Post by Tristan on Sept 3, 2008 5:48:32 GMT -5
Name: Tristan Asgun
Race: Human-Corellian
Age: 23
Height: 5'11
Weight: 156lbs
Birth place: Corellia-Bela Vistal
Faction: Jedi
Rank: Knight-Guardian
Appearance:
Bio: Tristan’s story begins on the Core World of Corellia. More specifically in the great mountainous city of Bela Vistal. A local mid-wife wobbled into a room lit dimly with suspensor lamps. A pale woman took the bundle with benign care form the mid-wife and stared down at her son, naming him Tristan after her great grandfather. Before leaving the family alone, the mid-wife gently reassured the woman who began to sob slowly, the father no where in sight. The woman rocked back and forth with her miniscule son who seemed full of limitless energy. “I expect great things from you Tristan…my son.”
The Asgun family weren’t particularly prominent in Bela Vistal but they were not in poverty either. Their home lay on outskirts of the city where most of the residential quarters were located.
The mountainous city had great hidden plains and spectacular views no matter where you went and it isn’t surprising that the young Tristan spent a great deal of time there with his trio of best friends: Jrioe, Cziga, and Leto. Each of the boys had their reasons for making the journey to the plains mainly due to family problems at home. But high in the lush mountain side there were no worries, there were no drunken lashings, there was only friendship. The quartet stayed there as long as they could, even as the sun slowly began to get swallowed by the jagged horizon. Before leaving they all performed their secret handshake and vowed to never leave one another no matter what.
“Same time tomorrow?” Cziga said through a mouthful of chocolate pellets.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way my friend. Bring your sabers.” Tristan laughed as they disbanded for now. With his back turned, Tristan took on a sullen look as he realized that this wouldn’t last forever. Somehow, on that long trek down the mountain, he tapped into something that gave him prescience, a sense of purpose. He shook it off and ran home.
Quiet. Silent. Dark. Tristan lay in his bed, the ceiling luminescent with moving animals. He began counting his fingers, hoping to fall asleep but it didn’t come. It never comes when you need it. A loud noise sounded from the living quarters, Tristan didn’t bother to look, he knew what it was.
“Damn it Isabelle! Nobody locks me out of my own house! Useless! Stupid!” The harsh rhetoric came from a slender shell of a man. His mustache hung low over deeply red lips. His clothing tattered and stained with hard life lived. Nothing seemed proportioned on his hunched frame, his hair was tangled and damp with sweat. He moved sluggishly and with obscure patterns to a door.
“You are my wife! Mine. Mine-- Now… you owe me a wife’s duty.” Once his azure eyes held the soul of a loving husband but now they were poisoned and belonged to a man lost in his own demons. A fist slammed into the control panel and the door slid open, his form fell upon a still shadow that didn’t move. She never fought back, for the sake of her son. She never fought back. In a dark corner of the house Tristan crouched, hands covered the only sense that made him feel sick. That bastard! Quiet. Silent. Dark. Corellian Ale was rank inside the house, Tristan lay back and succumbed to sleep that failed him earlier.
Tristan appeared in the distance, he noticed the other three were already there and staunch on practice. Their silhouettes moved with graceful fluidity. As he drew nearer, Jrioe and Leto gave out war cries and charged one another, sabers in hand and poised. Cziga stood in the middle, awaiting the confrontation, eyes closed. They collided, the sabers emitting tiny harmless sparks upon contact. The frenzy stopped as they became aware of Tristan.
“There he is, lets see if you recuperated after the last defeat you suffered from me.” Leto goaded. There was stock in his arrogance, for he was the best swordfighter among the quartet. Not this day however.
“Challenge! A wager of sabers. If I win, you must relinquish your golden saber and bow before my greatness. If I lose, the white saber is yours. What say you?” Tristan boasted with renewed confidence, showcasing to all his coveted white saber. Jrioe and Cziga shook their heads and awaited Leto’s answer who seemed indifferent and unsure of his abilities at present; his lowered head the tall tale sign.
“I’d much rather feast on blob candy if its not too much trouble?” Leto said with a hoarse voice. Cziga was the first to agree and Jrioe shrugged like the follower he is.
“Fine you coward. Blob candy it is.” Tristan laughed and they all began their descent shoulder to shoulder. The market was not far from their hideout but it was a bit of a walk but they didn’t seem to mind. Grassy terrain turned into slick pavement and great trees shifted into towering buildings of stone and metal. There were many robed figures walking about, wrapped for warmth. A tumult of voices came from ever direction, exotic creatures of burden walked with heavy loads of shiny objects and equipment. Just ahead there was an immensely fat merchant with a purple turban. His robes were rich in color and his cheeks covered most of his face. Below him lay an assortment of intergalactic candies. None of them had credits but the fat merchant made enough not to be hurt by a few missing candies. They glanced at each other and brought out their sabers and held them close to one another. Tristan’s saber shot out the first spark of energy and therefore was chosen by the high order of the quartet to do the thieving. The other three breathed a sign of relief and took Tristan’s saber to give him more maneuverability.
“Next to his stall, there is a nook where you can wait while we scout what he’s doing.” Leto whispered. Silently Leto placed Cziga and Jrioe at key places for observation. They slowly melted into the crowd and Tristan began his part in the scheme of things. Ducking, dodging and evading various people, he quickly made it to the nook. There he watched Leto as he read the signs from the hidden Cziga and Jrioe. The sign! Tristan sprung into action, his hand a whirlwind of motion filling his cloak with anything he could see. The fat merchant was busy with a customer on the other side, his friends did their job perfectly. When his cloak was about to burst with sweets he turned and bolted towards the nook. The now candy heavy cloak dragged on the floor at his feet, the uneven pull brought Tristan off balance and before he could adjust himself he plummeted to the ground landing hard on scissor-like stones.
“Are you ok young one?” A silky voice sounded to a now face down Tristan. He peered up at a mysteriously clad man. His face was obscure due to the position of the sun and the great brown hood that he had up. Tristan took his hand and peered inside his now open cloak and glimpsed a silvery hilt. He couldn’t explain it but he had a strange feeling inside his stomach when he took the stranger’s hand.
“I just tripped, that’s all. Thank you sir.” Tristan felt a warm trickle near his elbow but didn’t check just yet.
“What’s your name young friend?”
“Tristan Asgun.”
“How old are you my boy?”
“13-years-old sir.”
“I see. Well, you be safe next time. Run along.” The stranger smiled brightly and tucked his hand back into the innards of the brown cloak. Tristan nodded and took off towards his friends who were caught with fright about what had transpired in front of their eyes.
“We thought you were caught for sure! To the mountains!” Cziga shouted.
“Too close.” Jrioe sounded and followed suit.
“At least you’re safe Tristan. Who was that guy anyway, he looked scary.” Leto whispered to his best friend. Tristan shrugged and followed his friends. He looked back and found the mysterious man still standing where he had fell. A questioned look fell on Tristan’s youthful face and he ran to catch up with the trio.
The brown clad man uncovered a datapad from within his robes and kneeled close to a quarry of stones that were sprinkled with blood from the child. He dipped an ebony disk into the crimson fluid and brought it to the datapad. The screen hummed to life, blinking with warm green and yellow hues. The man read the information with a grin. My feelings are never wrong. He tucked the data pad into his cloak and disappeared into the market place remembering the name: Tristan Asgun.
The sun was slowly sinking down again, it cascaded a brilliant shade of pink and lavender on the secret mountain sanctuary. Four figures were sitting on the edge of a cliff side, remnants of food and drink lay around them. Everyone spoke enthusiastically about various things, everyone except Tristan.
“Aye Tristan, what is your dream landspeeder going to look like?” Jrioe chimed in after a period of silence. There was no response. Each exchanged curious looks.
