Post by A®heim on Mar 9, 2009 13:54:08 GMT -5
Name: Jeremy "James" Orion Blackstone ("DON'T call me Jeremy.")
Race: Human
Age: 43
Height: 6' 4"
Weight: 210 lbs
(the tall guy, not the short Bothan, just couldn't figure out how to cut him out without it looking odd. The thing at his feet is Leadre. He has a tattoo on his left shoulder bearing the same symbol as the one on Leadre's back)
Birth place: Korriban
Faction: Dark Jedi/GHI
Rank: Archeologist
Bio:
It was an strange day when Jeremy Blackstone was born. It may have been the fact that it took place on the first of the year at 12:02 A.M. or maybe it was the fact that the child never once cried. The doctors feared at once he may not have been fully developed, but a quick physical was enough to show that the boy was perfectly healthy.
He was everything a mother could hope for: never cried a note. By the age of 2 he was already walking and talking almost as well as a 9-year-old. His parents lent this fact to "Oh he's such a studious buy." or "What can I say? Good genes." However, though he had a nearly unquenchable thirst for knowledge, that latter statement was likely more accurate.
Maria and Richard Blackstone were not by any means in tune with the Force, their Great Grand parents on both sides coincidentally, however, were. Unfortunately for them, when they had known their Great Grandparents, they were very young and attributed their ability to telekinetically spank them as magic! ....Which of course they didn't believe in now.
His great grandfather's more socially acceptable occupation was as a historian. He was the one who originally brought the family to the planet in order to make his studies more convenient. His studies became well-known throughout the learned galaxy and GHI (the Galactic Historical Institute), which was helpful in diverting the public eye from some of his less-than-scrupulous ventures. Through this, the family became wealthy from their location and therefore stayed there for generations to come.
Whether or not this family history had something to do with it, young Jeremy had begun to develop certain peculiarities. Being born into a relatively wealthy family on Korriban, there were immediate worries of what his abilities may cause amongst the dark history of the planet. Counselors were hired in attempt to identify why the child was capable of lifting small objects and other strange actions. All of them came back with reports that he seemed perfectly normal but that segregating him from other students at the academies would probably be the wisest course of action.
Wanting only the best for their child, Maria and Richard set him up with a private tutor- an elderly professor who claimed to have once been a very powerful Jedi. Though these were scoffed at by most of his clients, this was in fact the truth...almost. The moment the old man laid his eyes upon Jeremy Orion Blackstone they lit up with a hidden delight, and though only 7 years of age at this time, Jeremy sensed something inexplicable inside his tutor as well.
The tutoring was extensive, almost to the point of being brutal. In a year's period he was being taught the curriculum of 4 years of standard grade school. Because of this, he developed quite the superiority complex even going as far as explicitly asking to be called James as Jeremy seemed a rather degrading sort of name. As imagined however, it was a stressful life for Blackstone but just when things seemed they were about to get to be too much, salvation rode in in the form of the "real training."
At the age of 11, he was taken aside by his tutor one night and led to his family's small personal library. This would have been normal but for the hectic look in his mentor's eye (the other having been lost in the history book incident) and the fact that the door was hurriedly locked behind them. Though his mentor didn't usually take kindly to having their sessions interrupted, he never went as far as locking the door...or pushing entire bookcases in front of it.
It was then that he turned to Jeremy and spoke the four words that would forever change his life: "You're a Jedi, kid." For one of the first times in his life, Blackstone was at a complete loss of words. "A...a...what? No, that's impossible. I mean, I couldn't be a...Jedi...could I? I'm just James..."
"Well "just James", first of all your name's Jeremy, ever make anything happen? Anything you can't explain when you were sad or angry?" His mentor had a point. He had long noticed the strange things that occurred around him. Like that incident at the Korriban Planetary Zoo when his cousin was blown violently into the Corellian crystal snake enclosure.
It was then that his mentor revealed that he had been observing Jeremy for some time and was interested in developing his "abilities". Then he told Blackstone something that he had somehow suspected since he had first laid eyes upon him.
He really was a Jedi....well sorta. Two things weren't true about that statement: 1. He was retired. 2. He was no follower of the light. His real name (which Jeremy suddenly realized he had never been told) was Raxan Vell and in his prime he was a respected Dark Jedi Master. Not a second after Blackstone heard this, a candle stand was in his hand and brandished at his "mentor".
It took many days for Raxan to fully convince Jeremy he didn't wish to turn him. He hadn't slaughtered a village in 48 years he told him. The life of a Dark Jedi had worn on him and he had turned over a new leaf in an attempt to lead a more peaceful life. Perhaps it was this that truly condemned Blackstone's decision: he could always go back...
And so the training in the ways of the Force commenced. Each day, half the tutoring session was secretly replaced with basic mental exercises. He was taught to control the energies within and around him- energies he had always known but never thought to take note of. Most of the exercises were trivial things. He spent many hours with his mentor just sitting upon the floor willing the Force to flow through them. As a child who grew up being the smartest and even a little feared due to the rumors that surrounded him, it bothered him that Raxan could accomplish so much while he could do so little. During their meditation, Blackstone would open one eye to peek at the multitude of miscellanea orbiting his mentor while the dust merely swirled at his own feet.
Then there were the saving graces. Those sessions where Raxan knelt down to look Jeremy straight in the eye and ask of him to complete some normally impossible tasks. Most of these were the expected tasks for a fledgling force user, move this rock from here to here, but Raxan also encouraged more unorthodox usage of the Force. In one such session, he sat down in his favorite high-backed chair, crossed his legs, and calmly told Jeremy to light one of the candles with the Force.
This request caught Jeremy off guard. How could one light a candle with the Force? He spent several minutes simply staring at the crisp wick on that candle, just thinking. He considered moving the air at a sufficient rate to cause enough friction to start the flame, but he knew better than to try that. The force of the wind needed would likely destroy the entire candle if not a lot more if he lost control. No, he had to do this using only what he knew, even if he had to do so in a way not normally thought of by most. If only light could be just placed onto the candle, if only it were tangible. And that's when it hit him. Reaching into the Universe, he had focused upon the air then kept going. Closing his eyes, he reached down past the concept of air into the molecular level. Each oxygen molecule mingling with the various other compounds in the air with the tiny photons of light dashing around them. Photons...light was indeed tangible.
"When you say, light the candle, does that mean it necessarily has to be on fire?" He had asked his mentor who answered with glittering eyes and a toothy grin. Immediately he had reached out the Force to grasp at the photons of light. It was difficult at first, rather like catching flies with chopsticks, but after adjusting his strategy to using the force more like a net than tweezers, he managed to gather up a significant number in one constricted point.
Opening his eyes, the hovering point probably no larger than the tip of a pin glowed with a light brighter than the chandeliers overhead gave off. With a smug grin on his face, Blackstone maneuvered the point of condensed light onto the candle and said "Done."
