girk spun around knocking several kitchen utensils flying as he witnessed his only son kill the helpless boy. As Des lowered his weapon, Girk reached out, laying a hand on Des’ shoulder he nodded in approval. As the two of them left the building, visions of his first human kill flashed before his eyes. The intensity of the emotions overwhelmed him, the pained expression on the boys face only fueled the feeling of fulfillment within him. He did not know it at the time, but this feeling was the first whisper of the force he ever encountered, in this case he felt the dark side.
Over the next few months, his father had deemed him ready to embark on his bloodrite. The bloodrite was a brutal ritual in which the Uli-Ah, would select any prey of their choosing (including sentient beings, which often garnered more prestige), hunt them down and torture them for weeks before finally killing them. He had no idea what it was that he wanted to prey upon, but he knew something of this level of importance necessitated something more challenging than a dewback.
With the best wishes of his parents, A’Grak, and the other tribe members, Des set out into the Jundland wastes armed only with his gaffi, and whatever little supplies young Krayt could carry for him. Des searched for days on end, hunting for food from time to time, but never giving up his search for a worthy prey. After weeks of searching, he was at a loss towards what to do. It was in the middle of the night, while lying beside Krayt, that Des saw it. A sudden flash of light split the darkness in the sky. Large flaming chunks of metal burned their way through the atmosphere as they hurtled down to the desert floor. Des kicked Krayt awake, climbing onto his back, he directed his mount towards the nearby hills to better inspect a large hunk of metal that had crashed nearby sending a ripple through the sand.
Des stared at the smoking heap with curiosity when it hit him. As he looked at the hunk of metal (which was in actuality an escape pod) he felt something well up within him that he had not felt since he killed the young boy on the moisture farm. Intrigued, he began to make his way to the crash site.
Though the crash was in sight, the trek across the expansive desert took him hours. The suns had begun to rise as he neared his destination. Finally he had arrived. He climbed down from Krayt, and landing softly in the sand he unlatched his gaffi from the holster on Krayt’s side. He approached the pod with caution, the sense of strength emanated from within the heap of metal. He examined the surface of the pod, it had been crumpled as it had crashed. peering around the far side of the pod, he found a small shattered window, looking inside he saw a young human boy, about the same age as himself. He was wearing a dark brown leather tunic, had a braid coming from the back of his head, and wore a strange metal tube on his belt.
Des lay down his Gaffi and yanked the unconscious boy from the metal casket. The first thing he did was reach for the metal tube on the boy’s belt. He lifted it and inspected it on all sides, there was a strange crack on the side of the tube, and a small circular opening on one of the ends. Des peered down the hole, while fiddling with the buttons. Unaware of what would happen, Des clicked the red button on the side, a few sparks shot out of the hole, and a bright green light flashed momentarily before fading away. Recognizing the tube as junk, he tossed it back into the pod.
bloodrite
Des struggled to lift the boy over his shoulder, but finally managed to do so. He carried him over to Krayt, and slung him over the bantha’s back, tying him up with some spare cloth within the saddlebags. Des climbed back on his bantha and made way for a large cluster of rock formations to the east.
It was nightime once again by the time that he had reached the rocky hills. A short search of the surrounding area, revealed a small cave, which Des immediately directed Krayt towards. Once inside the cave, Des removed the boy from Krayt and tied him instead to a stalagmite protruding from the ground. Preparing himself his dinner, Des waited in anticipation for the boy to wake. As the hours crept on, Des had become drowsy, struggling to keep his eyes open and soon he had fallen asleep.
Des woke to the sound of panting, and a now familiar radiance of energy filling the room. He quickly glanced over to the boy who seemed to be winning a struggle against his bonds, and just as Des leapt to his feet reaching for his gaffi, the boy broke free. The boy reached down to his belt, seemingly looking for the metal tube which Des had previously discarded. Upon discovering its absence he panicked, he raised his hand as if attempting to push Des who was yards away from the boy. Despite the distance, Des stumbled backward in shock as the impact of the force knocked him to the ground. The impact wasn’t too hard, Des knew that if he had known it was coming, he would have been able to brace himself. Des climbed to his feet to see the boy waiting with fists raised. He took two steps forward and just as the boy raised his hand, Des braced himself. The force staggered him a bit, but he pushed forward nonetheless.