“What’s bugging you Tristan?” Leto directed with calm assurance.
“I’m leaving.” The words escaped reluctantly. Sorrow filled his heart.
“What--Where are you leaving to?” Cziga said.
“You moving?” Jrioe said.
“I’m going to Coruscant. To be a-- a Jedi.” It seemed so ridiculous when he said it but it was truth. He couldn’t believe it either, it was all a dream that in his heart didn’t want to wake up from. Only a few hours ago did he receive the news from the brown robed man. Tristan hasn’t seen his mother so happy. She hasn't cried like that in ages...
“That’s great Tristan! Great news. I’m happy for you, they couldn’t of found a better person.” Leto blurted out and went to sit next to his best friend, arm around him in support.
“You are getting out of this place. See new worlds, new life.” Cziga looked into the now black vault of a sky, the stars winking a familiar pattern.
“Why are you so down Tristan? I would be ecstatic.” Jrioe passed Tristan a chocolate beverage. Tristan took it and downed the whole thing in one gulp and tossed it behind him.
“I am excited. Truly. Its just-- I’m going to miss you guys. My mother. This place. What if I never come back? What if I never see you guys again?” His real fears came out and everyone gathered around him one by one.
“You’ll come back Tristan. I know it.” Leto reassured him. Cziga and Jrioe made similar comments and they sat there for a while without speaking. Tristan relished this moment with his best friends, this last fleeting moment where everything seemed right. Today: Corellia. Tomorrow: Coruscant.
Descent into Coruscant eminent. ETA: 5 minutes. The chilly chrome arm rest cackled with an electronic accent. Tristan gazed out past the thick glass and into the void of space, turning his attention from the game he was playing on the chair console in front of him.
“You are going to love it. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen.” The once mysterious man in the market was now the only friend Tristan had; a Jedi by the name of Hansel Kinet. Hawk features showed prominently, deep pools of brown over a slender nose. He kept his hair short and was clean shaven. Tristan began to admire this man as he spent more time with him. Hansel described the grand Temple, the council, the trials, the training, the city, every question that Tristan could come up with. They spoke of many things, many concerns, many doubts. Hansel fed him and made sure he cleaned up a bit. They stepped through the causeway and into famed Jedi Temple where Tristan was to spend a good chunk of his new life. Hansel set down what few pieces of luggage was allowed and pointed the route Tristan should take for orientation.
“That should do it.” Hansel put a hand on Tristan’s shoulder.
“Will I see you again?” Tristan stared up at the Jedi.
“I’ll make sure of it. You better get going. They welcome punctuality but frown on tardiness.” Tristan embraced Hansel as he would his friends back home and ran along through the corridor, the Jedi walking about didn’t seem to notice the boy. He has great potential.
As a youngling Tristan began his rigorous and enigmatic training regime under the tutelage of various Masters. Each offering a main theme from which their training served. Basic surveys in many genres were touched upon such as the Form I lightsaber form and basic Force understanding and manipulation.
Hansel on occasion checked up on Tristan throughout the months to assess his progress. He was never disappointed. Tristan began to gather around him a following loyal to him amongst his pupils which was always encouraged. According to Master Daurkar, Tristan seemed to have such a zealous ambition to learn lightsaber dueling. Even after the training session has ended he can still be found in the chambers setting the preference to the various remotes that hovered motionless.
“Sometimes he would practice until the point of exhaustion Hansel. Quite extraordinary to see one so young so dedicated.” Master Daurkar said with a full smile, arms folded upon his breast. They both watched through a hidden panel above the training quarters. A Guardian no doubt. Must be those electro sabers on his home world.
“Remind you of someone Master?” Hansel laughed and bid farewell to Master Daurkar. The mirrored door hissed and closed as Hansel took his leave. A few more years and then we will see how far he is willing to go.
Life on Coruscant went by much smoother than Tristan had first calculated. This bustling metropolis was a melting pot of culture and diversity. The main theme here is politics he deduced, it was involved in everything. At nights in his chambers after meditation he would reminisce about his mother, how she caressed his back before he went to bed. How she sang to him in the fields. I love you mother. There never was a moment where he didn’t pray for the good fortune of her and his beloved friends. Days melted to months and months faded into years and the once alien world now became a familiar home for the now 19-year-old Corellian native. Wherever Tristan went, shouts and salutations were abundant. His popularity was earned through good will and an eccentric sense of humor. Though busy he spent a majority of his time in pious study and vigilant meditation. How else was he to earn his keep? As he grew older, so did the difficulty of the training regime. The Masters held nothing back and did not ease their teaching methods, taking into consideration every student’s limits of course.
There is no emotion; there is peace.
The Force is such a powerful source, Tristan still cannot fathom it. All he can do is try to the very best of his ability to accomplish what the Masters instruct. Manipulating the world around him, such a thing would never be thought possible. Tristan gains a feeling of blithe as he taps into the Force to demonstrate his knowledge.
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
The chambers begin to become less crowded as time goes on. Some Jedi Hopefuls are already being dispensed in different groups and skills based on analysis of their progress. Tristan notices he is being grouped with some of the better duelists in the enclave. As every month passes, Tristan gains a another level of awareness to various aspects of the Force.
There is no passion; there is serenity.
Influencing sentient beings, defensive capabilities, repairing organic cellular structures, exploiting energies, lightsaber combat, action through the just and right cause. Every night Tristan meditates for hours not because he was told to do so but because he wishes too. Because he is driven to from within.
There is no chaos; there is harmony.
A low beep and a series of magnetic clicks resonate in a quiet living quarter. The LCD screen of an archaic datapad ignites in a flurry of bright colors. A dark figure in earth toned robes sits facing the window, motionless. His legs are crossed, boots scattered in a corner. A setla lamp in the corner was on its dimmest setting. The figures eyes slowly opened, emerald hues stared at the datapad. It continued to beep. Tristan walked over the lamp and turned it high before picking the datapad up to read its contents. Report to the training chambers to begin the next phase of training. Master Hansel Kinet awaits. Finally!
There is no death; there is the Force.
Tristan took care in his attire, dressing the part of a soon-to-be Padawan. He made sure everything was in order, every article was of proper fit, every piece of equipment was up to par. Tristan was methodical in all aspects of his life, now more than ever. Upon arrival in the chambers, Master Hansel awaited with jubilant approval as he viewed the boy turned young man. They embraced briefly in proper Jedi Etiquette.
“Good afternoon Master.” Came the formal words.
“Afternoon Tristan. As you may have guessed you are to be my Padawan. An apprentice if you will. You will accompany me on my travels and take to heart what I teach you. Do you understand? Can you handle it?”
“I will be diligent in all matters Master.” Tristan bowed low and looked upon an older more experienced Jedi who showed him the ropes so many years ago.
“Excellent. We will begin immediately. Take this datacard. On it you will have a basic outline to help you construct you own lightsaber. This is very critical to all Padawans and should not be taken lightly. Report back to me when this task is complete, I am at your disposal if you have any concerns, questions, or criticisms. Good luck Tristan.” Master Hansel departed with a polite bow and Tristan flicked the datacard around in his nimble fingers. Lets get to work. He clenched his fist, encasing the datacard firmly. With this new prodigious task, Tristan wasted no time. He made a bee line to the Jedi Archive where he could organize his research and begin conceptual plans on the creation of his very own lightsaber. I won’t let you down mother.