Like any over-studious child prodigy who suddenly learns he's Force-sensitive, Jeremy immediately dove after any information regarding the History of the Jedi, both light and dark, and their role in the Galaxy today. At first this sudden interest worried his parents, but they quickly dismissed it as just another phase they're child was going through. After expressing their concern and resolution to the tutor he simply laughed and told them that it was indeed a phase he was going through and would likely continue for quite awhile.
One session as the two studied in the library, Jeremy with his nose deep in a thick book on the ways of the Jedi Order and Raxan looking through some papers holding a cup of tea, something occurred to the boy. He was 13 now and was beginning to truly think about his future as a wielder of the Force. However, according to the book he held in his hands and many others he had devoured in the past, there was another thing the Force-sensitive wielded. "Master, why-" His mentor cut him off in a sharp tone.
"I haven't been called master in 40 years, why should that change now?" His tone returned to it's normal kind, fatherly tone. "Call me Raxan, please."
"Only if you stop calling me Jeremy."
"Nope."
Blackstone rolled his eyes, but under the cover of his book he was smiling. Raxan was a good man, proof that one's past does not control your future. "Very well RAXAN, I've been wondering. Don't we Jedi use a lightsaber?"
His master had only chuckled and stood up. He told young Blackstone about how he had discarded his own when he had retired from the "Demolition Service" as he liked to call it. When Jeremy persisted upon the issue, his mentor just kept that grandfather's smile, picked up the very same candle stand Jeremy had once grabbed defensively when he learned what Raxan had been and tossed it to him.
And thus Blackstone's training with pole-arms began. Yet another period of his "tutoring" sessions was put aside to clear out the center of the small library and go at each other with hardwood staves. It wasn't at all what Jeremy had expected, but he accepted that as gaining possession of a lightsaber of his own would be nearly impossible, the training he was receiving would be sufficient.
The wooden staves eventually escalated to metal pikes with dull tips, and finally tipped with stun nodes that was the cause of many a numb arm at the end of the day. As time passed, he grew more and more skilled. Each day the parries and hits grew in his favor. By the age of 16, he had Raxar disarmed on the ground with the humming shock node at the tip of his staff inches from his throat. Lightsabers were overrated, Jeremy decided. Even in the far future when his saber collection numbered in the hundreds, he still never touched them. One untrained in their ways would only hurt themselves just as much as their enemy, and Jeremy would come to understand that very quickly.
All the training in the ways of the Force and pike were fun and all, but the intense academic lecturing never ceased. In between the meditation and bruises, Jeremy could be seen sitting at a desk scratching feverishly with an ink pen trying desperately to keep up as his mentor talked endlessly about the history of Korriban and other worlds in their galaxy.
Other subjects were covered of course, but ancient history always held a special place in Jeremy. He felt somewhat connected to the age-old mysteries of his home planet and the secrets it held. He knew he would give anything for these secrets, anything to learn more about his path...and he did. But that's another story.
Raxan was an endless book of knowledge for young Blackstone, but unlike your standard stuffy academy professor, he really knew what he was talking about. He had actually been there and seen much of what he discussed in that tiny library, the books of which seemed feeble in their contents compared to his mentor.
It was when he was discussing a particular event that had occurred within the history of the nearby planet Arkania that Jeremy suddenly had another realization.
"Raxan, if my notes are correct then I don't understand."
"And what is it that your don't understand, Jeremy?" There was a slight tinge of irritation at being interrupted in his lecture.
"Well this event took place over 150 years ago, yet you claim to have been a part of it yourself. Did I miss something in my note-" It was the moment when the confusion on his face was replaced with sudden alarm. "Are....are you- er....human, sir?"
To this Raxan only smiled and continued with his lecture leaving his student to stew in his contemplation. It would be good for him, after all. Jeremy never did figure out what Raxan was, but it didn't really matter. It only proved that what he was being told was genuine and none of the wonder ever wore away.
Several years had passed and Jeremy had begun to show a definite affinity for the history he so adored.He considered himself blessed to be born and raised upon a planet with such a fascinating, albeit dark, history. The sheer potential of his studies to continue without ever having to leave his planet opened up a whole new realm of possibility in the form of the next step: field research.
It was arranged for the student and teacher to go out on their excursion while Blackstone's parents were traveling abroad on business. It wasn't so much that they were not in favor of a little field trip as Raxan didn't wish to risk the two getting caught at somewhere that definitely wasn't the Korriban Planetary Historical Institute's new exhibit on calligraphy. Yay fancy writing. (it should be noted, however, that there was indeed a great amount of instruction in language and the literary arts)
Instead, the pair traveled in one of the Blackstone family's speeders deep into the never ending wastes of the planet's deserts. The trip was long and anything but comfortable in the blistering sun, but his anticipation of what was to come kept Jeremy focused and tolerant.
When Raxan stopped the speeder and announced their arrival, Jeremy was puzzled. There was absolutely nothing but sand and rocks. That is until his mentor shoved aside a mound of sand effortlessly with the Force to reveal a smooth stone surface traced with the carvings of ancient lore.
He was flabbergasted to say the least, but held his tongue while his mentor had calmly removed one of the tiles and jumped down through what was now evident to be some sort of ceiling. He had waited a moment until Raxan shouted form the hole to come down which he did so accordingly.
What met him was a grand gallery illuminated by one of Raxan's signature Force flares filled with elegant statues and architecture he had only read about. Jeremy couldn't help but ask, "Why are we here?"
"In pursuit of knowledge, Jeremy. There is an object here I would be interested in studying."
"I thought you were retired." He had replied suspiciously.
His mentor only put on that same blasted grin and remained silent. That is, until his expression froze and his eyes narrowed. A shadow had shifted where no shadow should have then a figure stepped from behind one of the massive columns and began walking slowly towards the pair.
Jeremy was told to remain close as Raxan confronted the figure peaceably. "Stranger, I mean you no quarrel. I apologize if we have disturbed you and we will leave if you wish it."
The figure only laughed and continued walking forward. "I have no care of your intentions. You are trespassing in my temple, and will indeed be removed...in pieces." A *snaphiss*and flash of red illuminated the man's grinning face. Jeremy took several steps back in fear. Raxan hadn't blamed him.
"I am unarmed sir, I would prefer to avoid conflict in possible." Raxan was tense but his face showed no emotion.
"Fool. I am Pride and your mistake has just cost you your life." The man darted forward to impale Raxan who didn't move an inch...that is until the blade was an inch from his chest. At the moment, Raxan spun nimbly about on one foot and rammed a palm into Pride's back.
Pride was caught off balance and continued into the wall behind them. He was wide open to attack, utterly vulnerable, but still Raxan didn't move. "Please. Allow my student and myself to leave and we will trouble you no further."
