P A N [D E M O N] I U M
Does anything in the galaxy make any sort of sense? Does any of it bring answers? This was one of the things that he thought about constantly. He'd done so much throughout his life. Back in old times that so few remembered, despite just how many hold-overs from his time walked he systems of this day and age, he remembered how life used to be. He remembered all those he;d come across in his travels, and it made him think. He quietly contemplated as he walked that lone, dusty road into the middle of nowhere. The arid, tan-hued deserts of tatooine were cliche, to be sure, but that was where it all started for him. This was where he fell to the Darkness, to the inner rage and anger of his soul, to his childhood demons and fears. Some say that Korriban was the planet that was most near and dear to the Sith, and that may well be true, but Tatooine was where young Jedi were corrupted and molded into the Sith Lords of tomorrow. Such was the case for countless men and women, himself included. Perhaps it was the bareness of the terrain, perhaps it was the sheer hopelessness that an endless nothing of sand could form in one's mind. He never was sure why, nor did it really matter. But foot fall after foot fall strode across the sand dunes, the light of the twin suns dim overhead as they began to set.
For a brief moment, he slowed to a halt, and looked up to the twilight sky with dim sapphire eyes. Inhaling deeply, he let out a rather long sigh, and in those few seconds he lamented over the course his life had taken. He'd waged wars across the cosmos, leaving behind him a bloody swath of bodies and bridges engulfed in the hottest flames. He was a blight upon the galaxy, and his inability to contain the madness that always nipped at his mind was his greatest downfall. He left things half completed, and left all he'd come across guessing, wondering, and never knowing just what might have been. Truth be told, he was a horrible Sith, for he never did have the stomach to really follow through with anything he'd set out to do. Depression had set in in ways he'd never imagined, a black, swirling void of brutality he'd never experienced in even the worst days of his life. It was almost unfathomable just how horrid these feelings truly were.
Back when he was but a teenager, things seemed so much simpler. You woke up, got dressed, and went off to the ancient courtyards of Munto Codru's Sith Temple. You found some new meat, of which there was an endless supply, goaded them on, and then beat them into a pulp, training yourself int he things your Master had shown you the last time you sat at their feet to learn. You thanked the Force you had survived another day, and kept on going as hard as you could so one day you might take all the knowledge your Master had and then end them, putting them six feet under the dirt. You went to the tavern later on in the day, and you drank yourself into a blackout while hanging out with your friends.
...Friends. There was a word he'd not even contemplated in years. These nights, he had only acquaintances and passing relationships. Friends were something he thought long ago he could do without. After all, they were just another weakness, weren't they? Yet somehow he'd managed to become mated to a Dathomiri, and have two daughters in the process. He somehow came to care for his lone apprentice, and had taught entirely too many hopeful Acolytes the ways of the Force that only a handful of Sith and Dark Jedi in this galaxy knew how to weave, and even less had mastered.
...Power. That was something he had in spades. The Force was his plaything at this point. He knew how to command it, to bend it to his will, how to trick it into doing exactly what he wanted, and how he wanted it to happen. He'd once played lawn darts with capital ships, using the city of Theed on Naboo as his target. There was a time he'd once destroyed an unmapped system by causing it's star to implode from inhibiting it's ability to cause nuclear fusion by his sheer force of will. Yet, he couldn't manage to garner anything that even approached respect. And it wasn't that he felt it was due to him. No, only a fool thinks respect is due. He knew that respect was earned, and not a single thing he'd done in his life had ever been worthy of the word. He knew that, and knew it well.
And so, there he was, in the middle of the cooling desert sands as night began to fall, standing there, looking up at the stars above. Why he ever walked down the path he did, he'd never know. If there was a real mystery, that was it. He vaguely recalled his days as a Jedi Knight, back when Jedi outnumbered the Sith 25 to 1. Perhaps he had an affinity for the underdog? Maybe he was just full of teenage angst? Perhaps he thought he was too retrained by the teachings of the Jedi? He'd never figure that out, and he'd come to terms with it out here in the desert. Slinging the black canvas pack from his weary shoulder, he squatted down, and opened it up. From within it, he pulled out a few scraps of firewood. The desert grew cold these nights, the planet so far away from it's twin suns. Laying them down, criss-crossing them, he lit them alight with a few plain, simple stick matches. He still had a long journey to go, and he was not going to fail that. He'd failed in everythign else in his miserable life. But not this. For now, he simply kept warm, resting before he kept on walking.
Coryth Elaris, Kiskla Grayson, Ahani Najwa, Curupira D'arr Hawk, Ashin Varanin, Alen Na'Varro, Salem Norongachi, Kana Truden, Darth Junra, Darth Isolda, Sarge Pottiegier
