Beneath the Mask.
NAME: Darth Metus | Isley Verd
ALLEGIANCES: The Confederacy
FORCE SENSITIVE: Yes
Darth Metus is beyond competent in utilizing the Force as a means to create, dominate, or destroy.
The Early Days.
Darth Metus possesses a lifetime of leadership and combat experience.
Defined by the Darkness, Darth Metus is highly susceptible to Force Light.
Sudden, intense flashes of light can cause Darth Metus to seize. (Racial)
As a novice wielder of the Phobis Core, Darth Metus feels compelled to "feed" regularly.
An Eldritch Past.
I am Irresponsible. At first glance, that's probably not what you'd expect to hear from a man like me, right? You'd expect something proud. Masculine. Maybe even arrogant. But, if we're being honest here, "irresponsible" is the best word to describe good ol'Isley Verd. Here, allow me to explain.
I was born a Mandalorian: the son of a rolling stone and his Umbaran fling. I grew up, learned to shoot, and eventually struck out on my own. Mercenary-slash-Bounty Hunter, of course. For a long time, life was simply floating from one job to the next...until I met her. (Now, this isn't a romance novel you're reading, so bury that thought right now.) Back then, she was just starting out in the Alchemy business. Back then, she changed my life by teaching me everything I know. Immediately, I was hooked.
At first, I used Alchemy to test my creativity. You know, see if I can make my Master grin with pride; that sorta thing. Then, I started using it to plug the holes in my armor. Not literally, mind. If I got my arse handed to me, I would learn from it. Create because of it. But as I started getting better and better, I started to get arrogant. Greedy, too. I started to see the Dark Side as the means of becoming invincible. Sure, Akala provided me one helluva excuse: "I'll get so strong that I'll never be a god's plaything." But being honest, I knew what I was doing. I wanted power.
Things came to a head when an old friend and I had a heart to heart. Azrael was his name, maybe you've heard of him? Back home, there was a stigma about dabbling in the Darkness. A huge one. So, I told Az goodbye. I made the choice to turn my back on my Clan, my family, and my friends. All to pursue power.
And man, did it come at a high price. When I finally dove into the Dark entirely, it wasn't me who emerged. I became a prisoner in my own body and it took a long, long time to set myself free. In that time, I played spectator to my own life...and frankly, that'll never happen again. In light of that, I took a step back and looked at who I had become. I was the definition of irresponsible: a Dar'manda to the core. And that just didn't sit right. So, I came home. I threw myself at the mercy of the Council...and luck would have it that they threw me a bone. They gave me one helluva Trial. And I've made it through to the other side.
All of that to say, I've spent over half my life being an irresponsible nut. Decades playing God and turning my back on all that matters. Yet now, I'm hoping to change that word that sums me up. Now, I'm trying to be the leader my Clan deserves, the Vod my people deserve, and the Father my daughter deserves. Maybe, in time, folks will see me as Responsible. Until then, it's just one day at a time.
Whole. At Last.
I am a creature of habit, it seems.
When the dust settled after my Trial, the people I returned to were hurting. Bad. While I was off drinking the Dark Side, they were eating a plate of identity crisis at the Defeat buffet. Things were bleak. Things were stagnant. And for some reason, I thought that maybe I could do some good. I started with my Clan, ironed out the kinks and got us moving again...but then I looked at my fellow vode. Stagnation doesn't sit well with us Mandalorians, we get stir crazy. Back in the day, we even considered it a sin - a manifestation of the God of Sloth.
And in those days, Mandalore might as well have been the Zeltros of doing nothing.
So, I picked up a flag and waved it. I rallied those with an urge to return to the old ways to my call. We had no Sole Ruler. The King's throne was empty; and so by my actions, I thought that I fit the bill. I thought that rescuing Echoy'la from its sordid state would be enough for my fellow Clans. That breaking the chains of stagnation would be enough. That making a dejected colony the heart of an Empire would be enough. Boy, was I wrong. Maybe it was own my arrogance that made me think that way. Maybe the Alor'e Council feared change. Whatever the case was, tensions were high.
And then came Ra Vizsla.