It was no use, Pride had had his pride damaged and was going to kill Raxan for it. He shoved off the wall and dived at Jeremy's mentor in a rage. On his part, Raxan merely swayed side to side, narrowly avoiding each blow and ducking under a sweep with unnatural speed. Raxan used that opening to drive his foot into Pride's stomach sending him sprawling to the floor.
"I don't wish to hurt you, but if you continue to leave me no choice I will act accordingly. I ask you once more, stand down and allow us to-" Pride lashed out with the Force and took Raxan's legs out from under him. In an instant he was in the air sailing down at Raxan with saber extended.
It was a low blow, but it worked. Jeremy could only watch as his beloved mentor was impaled through the heart. "NO!" He charged blindly in rage and tears towards the murderous Dark Jedi.
And was thrown to the floor. Then into the wall. Then back to the floor. Jeremy coughed and began to sit up only to find the glowing tip of a saber inches from his throat. "Pity he had to die like that. I respected his ability, but I couldn't allow him to humiliate me so. Ah well. As for now, you must feel crushed. You've just lost a man very dear to you, didn't you? Must feel like there's no more reason to live. But I'll tell you what, I'm a forgiving soul so allow me to grant you that wish." Pride raised the saber to strike him down.
"You're wrong....YOU'RE WRONG!" Jeremy swept his hand out focusing on the spot a millimeter from Pride's eyes and detonated the largest flare he could conjure up. Everything went white.
"ARRGGG! Little Jedi ****! YOU WILL DIE HORRENDOUSLY FOR THIS!"
Jeremy ran. He ran blindly bumping into walls, doing anything to escape. Behind him, Pride charged just as blindly after him. All the same, it would be to no avail. Jeremy stopped and turned to fight, releasing a burst of Force energy, fueled by his rage and his fear, just as Pride rounded the corner.
Pride only laughed and bolted to the side of the attack. Fortunately, that hadn't been what Blackstone was aiming at. There was a deafening crack as the gigantic statue buckled and fell forward and fell across Pride's path. The ceiling followed soon afterwords losing the support of same statue. Jeremy managed to catch the expression on Pride's face just before he was obscured by the rubble: he was smiling.
Jeremy came to several hours later to the touch of someone ruffling his hair. He was sore and his mind was still reeling. He hadn't seen the rock that caught him across the head just after the tunnel collapsed.
"Mmmmff....mom? Dad?" He mumbled as he opened his bleary eyes.
"Rrwaow?" Said the kima.
Jeremy had jumped up then and backed away from the large cat. He had read about kimas and how dangerous they were for their size which the books hardly gave a good impression of. He had always pictured them as large house cats, this kima was more like a small puma. It also had an odd coloration he had never seen before: a blood red mane poured down to its shoulders and the same color fur clearly depicted a symbol in old aurebesh. He knew the symbol, it was pride.
Much to his relief, the kima did not make any move to attack, but instead nuzzled his shoulder roughly. Jeremy looked down and gasped to see a tattoo on his shoulder, the pattern exactly matching that on the kima's back.
That same kima turned to a valuable asset. Soon after discovering the tattoo, he wanted nothing more than to escape this temple and escape this nightmare. The kima led him through the rubble and through the darkened bowels of the temple for hours until he emerged into the blinding sunlight. He was standing at a majestic, if somewhat ruined, entrance to the temple deep in a ravine but that didn't matter. He just kept running, the kima silently at his heels.
In the years to follow, Jeremy Orion Blackstone acquired a job with GHI; the Galactic Historical Institute. He uses the occupation as a front to his more obsessive collecting and as a resource to locate new sites and objects of great value. When he had returned home, he told his family not so much a stretch of the truth.
Raxan had been killed to save him from drunken mugger as they walked back to their speeder. The story was backed by the fact that a convicted murderer had indeed been arrested that same day after being turned in by an anonymous citizen with a strange tattoo and some sort of animal.
His family was reluctant on the subject of the kima, which Jeremy had named Leadre (meaning "Hubris" in some archaic language he couldn't recall), but relented to letting him keep it in light of the sorrow he felt for Raxan.
As more time passed, Blackstone became a more and more well known figure. At least, the legitimate facade of him. At the same time, the true Blackstone drew his identity deeper into the shadows of mystery. He acquired and refitted one of GHI's new Star Collector-class super transports which he uses to travel the galaxy in search of new treasures and greater power.
And this is where he is now, still wandering from planet to planet. One time giving a lecture on recognizing archaic cultural pottery, another to plunder the tomb of the fourth king of the Traanhati Empire. He tries to keep a balance between the Sarcastic College Professor and the Dark Adventurer. He tries. That's what counts right?
Lightsaber: N/A
Artifacts
Being an archeologist/collector of ancient Sith artifacts, one or two of them..."disappear" from his collection. He will often use the power of these items to amplify his powers. Here is a list of what he often carries on his person:
Staff- His staff was created by him soon after the death of Raxan Vell. Besides being his primary weapon in melee situations, he also uses it as a focus in which he can balance his power. Because of this, his abilities with the Force are amplified while it is in his possession. The shaft is made of Phrik and contains a retractable 18 inch cortosis alloy blade.
Pentacle- The ancient symbol of Sith Magic adorns its face. Though not infused with power itself, it possesses a force activated switch that deploys a razor array of blades along its edge from the inner star. The ring around the entire amulet is also quite thin and sharp.
Leadre- Yes, I consider her a sort of artifact. She was discovered in the temple of Pride where Jeremy's master was murdered. She is a temple animal: a guardian animal bred to protect a holy area. She considers Jeremy one such object to be protected and will give her life to protect him. She can communicate with him through the Bio-electronic computer network on board his ship, The Raven's Shadow.
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 4 (5 with staff)
Telepathic: 3
Body: 4
Sense: 6
Protection: 7
Healing: 2
Destruction: 5 (6 with staff)
Specialized Skills:
Shatterpoint
Force Bubble
Force Flare - A technique he uses to light the way in dark areas such as newly discovered ruins or dig sites. By telepathically gathering photons on an atomic scale, he can create a point of intense light. This ability also has the interesting passive effect of making his surroundings seem slightly darker.
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 8
Speed: 5
Leadership: 2
Unarmed: 3
Melee Weapons: 8
Ranged Weapons: 2
Force Attunement: -4
RP Sample:
Silence echoed off the tomb's walls. An eerie quiet undisturbed by life and time for millenia. That is until that soft tapping from within the walls. Too loud to be an insect and too remote to be something larger....or was it?
The hardened durasteel tip of a pickaxe sprung from the ancient runed walls. Silence unbroken for an eternity cried out in protest amongst the sound of shattering stone and screeching metal. Each resounding blow driving the spike ever deeper and widening the hole. Suddenly, the steel intruder retreated from its attack revealing a dim glow from within the hole.