The boy was getting frustrated now, he raised his hand for another attempt, but this time it barely affected Des at all as he inched closer and closer. The boy, seemingly realizing it was to no avail, rushed in to meet Des head on. He was similar size to Des, and what he lacked in strength he made up for in speed. Des swung down his gaffi in an attempt to bludgeon the boy, who raised his hands and caught the shaft of the gaffi, diverting the blow that would have shattered his right shoulder. Des forcefully rammed his foot into the boys stomach, knocking him back, and before he had a chance to recover, Des swung his gaffi around to utilize the spear end of the gaffi, and slashed out at the boys outstretched left hand, severing all of the boys fingers save his thumb.
The boy shrieked in agony, and clutched his now fingerless hand. While the boy was incapacitated , Des quickly made his way to Krayt and grabbed a pouch full of metal tent stakes and hammer from the saddlebags. Des was determined to finish his bloodrite. He had no idea what the boy had done when he had pushed him back without even touching him. The force of those impacts had left a similar aura to the one he had felt when he slew the young farm boy. He remembered the feeling of the farm boys life energy draining, and hoped that a similar effect would come from ending the now fingerless boy in the cave. Des reached down and wrenched the boys hands apart, grabbing the boys fingerless hand, he pressed it to the claylike ground, positioning the sharp end of the stake over his palm. He hammered down through bone, clay, and the shrill screams of the boy. Once his hand was firmly staked to the ground, he repeated the process with the boys other hand and feet. He made one final trip to Krayt to retrieve a large cloth wrapped bundle containing various tools such as knives and blowtorches, as well as several wood planks he would later use to craft a makeshift torture rack.. His bloodrite was about to begin.
The rush Des felt as he cut and burned was unlike anything he had ever experienced, it was the same as the boy from the farm, but ten fold. Every incision filled Des with strength as it drained the boy of his own. His sole purpose was to draw the bloodbath out as long as possible, stopping only to eat, and relish in the crying pains of the boy. Des did not know it but the energy he was basking in was that of the dark side, a force that from here on out he would stop at nothing to court. Des was also unaware that the energy radiating from the cave, would soon draw others to find him.
Sith landing
Unbeknownst to Des, the explosion above tatooine had brought another escape pod hurtling down through the atmosphere. The escape pod was helmed by a blood red Twi'lek known as Ka'sim, a dark lord of the sith. Ka’sim had been sent to tatooine to oversee a deal with the hutts. The Sith were making a deal with them to purchase weapons for the war, and Ka’sim had been chosen for the mission due to his history on the planet, particularly his linguistic and diplomatic skill.
Upon landing on the planet, Ka’sim had noticed a nearby presence, he was almost certain it was another force user, and even more certain that they weren’t an ally. Nevertheless, he continued on his mission, making sure to watch his back, but he kept getting the feeling that someone was following him. It wasn’t until he arrived in Mos Eisley that he finally found out who. Two Jedi, a master and his padawan, they had been tailing him from Mos Espa, all the way to Mos Eisley, where he was scheduled to meet a middleman to get in with the hutts.
Ka’sim decided it would be in his best interest to avoid conflict with the Jedi until after the transaction. If he initiated open combat, it could surely deter the Hutts from commencing with the deal from fear of involvement in a galactic war, and he knew that no one but another force user would be able to detect the to Jedi anyway. Best to leave things until business was finished.
The deal went smoothly as planned, credits were credits, and the Sith had plenty, brokering a deal to keep a small regiment supplied for months. When he returned to Korriban with the news, they would then send frigates pick up their first shipments. For that part of the scheme to go unhindered, he would need to deal with the two Jedi first. He acknowledged the fact that they had followed him since he landed in Mos Espa, and gathered that they must have landed either in the spaceport there, or somewhere on the outskirts. He would lead them back, feint his leave, and stow away on their ship. He would slaughter them there as they left the planet.
Upon arrival in Mos Espa, Ka’sim programmed his ship for autopilot then snuck out of the ship, using the dark side to cloud his presence. His main areas of expertise were that of diplomacy and stealth, able to mask his presence from some of the most powerful Jedi, his trick would easily fool the two shadows.
