Nazo
RETIRED
Location: Outskirts of the Temple
Allies: The Sith - but mostly himself
Enemies: Those that object; [member="Niamh Raste"]
Objective: To slake curiosity
Across the Jedi Temple of Alderaan, the battles raged, and the pupils of this esoteric and powerful Force clashed with might and strength. Those of the light; hallmarks of the good and the peaceful - of the emotionless and implacable calm stood toe to toe against their darker half. The practitioners of the Dark Side strove to lay claim to their passion and their pride, pouring out their anger and malice against their counterparts. There were however exceptions to every rule, and whether Nazo was one of them - he certainly was not pondering that colloquialism at the current juncture. His mask like a stone set in silence as the figure of a crouched woman bent before him, poised like a startled Kath hound beneath his long shadow. He felt the draw of the Force within her but it did not mimic those that he had previously encountered. Certainly not of his mentor in the Force - and in point of fact it seemed to rest in stark contrast. For much of his centuries old lifespan, he'd been absolved of interaction with the Force sensitive of the sentient condition. Only by the pure self-discovery of his own emotional state when confronted with the dead and dying did he even hint at the relationship that he could foster with the Force.
Recently had the curious seven foot creature began to take the first fledgling steps into the knowledge and mysteries that lay locked inside the ever present, but ever puzzling energy field. He'd learned to see it, to sense it, and to revel in the madness that it could weave. Certainly not a benevolent creature; Nazo found pleasure and unparalleled satisfaction from finding what the Force could be used for in his experiments. Trials of the flesh so horrific and mad that he bordered on sociopathic. Nazo however was not out for blood in any manner of revenge or anger. In point of fact the space slug was quite happy when he was able to manipulate the fleshy bipeds and liberate their life drop by painful drop. Despite the sadistic allure, he was also an observant species who found philosophy a more worthy pursuit than material gain, or proof of power in possessions. Be they small as a plot of land, or as grand as a sector of space, little of it mattered to him.
Silence continued to loom in the wake of his presence, while he studied the Echani's armored frame with curious intent. Not that he truly cared who was behind the mask, as his misanthropic ways rarely delved into showing compassion or malice in either instance. It was her connection to the Force, her aura of light that had intrigued the robed figure. This was different, this was somewhat unconventional, and the aura itself seemed to be in stark contrast to what he knew of the living Force. A glutton in many things, including knowledge, Nazo wanted to know more - but an interruption turned his attention - and that mask. A blank red stare turned to focus on the intruder to this private unspoken confab. His issued challenged slipping from the vampire's lips. The metallic digits of his hand dropped to his side like a dead weight, barely swinging back and forth beneath the sleeve. His head piece turning a full ninety degrees before it shifted down, at an inhuman angle - resembling some kind of mad marionette.
Words were exchanged - and normally they would have been glossed over, as he felt them having no purpose - and no point. Despite his inability to speak communication was not behind the slug. He simply chose his words more carefully..and less logically than others. Even his Master sometimes had to piece together the puzzle that was his dialogue. Insults flung like darts between them, neither wounding the other with their harsh tones. The blades however, those remarkable blades were certainly and eye-catching display which reflected of the shined white porcelain of his mask. Then three words leapt from the mouth of the Sith before them. Three words which captured his attention in an instant. A syllable for each, but the promise of something more hung in the air.
"I ate him"
In a flash of speed the crimson blade came in rage and fury. Nazo still left to ponder those words. Another eater...another devouring force among the star systems. Nazo was in league with a group of eaters as well. Each one had their own personal element to devour and ravish upon. Each was tainted with the Dark side, and each a predator in search of its next meal. His mentor; an eater of brains - the Anzati hunter. A Nautolan that gorged himself on the souls of men and women. The third - a strange Sith-spawn that fed like a tyrant on the emotions of the planet's inhabitants, robbing them of everything that made them...them. Finally there was Nazo, an eater and devourer of matter itself. There was hardly anything toxic enough to harm this galactic garbage disposal. A flash of movement on his part brought his own crimson saber to life with a hushed snap-hiss before his blade interjected the strike of Sosu, keeping it from coming near the woman before him. This was not done out of compassion or mercy- but Nazo was interested in the matter of eating. What did this man mean by eating his own Master? If Sosu perished, he would never know, and that was the only cruel injustice he'd seemingly fight for.
"The mind? The body? The soul?" Nazo questioned telepathically - one of only two ways he had circumvent the ability to vocally speak, and sent to both Nimah and Sosu alike. "Or the spirit?" He finished up, still holding Sosu's blade at bay. His telepathic voice, a mixture of a child's tone, and a demon's timbre. The durasteel construction of his arm was more than a match for the enhanced strength of the vampire. He was not dealing with a fleshy human here, but something more diabolical hid underneath those robes.