At the epicenter of the Temple, along the myriad corridors of archives near the back there sat a Padawan deep in thought and concentration. Various datacards were strewn about in an unorganized mess but Tristan made sense of that mess. Each datacard held different specifications and simulations on them pertaining to the construction of his lightsaber. Tristan jotted down random numbers here and there and sometimes even sketched a digital rendering. In his quarters the actual power assembly and outer casing were stored. Gathering all the necessary items took months and each time they had to be tested again and gain through simulation. Everything from the Power Cell to the Recharge Socket had to be calibrated. Tristan heard rumors of dangerous explosions and did not want the same mistakes made. According to calculation, the Vortex Ring and Power Insulator he acquired needed only subtle tuning but as for the Field Conductor and Energy Gate, they needed to be modified dramatically in order to maintain a steady working condition. I’m hungry.
“Tristan! We meet again my Corellian friend. Whatcha’ working on this time? Don’t tell me your lightsaber.” The beautiful Twi'lek Ami’tildra pulled up a seat after spotting her friend from a distance. Tristan looked up and took in her light shade of blue skin, her lekku wrapped carefully around her neck. Truly gorgeous.
“I’m beginning to suspect you of stalking me Ami’tildra. Its not becoming of a Twi'lek hopeful.”
They both laughed rather loud which caused many students to glare at them from their prudent study. Ami’tildra picked up Tristan’s datapad and scrolled down the lengthy chunk of information.
“Blade Energy Channel, Cycling Field Energizers, Energy Modulation Circuits, Emitter Matrix, High Energy Flux Aperture-- blah blah blah. I know how dedicated you are but its been months and I think you are in need of some relaxation.” Ami’tildra gave a very sinister smile that Tristan caught himself giving as well. He gathered his things and the two left the Archive in deep conversation on recent political turmoil that plagued Coruscant.
The setla lamp was set at full capacity within Tristan’s chambers. The Padawan, now in his twenty’s, sat in a shapely chair huddled over a mechanical debacle on his desk. Thick goggles covered his face, long brown locks fell over the lenses sometimes but he remained vigil to his work. Every now and then he’s switch tools quickly without looking away from the lightsaber hilt he held in his left hand. A series of clicks sounded in the shiny case and Tristan sat very still realizing that he had just about finished his modifications. He threw the goggles on his bed and sealed the outer casing firmly. Tristan brought the elegant weapon with him and he crossed over to the floor slowly sinking into his meditation state. The final stage. Within mere moments, Tristan began to meticulously immerse the lightsaber itself within his Force energies. This helps attune the focusing crystal to that person. Tristan rehearsed to himself. This also allowed him to modify the innards in a way he couldn’t do physically. The outer casing vibrated slightly, ever so slightly as it was enveloped completely within the Force. Beads of sweat began to form on Tristan’s brow. This process continued for a good amount of time before Tristan slowly eased the level of Force Energies in the room. Emerald pools scanned the hilt, he outstretched his hand. The lightsaber rose with limber concentration and settled in his hand. Tristan stood, fingering the weapon he had built with his own hands. Its now or never. May the Force be with me. Unyielding, Tristan activated the switch with a flick of his wrist. The room was filled with a delicate hum and lambent hue of green. Tristan moved slowly, clutching it now with both hands. His body went into the ritual maneuvers of his training, the saber danced with deviated quickness. I’ve done it. The beam vanished, the hilt clipped to his obi. Tristan took his place by the floor and closed his eyes once more, a vehemence filled him with a sense of accomplishment and honor.
The following months Master Hansel took Tristan under his wing and began necessary teaching that Tristan needed in the future to pass the Jedi Trials. They were inseparable. Hansel expressed his views on the Force and how he interprets the Code and tricks of the trade he picked up along the way. Tristan soaked in every piece of information, every lesson, every mistake. It was the duels that really piqued young Tristan as they had in years as a Youngling. Tristan developed a partiality to the Makashi Form and even developed a hybrid of Forms II and III. This adaptability confounded Hansel and the student even taught the master in this subject. Their missions took them as far as the Mid Rim but mostly around the Core Worlds. Hansel knew of the dangers the Outer Rim and other unknown space, the Sith Enclaves that could spell doom for any untrained Jedi.
“We will investigate the matter Master. You have our full cooperation.” The hologram of Master Daurkar vanished and with calm quickness the holoprojector was placed inside Master Hansel’s robes. En route to the docking bay, Hansel sent a transmission to Tristan who had errands in Coruscant.
“Yes Master Hansel?” Tristan’s voice cackled over the comlink.
“Tristan, meet me at the docking bay. As quick as you can. We have an urgent mission in the Outer Rim.”
“As you wish.”
Tristan delivered the last package of holodiscs to the local courier in the lower districts before boarding his run-down airspeeder. His hands scurried over the controls and the repulsorlifts came to life instantly. Tristan made haste back to the Jedi Temple. After docking the airspeeder, he gathered his equipment from his quarters and finally breached the docking bay doors. There stood Master Hansel nearby a Jedi Starfighter.
“Greetings Master.”
“Greetings Tristan. Everything in order?”
“Just about.” Tristan began climbing into the passenger cockpit but was stopped by Hansel.
“Why don’t you stretch her legs? I feel you are ready.” Hansel smiled and proffered the pilot cockpit. Tristan leapt from cockpit to cockpit and settled inside the enclosed space getting adjusted to this new feeling. Much more advanced than an airspeeder. He quickly remembered his training and double checked all the systems. Hansel was already aboard and fastened himself to the seat.
“Just like we went over Tristan. Don’t kill us please.”
Tristan activated the ignition and the computer systems flickered into working status. All systems registered nominal status. Tristan lifted them off the bay after being cleared by the nearby control tower. Coruscant slowly began to diminish in size as they ascended in the spacecraft.
“Where are we headed?”
“The planet Arbra. We have suspicions that there is a caravan of smugglers stopping there for supplies. Their cargo is why we were summoned. Slaves. We must use discretion Tristan. I’ve put in the coordinates in the navicomputer. Lets make the jump.”
“Yes Master.”
Tristan punched the sequence of commands that triggered a jump through hyperspace. The null gravity lurched his stomach towards his heart and they vanished from Coruscant’s orbital atmosphere. It seemed like hours went before the starfighter appeared near Malastare via the Hydian Way hyperspace route. Tristan took the time to evaluate the critical objectives using a heightened sense of prescience which the Force facilitated. He shook off any fears of doubt and cleared his mind, closing in on Arbra. A heavy air hung over the Master and Padawan, they hardly spoke; both sensing something wrong very near. We’re getting close. Alone with their thoughts, they didn’t realize that Arbra was upon them. Tristan quickly maneuvered the fighter under the planet and silenced the engines.
“Do you sense it Tristan. They are near.”
“Yes Master. I’ll keep close observation of the ship’s sensors and look for traces of electromagnetic radiation.”
Hansel nodded with satisfaction at his pupil. The wait had begun. The Master closed his eyes in meditation and instructed Tristan to do the same. Reluctantly the Padawan took his eyes off the sensor display and waited.
Endless wait. Quiet. Silence. Void.
A nautical bleep on the displayed sounded and began to trace traces of radiation near the northern quadrant. The vessel quickly descended onto the planet. I gotta’ wait a moment before following. Tristan soon followed behind and settled a few clicks near the vessel that had arrived.
“I doubt they have their own sensors active, this planet has not seen activity for quite some time. Lets get ready.”
The robed figures clambered down the fighter and they soon disappeared in the thick growth of trees. They headed northeast of their landing position towards the smuggler’s vessel. They sensed they were very near and quickened their pace without sacrificing discretion. The dense jungle was hard to weave through but it soon came to an abrupt end. In the clearing of the forest there stood a medium-sized freighter. Tristan reached for his electrobinoculars and glanced to see that his Master already had his out. Closer inspection revealed about eight smugglers, each loading and unloading various sized crates. In the cargo-hold one could hear faint whimpers and see the dimly lit cages. This work continued until a few of them made gestures of some kind and five went back into the vessel leaving only three outside within the cargo-hold. Tristan’s foot began tapping the ground.