Silence once more permeated as the strikes echoed their last save for a slight sigh of frustration. There was a shuffling noise followed by the soft clank of wood hitting stone. Moments later debris showered the interior of the tomb as the entire wall was blown inwards. The first light since the tomb's closing speckled the room casting long shadows of a tall figure upon the walls.
Jeremy Blackstone stepped through the cratered wall and looked about the dank tomb with obvious delight. Next to him, a small kima trotted into the room, it's large yellow eyes scanning its surroundings alertly, glowing from the dim light cast off from an origin-less point of light hovering above the man's hand.. The voice of the man caused it to turn its head quickly to look at him.
We'll have to make this quick, there's too little light down here to fuel the flare. Stay close Leadre, you can never be sure what dangers may be lurking in a place like this... The kima skulked back to her master's side. Blackstone narrowed his eyes on the large sarcophagus in the center of the room. He stalked up to it slowly, leaned his staff against its side, and blew some of the dust from its top revealing several lines of ancient aurebesh writing.
Sah'tarok Mui, one of the last of the Jedi Masters of old. The location of his resting place unknown for thousands of years....until now. The archeologist muttered softly to himself as he removed a small leather pack from his back and began setting out various pin-point excavation tools. Leadre jumped onto the sarcophagus and fixed her gaze upon her master's work. Said to be buried with him, an amulet of great value. Given to him by this planet's ancient denizens as a gift for his services....and his sacrifice. A very rare piece to be sure, liable to fetch more than a pretty penny on the market. And yet, how much more its value would gain if simply added to my collection. Whatever the case, it's mine now...all mine...
After a few moments of searching, Blackstone drew an odd metal implement shaped like the ring of a key with a vial of fluid at the top. . After gazing fondly at it for a second, Blackstone set it to the side withdrawing next a large rectangular Xenon lamp with an extendable tripod. He stood the lamp upon the sarcophagus so that it was facing straight down upon it. With barely a thought, a deep black bandanna was whipped from his duster pocket and tied deftly in front of his eyes. Shielding his face with his arm, Blackstone pulled the switch on the lamp. Even through the dark fabric, bright light dazzled his eyes, though only for a split second before all went dark once more.
He removed the bandanna from his eyes and gazed with glee at top of the casket. Its surface had been bleached white and a thin layer of ash coated its surface-- remnants of the dust and grime utterly coating it mere seconds earlier. With a small brush, the ash was removed. Every intricate pattern and curve of the sarcophagus was now completely visible, as if i had just been buried the day before. However, Blackstone's eyes passed over the carved masterpieces with disinterest until finally coming the small hole near the end. The key-like tool was immediately snatched back up and inserted delicately into the hole. For a few seconds nothing, then like liquid lightning, the fluid in the tool shot from the end filling the crevice to the brim. The liquid shimmered for several seconds and then was still.
The archeologist prodded the substance experimentally with one finger. It had completely hardened. Perfect... Grasping the handle, Blackstone turned the "key" until there was a muffled click within the casket. The dull grinding of ancient gears echoed through the room as a series of locks clicked apart. The top of the casket began to shift, the plates depicting the life of the Jedi sliding apart in unison to the complex mechanism inside. Leadre leaped from the top with a yelp of surprise as the panel she had settled upon began its migration to the sides. Even Blackstone stepped back several feet when the stone panels slid straight from the now open lid and smashed to pieces upon the hard floor. The tomb was open...
James Blackstone strode cautiously up to the opening and peered in. Leadre cowered behind his coattail twitching her tail. Incredible... he hasn't aged a year...
Inside the casket, the calm face of Sah'tarok stared unseeing back at him. Whether it be some sort of incredible preservative or perhaps the force itself, the Jedi Master had been untouched by the thousands of years of degeneration. He was finely clothed in equally intact finery with much jewelry including a small pentacle of silver. Blackstone reached down gingerly to close his long fingers around the symbol. My sincerest apologies dear sir, but I'll be taking this...
James yanked on the chain snapping it neatly before depositing the trinket upon a piece of cloth and wrapping it up tightly. There was a sharp puff of air and a ting of metal against metal. Blackstone bent over and picked up the crooked dart that had bounced off his staff not 4 inches from his neck. Suddenly wary, he gripped his staff tighter and examined the walls for any more traps. Other than the small hole the first dart had fired from, the walls were smooth. He looked down. Not a razor blade or buzz saw in sight. He even looked up half expecting a 4 ton boulder to roll onto his head. Nothing.
The man shrugged. Come Leadre, it seems our work is done... The archeologist turned from the desecrated tomb without another word and stepped through the hole in the wall. Leadre gave one more quick glance about the room before trotting after her master.
Several minutes later, the pair dived out into the blinding sun as the 4 ton boulder smashed against the doorway behind them. The ancient ruins creaked for a moment and went silent. Leadre growled at the structure as James picked himself up off the ground dusting off his overcoat causally. Immediately, a plump fretful figure ran up to them with unmasked excitement. "Did you find it? Was it there?"
As an answer, Blackstone displayed the piece of cloth in his clenched fist.
"Incredible...Jeremy Blackstone, you never cease to amaz-"
DON'T call me Jeremy. Blackstone spoke in a tone barren of his usual liquor voice. A murderous twinkle shined in his yellow-tinged eyes.
"...James...Blackstone... Whatever the case, this is a marvelous find! We're going to be rich men! Rich I say! How much did you say this would fetch on the market? 4 million? 5 million?-"
Oh we're not selling it, this rare piece is going to straight into my collection. Surely I mentioned that. James fixed the other man with a gaze daring him to challenge his words.
"Well...yes of course, but what about my portion of the credits? You said I would receive 40% and now you're just going to put it in some glass case to collect dust! Not if I have anything to say about it you won't! I want my money Blackstone, and I suggest you give it t-" The man stopped speaking as the top of the staff was thrust into his gut.
Impertinent man... The sickening sound of metal through flesh followed a slight movement of Blackstone's hand as the 18 inch cortosis blade extended from the staff into the man's gut and out through his back.
The man gaped for a moment as a thin line of blood slid from his lips. With a jerk of the staff, the blade was removed and the annoying man fell to the ground, the bristles of death sweeping away his pathetic existence. James wiped the blood off the blade with a handkerchief before retracting it once more into the staff. Such a pity really, but he had it coming to him. Come Leadre, lets get to back the ship and get off this rock.
The man and the kima set off into the wilderness alone leaving behind a desecrated tomb and another spirit to haunt the ruins. As he walked James unwrapped the pentacle from the cloth and tossed away the broken chain. He drew a new one with a silver clasp from his pocket and quickly strung the symbol before placing it around his neck. Gather dust in a glass case? Not this one...