[member="Sosu Deviron"]
Allies: The Sith - but mostly himself
Enemies: Those that object; [member="Niamh Raste"]
Objective: To slake curiosity
Across the Jedi Temple of Alderaan, the battles raged, and the pupils of this esoteric and powerful Force clashed with might and strength. Those of the light; hallmarks of the good and the peaceful - of the emotionless and implacable calm stood toe to toe against their darker half. The practitioners of the Dark Side strove to lay claim to their passion and their pride, pouring out their anger and malice against their counterparts. There were however exceptions to every rule, and whether Nazo was one of them - he certainly was not pondering that colloquialism at the current juncture. His mask like a stone set in silence as the figure of a crouched woman bent before him, poised like a startled Kath hound beneath his long shadow. He felt the draw of the Force within her but it did not mimic those that he had previously encountered. Certainly not of his mentor in the Force - and in point of fact it seemed to rest in stark contrast. For much of his centuries old lifespan, he'd been absolved of interaction with the Force sensitive of the sentient condition. Only by the pure self-discovery of his own emotional state when confronted with the dead and dying did he even hint at the relationship that he could foster with the Force.
Recently had the curious seven foot creature began to take the first fledgling steps into the knowledge and mysteries that lay locked inside the ever present, but ever puzzling energy field. He'd learned to see it, to sense it, and to revel in the madness that it could weave. Certainly not a benevolent creature; Nazo found pleasure and unparalleled satisfaction from finding what the Force could be used for in his experiments. Trials of the flesh so horrific and mad that he bordered on sociopathic. Nazo however was not out for blood in any manner of revenge or anger. In point of fact the space slug was quite happy when he was able to manipulate the fleshy bipeds and liberate their life drop by painful drop. Despite the sadistic allure, he was also an observant species who found philosophy a more worthy pursuit than material gain, or proof of power in possessions. Be they small as a plot of land, or as grand as a sector of space, little of it mattered to him.
Silence continued to loom in the wake of his presence, while he studied the Echani's armored frame with curious intent. Not that he truly cared who was behind the mask, as his misanthropic ways rarely delved into showing compassion or malice in either instance. It was her connection to the Force, her aura of light that had intrigued the robed figure. This was different, this was somewhat unconventional, and the aura itself seemed to be in stark contrast to what he knew of the living Force. A glutton in many things, including knowledge, Nazo wanted to know more - but an interruption turned his attention - and that mask. A blank red stare turned to focus on the intruder to this private unspoken confab. His issued challenged slipping from the vampire's lips. The metallic digits of his hand dropped to his side like a dead weight, barely swinging back and forth beneath the sleeve. His head piece turning a full ninety degrees before it shifted down, at an inhuman angle - resembling some kind of mad marionette.
Words were exchanged - and normally they would have been glossed over, as he felt them having no purpose - and no point. Despite his inability to speak communication was not behind the slug. He simply chose his words more carefully..and less logically than others. Even his Master sometimes had to piece together the puzzle that was his dialogue. Insults flung like darts between them, neither wounding the other with their harsh tones. The blades however, those remarkable blades were certainly and eye-catching display which reflected of the shined white porcelain of his mask. Then three words leapt from the mouth of the Sith before them. Three words which captured his attention in an instant. A syllable for each, but the promise of something more hung in the air.
"I ate him"
In a flash of speed the crimson blade came in rage and fury. Nazo still left to ponder those words. Another eater...another devouring force among the star systems. Nazo was in league with a group of eaters as well. Each one had their own personal element to devour and ravish upon. Each was tainted with the Dark side, and each a predator in search of its next meal. His mentor; an eater of brains - the Anzati hunter. A Nautolan that gorged himself on the souls of men and women. The third - a strange Sith-spawn that fed like a tyrant on the emotions of the planet's inhabitants, robbing them of everything that made them...them. Finally there was Nazo, an eater and devourer of matter itself. There was hardly anything toxic enough to harm this galactic garbage disposal. A flash of movement on his part brought his own crimson saber to life with a hushed snap-hiss before his blade interjected the strike of Sosu, keeping it from coming near the woman before him. This was not done out of compassion or mercy- but Nazo was interested in the matter of eating. What did this man mean by eating his own Master? If Sosu perished, he would never know, and that was the only cruel injustice he'd seemingly fight for.
"The mind? The body? The soul?" Nazo questioned telepathically - one of only two ways he had circumvent the ability to vocally speak, and sent to both Nimah and Sosu alike. "Or the spirit?" He finished up, still holding Sosu's blade at bay. His telepathic voice, a mixture of a child's tone, and a demon's timbre. The durasteel construction of his arm was more than a match for the enhanced strength of the vampire. He was not dealing with a fleshy human here, but something more diabolical hid underneath those robes.
[member="Sosu Deviron"]