“Patience Tristan. Do not be hasty.” He’s ambitious to save those slaves. Noble but treacherous. The three that remained seemed to have orders to feed the slaves inside but that was the last thing on their mind. They threw food at the cages and prodded the cages with electrostaffs. They laughed and uncovered a hidden crate and revealed the contents to be various illegal stimulants. Each having two or three injected before going back to their immoral ways. Tristan felt his heart rate increase dramatically as he watched. What are we waiting for?! We could easily dispatch these fools! He lowered the electrobinoculars and went through the ritual breathing he had been taught. Hansel seemed not to notice but was intent on the surroundings. Gathering intelligence before action is always priority. There didn’t seem to be any base or headquarters here.
“Momma!” The sound disturbed the silence.
Tristan was glued to one of the smugglers who had a female slave by the neck. She flew down the rampart and onto the ground. She was a frail and weak thing compared to their captives. The three then brought her away from the ship and onto the ground. The screaming she made! She struggled the best she could but to no avail. Hansel watched the ship closely for the other five crew members were still in the ship.
“Master! We must act now!” Tristan stood up by reflex, poised.
“Wait Tristan! Not yet. We don’t know what the others are up too. They could easily escape if they hear us coming.” Hansel remained calm and kept the electrobinoculars raised, ever watching. Tristan was not watching the ship but instead kept his attention on the poor woman being beaten. One of the smugglers began to pull down his trousers as the others held the slave down.
“No! Please!” her clamor reached a deafening high pitch and made Tristan’s blood boil. Tristan shot a cold glance at his Master who was focused on the ship. The smuggler fell upon the woman.
Thrusting. Thrusting. Thrusting.
“Momma!” A little boy…
“Master?!”
There was movement within the ship. Hansel waited knowing full well what was happening but the safety of the rest slaves was to be put ahead of the woman unfortunately. I can’t allow them to escape. Tristan lowered his head in spite, eyes began to water. A blistering pain ran through his nerves, remembering the nights he heard those same noises. If he won’t act, I will! Tristan burst through the secluded foliage.
“Tristan! No!” Before Hansel could act it was too late. He followed suit soon afterward
Tristan focused his body and let the Force flow through his being. Soon his legs were not being fatigued by running, he gained speed. Tremendous speed that sent dust in his wake. His movements rapid and his advantage supreme Tristan leapt at the trio of smugglers. The last thing they saw before their ruin was a flash of green and a terrifying look of hate. The woman slithered away , too frightened to scream, back to the hold. Tristan heard faint sounds of blasters in the distance but then…blackness.
Tristan awoke in his living quarters, his tunic soaked in sweat. Memory fogged like mirror after a hot shower. He sensed another in the room, he focused on a sliver of a shadow. What happened..?
“How are you feeling Tristan?” That silky voice. Master Hansel.
“My head is about to burst. What happened?”
“You’ve been unconscious for a few days. You were overcome with a blackness on Arbra, Tristan. I cannot stress enough how dangerous that is. You could of cost us everything with your blind hysteria. What were you thinking?!” Hansel has never raised his voice to Tristan ever, only the more potent his point is. Tristan felt extreme nausea at that point, vomiting into a nearby canister. What have I done?
“You will be given time to meditate on your actions and come to terms with who or what you truly wish to become. When you are ready, I will be waiting.” Master Hansel stood and exited, leaving behind a stale atmosphere of contempt and regret. Tristan lay back down, hands over his face. That wasn’t like me at all. I couldn’t help it. The weeks that followed Tristan kept to himself and took his Master’s teachings to heart. His training regimes doubled and his meditation tripled, he lost a part of himself on that planet. A part that he never wished to see again.
Eventually Master and Padawan reconciled and what had happened remained in the past. In the following months Tristan completed various other missions with his Master, each experience meditated upon thoroughly and with just cause. Hansel waited two and a half years before offering Tristan for the Trials. Hansel always made precise calculations and took everything into perspective and the wait was worthwhile. Each trial Tristan faced he overcame with serenity, peace, and knowledge. Thus he was ready for the next step in his journey.
The day and night prior to the Knighting Ceremony, Tristan remained underneath the Hall of Knighthood where he meditated piously. He recalled everything his mind stored and some things he wished would be forgotten but in order to learn from ones mistakes one must remember. He visited Bela Vistal once more, he clashed sabers with his true friends in the secluded mountainside, he danced with his mother in the grove, he endured the pain and rigors of training and tutelage. Everything he remembered, everything he kept.
“We are ready for you Tristan.” His master beckoned. Tristan stood, arrayed in the ritual robes of the Jedi long past. He ascended to the Hall of Knighthood. A circle of hooded sentinels stood quiet. Tristan felt their Force Energies, demanding and potent. A crescendo of light sabers erupted all around Tristan, angled towards the floor of the cold stone. In the middle stood another hooded figure, Tristan stopped before her.
“We are all Jedi. The Force speaks through us. Through our actions, the Force proclaims itself and what is real. Today we are here to acknowledge what the Force has proclaimed.”
“Step forward, Padawan. Tristan Asgun by the right of the Council, by the will of the Force, I dub thee, Jedi Knight of the Republic.”
Tristan lowered his head, felt the warmth of the Grandmaster’s lightsaber as it delicately removed his Padawan braid. Another spoke of the other hooded participants:
“Take up your lightsaber, Tristan Asgun, Jedi Knight. And may the Force be with you.”
Tristan kneeled with respect, holding his lightsaber in front of him
“May the Force be with us all.”
Lightsaber: Single blade
Color: Green
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho
1 2 3 4 5
Makashi
1 2 3 4 5
Soresu
1 2 3 4 5
Ataru
1 2 3 4 5
Shien / Djem So
1 2 3 4 5
Niman
1 2 3 4 5
Juyo / Vaapad
1 2 3 4 5
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Telepathic:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Body:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Sense:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Protection:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Healing:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Destruction:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Attributes:
Physical Strength:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Intelligence:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Speed:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Leadership:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Unarmed:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Melee Weapons:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Ranged Weapons:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Force Attunement:
-5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5
RP Sample:
The chamber was emptied of all life, opaque walls reflected a moisture from previous use. The entrance slid open electronically, a robed man entered and continued until he reached the far end of the oval room.
"Lights. Dim."
The sensors recognized the Jedi, registered him as Tristan Agnus. The room dimmed drastically, some of the wall nodes flickered and then remained the requested brightness. Tristan let his cloak slide off his lithe frame and he coiled slightly to catch it in one hand; folding it and setting it aside. He brought a vermillion sash and tied it around his head covering his eyes. A sequence of buttons were keyed into the wall and around him various compartments hissed open and a mini-army of remotes floated towards the epicenter of the room. Tristan moved towards the middle and crouched slightly, poised in a common Soresu Form. An electronic timer counted down, ending in a low beep. Focus. The remotes surrounding the Jedi erupted in artificial blaster fire, illuminating the room with a radiant orange glow. A lightsaber became exposed and ignited to life. The Jedi became a blur as he evaded, leapt, and averted most of the shots through agility alone. The unavoidable fire was then deviated by green lightsaber movements. Quick. Timed. Accurate. Tristan's wrist rotated and flicked with a vicious fervor. Blaster fire ricocheted back to its sender which in turn deactivated the remote. Within moments, the remotes stood deathly still. Tristan stood crouched, lightsaber humming in the darkness.
"Lights."
The command lit the room. Tristan removed the moist sash and tied it to his arm. At various points on his body he felt a slight sting where the remotes tagged him.
Silence.
The vents began to kick in and a steady surge of air circulated the oblong room. Tristan sat in the middle, legs crossed, lightsaber in front of him. Each breath brought a wave of calm, slowing his heart rate, allowing the Force to flood the room in a current of energies. Next time, fewer will hit me.