Sure enough, the two Jedi fell for the ruse, making way for their ship, and no doubt aiming to relay the information to the Jedi Council, an act that would surely cause trouble for the weapons shipment. He tailed the two to their ship, a light frigate built for speed and stealth. As the two Jedi climbed aboard, Ka’sim snuck aboard, and hid in the cargo hold until they had left the planet’s atmosphere.
As soon as the ship had left Tatooine’s atmosphere, Des climbed out of the cargo hold, still careful to mask his presence. He drew the double bladed lightsaber from his belt; Holding it at the ready, he made his way to the ship’s cockpit. The frigate was rather small, save for the cargo hold, he surmised that it had once been a smuggler ship, confiscated and re-tasked for the war effort. The circular hallway to the cockpit was quiet, a bit too quiet, then he heard it. Two lightsabers hummed to life as the Zabrak Jedi Master leapt out from behind a wall and swung down towards Ka’sim. Quickly and without hesitation, Ka’sim swirled the hilt of his lightsaber as its twin red blades sprang to life, easily catching the two violet blades of the Jedi. Ka’sim grunted as he pushed the Jedi back, causing one of his purple blades to burn a long streak along the side of the hallway. The Sith and Jedi stood about four feet apart, each holding their blades at the ready. Ka’sim’s face held a menacing snarl, “Your mission has failed Jedi” he spat out the title as if it were poison,”You, and your padawan will die here”
“You will die!” Ka’sim spun around just in time to catch the bright green blade of the Zabrak’s young padawan. He shot out his leg, causing the boy to stumble from the impact. He raised saber, and just as he swung down, the Zabrak Jedi pushed out with the force, knocking Ka’sim off balance, causing him to miss his target.
“Jarek! Run! I will take him, get off the ship!”Jarek nodded, and ran off. Befor Ka’sim could react, the Zabrak lunged forward, slashing both of his blades downward. Ka’sim caught both blades with the right end of his blade, pushing the Zabrak back, and swinging forward with the left blade. The Jedi easily parried this blow with his left lightsaber, then dodged the expected blow from the right as Ka’sim swung the right blade forward again.
They were far from an even matche, Ka’sim twisted around his saber, moving with unnatural speed, and his onslaught was unrelenting. The Zabrak was having difficulty keeping up, and before long the battle had been decided. Ka’sim slashed his saber with all his might to the right side of the Zabrak, who caught the blade, and was barely able to hold it with both of his own. Ka’sim twisted around and slashed out with the other blade from behind his back, catching the Jedi off guard, the Zabrak barely caught the blade. Des kicked out behind him, catching the Jedi square in the gut and knocking him to the ground, causing him to drop both of his sabers. Ka’sim turned off his own lightsaber and held his hands palm up in front of him. Massive amounts of energy swirled throughout the room as he conjured up dark violet lightning in his hands. The Zabrak’s eyes widened in fear as Ka’sim jammed his fists outward, sending demented forks of the volatile energy out to consume him. The Jedi screamed in agony as the lightning ripped through his body, in moments, the dark energy had ripped the life from his body.
Ka’sim quickly ran through the ship, making sure that the boy hadn’t disobeyed his master and stayed behind. Just as he arrived, one of the two escape pods was jettisoned, the padawan had fled. Ka’sim quickly made off to the cargo hold, and after searching for a moment, found a few explosive charges. He picked them up and ran off to the engine room. Once there, he placed and armed both charges. It was almost over now, all he would have to do now was take an escape pod and find the padawan before he could escape the planet.
Ka’sim stepped into the last remaining escape pod and launched it, as soon as he figured he was within safe distance, he detonated the charges, obliterating the ship in a burst of fire and metal.
Discovery
Kas’im stood atop one of the millions of sand dunes in the jundland wastes. Ever since he had crash landed onto the twilit landscape of Tatooine, he could sense a faint whisper of the dark side of the force. It seemed unnatural to him, the planet held no significance to force users of the light or dark, yet it was there. He had been searching for days, sustaining himself with the power of the force, and as he drew nearer and nearer to the source, the distant hum of the force had grown in intensity.