Race: Human
Age: 43
Height: 6' 4"
Weight: 210 lbs
(the tall guy, not the short Bothan, just couldn't figure out how to cut him out without it looking odd. The thing at his feet is Leadre. He has a tattoo on his left shoulder bearing the same symbol as the one on Leadre's back)
Birth place: Korriban
Faction: Dark Jedi/GHI
Rank: Archeologist
Bio:
Birth of an Anomaly
It was an strange day when Jeremy Blackstone was born. It may have been the fact that it took place on the first of the year at 12:02 A.M. or maybe it was the fact that the child never once cried. The doctors feared at once he may not have been fully developed, but a quick physical was enough to show that the boy was perfectly healthy.
He was everything a mother could hope for: never cried a note. By the age of 2 he was already walking and talking almost as well as a 9-year-old. His parents lent this fact to "Oh he's such a studious buy." or "What can I say? Good genes." However, though he had a nearly unquenchable thirst for knowledge, that latter statement was likely more accurate.
Maria and Richard Blackstone were not by any means in tune with the Force, their Great Grand parents on both sides coincidentally, however, were. Unfortunately for them, when they had known their Great Grandparents, they were very young and attributed their ability to telekinetically spank them as magic! ....Which of course they didn't believe in now.
His great grandfather's more socially acceptable occupation was as a historian. He was the one who originally brought the family to the planet in order to make his studies more convenient. His studies became well-known throughout the learned galaxy and GHI (the Galactic Historical Institute), which was helpful in diverting the public eye from some of his less-than-scrupulous ventures. Through this, the family became wealthy from their location and therefore stayed there for generations to come.
Whether or not this family history had something to do with it, young Jeremy had begun to develop certain peculiarities. Being born into a relatively wealthy family on Korriban, there were immediate worries of what his abilities may cause amongst the dark history of the planet. Counselors were hired in attempt to identify why the child was capable of lifting small objects and other strange actions. All of them came back with reports that he seemed perfectly normal but that segregating him from other students at the academies would probably be the wisest course of action.
Wanting only the best for their child, Maria and Richard set him up with a private tutor- an elderly professor who claimed to have once been a very powerful Jedi. Though these were scoffed at by most of his clients, this was in fact the truth...almost. The moment the old man laid his eyes upon Jeremy Orion Blackstone they lit up with a hidden delight, and though only 7 years of age at this time, Jeremy sensed something inexplicable inside his tutor as well.
The tutoring was extensive, almost to the point of being brutal. In a year's period he was being taught the curriculum of 4 years of standard grade school. Because of this, he developed quite the superiority complex even going as far as explicitly asking to be called James as Jeremy seemed a rather degrading sort of name. As imagined however, it was a stressful life for Blackstone but just when things seemed they were about to get to be too much, salvation rode in in the form of the "real training."
Revelation
At the age of 11, he was taken aside by his tutor one night and led to his family's small personal library. This would have been normal but for the hectic look in his mentor's eye (the other having been lost in the history book incident) and the fact that the door was hurriedly locked behind them. Though his mentor didn't usually take kindly to having their sessions interrupted, he never went as far as locking the door...or pushing entire bookcases in front of it.
It was then that he turned to Jeremy and spoke the four words that would forever change his life: "You're a Jedi, kid." For one of the first times in his life, Blackstone was at a complete loss of words. "A...a...what? No, that's impossible. I mean, I couldn't be a...Jedi...could I? I'm just James..."
"Well "just James", first of all your name's Jeremy, ever make anything happen? Anything you can't explain when you were sad or angry?" His mentor had a point. He had long noticed the strange things that occurred around him. Like that incident at the Korriban Planetary Zoo when his cousin was blown violently into the Corellian crystal snake enclosure.
It was then that his mentor revealed that he had been observing Jeremy for some time and was interested in developing his "abilities". Then he told Blackstone something that he had somehow suspected since he had first laid eyes upon him.
He really was a Jedi....well sorta. Two things weren't true about that statement: 1. He was retired. 2. He was no follower of the light. His real name (which Jeremy suddenly realized he had never been told) was Raxan Vell and in his prime he was a respected Dark Jedi Master. Not a second after Blackstone heard this, a candle stand was in his hand and brandished at his "mentor".
It took many days for Raxan to fully convince Jeremy he didn't wish to turn him. He hadn't slaughtered a village in 48 years he told him. The life of a Dark Jedi had worn on him and he had turned over a new leaf in an attempt to lead a more peaceful life. Perhaps it was this that truly condemned Blackstone's decision: he could always go back...
Secret Studies of the Force
And so the training in the ways of the Force commenced. Each day, half the tutoring session was secretly replaced with basic mental exercises. He was taught to control the energies within and around him- energies he had always known but never thought to take note of. Most of the exercises were trivial things. He spent many hours with his mentor just sitting upon the floor willing the Force to flow through them. As a child who grew up being the smartest and even a little feared due to the rumors that surrounded him, it bothered him that Raxan could accomplish so much while he could do so little. During their meditation, Blackstone would open one eye to peek at the multitude of miscellanea orbiting his mentor while the dust merely swirled at his own feet.
Then there were the saving graces. Those sessions where Raxan knelt down to look Jeremy straight in the eye and ask of him to complete some normally impossible tasks. Most of these were the expected tasks for a fledgling force user, move this rock from here to here, but Raxan also encouraged more unorthodox usage of the Force. In one such session, he sat down in his favorite high-backed chair, crossed his legs, and calmly told Jeremy to light one of the candles with the Force.
This request caught Jeremy off guard. How could one light a candle with the Force? He spent several minutes simply staring at the crisp wick on that candle, just thinking. He considered moving the air at a sufficient rate to cause enough friction to start the flame, but he knew better than to try that. The force of the wind needed would likely destroy the entire candle if not a lot more if he lost control. No, he had to do this using only what he knew, even if he had to do so in a way not normally thought of by most. If only light could be just placed onto the candle, if only it were tangible. And that's when it hit him. Reaching into the Universe, he had focused upon the air then kept going. Closing his eyes, he reached down past the concept of air into the molecular level. Each oxygen molecule mingling with the various other compounds in the air with the tiny photons of light dashing around them. Photons...light was indeed tangible.
"When you say, light the candle, does that mean it necessarily has to be on fire?" He had asked his mentor who answered with glittering eyes and a toothy grin. Immediately he had reached out the Force to grasp at the photons of light. It was difficult at first, rather like catching flies with chopsticks, but after adjusting his strategy to using the force more like a net than tweezers, he managed to gather up a significant number in one constricted point.
Opening his eyes, the hovering point probably no larger than the tip of a pin glowed with a light brighter than the chandeliers overhead gave off. With a smug grin on his face, Blackstone maneuvered the point of condensed light onto the candle and said "Done."
Don't we use a Lightsaber?