Race: Human-Corellian
Age: 23
Height: 5'11
Weight: 156lbs
Birth place: Corellia-Bela Vistal
Faction: Jedi
Rank: Knight-Guardian
Appearance:
Bio: Tristan’s story begins on the Core World of Corellia. More specifically in the great mountainous city of Bela Vistal. A local mid-wife wobbled into a room lit dimly with suspensor lamps. A pale woman took the bundle with benign care form the mid-wife and stared down at her son, naming him Tristan after her great grandfather. Before leaving the family alone, the mid-wife gently reassured the woman who began to sob slowly, the father no where in sight. The woman rocked back and forth with her miniscule son who seemed full of limitless energy. “I expect great things from you Tristan…my son.”
The Asgun family weren’t particularly prominent in Bela Vistal but they were not in poverty either. Their home lay on outskirts of the city where most of the residential quarters were located.
The mountainous city had great hidden plains and spectacular views no matter where you went and it isn’t surprising that the young Tristan spent a great deal of time there with his trio of best friends: Jrioe, Cziga, and Leto. Each of the boys had their reasons for making the journey to the plains mainly due to family problems at home. But high in the lush mountain side there were no worries, there were no drunken lashings, there was only friendship. The quartet stayed there as long as they could, even as the sun slowly began to get swallowed by the jagged horizon. Before leaving they all performed their secret handshake and vowed to never leave one another no matter what.
“Same time tomorrow?” Cziga said through a mouthful of chocolate pellets.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way my friend. Bring your sabers.” Tristan laughed as they disbanded for now. With his back turned, Tristan took on a sullen look as he realized that this wouldn’t last forever. Somehow, on that long trek down the mountain, he tapped into something that gave him prescience, a sense of purpose. He shook it off and ran home.
Quiet. Silent. Dark. Tristan lay in his bed, the ceiling luminescent with moving animals. He began counting his fingers, hoping to fall asleep but it didn’t come. It never comes when you need it. A loud noise sounded from the living quarters, Tristan didn’t bother to look, he knew what it was.
“Damn it Isabelle! Nobody locks me out of my own house! Useless! Stupid!” The harsh rhetoric came from a slender shell of a man. His mustache hung low over deeply red lips. His clothing tattered and stained with hard life lived. Nothing seemed proportioned on his hunched frame, his hair was tangled and damp with sweat. He moved sluggishly and with obscure patterns to a door.
“You are my wife! Mine. Mine-- Now… you owe me a wife’s duty.” Once his azure eyes held the soul of a loving husband but now they were poisoned and belonged to a man lost in his own demons. A fist slammed into the control panel and the door slid open, his form fell upon a still shadow that didn’t move. She never fought back, for the sake of her son. She never fought back. In a dark corner of the house Tristan crouched, hands covered the only sense that made him feel sick. That bastard! Quiet. Silent. Dark. Corellian Ale was rank inside the house, Tristan lay back and succumbed to sleep that failed him earlier.
Tristan appeared in the distance, he noticed the other three were already there and staunch on practice. Their silhouettes moved with graceful fluidity. As he drew nearer, Jrioe and Leto gave out war cries and charged one another, sabers in hand and poised. Cziga stood in the middle, awaiting the confrontation, eyes closed. They collided, the sabers emitting tiny harmless sparks upon contact. The frenzy stopped as they became aware of Tristan.
“There he is, lets see if you recuperated after the last defeat you suffered from me.” Leto goaded. There was stock in his arrogance, for he was the best swordfighter among the quartet. Not this day however.
“Challenge! A wager of sabers. If I win, you must relinquish your golden saber and bow before my greatness. If I lose, the white saber is yours. What say you?” Tristan boasted with renewed confidence, showcasing to all his coveted white saber. Jrioe and Cziga shook their heads and awaited Leto’s answer who seemed indifferent and unsure of his abilities at present; his lowered head the tall tale sign.
“I’d much rather feast on blob candy if its not too much trouble?” Leto said with a hoarse voice. Cziga was the first to agree and Jrioe shrugged like the follower he is.
“Fine you coward. Blob candy it is.” Tristan laughed and they all began their descent shoulder to shoulder. The market was not far from their hideout but it was a bit of a walk but they didn’t seem to mind. Grassy terrain turned into slick pavement and great trees shifted into towering buildings of stone and metal. There were many robed figures walking about, wrapped for warmth. A tumult of voices came from ever direction, exotic creatures of burden walked with heavy loads of shiny objects and equipment. Just ahead there was an immensely fat merchant with a purple turban. His robes were rich in color and his cheeks covered most of his face. Below him lay an assortment of intergalactic candies. None of them had credits but the fat merchant made enough not to be hurt by a few missing candies. They glanced at each other and brought out their sabers and held them close to one another. Tristan’s saber shot out the first spark of energy and therefore was chosen by the high order of the quartet to do the thieving. The other three breathed a sign of relief and took Tristan’s saber to give him more maneuverability.
“Next to his stall, there is a nook where you can wait while we scout what he’s doing.” Leto whispered. Silently Leto placed Cziga and Jrioe at key places for observation. They slowly melted into the crowd and Tristan began his part in the scheme of things. Ducking, dodging and evading various people, he quickly made it to the nook. There he watched Leto as he read the signs from the hidden Cziga and Jrioe. The sign! Tristan sprung into action, his hand a whirlwind of motion filling his cloak with anything he could see. The fat merchant was busy with a customer on the other side, his friends did their job perfectly. When his cloak was about to burst with sweets he turned and bolted towards the nook. The now candy heavy cloak dragged on the floor at his feet, the uneven pull brought Tristan off balance and before he could adjust himself he plummeted to the ground landing hard on scissor-like stones.
“Are you ok young one?” A silky voice sounded to a now face down Tristan. He peered up at a mysteriously clad man. His face was obscure due to the position of the sun and the great brown hood that he had up. Tristan took his hand and peered inside his now open cloak and glimpsed a silvery hilt. He couldn’t explain it but he had a strange feeling inside his stomach when he took the stranger’s hand.
“I just tripped, that’s all. Thank you sir.” Tristan felt a warm trickle near his elbow but didn’t check just yet.
“What’s your name young friend?”
“Tristan Asgun.”
“How old are you my boy?”
“13-years-old sir.”
“I see. Well, you be safe next time. Run along.” The stranger smiled brightly and tucked his hand back into the innards of the brown cloak. Tristan nodded and took off towards his friends who were caught with fright about what had transpired in front of their eyes.
“We thought you were caught for sure! To the mountains!” Cziga shouted.
“Too close.” Jrioe sounded and followed suit.
“At least you’re safe Tristan. Who was that guy anyway, he looked scary.” Leto whispered to his best friend. Tristan shrugged and followed his friends. He looked back and found the mysterious man still standing where he had fell. A questioned look fell on Tristan’s youthful face and he ran to catch up with the trio.
The brown clad man uncovered a datapad from within his robes and kneeled close to a quarry of stones that were sprinkled with blood from the child. He dipped an ebony disk into the crimson fluid and brought it to the datapad. The screen hummed to life, blinking with warm green and yellow hues. The man read the information with a grin. My feelings are never wrong. He tucked the data pad into his cloak and disappeared into the market place remembering the name: Tristan Asgun.
The sun was slowly sinking down again, it cascaded a brilliant shade of pink and lavender on the secret mountain sanctuary. Four figures were sitting on the edge of a cliff side, remnants of food and drink lay around them. Everyone spoke enthusiastically about various things, everyone except Tristan.
“Aye Tristan, what is your dream landspeeder going to look like?” Jrioe chimed in after a period of silence. There was no response. Each exchanged curious looks.
“What’s bugging you Tristan?” Leto directed with calm assurance.