He showed up overnight. He had the charisma of a god. He was...easy on the eyes too. We were cut from the same cloth in many regards - what I did for the Mandalorian Empire, he did for the Mandalorian Clans. We both took the title Mand'alor, we both fought stagnation. But, two kings can't sit upon the same throne. Two Mandalorians can't hold the title Sole Ruler. So, he invited me to sit down on Dathomir one day and we had a chat. All intentions were laid on the table and it would be war if one man didn't willingly remove his crown. Maybe...I'm not so arrogant after all, because that night, every fiber of my being wanted me to tell that man to shove his demand where the sun don't shine.
I wanted to be King. But I didn't take the crown for my own glory. I had to remind myself of why I raised the banner of the Crusaders in the first place. And when I did, I chose a united people over a bloody civil war. My closest allies hated that decision. Some called me weak. Some still do to this day, in fact. But, at the time, unity was exactly what we needed. And, with Ra running the show, we launched a Crusade into the Core. And we cut down the Republic, once and for all. In the months that followed, our people knew victory...but above all peace. We were whole again.
But then Ra disappeared. Some say he was killed in an accident. I don't know what to believe.
Vilaz Munin took his place, and he quickly ended up with one hell of a catastrophe. You see, he hadn't even held the title six months before Mandalore itself literally exploded. From what I was told, every volcano on the planet erupted at once. Billions died. It rattled the Clans severely and caused the utter collapse of everything we had built. Mand'alor Munin had a people to save...and what did I do, you might ask? Well...I died. I took those lessons my dear, adoptive mama Petra taught me and shoved my immediate family out of harm's way. And in doing so, I had signed my death certificate. I couldn't move - was too spent...and then the lava caught up with me.
I...I can't remember the afterlife all that well, to tell you the truth. It's foggy, and with each passing day it gets harder and harder to recall. What I can tell you...is that brother was there. Ember Rekali. And we had the time of our lives...well...afterlives...together. But...I remember hearing the cries. People were distraught...people couldn't move on...they were outside trying to get into the place of bliss where we were. But they were shackled by their grief; by anger. I heard them blaming a name for their woe...I heard them saying that their deaths - that Mandalore exploding - wasn't a natural disaster. It was betrayal. It was my mentor. It was the man who made me undergo his Trial.
He was my friend. He...
And before I knew it, I felt myself shackled too. I was angry, too angry to remain in the bliss. Too angry to be among other souls. I...I don't remember how or why, but I woke up where I had died. But when I looked down, I saw my own body laying there. Or rather...what was left of it. But I was there. The burns were still on my skin; I could feel the flames burning me. Every second...I was living my death. The pain...It just added to my anger. I had to make Ijaat pay. I had to make that bastard pay for stabbing me, for stabbing our people, in the back. But, I couldn't. I wasn't strong enough. In that state, I could barely hold myself together long enough to take a few steps. Using the Force was well outside of the picture too.
But, apparently, I wasn't the only one having issues.
Remember when I mentioned that I was a spectator in my own life? Well, the person who was in the driving seat of my own freaking body...he went by Darth Metus. He...It...decided to get the hell outta dodge when I was burning. Together, we might have had a chance of getting out of the fire alive, but, it saved its own skin. Well. Metaphoric skin. He came to me when I had managed to pull myself together a bit more, using a fresh meat suit. He might as well have been a devil because he came with a deal. He couldn't fight. I couldn't fight. But together, we had a chance. All he wanted was to feel whole; and all I wanted was blood.
So, grudgingly, we blurred the lines and found ourselves a better meat suit together. We weren't two roommates in the same skull any longer, but whole, angry motherkarker. We...I...I don't feel particularly pulled in one direction or the other. I'm not a Mandalorian masquerading as a Sith. I'm not a Sith playing around in beskar'gam. I am myself. I am Darth Metus. I am Isley Verd. And right now, I've a few things to do. I've got a traitor to burn...a people to save...and an addiction to feed.
TEMPLATE CREDIT: Ra Vizsla
Edited by Darth Metus, 25 December 2017 - 12:31 AM.