Legacy

[Aran Finn]

Ascension

It's about time I did this ...

The wind was fierce and biting cold up here, near the top of the world. Ascension had some of the highest peaks in the galaxy, though Na'Varro knew that climbing to the very top would defeat the purpose of his training. He would always choose one of the lower peaks; there the view was still breathtaking and the weather still harsh, but without the ridiculously deep snowdrifts and complete shortness of breath. Here he could contemplate and retreat into the bosom of the world, beneath the surface, when the mood took him or the weather truly took a turn for the worst. Here he could think, recalibrate, and increase his knowledge. With that, his peace of mind increased while his fear decreased. He was able to find tranquility on the peaks of Ascension; something that had eluded him most of his life.

Before him sat a small box. He had spent the last week communing with the living Force that surrounded and binded the box together, eventually developing a strong connection. It wasn't quite symbiotic ... one could survive without the other, but there was still an aspect of Alen Na'Varro that remained within the fabric, the building blocks of the box itself. Anyone who came across the box would feel as if the bearded lightside Master was in their presence; they would feel his room-filling aura that was in equal parts cold and warm, in equal parts serious and fun, in equal parts aggressive and controlled. Alen Na'Varro was essentially a dichotomy; a man of two parts that made an unforgettable whole. The box communicated that to any sufficiently attuned to the Force.

NaVarro stared at the box, sitting cross-legged as the wind swept over the mountains and towards the sea. His goal was to fill this box with knowledge; create a holocron that would allow future generations of Force Users to grow, develop, and learn more than he ever had. But where to start? The bearded man's brow furrowed, and he scratched his hairy chin more than once. He was not one to contemplate idly.

"Maybe," he said to no one in particular, "I should start at the beginning."

 

[Aran Finn]

The beginning indeed.

Na'Varro closed his eyes, stilling the world around him and opening himself to the Light. He thought he had known true power as a Sith; how wrong he had been. For when he was in sync with the Light Side of the Force, seated at the golden tree of knowledge as glorious sunlight filled his entire being with warmth; he never felt more alive. It was the same this time as it was all the other times ... when compared with the tempestuous, out-of-control river of white rapids that was the Dark Side, it was preferable to the bearded man. He had rode that river for over two decades, but in time his passion, his anger and his lust for power had faded. The Light, on the other hand, was eternal.

Slowly, his breathing under such control that it was almost halted, and his descent into a meditative trance was complete. In that state was able to call upon most of his memories in vivid detail, and he did so. In a placid voice he started at the beginning of his life and worked his way to the present.

He started with tales of his life as a child in Castle Varro; the distinct chill he had become accustomed to at birth. His empty vessel of a mother, his father who afforded him no privilege and showed no warmth. He recounted the harsh training he took under Aran Na'Varro; how the Sith Lord had taught him how to fight, to kill, to survive. He shared his memories of the Varro Massacre, the death of his father under the sheer weight of his many enemies, and his flight into the Unknown Regions. He moved on to his years as a spacer, his repression of his memories of his family and his training. And then there was Ruusan. This was what they would want to hear about ...

He started from the beginning there too. His "circumstantial" crash-landing, how Naamah and Phoenix took him in, his first trial in the Garden. His welcoming into the Covenant, his taking of the mask and his renaming ... Alen Na'Varro became Strider. How he had surprised them with his ferocity! Lessons learned long ago had sprung to the forefront of his mind as he tore through his fellow Neophytes one by one. The Sith Lord Invictus, living undercover amongst these dark vigilantes, had noticed him then. Darth Invictus took young Strider under his wing and arisen him as Darth Strider! He taught his young apprentice how to be ruthless, unstoppable! And he was ... but then his Master disappeared into the Unknown Regions, never to be seen again. Darth Strider hid his Sithly nature and entered the tutelage of another, Reaver. He took on a wife. He had children. But Sith make enemies quickly. The false Sith from the Munto Codru sect ambushed him and destroyed his family. Distraught, Darth Strider took on a new name and fled into another time and a vastly changed galaxy.

For a brief time he had been known as Aran Finn, but soon he became known as the name he had been given at his birth. Alen Na'Varro. He first reconquered his homeworld, but then sided with the powerful Lords of the Fringe. He had allies there. True ones. By their side he carried their battle standard into the heart of the Core. O'reen, Trevura, Eriadu, Morellia ... Na'Varro found his solace in battle. His power increased by multiple times, but there was always a bigger fish ... on the sands of the arena of Rattatak, Na'Varro met his match in Ashin Varanin. He relived that duel in vivid detail, the best one he ever fought. And then he moved on to current times ... his discord with the Dark Side, his redemption, his battles with the bureaucracy of the Republic, his support of the Galactic Alliance, his renewed dedications to his homeworld ...

His daughters. Both of them. The fall of one of them to the Dark ... his hopes that she would be redeemed, and come home.

After what seemed like either an hour or two full days, he came out of his trance and ceased the recording. Whatever the timeframe, all Alen knew was that he was starving. So he ate a large meal and then entered the realm of sleep until the next morning.

He dreamed of nothing.

 

[Aran Finn]

Na'Varro awoke and devoured a plate of fried nuna eggs in quick fashion. After fifteen minutes of contemplation fueled by a hot cup of grav-filtered caf, he set to work with renewed purpose.

He dedicated this day entirely to the principles and application of Form V. Djem So was his baby, and he had become a foremost proponent of it. With that in mind, he set up the holorecorder and went to work.

First he talked through and demonstrated all twenty-three katas, a basic building block for the form. Each one he demonstrated with grace, power and technical precision, his blade in equal parts a warhammer and a scalpel. This didn't take much time; he finished well before he took his morning tea. He then moved on to the application. His lessons focused on the theory and practical use of footwork, balance, leverage, wrist-work, angles, generating power from small distances, integrating the Force into bladework, trakata, use of terrain, and the philosophy of beating an opponent mentally. Each lesson was punctuated by a practical demonstration against an army of training droids. He finished with far less than he had started with.

Na'Varro then moved on to a commentary segment where he dredged up old holorecordings of famous Form V duelists, some of them his own. He culminated with his duel with Ashin Varanin on Rattatak ... he even used Ashin's modified Form I as a representation of some of Form V's principles. Each commentary focused on improves, fixes and sustains on the fighter's application of Djem So.

It had been a long day, and Na'Varro was exhausted. He ate his dinner and slept, ready for a new day to begin.