“I’m leaving.” The words escaped reluctantly. Sorrow filled his heart.
“What--Where are you leaving to?” Cziga said.
“You moving?” Jrioe said.
“I’m going to Coruscant. To be a-- a Jedi.” It seemed so ridiculous when he said it but it was truth. He couldn’t believe it either, it was all a dream that in his heart didn’t want to wake up from. Only a few hours ago did he receive the news from the brown robed man. Tristan hasn’t seen his mother so happy. She hasn't cried like that in ages...
“That’s great Tristan! Great news. I’m happy for you, they couldn’t of found a better person.” Leto blurted out and went to sit next to his best friend, arm around him in support.
“You are getting out of this place. See new worlds, new life.” Cziga looked into the now black vault of a sky, the stars winking a familiar pattern.
“Why are you so down Tristan? I would be ecstatic.” Jrioe passed Tristan a chocolate beverage. Tristan took it and downed the whole thing in one gulp and tossed it behind him.
“I am excited. Truly. Its just-- I’m going to miss you guys. My mother. This place. What if I never come back? What if I never see you guys again?” His real fears came out and everyone gathered around him one by one.
“You’ll come back Tristan. I know it.” Leto reassured him. Cziga and Jrioe made similar comments and they sat there for a while without speaking. Tristan relished this moment with his best friends, this last fleeting moment where everything seemed right. Today: Corellia. Tomorrow: Coruscant.
Descent into Coruscant eminent. ETA: 5 minutes. The chilly chrome arm rest cackled with an electronic accent. Tristan gazed out past the thick glass and into the void of space, turning his attention from the game he was playing on the chair console in front of him.
“You are going to love it. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen.” The once mysterious man in the market was now the only friend Tristan had; a Jedi by the name of Hansel Kinet. Hawk features showed prominently, deep pools of brown over a slender nose. He kept his hair short and was clean shaven. Tristan began to admire this man as he spent more time with him. Hansel described the grand Temple, the council, the trials, the training, the city, every question that Tristan could come up with. They spoke of many things, many concerns, many doubts. Hansel fed him and made sure he cleaned up a bit. They stepped through the causeway and into famed Jedi Temple where Tristan was to spend a good chunk of his new life. Hansel set down what few pieces of luggage was allowed and pointed the route Tristan should take for orientation.
“That should do it.” Hansel put a hand on Tristan’s shoulder.
“Will I see you again?” Tristan stared up at the Jedi.
“I’ll make sure of it. You better get going. They welcome punctuality but frown on tardiness.” Tristan embraced Hansel as he would his friends back home and ran along through the corridor, the Jedi walking about didn’t seem to notice the boy. He has great potential.
As a youngling Tristan began his rigorous and enigmatic training regime under the tutelage of various Masters. Each offering a main theme from which their training served. Basic surveys in many genres were touched upon such as the Form I lightsaber form and basic Force understanding and manipulation.
Hansel on occasion checked up on Tristan throughout the months to assess his progress. He was never disappointed. Tristan began to gather around him a following loyal to him amongst his pupils which was always encouraged. According to Master Daurkar, Tristan seemed to have such a zealous ambition to learn lightsaber dueling. Even after the training session has ended he can still be found in the chambers setting the preference to the various remotes that hovered motionless.
“Sometimes he would practice until the point of exhaustion Hansel. Quite extraordinary to see one so young so dedicated.” Master Daurkar said with a full smile, arms folded upon his breast. They both watched through a hidden panel above the training quarters. A Guardian no doubt. Must be those electro sabers on his home world.
“Remind you of someone Master?” Hansel laughed and bid farewell to Master Daurkar. The mirrored door hissed and closed as Hansel took his leave. A few more years and then we will see how far he is willing to go.
Life on Coruscant went by much smoother than Tristan had first calculated. This bustling metropolis was a melting pot of culture and diversity. The main theme here is politics he deduced, it was involved in everything. At nights in his chambers after meditation he would reminisce about his mother, how she caressed his back before he went to bed. How she sang to him in the fields. I love you mother. There never was a moment where he didn’t pray for the good fortune of her and his beloved friends. Days melted to months and months faded into years and the once alien world now became a familiar home for the now 19-year-old Corellian native. Wherever Tristan went, shouts and salutations were abundant. His popularity was earned through good will and an eccentric sense of humor. Though busy he spent a majority of his time in pious study and vigilant meditation. How else was he to earn his keep? As he grew older, so did the difficulty of the training regime. The Masters held nothing back and did not ease their teaching methods, taking into consideration every student’s limits of course.
There is no emotion; there is peace.
The Force is such a powerful source, Tristan still cannot fathom it. All he can do is try to the very best of his ability to accomplish what the Masters instruct. Manipulating the world around him, such a thing would never be thought possible. Tristan gains a feeling of blithe as he taps into the Force to demonstrate his knowledge.
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
The chambers begin to become less crowded as time goes on. Some Jedi Hopefuls are already being dispensed in different groups and skills based on analysis of their progress. Tristan notices he is being grouped with some of the better duelists in the enclave. As every month passes, Tristan gains a another level of awareness to various aspects of the Force.
There is no passion; there is serenity.
Influencing sentient beings, defensive capabilities, repairing organic cellular structures, exploiting energies, lightsaber combat, action through the just and right cause. Every night Tristan meditates for hours not because he was told to do so but because he wishes too. Because he is driven to from within.
There is no chaos; there is harmony.
A low beep and a series of magnetic clicks resonate in a quiet living quarter. The LCD screen of an archaic datapad ignites in a flurry of bright colors. A dark figure in earth toned robes sits facing the window, motionless. His legs are crossed, boots scattered in a corner. A setla lamp in the corner was on its dimmest setting. The figures eyes slowly opened, emerald hues stared at the datapad. It continued to beep. Tristan walked over the lamp and turned it high before picking the datapad up to read its contents. Report to the training chambers to begin the next phase of training. Master Hansel Kinet awaits. Finally!
There is no death; there is the Force.
Tristan took care in his attire, dressing the part of a soon-to-be Padawan. He made sure everything was in order, every article was of proper fit, every piece of equipment was up to par. Tristan was methodical in all aspects of his life, now more than ever. Upon arrival in the chambers, Master Hansel awaited with jubilant approval as he viewed the boy turned young man. They embraced briefly in proper Jedi Etiquette.
“Good afternoon Master.” Came the formal words.
“Afternoon Tristan. As you may have guessed you are to be my Padawan. An apprentice if you will. You will accompany me on my travels and take to heart what I teach you. Do you understand? Can you handle it?”
“I will be diligent in all matters Master.” Tristan bowed low and looked upon an older more experienced Jedi who showed him the ropes so many years ago.
“Excellent. We will begin immediately. Take this datacard. On it you will have a basic outline to help you construct you own lightsaber. This is very critical to all Padawans and should not be taken lightly. Report back to me when this task is complete, I am at your disposal if you have any concerns, questions, or criticisms. Good luck Tristan.” Master Hansel departed with a polite bow and Tristan flicked the datacard around in his nimble fingers. Lets get to work. He clenched his fist, encasing the datacard firmly. With this new prodigious task, Tristan wasted no time. He made a bee line to the Jedi Archive where he could organize his research and begin conceptual plans on the creation of his very own lightsaber. I won’t let you down mother.
At the epicenter of the Temple, along the myriad corridors of archives near the back there sat a Padawan deep in thought and concentration. Various datacards were strewn about in an unorganized mess but Tristan made sense of that mess. Each datacard held different specifications and simulations on them pertaining to the construction of his lightsaber. Tristan jotted down random numbers here and there and sometimes even sketched a digital rendering. In his quarters the actual power assembly and outer casing were stored. Gathering all the necessary items took months and each time they had to be tested again and gain through simulation. Everything from the Power Cell to the Recharge Socket had to be calibrated. Tristan heard rumors of dangerous explosions and did not want the same mistakes made. According to calculation, the Vortex Ring and Power Insulator he acquired needed only subtle tuning but as for the Field Conductor and Energy Gate, they needed to be modified dramatically in order to maintain a steady working condition. I’m hungry.