Like any over-studious child prodigy who suddenly learns he's Force-sensitive, Jeremy immediately dove after any information regarding the History of the Jedi, both light and dark, and their role in the Galaxy today. At first this sudden interest worried his parents, but they quickly dismissed it as just another phase they're child was going through. After expressing their concern and resolution to the tutor he simply laughed and told them that it was indeed a phase he was going through and would likely continue for quite awhile.
One session as the two studied in the library, Jeremy with his nose deep in a thick book on the ways of the Jedi Order and Raxan looking through some papers holding a cup of tea, something occurred to the boy. He was 13 now and was beginning to truly think about his future as a wielder of the Force. However, according to the book he held in his hands and many others he had devoured in the past, there was another thing the Force-sensitive wielded. "Master, why-" His mentor cut him off in a sharp tone.
"I haven't been called master in 40 years, why should that change now?" His tone returned to it's normal kind, fatherly tone. "Call me Raxan, please."
"Only if you stop calling me Jeremy."
"Nope."
Blackstone rolled his eyes, but under the cover of his book he was smiling. Raxan was a good man, proof that one's past does not control your future. "Very well RAXAN, I've been wondering. Don't we Jedi use a lightsaber?"
His master had only chuckled and stood up. He told young Blackstone about how he had discarded his own when he had retired from the "Demolition Service" as he liked to call it. When Jeremy persisted upon the issue, his mentor just kept that grandfather's smile, picked up the very same candle stand Jeremy had once grabbed defensively when he learned what Raxan had been and tossed it to him.
And thus Blackstone's training with pole-arms began. Yet another period of his "tutoring" sessions was put aside to clear out the center of the small library and go at each other with hardwood staves. It wasn't at all what Jeremy had expected, but he accepted that as gaining possession of a lightsaber of his own would be nearly impossible, the training he was receiving would be sufficient.
The wooden staves eventually escalated to metal pikes with dull tips, and finally tipped with stun nodes that was the cause of many a numb arm at the end of the day. As time passed, he grew more and more skilled. Each day the parries and hits grew in his favor. By the age of 16, he had Raxar disarmed on the ground with the humming shock node at the tip of his staff inches from his throat. Lightsabers were overrated, Jeremy decided. Even in the far future when his saber collection numbered in the hundreds, he still never touched them. One untrained in their ways would only hurt themselves just as much as their enemy, and Jeremy would come to understand that very quickly.
Further Academic Studies
All the training in the ways of the Force and pike were fun and all, but the intense academic lecturing never ceased. In between the meditation and bruises, Jeremy could be seen sitting at a desk scratching feverishly with an ink pen trying desperately to keep up as his mentor talked endlessly about the history of Korriban and other worlds in their galaxy.
Other subjects were covered of course, but ancient history always held a special place in Jeremy. He felt somewhat connected to the age-old mysteries of his home planet and the secrets it held. He knew he would give anything for these secrets, anything to learn more about his path...and he did. But that's another story.
Raxan was an endless book of knowledge for young Blackstone, but unlike your standard stuffy academy professor, he really knew what he was talking about. He had actually been there and seen much of what he discussed in that tiny library, the books of which seemed feeble in their contents compared to his mentor.
It was when he was discussing a particular event that had occurred within the history of the nearby planet Arkania that Jeremy suddenly had another realization.
"Raxan, if my notes are correct then I don't understand."
"And what is it that your don't understand, Jeremy?" There was a slight tinge of irritation at being interrupted in his lecture.
"Well this event took place over 150 years ago, yet you claim to have been a part of it yourself. Did I miss something in my note-" It was the moment when the confusion on his face was replaced with sudden alarm. "Are....are you- er....human, sir?"
To this Raxan only smiled and continued with his lecture leaving his student to stew in his contemplation. It would be good for him, after all. Jeremy never did figure out what Raxan was, but it didn't really matter. It only proved that what he was being told was genuine and none of the wonder ever wore away.
Redemption and Fall of a Master
[/center]Several years had passed and Jeremy had begun to show a definite affinity for the history he so adored.He considered himself blessed to be born and raised upon a planet with such a fascinating, albeit dark, history. The sheer potential of his studies to continue without ever having to leave his planet opened up a whole new realm of possibility in the form of the next step: field research.
It was arranged for the student and teacher to go out on their excursion while Blackstone's parents were traveling abroad on business. It wasn't so much that they were not in favor of a little field trip as Raxan didn't wish to risk the two getting caught at somewhere that definitely wasn't the Korriban Planetary Historical Institute's new exhibit on calligraphy. Yay fancy writing. (it should be noted, however, that there was indeed a great amount of instruction in language and the literary arts)
Instead, the pair traveled in one of the Blackstone family's speeders deep into the never ending wastes of the planet's deserts. The trip was long and anything but comfortable in the blistering sun, but his anticipation of what was to come kept Jeremy focused and tolerant.
When Raxan stopped the speeder and announced their arrival, Jeremy was puzzled. There was absolutely nothing but sand and rocks. That is until his mentor shoved aside a mound of sand effortlessly with the Force to reveal a smooth stone surface traced with the carvings of ancient lore.
He was flabbergasted to say the least, but held his tongue while his mentor had calmly removed one of the tiles and jumped down through what was now evident to be some sort of ceiling. He had waited a moment until Raxan shouted form the hole to come down which he did so accordingly.
What met him was a grand gallery illuminated by one of Raxan's signature Force flares filled with elegant statues and architecture he had only read about. Jeremy couldn't help but ask, "Why are we here?"
"In pursuit of knowledge, Jeremy. There is an object here I would be interested in studying."
"I thought you were retired." He had replied suspiciously.
His mentor only put on that same blasted grin and remained silent. That is, until his expression froze and his eyes narrowed. A shadow had shifted where no shadow should have then a figure stepped from behind one of the massive columns and began walking slowly towards the pair.
Jeremy was told to remain close as Raxan confronted the figure peaceably. "Stranger, I mean you no quarrel. I apologize if we have disturbed you and we will leave if you wish it."
The figure only laughed and continued walking forward. "I have no care of your intentions. You are trespassing in my temple, and will indeed be removed...in pieces." A *snaphiss*and flash of red illuminated the man's grinning face. Jeremy took several steps back in fear. Raxan hadn't blamed him.
"I am unarmed sir, I would prefer to avoid conflict in possible." Raxan was tense but his face showed no emotion.
"Fool. I am Pride and your mistake has just cost you your life." The man darted forward to impale Raxan who didn't move an inch...that is until the blade was an inch from his chest. At the moment, Raxan spun nimbly about on one foot and rammed a palm into Pride's back.
Pride was caught off balance and continued into the wall behind them. He was wide open to attack, utterly vulnerable, but still Raxan didn't move. "Please. Allow my student and myself to leave and we will trouble you no further."