Finally, his search led him to a small cluster of rock cliffs and other rock formations. Screams rang out through the cliffside, adding to the eeriness he was already feeling. As he climbed through the jagged stones, he came across a small cave opening, he knew immediately that he had found what he was searching for. Ka’sim stood tall as he entered the dimly lit cave, unaware as to the malign ritual he had just stumbled upon.
Energy of the dark side filled the room, pulsing outward in invisible waves. The sight was appalling, a Jedi Padawan lay twisted and broken on a rack, bending him backwards leaving trails of blood down his tattered robes. His eyes were gone, one of his hands was missing almost all of its fingers and the rack had him stretched to the point that all the joints in his arms and legs had been dislocated. Kas’im recognised this ritual as the bloodrite of the young Sand person crouching over the agonized Jedi Padawan. He had heard of the ritual before, but had never imagined it to be as gruesome as the scene laid out before him.
Des rose from his crouched position, clutching his gaffi at his side. As he stood, he felt the air in the cave change, as if someone else had just walked in. He quickly flipped around, holding his weapon at the ready. The tall brooding Twi’lek appeared unphased by Des’ weapon.
“Impressive” Kas’im muttered in the tongue of the sand people, glancing over Des’ shoulder and motioning to the dying Jedi Padawan. Des’ mask hid the surprised look on his face, he had never heard anyone from outside his tribe speak in his language. “ I sense great power in you young one.” Des was slightly confused as to what the crimson Twi’lek meant, but quickly came to the conclusion that it had something to do with the energy pulsing through the room. Nevertheless, he questioned the intruder uneasily, his distrusting instincts kicking in.
“What do you mean? What power?” Des lowered his gaffi, deciding that if this alien knew the language then he must be friendly with sand people, most people wouldn’t bother with such a thing.
“Your anger, your hatred.. your passion. Your Passion gives you strength, your strength in turn gives you power. Our world is bound by an entity known as the force, it is in everything, and everything is of it. Certain individuals, such as myself, and even that pathetic child behind you can harness this force, bend it to our will. You have the potential to do so as well”
Des thought carefully on Ka’sim’s words, slightly lowering his defenses, he spoke. “wh... How can I achieve this power?”
“There are more ways than one. For example, that boy there follows the path of light, the path of the Jedi. He could have one day achieved great power, though through the teachings of the Jedi, they would have been squandered, his passion suppressed and his true potential untapped. The path of the Jedi is for the weak, those unwilling to do what is necessary to gain power. I, on the other hand, follow the path of darkness, the path of strength, the way of the Sith. Only through the dark side of the force can one achieve the full power of the force.”
“Show me” Des demanded, his blood boiling with anticipation and lust for the power the Sith spoke of. Ka’sim stared at Des for a moment, as if contemplating his next move. Ka’sim raised his hand palm up, Des could feel an intense energy forming in its center. Suddenly, flashes of blue-violet forked through the room, engulfing the Jedi padawan, cauterizing his open wounds and sending him into a writhing fit. Screams of agony filled the cave, Des was elated as he felt the waves of power emanating from the lightning. The brief glimpses of the force he had experienced before, pailed in comparison to the maelstrom ripping through the dark cave and boiling the Jedi’s skin.
Within moments the onslaught was over. Des stared in awe at the young Jedi who was now nothing more than a blackened, and lifeless husk. Dropping his gaffi in awe, he knelt at the feet of the Sith Lord. Dreams of achieving the power he had witnessed flashed through his mind, his hands trembled in anxiety. “Teach me how to harness this power, I will do whatever it is you ask of me.” He pleaded.
“I will not teach you, however I can take you to a place where you will learn. Your potential is monumental, but your determination must never waiver. The path of the Sith is not for the weak and undriven, if you ever falter in your strength you will surely be left behind. I will take you to the Sith Academy on Korriban, if you can prove to me you have what it takes. Mere potential is not enough, you must prove to me that you are willing to do whatever it takes.”
“What must I do, how can I gain your trust?” Des asked with his head bowed, and his fist placed firmly on the ground.
“Blood.” Ka’sim spat out, showing his pointed teeth in a wicked grin.