“Tristan! We meet again my Corellian friend. Whatcha’ working on this time? Don’t tell me your lightsaber.” The beautiful Twi'lek Ami’tildra pulled up a seat after spotting her friend from a distance. Tristan looked up and took in her light shade of blue skin, her lekku wrapped carefully around her neck. Truly gorgeous.
“I’m beginning to suspect you of stalking me Ami’tildra. Its not becoming of a Twi'lek hopeful.”
They both laughed rather loud which caused many students to glare at them from their prudent study. Ami’tildra picked up Tristan’s datapad and scrolled down the lengthy chunk of information.
“Blade Energy Channel, Cycling Field Energizers, Energy Modulation Circuits, Emitter Matrix, High Energy Flux Aperture-- blah blah blah. I know how dedicated you are but its been months and I think you are in need of some relaxation.” Ami’tildra gave a very sinister smile that Tristan caught himself giving as well. He gathered his things and the two left the Archive in deep conversation on recent political turmoil that plagued Coruscant.
The setla lamp was set at full capacity within Tristan’s chambers. The Padawan, now in his twenty’s, sat in a shapely chair huddled over a mechanical debacle on his desk. Thick goggles covered his face, long brown locks fell over the lenses sometimes but he remained vigil to his work. Every now and then he’s switch tools quickly without looking away from the lightsaber hilt he held in his left hand. A series of clicks sounded in the shiny case and Tristan sat very still realizing that he had just about finished his modifications. He threw the goggles on his bed and sealed the outer casing firmly. Tristan brought the elegant weapon with him and he crossed over to the floor slowly sinking into his meditation state. The final stage. Within mere moments, Tristan began to meticulously immerse the lightsaber itself within his Force energies. This helps attune the focusing crystal to that person. Tristan rehearsed to himself. This also allowed him to modify the innards in a way he couldn’t do physically. The outer casing vibrated slightly, ever so slightly as it was enveloped completely within the Force. Beads of sweat began to form on Tristan’s brow. This process continued for a good amount of time before Tristan slowly eased the level of Force Energies in the room. Emerald pools scanned the hilt, he outstretched his hand. The lightsaber rose with limber concentration and settled in his hand. Tristan stood, fingering the weapon he had built with his own hands. Its now or never. May the Force be with me. Unyielding, Tristan activated the switch with a flick of his wrist. The room was filled with a delicate hum and lambent hue of green. Tristan moved slowly, clutching it now with both hands. His body went into the ritual maneuvers of his training, the saber danced with deviated quickness. I’ve done it. The beam vanished, the hilt clipped to his obi. Tristan took his place by the floor and closed his eyes once more, a vehemence filled him with a sense of accomplishment and honor.
The following months Master Hansel took Tristan under his wing and began necessary teaching that Tristan needed in the future to pass the Jedi Trials. They were inseparable. Hansel expressed his views on the Force and how he interprets the Code and tricks of the trade he picked up along the way. Tristan soaked in every piece of information, every lesson, every mistake. It was the duels that really piqued young Tristan as they had in years as a Youngling. Tristan developed a partiality to the Makashi Form and even developed a hybrid of Forms II and III. This adaptability confounded Hansel and the student even taught the master in this subject. Their missions took them as far as the Mid Rim but mostly around the Core Worlds. Hansel knew of the dangers the Outer Rim and other unknown space, the Sith Enclaves that could spell doom for any untrained Jedi.
“We will investigate the matter Master. You have our full cooperation.” The hologram of Master Daurkar vanished and with calm quickness the holoprojector was placed inside Master Hansel’s robes. En route to the docking bay, Hansel sent a transmission to Tristan who had errands in Coruscant.
“Yes Master Hansel?” Tristan’s voice cackled over the comlink.
“Tristan, meet me at the docking bay. As quick as you can. We have an urgent mission in the Outer Rim.”
“As you wish.”
Tristan delivered the last package of holodiscs to the local courier in the lower districts before boarding his run-down airspeeder. His hands scurried over the controls and the repulsorlifts came to life instantly. Tristan made haste back to the Jedi Temple. After docking the airspeeder, he gathered his equipment from his quarters and finally breached the docking bay doors. There stood Master Hansel nearby a Jedi Starfighter.
“Greetings Master.”
“Greetings Tristan. Everything in order?”
“Just about.” Tristan began climbing into the passenger cockpit but was stopped by Hansel.
“Why don’t you stretch her legs? I feel you are ready.” Hansel smiled and proffered the pilot cockpit. Tristan leapt from cockpit to cockpit and settled inside the enclosed space getting adjusted to this new feeling. Much more advanced than an airspeeder. He quickly remembered his training and double checked all the systems. Hansel was already aboard and fastened himself to the seat.
“Just like we went over Tristan. Don’t kill us please.”
Tristan activated the ignition and the computer systems flickered into working status. All systems registered nominal status. Tristan lifted them off the bay after being cleared by the nearby control tower. Coruscant slowly began to diminish in size as they ascended in the spacecraft.
“Where are we headed?”
“The planet Arbra. We have suspicions that there is a caravan of smugglers stopping there for supplies. Their cargo is why we were summoned. Slaves. We must use discretion Tristan. I’ve put in the coordinates in the navicomputer. Lets make the jump.”
“Yes Master.”
Tristan punched the sequence of commands that triggered a jump through hyperspace. The null gravity lurched his stomach towards his heart and they vanished from Coruscant’s orbital atmosphere. It seemed like hours went before the starfighter appeared near Malastare via the Hydian Way hyperspace route. Tristan took the time to evaluate the critical objectives using a heightened sense of prescience which the Force facilitated. He shook off any fears of doubt and cleared his mind, closing in on Arbra. A heavy air hung over the Master and Padawan, they hardly spoke; both sensing something wrong very near. We’re getting close. Alone with their thoughts, they didn’t realize that Arbra was upon them. Tristan quickly maneuvered the fighter under the planet and silenced the engines.
“Do you sense it Tristan. They are near.”
“Yes Master. I’ll keep close observation of the ship’s sensors and look for traces of electromagnetic radiation.”
Hansel nodded with satisfaction at his pupil. The wait had begun. The Master closed his eyes in meditation and instructed Tristan to do the same. Reluctantly the Padawan took his eyes off the sensor display and waited.
Endless wait. Quiet. Silence. Void.
A nautical bleep on the displayed sounded and began to trace traces of radiation near the northern quadrant. The vessel quickly descended onto the planet. I gotta’ wait a moment before following. Tristan soon followed behind and settled a few clicks near the vessel that had arrived.
“I doubt they have their own sensors active, this planet has not seen activity for quite some time. Lets get ready.”
The robed figures clambered down the fighter and they soon disappeared in the thick growth of trees. They headed northeast of their landing position towards the smuggler’s vessel. They sensed they were very near and quickened their pace without sacrificing discretion. The dense jungle was hard to weave through but it soon came to an abrupt end. In the clearing of the forest there stood a medium-sized freighter. Tristan reached for his electrobinoculars and glanced to see that his Master already had his out. Closer inspection revealed about eight smugglers, each loading and unloading various sized crates. In the cargo-hold one could hear faint whimpers and see the dimly lit cages. This work continued until a few of them made gestures of some kind and five went back into the vessel leaving only three outside within the cargo-hold. Tristan’s foot began tapping the ground.