It was no use, Pride had had his pride damaged and was going to kill Raxan for it. He shoved off the wall and dived at Jeremy's mentor in a rage. On his part, Raxan merely swayed side to side, narrowly avoiding each blow and ducking under a sweep with unnatural speed. Raxan used that opening to drive his foot into Pride's stomach sending him sprawling to the floor.
"I don't wish to hurt you, but if you continue to leave me no choice I will act accordingly. I ask you once more, stand down and allow us to-" Pride lashed out with the Force and took Raxan's legs out from under him. In an instant he was in the air sailing down at Raxan with saber extended.
It was a low blow, but it worked. Jeremy could only watch as his beloved mentor was impaled through the heart. "NO!" He charged blindly in rage and tears towards the murderous Dark Jedi.
And was thrown to the floor. Then into the wall. Then back to the floor. Jeremy coughed and began to sit up only to find the glowing tip of a saber inches from his throat. "Pity he had to die like that. I respected his ability, but I couldn't allow him to humiliate me so. Ah well. As for now, you must feel crushed. You've just lost a man very dear to you, didn't you? Must feel like there's no more reason to live. But I'll tell you what, I'm a forgiving soul so allow me to grant you that wish." Pride raised the saber to strike him down.
"You're wrong....YOU'RE WRONG!" Jeremy swept his hand out focusing on the spot a millimeter from Pride's eyes and detonated the largest flare he could conjure up. Everything went white.
"ARRGGG! Little Jedi ****! YOU WILL DIE HORRENDOUSLY FOR THIS!"
Jeremy ran. He ran blindly bumping into walls, doing anything to escape. Behind him, Pride charged just as blindly after him. All the same, it would be to no avail. Jeremy stopped and turned to fight, releasing a burst of Force energy, fueled by his rage and his fear, just as Pride rounded the corner.
Pride only laughed and bolted to the side of the attack. Fortunately, that hadn't been what Blackstone was aiming at. There was a deafening crack as the gigantic statue buckled and fell forward and fell across Pride's path. The ceiling followed soon afterwords losing the support of same statue. Jeremy managed to catch the expression on Pride's face just before he was obscured by the rubble: he was smiling.
Escaping to a New Life
Jeremy came to several hours later to the touch of someone ruffling his hair. He was sore and his mind was still reeling. He hadn't seen the rock that caught him across the head just after the tunnel collapsed.
"Mmmmff....mom? Dad?" He mumbled as he opened his bleary eyes.
"Rrwaow?" Said the kima.
Jeremy had jumped up then and backed away from the large cat. He had read about kimas and how dangerous they were for their size which the books hardly gave a good impression of. He had always pictured them as large house cats, this kima was more like a small puma. It also had an odd coloration he had never seen before: a blood red mane poured down to its shoulders and the same color fur clearly depicted a symbol in old aurebesh. He knew the symbol, it was pride.
Much to his relief, the kima did not make any move to attack, but instead nuzzled his shoulder roughly. Jeremy looked down and gasped to see a tattoo on his shoulder, the pattern exactly matching that on the kima's back.
That same kima turned to a valuable asset. Soon after discovering the tattoo, he wanted nothing more than to escape this temple and escape this nightmare. The kima led him through the rubble and through the darkened bowels of the temple for hours until he emerged into the blinding sunlight. He was standing at a majestic, if somewhat ruined, entrance to the temple deep in a ravine but that didn't matter. He just kept running, the kima silently at his heels.
Areas of My Expertise
In the years to follow, Jeremy Orion Blackstone acquired a job with GHI; the Galactic Historical Institute. He uses the occupation as a front to his more obsessive collecting and as a resource to locate new sites and objects of great value. When he had returned home, he told his family not so much a stretch of the truth.
Raxan had been killed to save him from drunken mugger as they walked back to their speeder. The story was backed by the fact that a convicted murderer had indeed been arrested that same day after being turned in by an anonymous citizen with a strange tattoo and some sort of animal.
His family was reluctant on the subject of the kima, which Jeremy had named Leadre (meaning "Hubris" in some archaic language he couldn't recall), but relented to letting him keep it in light of the sorrow he felt for Raxan.
As more time passed, Blackstone became a more and more well known figure. At least, the legitimate facade of him. At the same time, the true Blackstone drew his identity deeper into the shadows of mystery. He acquired and refitted one of GHI's new Star Collector-class super transports which he uses to travel the galaxy in search of new treasures and greater power.
And this is where he is now, still wandering from planet to planet. One time giving a lecture on recognizing archaic cultural pottery, another to plunder the tomb of the fourth king of the Traanhati Empire. He tries to keep a balance between the Sarcastic College Professor and the Dark Adventurer. He tries. That's what counts right?
Lightsaber: N/A
Artifacts
Being an archeologist/collector of ancient Sith artifacts, one or two of them..."disappear" from his collection. He will often use the power of these items to amplify his powers. Here is a list of what he often carries on his person:
Staff- His staff was created by him soon after the death of Raxan Vell. Besides being his primary weapon in melee situations, he also uses it as a focus in which he can balance his power. Because of this, his abilities with the Force are amplified while it is in his possession. The shaft is made of Phrik and contains a retractable 18 inch cortosis alloy blade.
Pentacle- The ancient symbol of Sith Magic adorns its face. Though not infused with power itself, it possesses a force activated switch that deploys a razor array of blades along its edge from the inner star. The ring around the entire amulet is also quite thin and sharp.
Leadre- Yes, I consider her a sort of artifact. She was discovered in the temple of Pride where Jeremy's master was murdered. She is a temple animal: a guardian animal bred to protect a holy area. She considers Jeremy one such object to be protected and will give her life to protect him. She can communicate with him through the Bio-electronic computer network on board his ship, The Raven's Shadow.
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 4 (5 with staff)
Telepathic: 3
Body: 4
Sense: 6
Protection: 7
Healing: 2
Destruction: 5 (6 with staff)
Specialized Skills:
Shatterpoint
Force Bubble
Force Flare - A technique he uses to light the way in dark areas such as newly discovered ruins or dig sites. By telepathically gathering photons on an atomic scale, he can create a point of intense light. This ability also has the interesting passive effect of making his surroundings seem slightly darker.
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 8
Speed: 5
Leadership: 2
Unarmed: 3
Melee Weapons: 8
Ranged Weapons: 2
Force Attunement: -4
RP Sample:
Silence echoed off the tomb's walls. An eerie quiet undisturbed by life and time for millenia. That is until that soft tapping from within the walls. Too loud to be an insect and too remote to be something larger....or was it?
The hardened durasteel tip of a pickaxe sprung from the ancient runed walls. Silence unbroken for an eternity cried out in protest amongst the sound of shattering stone and screeching metal. Each resounding blow driving the spike ever deeper and widening the hole. Suddenly, the steel intruder retreated from its attack revealing a dim glow from within the hole.