Slaughter
Des sat atop Krayt as he made the long trek through the desert. He thought on the task Ka’sim had given him, struggling with the implications of it. Des had never wavered in his drive to improve, yet this task seemed like it might be too much. But then again, he wondered if any price was too high to gain the power he had witnessed from Lord Ka’sim.
Ka’sim had instructed Des to slaughter his entire tribe. Des was taken aback immediately upon initially hearing the demand but as he mulled it over, he was finding less and less reasons to not follow through. This was no different from his long hunts throughout the Dune Sea and Jundland Wastes, not really. Des had always understood that hunting was a way to prove your strength; to test yourself. If he failed, then he knew he needed to grow stronger, yet Des was coming to the realization that there was nothing more to be learned from his tribe. He already rivaled some of the best hunters and fighters, he was realizing that if he ever wanted to move on, he would have to pass this final test. He had to kill them all, and if he failed, he was weak and his life was pointless. The End always justifies the means.
With the determination of a hungry Krayt dragon, Des prepared to take on his greatest challenge. He figured his best chance would have to be at night, he would take out as many as he could in their sleep and destroy whoever stood against him.
The last fires were snuffed, and darkness crept over the tribe camp, Des watched in stoic silence. His mind conflicted now, more than it had been in the hours prior to arrival, Des dismounted Krayt, taking with him only his gaffi and a dagger he kept hidden underneath the saddle. The silence was overwhelming, glimpses of his childhood fired in his mind, he had to forget. Forgetting was the only way this would be possible. He pushed his memories to the back of his mind, they served now as nothing more than a shrill annoyance on his psyche.
Des quietly snaked his way through the 12 or so tents scattering the campsite, the sand muffling his footsteps. He approached the tent farthest away from the gathering center, and lifted the flap. Three of his kin lay on bed rolls, a mother and her two children. Des stared over the bodies, torn between the life he was about to leave behind and the one that awaited him, Des quickly acted before nostalgia got the better of him. He raised his gaffi and slew all three, there was no noise but the faint gurgling of a freshly lacerated throat.
The point of no return, Des knew it had passed, and now that he had begun, his fear and hatred returned to him with the fiery passion of the twin Tatooinian suns. He moved with guile and precision through the camp, slaughtering men women and Uli’ah without hesitation. Each kill fueled his anger and his fear, making him quicker, making him stronger.
It was almost over now, Des approached the last two tents at the center of the camp. On the left, was his family’s tent, and on the right was his cousin’s. He had to do this. He stepped into A’Grak’s tent, looking over his cousin and his uncle. Des raised his gaffi high over his head, grunting in hesitation. Just as Des was about to strike, Grak (his uncle) woke. Seeing Des with weapon raised, he made a move to gather his own gaffi. Des quickly swung the sharp end of his gaffi down, severing his uncles arm. Grak howled in pain, waking the others in the tent. Des panicked and in one quick motion jammed the gaffi through his uncles skull. A’Grak leapt to his feet, grabbing his own gaffi.
“Despin! What have you done you bastard!” he raised his gaffi, swinging it in a berserker rage. Des easily parried the blow, but was nonetheless caught off guard by his cousins speed. A’Grak swung his gaffi down only to be parried by Des’ weapon. Des smashed the blunt end of his gaffi into A’grak’s stomach, causing him to stumble momentarily. Moving in to finish him, Des Swung the blade end in a horizontal arc. Des screamed in fury as he cleaved his best friend’s head clean off his neck.
“No!” In the heat of battle, Des had failed to notice his father come in the tent behind him. He was thrown to the ground as Girk tackled him. Des flailed and kicked as his father attempted to wrestle his son’s gaffi away. Girk slammed his fist into the side of Des’ face, knocking him temporarily into submission. Des howled as he struggled with his father. In a fight like this, strategy meant little, it was a test of strength that Des knew he couldn’t win if it lasted much longer. He knew his only chance was if he could reach the dagger hidden in his boot. As soon he noticed a break in his fathers assault, Des quickly raised his foot and drew the dagger, plunging it directly into his father’s stomach. His father let out a yelp as he fell onto his back, clutching the dagger protruding from his stomach. Des straddled his father’s legs and grabbed the blade’s hilt, wrestling it from his father’s grip, he pried it out of his punctured torso. He raised the dagger above his head, and in one swift motion, he stabbed down with all his might and ended his father’s life. All that was left of the tribe now, was Des, and his mother. She lay huddled in the corner of their tent, defenseless she cried out for her son to end the bloodshed. He obliged by slashing her neck open, spilling the last of his kin’s blood.