“Patience Tristan. Do not be hasty.” He’s ambitious to save those slaves. Noble but treacherous. The three that remained seemed to have orders to feed the slaves inside but that was the last thing on their mind. They threw food at the cages and prodded the cages with electrostaffs. They laughed and uncovered a hidden crate and revealed the contents to be various illegal stimulants. Each having two or three injected before going back to their immoral ways. Tristan felt his heart rate increase dramatically as he watched. What are we waiting for?! We could easily dispatch these fools! He lowered the electrobinoculars and went through the ritual breathing he had been taught. Hansel seemed not to notice but was intent on the surroundings. Gathering intelligence before action is always priority. There didn’t seem to be any base or headquarters here.
“Momma!” The sound disturbed the silence.
Tristan was glued to one of the smugglers who had a female slave by the neck. She flew down the rampart and onto the ground. She was a frail and weak thing compared to their captives. The three then brought her away from the ship and onto the ground. The screaming she made! She struggled the best she could but to no avail. Hansel watched the ship closely for the other five crew members were still in the ship.
“Master! We must act now!” Tristan stood up by reflex, poised.
“Wait Tristan! Not yet. We don’t know what the others are up too. They could easily escape if they hear us coming.” Hansel remained calm and kept the electrobinoculars raised, ever watching. Tristan was not watching the ship but instead kept his attention on the poor woman being beaten. One of the smugglers began to pull down his trousers as the others held the slave down.
“No! Please!” her clamor reached a deafening high pitch and made Tristan’s blood boil. Tristan shot a cold glance at his Master who was focused on the ship. The smuggler fell upon the woman.
Thrusting. Thrusting. Thrusting.
“Momma!” A little boy…
“Master?!”
There was movement within the ship. Hansel waited knowing full well what was happening but the safety of the rest slaves was to be put ahead of the woman unfortunately. I can’t allow them to escape. Tristan lowered his head in spite, eyes began to water. A blistering pain ran through his nerves, remembering the nights he heard those same noises. If he won’t act, I will! Tristan burst through the secluded foliage.
“Tristan! No!” Before Hansel could act it was too late. He followed suit soon afterward
Tristan focused his body and let the Force flow through his being. Soon his legs were not being fatigued by running, he gained speed. Tremendous speed that sent dust in his wake. His movements rapid and his advantage supreme Tristan leapt at the trio of smugglers. The last thing they saw before their ruin was a flash of green and a terrifying look of hate. The woman slithered away , too frightened to scream, back to the hold. Tristan heard faint sounds of blasters in the distance but then…blackness.
Tristan awoke in his living quarters, his tunic soaked in sweat. Memory fogged like mirror after a hot shower. He sensed another in the room, he focused on a sliver of a shadow. What happened..?
“How are you feeling Tristan?” That silky voice. Master Hansel.
“My head is about to burst. What happened?”
“You’ve been unconscious for a few days. You were overcome with a blackness on Arbra, Tristan. I cannot stress enough how dangerous that is. You could of cost us everything with your blind hysteria. What were you thinking?!” Hansel has never raised his voice to Tristan ever, only the more potent his point is. Tristan felt extreme nausea at that point, vomiting into a nearby canister. What have I done?
“You will be given time to meditate on your actions and come to terms with who or what you truly wish to become. When you are ready, I will be waiting.” Master Hansel stood and exited, leaving behind a stale atmosphere of contempt and regret. Tristan lay back down, hands over his face. That wasn’t like me at all. I couldn’t help it. The weeks that followed Tristan kept to himself and took his Master’s teachings to heart. His training regimes doubled and his meditation tripled, he lost a part of himself on that planet. A part that he never wished to see again.
Eventually Master and Padawan reconciled and what had happened remained in the past. In the following months Tristan completed various other missions with his Master, each experience meditated upon thoroughly and with just cause. Hansel waited two and a half years before offering Tristan for the Trials. Hansel always made precise calculations and took everything into perspective and the wait was worthwhile. Each trial Tristan faced he overcame with serenity, peace, and knowledge. Thus he was ready for the next step in his journey.
The day and night prior to the Knighting Ceremony, Tristan remained underneath the Hall of Knighthood where he meditated piously. He recalled everything his mind stored and some things he wished would be forgotten but in order to learn from ones mistakes one must remember. He visited Bela Vistal once more, he clashed sabers with his true friends in the secluded mountainside, he danced with his mother in the grove, he endured the pain and rigors of training and tutelage. Everything he remembered, everything he kept.
“We are ready for you Tristan.” His master beckoned. Tristan stood, arrayed in the ritual robes of the Jedi long past. He ascended to the Hall of Knighthood. A circle of hooded sentinels stood quiet. Tristan felt their Force Energies, demanding and potent. A crescendo of light sabers erupted all around Tristan, angled towards the floor of the cold stone. In the middle stood another hooded figure, Tristan stopped before her.
“We are all Jedi. The Force speaks through us. Through our actions, the Force proclaims itself and what is real. Today we are here to acknowledge what the Force has proclaimed.”
“Step forward, Padawan. Tristan Asgun by the right of the Council, by the will of the Force, I dub thee, Jedi Knight of the Republic.”
Tristan lowered his head, felt the warmth of the Grandmaster’s lightsaber as it delicately removed his Padawan braid. Another spoke of the other hooded participants:
“Take up your lightsaber, Tristan Asgun, Jedi Knight. And may the Force be with you.”
Tristan kneeled with respect, holding his lightsaber in front of him
“May the Force be with us all.”
Lightsaber: Single blade
Color: Green
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho
1 2 3 4 5
Makashi
1 2 3 4 5
Soresu
1 2 3 4 5
Ataru
1 2 3 4 5
Shien / Djem So
1 2 3 4 5
Niman
1 2 3 4 5
Juyo / Vaapad
1 2 3 4 5
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Telepathic:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Body:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Sense:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Protection:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Healing:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Destruction:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Attributes:
Physical Strength:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Intelligence:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Speed:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Leadership:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Unarmed:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Melee Weapons:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Ranged Weapons:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Force Attunement:
-5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5
RP Sample:
The chamber was emptied of all life, opaque walls reflected a moisture from previous use. The entrance slid open electronically, a robed man entered and continued until he reached the far end of the oval room.
"Lights. Dim."
The sensors recognized the Jedi, registered him as Tristan Agnus. The room dimmed drastically, some of the wall nodes flickered and then remained the requested brightness. Tristan let his cloak slide off his lithe frame and he coiled slightly to catch it in one hand; folding it and setting it aside. He brought a vermillion sash and tied it around his head covering his eyes. A sequence of buttons were keyed into the wall and around him various compartments hissed open and a mini-army of remotes floated towards the epicenter of the room. Tristan moved towards the middle and crouched slightly, poised in a common Soresu Form. An electronic timer counted down, ending in a low beep. Focus. The remotes surrounding the Jedi erupted in artificial blaster fire, illuminating the room with a radiant orange glow. A lightsaber became exposed and ignited to life. The Jedi became a blur as he evaded, leapt, and averted most of the shots through agility alone. The unavoidable fire was then deviated by green lightsaber movements. Quick. Timed. Accurate. Tristan's wrist rotated and flicked with a vicious fervor. Blaster fire ricocheted back to its sender which in turn deactivated the remote. Within moments, the remotes stood deathly still. Tristan stood crouched, lightsaber humming in the darkness.
"Lights."
The command lit the room. Tristan removed the moist sash and tied it to his arm. At various points on his body he felt a slight sting where the remotes tagged him.
Silence.
The vents began to kick in and a steady surge of air circulated the oblong room. Tristan sat in the middle, legs crossed, lightsaber in front of him. Each breath brought a wave of calm, slowing his heart rate, allowing the Force to flood the room in a current of energies. Next time, fewer will hit me.