Silence once more permeated as the strikes echoed their last save for a slight sigh of frustration. There was a shuffling noise followed by the soft clank of wood hitting stone. Moments later debris showered the interior of the tomb as the entire wall was blown inwards. The first light since the tomb's closing speckled the room casting long shadows of a tall figure upon the walls.
Jeremy Blackstone stepped through the cratered wall and looked about the dank tomb with obvious delight. Next to him, a small kima trotted into the room, it's large yellow eyes scanning its surroundings alertly, glowing from the dim light cast off from an origin-less point of light hovering above the man's hand.. The voice of the man caused it to turn its head quickly to look at him.
We'll have to make this quick, there's too little light down here to fuel the flare. Stay close Leadre, you can never be sure what dangers may be lurking in a place like this... The kima skulked back to her master's side. Blackstone narrowed his eyes on the large sarcophagus in the center of the room. He stalked up to it slowly, leaned his staff against its side, and blew some of the dust from its top revealing several lines of ancient aurebesh writing.
Sah'tarok Mui, one of the last of the Jedi Masters of old. The location of his resting place unknown for thousands of years....until now. The archeologist muttered softly to himself as he removed a small leather pack from his back and began setting out various pin-point excavation tools. Leadre jumped onto the sarcophagus and fixed her gaze upon her master's work. Said to be buried with him, an amulet of great value. Given to him by this planet's ancient denizens as a gift for his services....and his sacrifice. A very rare piece to be sure, liable to fetch more than a pretty penny on the market. And yet, how much more its value would gain if simply added to my collection. Whatever the case, it's mine now...all mine...
After a few moments of searching, Blackstone drew an odd metal implement shaped like the ring of a key with a vial of fluid at the top. . After gazing fondly at it for a second, Blackstone set it to the side withdrawing next a large rectangular Xenon lamp with an extendable tripod. He stood the lamp upon the sarcophagus so that it was facing straight down upon it. With barely a thought, a deep black bandanna was whipped from his duster pocket and tied deftly in front of his eyes. Shielding his face with his arm, Blackstone pulled the switch on the lamp. Even through the dark fabric, bright light dazzled his eyes, though only for a split second before all went dark once more.
He removed the bandanna from his eyes and gazed with glee at top of the casket. Its surface had been bleached white and a thin layer of ash coated its surface-- remnants of the dust and grime utterly coating it mere seconds earlier. With a small brush, the ash was removed. Every intricate pattern and curve of the sarcophagus was now completely visible, as if i had just been buried the day before. However, Blackstone's eyes passed over the carved masterpieces with disinterest until finally coming the small hole near the end. The key-like tool was immediately snatched back up and inserted delicately into the hole. For a few seconds nothing, then like liquid lightning, the fluid in the tool shot from the end filling the crevice to the brim. The liquid shimmered for several seconds and then was still.
The archeologist prodded the substance experimentally with one finger. It had completely hardened. Perfect... Grasping the handle, Blackstone turned the "key" until there was a muffled click within the casket. The dull grinding of ancient gears echoed through the room as a series of locks clicked apart. The top of the casket began to shift, the plates depicting the life of the Jedi sliding apart in unison to the complex mechanism inside. Leadre leaped from the top with a yelp of surprise as the panel she had settled upon began its migration to the sides. Even Blackstone stepped back several feet when the stone panels slid straight from the now open lid and smashed to pieces upon the hard floor. The tomb was open...
James Blackstone strode cautiously up to the opening and peered in. Leadre cowered behind his coattail twitching her tail. Incredible... he hasn't aged a year...
Inside the casket, the calm face of Sah'tarok stared unseeing back at him. Whether it be some sort of incredible preservative or perhaps the force itself, the Jedi Master had been untouched by the thousands of years of degeneration. He was finely clothed in equally intact finery with much jewelry including a small pentacle of silver. Blackstone reached down gingerly to close his long fingers around the symbol. My sincerest apologies dear sir, but I'll be taking this...
James yanked on the chain snapping it neatly before depositing the trinket upon a piece of cloth and wrapping it up tightly. There was a sharp puff of air and a ting of metal against metal. Blackstone bent over and picked up the crooked dart that had bounced off his staff not 4 inches from his neck. Suddenly wary, he gripped his staff tighter and examined the walls for any more traps. Other than the small hole the first dart had fired from, the walls were smooth. He looked down. Not a razor blade or buzz saw in sight. He even looked up half expecting a 4 ton boulder to roll onto his head. Nothing.
The man shrugged. Come Leadre, it seems our work is done... The archeologist turned from the desecrated tomb without another word and stepped through the hole in the wall. Leadre gave one more quick glance about the room before trotting after her master.
Several minutes later, the pair dived out into the blinding sun as the 4 ton boulder smashed against the doorway behind them. The ancient ruins creaked for a moment and went silent. Leadre growled at the structure as James picked himself up off the ground dusting off his overcoat causally. Immediately, a plump fretful figure ran up to them with unmasked excitement. "Did you find it? Was it there?"
As an answer, Blackstone displayed the piece of cloth in his clenched fist.
"Incredible...Jeremy Blackstone, you never cease to amaz-"
DON'T call me Jeremy. Blackstone spoke in a tone barren of his usual liquor voice. A murderous twinkle shined in his yellow-tinged eyes.
"...James...Blackstone... Whatever the case, this is a marvelous find! We're going to be rich men! Rich I say! How much did you say this would fetch on the market? 4 million? 5 million?-"
Oh we're not selling it, this rare piece is going to straight into my collection. Surely I mentioned that. James fixed the other man with a gaze daring him to challenge his words.
"Well...yes of course, but what about my portion of the credits? You said I would receive 40% and now you're just going to put it in some glass case to collect dust! Not if I have anything to say about it you won't! I want my money Blackstone, and I suggest you give it t-" The man stopped speaking as the top of the staff was thrust into his gut.
Impertinent man... The sickening sound of metal through flesh followed a slight movement of Blackstone's hand as the 18 inch cortosis blade extended from the staff into the man's gut and out through his back.
The man gaped for a moment as a thin line of blood slid from his lips. With a jerk of the staff, the blade was removed and the annoying man fell to the ground, the bristles of death sweeping away his pathetic existence. James wiped the blood off the blade with a handkerchief before retracting it once more into the staff. Such a pity really, but he had it coming to him. Come Leadre, lets get to back the ship and get off this rock.
The man and the kima set off into the wilderness alone leaving behind a desecrated tomb and another spirit to haunt the ruins. As he walked James unwrapped the pentacle from the cloth and tossed away the broken chain. He drew a new one with a silver clasp from his pocket and quickly strung the symbol before placing it around his neck. Gather dust in a glass case? Not this one...