Des sat in the center of the camp with his gaffi laid out over his crossed legs. Ka’sim had instructed him to wait there once the task was completed, and that he would meet him there. It had been about a day since the night Des had slaughtered his tribe, their blood soaked bodies were still strewn about the tents, and Des’ clothes were covered in blood.
It was nearing nightfall, and as the first sun began to sink below the horizon, Des saw him. A single Sith cruiser jetted across the skyline, circled around the camp a few times before coming to land just on its edges. As the ramp opened in the back of the cruiser, Ka’sim glided out onto the desert floor. The blood stains on Des’ cloak telling him all he needed, he motioned for Des to rise. Des stood up, obeying the Sith Lord’s orders.
“You have proven yourself worthy young one, I will train you in the ways of the darkside. You have rejected peace, and are now forever placed on the path to power.
Initiate
The months following his acceptance as Ka’sim’s apprentice were grueling. After clearing the cave that Des had performed his bloodrite in, the two of them had set up a camp within its shelter. Des’s days were filled with training exercises, aimed at focusing his mind, and teaching him how to reach out and bend the force to his will. When he wasn’t studying about the force, he was either practicing his basic ( a skill which Ka’sim deemed necessary for a life beyond the sand people), or learning the complicated art of the lightsaber.
Des had abandoned the garb of the sand people on Ka’sim’s command. The fear and hostility invoked by the appearance of the iconic trappings of a sand person, was not something the two of them needed. He instead donned the traditional black robes and cloak of the Sith. The two of them spent several months within the cave travelling outside, only to retrieve supplies. The bulk of this time was spent honing Des’s basic, as well as his force abilities.
After about 3 months had passed, Des has gained enough of a grasp on galactic basic to understand most of the things Ka’sim would say to him. Ka’sim had explained to Des, that he would only be preparing him for the academy on Korriban, that his position within the Sith would not allow for him to take on an apprentice full time. After a final month of training, Ka’sim had come to the decision that Des had grasped Galactic Basic, the tenants of the Sith Code, and the basics of Force manipulation well enough to take him to the academy. The two of them set off to Korriban, where Ka’sim had told Des that he would be instructed with the other initiates, and if he was lucky, that another Sith would take him as their apprentice.
RP SAMPLE:
Des stood across from A'Grak, watching in amused silence as he waited to see if his cousin would make the first move. Des glanced over to his father who simply nodded. The first training duel of the day was about to begin.
Des firmly gripped his gaffi, and uncontent to wait any longer, charged at his older cousin. Des was filled with determination to prove to his father that he was the strongest of the R'or bloodline, and as he sprinted through the sand, he left a wake of dust and hatred flowing behind him. He knew within seconds what his cousin was going to do. Just as he was within reaching distance, Des slid feet first, dodging the swing that he had anticipated mere seconds before. Des collided with A'Grak, knocking the elder boy of his feet.
Des leapt to his feet as A'Grak hit the ground. He raised his gaffi over his head, aiming to bat his cousins gaffi from his hands. A'Grak raised his own gaffi just in time to catch Des' as it swung down towards him. A'Grak pushed back, causing Des to stagger slightly, and allowing him to get back on his feet. Des panicked as he struggled to regain his balance, he nervously glanced over to his father who simply shook his head in dissapointment. Fueled with temporary anger towards A'Grak, he lashed out with all his might, swinging his gaffi at breakneck speed he attacked. Blow after blow after blow, A'Grak's defences were beginning to wear down. Knowing the fight was nearing its end, Des smashed his gaffi toward A'Grak's right side, then to his left, top, right, left, until finally he swung down so hard with his gaffi he ripped A'grak's weapon from his hands. Refusing to quit, Des howled and rammed the blunt end of his gaffi into A'Grak's stomach, knocking him to the ground before finally lowering his weapon. Des looked over to his father, knowing he had gained his true victory, he stormed off to his tent.
.
