D O M I N U S
Along came a Spider.
NAME: Izak
FACTIONS: Bando Gora
RANK: Spellweaver
SPECIES: Near-Human
AGE: 55
SEX: Male
HEIGHT: 5'9"
WEIGHT: 176 lbs
EYES: Sulfur
HAIR: White
SKIN: Olive
FORCE SENSITIVE: Yes
Izak's dominant hand is cybernetic, providing exceptional dexterity and grip strength.
The Spinner of Webs.
Izak has mastered the Jedi style of diplomacy and negotiations.
Izak has honed the core skills commonly affiliated with Jedi Guardians.
With age comes a dampening of reflexes. Izak is no exception.
Izak's cybernetic prosthetic is susceptible to ion and electromagnetic pulse assaults.
Izak has below-average resilience to mental assaults.
The Eater of Flies.
In terms of stature, Izak is average.
He is not a behemoth by any stretch of the imagination and stands at a modest five foot, nine inches. Furthermore, although his lifestyle demands a consistent, physical condition, age would have it that deterioration has occurred.
Where once there was a perfectly chiseled abdomen, there is now much room for improvement. Other signs of age include spotting on random regions of the body, with the majority appearing on his back. However, despite the "damage" age has wrought upon his appearance, Izak owns his veteran years. He sports a rather meticulous beard that has been considered glorious by his peers. Furthermore, his hair is combed back to provide a very professional, tidy look.
In terms of attire, Izak has shed the Jedi aesthetic completely.
Gone are the tacky robes. Absent is the itchy cloak.
In their place, Izak has elected to upgrade his appearance considerably. On a daily basis, he can be seen in a rather staple ensemble. Sans a tie, Izak wears a pressed, button down shirt - typically of darker color if he has any say in the matter. His pants, also pressed, are either as dark as the shirt or are a stark contrast; depending upon his mood. Footwear fluctuates depending upon locale, mood, and a variety of other factors; but can typically range between loafers, standard dress, and actual boots if the situation demands it.
However, when the Bando Gora call...As is the case with all members of the organization, Izak dons a mask composed of bone - perhaps for intimidation, or perhaps to wear a physical representation of Death. In tandem with this mask are an inverse of Jedi robes in terms of color - loose, cool, and comfortable. There is no true protective value in Izak's ensemble, for he has elected to place his faith in his skills over precious metals.
Faithful of Bando Gora.
My Life once belonged to the Light.
My earliest memories were not of a loving home or an adoring family, but of Temple walls and stoic Knights. I had been brought to the Cradle of Civilization itself - Coruscant - and was fortunate enough to be considered Jedi. Ah...Such simple times those were. Every waking moment was spent eagerly at the feet of the Masters...and every night ws filled with bold dreams of the Guardian I would become. Like so many, my youth pained a gilded painting of the Galaxy. Like so many...I had a rude awakening.
As a Padawan, the cold slap of reality began.
In those days, ties between our Republic and the Pyre were strong. Thus did we often offer assistance in miniscule affairs on our neighbors' behalf. A farming agreement here, a ship theft there - miniscule. But, one day, we came upon what would become one of the Pyre's worst nightmares. The Bando Gora. They were...a fary cry from the fables of the Archives, but still a fearsome adversary. Their raids left many devastated and even more dead. Thus, we did investigate. What we found overwhelmed us. I will never forget that day. A Homestead in flames...My master broken beside me...My arm being devoured while I yet clung to life. Needless to say, if the Pyre had not come, my story would have ended there.
Following that day, there was no doubt by any that I had fulfilled one of the Jedi Trials. Yet, those brutes had inspired me to fulfill them all. The Galaxy was not all roses and butterflies - I had learned that the hard way. There were monsters out there that needed a Jedi's strength to put them down. So I resolved to be that Jedi: to be a Slayer of Monsters. And that resolve saw my Padawan braid cut off. By the time of my knighting, there were monsters aplenty, for the Sith War had begun. The Republic had rallied its armies, we Jedi readied our might, and a bloody crusade was launched against the Sith Empire.
I had never taken a life prior to those days.
But during that war, I choked on blood.
I felt as though my cause was righteous, that fighting monsters was the Path of a Jedi. But. By war's end, my spirit had waned. Exhaustion had seeped into my spirit. I...I did not want to fight anymore. Fortunately enough, the Empire soon crumbled and I deluded myself into thinking that peace would follow. O'reen shattered that dream. Mere months afer the last battle, orders came down to march on the member world of the Fringe Confederation. The Fringe. They...They fought monsters.
There wasn't a man alive who didn't know what they stood for. Their whole existence revolved around protecting worlds from savages, warlords, and the Unknown itself. Their mission, frankly, was my mission - their Creed was my Creed! Why were we fighting? It made no sense. It made no sense. But. I fought regardless. And I felt defeat regardless. I laid beside the dead regardless. And as I drew tired, ragged breaths - choking on the stench of death - I realized that my Republic had fallen. Reality had plucked the wool from over my eyes...I could not continue to fight for a Monster.
Maybe.
Maybe I should have left to Voss that day like so many others. Maybe things would have been different. Better. But I cannot change the past.
I refused.
The shred of resolve left inside demanded that I fight monsters; that I cut down the lives of those who made a meal of my flesh. Them. The Bando Gora. I went looking for them. Even then, the Pyre-turned-Protectorate yet warred against their ilk. And I aimed to add a nail to their coffin. Alone did I seek vengeance for my defeat. Alone did I follow the stench of corpses to a derelict cruiser. My resolve said fight...but common sense would have screamed trap. I was but a fly who flew into a web - a "hero" who had wandered into a Wretched Hive.
I was taken alive - surprisingly - and brought before one they called Mati. Her voice was sweet. Her touch was gentle...But she did not stand for my spit in her face. I was beaten for my arrogance, and when I came to, Mati was waiting. A spider danced upon her alabaster flesh before she placed it upon my neck. Its bite was like fire into my veins. Its venom dulled the world...dulled everything except her sweet voice.
Yes, yes, yes...You think Mati is a monster. But I no like the Lost Children. No, no, no...Mati is Change. Mati is Change.
Change?
I thought I was gone, but a splash of cold said otherwise. Mati was clearly amused that I had lived. I...I didn't spit at her this time, or anytime following, Force forbid she brought another spider. Instead, I listened to her lullabies about the Web of Death. She told me about how things once were - when the Bando Gora sent ripples of change throughout the stars. She told me about their lost, rabid cousins and how all she wanted to do was obey the Spider. Obey Death. At first...I thought these sweet songs insane. But, over time, it dawned on me. The way things were eons ago...a Bando Gora that snuffed one life to affect millions...could have prevented O'reen. It could have kept the Republic alive. It could have prevented it from becoming a monster. This was...I took it as a sign that maybe reality was right in front of me. That maybe ripples through a web was the Path I needed to walk.
And so I took the venom in my veins.
And so I became apart of the Web.
Thus have I lived - Thus shall I die.
TEMPLATE CREDIT: [member="Ra Vizsla"]
