Faction “Well Then Your Lost!”

[Alakahir Alsayth]

Faction: The Lost Sith

Location: Eol Sha

TAG: Pending

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The planet was riven with fissured of magma rising to the surface. Great smoke stacks of the Volcanos like brazers of incense to the immortal gods. Alak had come to build a new world on a vision that would forever mark him as a renegade.

What of it? His whole life he had been chaffing under the caste systems that men erected to keep power in hands of the few. The game was to keep as many backs arched as footstools, while the elite class rested their feet on them and sat in lofty thrones. The whole affair was like dry rot, the lords unable to see that empowering those beneath you gives you strength, and that eventually the kings die and someone has to inherit the kingdom, and would they rather have feeble sycophants or strong Sith to pass on power to and ensure supremacy?

Alak’s views won him no friends, no allies. They blinded by greed could not see the writing on the wall, that a great fall would engulf those who refused to see the truth, that the dark side was for those who had the courage to take it, not sit around like ladies in waiting hoping for favor and a chance one day to achieve glory.

On this molten burning world, this furnace Alak saw the forging of a new way. Here a temple would rise with no thrones, no titles, and all who had the vision to see their own destiny would know triumph. Here there would be no castes, only brotherhood.

Walking beneath the volcanos, and the Tuskan in his black robes was a dwarf among the mighty smoke mountains. They were a metaphor for the path ahead, vents of the furnance of new birth. Seeing some caves that led beneath one of mighty fire mounts, Alak entered in. Inside was lava rock with jaggid teeth on cielng and floor, and rivers of molten orange that illuminated the dark. Yes here would be the temple, not carved stone that was a monument to ‘mighty lords’ but a naturally formed one by the powers of life and death, The Force itself…

 

[Alakahir Alsayth]

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As Alak walked about the bubbling lava streams, there was a deep well of emotion that poured over him, he had found no place in the galaxy. His tribe, they called him half caste, The Sith saw him as another cog, and now here at the foundation blood of a world he was building a new. There he knelt as he outstretched his hands, two drops of the magma suspended in the air as he brought them close to his face, his amber eyes reflecting the glowing liquid fire, which he brough to his left cheek. The hot magma seared him and created red burns, then he placed the other drop from corner of his temple to his eye making another red burn. The pain stirred a memory of him on Tatooine, where in the sun he baked, marching across dunes as he was to prove himself a Tuskan. No wrap, no mousture trap, nothing.. he remebred his thriat burned from tye hot sand blowing in and that he was given one cantine of water which got so hot it burned to sip.

Crossing the desert alone in this rite of passage, he found himself fall in shoals of grain gasping, when his Father and some Raiders at distance turned their backs. He crawl to them and when he reached them they took their sticks and beat him for a reward. Despite that he technically achieved the goal, they still did not accept him, speaking of his mother’s foreign blood.

It was that night that he packed a canvas pack and prepared to leave, his mother seeing him came and handed him her amulet from around her cloth covered face. The Young Outcast embraced the only one who saw him as anything more than a taint, and left.

The image of his Mater had stayed with him. He had promised to go back and liberate her from his father and the cruel Raiders, but promises are often broken. Now here at the beginning he was remembering an end.

The marks of The Lost now adorned his face as he rose from his knees and stood in that hallowed place. Here he would forge a new destiny, one in lava rock and become the Founder of a new path…