About
Greetings. If you're reading this, then you have taken an interest in my story. To that I say, excellent taste, but be warned: this tale is not for the faint of heart...
I am Aramis Aramentia, thirteenth of my name. Obviously, not much imagination has been spent on the male monikers of my line. I am the youngest child of an admittedly minor aristocratic house who, through the circumstances of my origin, was condemned to inherit no power beyond the status granted to me at birth. You can thank a quite long (and not to mention matrilineal) line of succession for that. Not one to take such affronts to my personage lying down, I sought… alternative methods of attaining my desires. As they say, the dark side is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural.
Make no mistake, I was never such a fool as to render myself subservient under the doctrine of the Sith. No, I sought dominance on my own terms. You'd be surprised how much you can gain just by signing enough cheques to the right people. Once I finished, I had a veritable library of dark side knowledge at my disposal, and devoted myself to it in earnest. My parents, bless their hearts, were forever ignorant of my peculiar hobby. Though, I did have to swear a couple sisters into secrecy on the matter. You'd think such confidentiality impossible to maintain, but putting someone's entitlements on the line is an excellent way to keep their lips sealed. After all, if one of their own was found to be cavorting with dark side occultism, what would that say about the family's repute at large?
By the time I reached adulthood, I had gone on a sabbatical of sorts, with of course my true goal being to allow my education to expand unimpeded by societal mores. And with that newfound freedom, my shackles were broken. I studied, I trained, and I excelled in every facet. I learned with ancient teachers whose knowledge eclipse even the most extensive of archives. Sparred with duelists whose deadly grace and precision with a blade could only be defined as a form of art. Sought counsel from esoteric beings so horrifying and powerful, the galaxy would tremble to learn of their existence.
My potential was vast, and ever growing. It was only a matter of time before my strength achieved heights heretofore only dreamt of. The galaxy would be mine. Everything would be swept under my dominion, and those foolish enough to stand in my way would bathe the void of space with their blood. And as they cry out to their paltry gods for salvation, I would laugh, for when they did they would find only me...
But before any of that could happen, my ship (with myself included) exploded into a million pieces in a freak hyperspace accident mid-transit...
Pity. I was looking forward to the whole "lording over all of creation" thing.
Traits
Hapan physiology - Hapans are generally considered a good-looking people. If you ask Aramis, exceptionally so, in his case. Though due to the perpetual daylight in their home system, they have a hard time seeing much of anything in the dark.
Bruised ego - At the height of his power, Aramis had a cosmically-proportioned god complex that rivaled history's most powerful dark lords. However, the same could not be said for his actual level of power. His unceremonious demise, plus a few years spent reflecting in the Netherworld, have significantly humbled the young aspirant. He's still a smug, pompous bastard, but he has started to give his bold and sinister agenda a slight reevaluation.
Dead - Aramis' body was torn asunder on the molecular level in his little hyperspace incident, and as a result he is quite deceased. Being an apparition has its perks though. All things considered, he's taken to death rather swimmingly.
Greetings. If you're reading this, then you have taken an interest in my story. To that I say, excellent taste, but be warned: this tale is not for the faint of heart...
I am Aramis Aramentia, thirteenth of my name. Obviously, not much imagination has been spent on the male monikers of my line. I am the youngest child of an admittedly minor aristocratic house who, through the circumstances of my origin, was condemned to inherit no power beyond the status granted to me at birth. You can thank a quite long (and not to mention matrilineal) line of succession for that. Not one to take such affronts to my personage lying down, I sought… alternative methods of attaining my desires. As they say, the dark side is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural.
Make no mistake, I was never such a fool as to render myself subservient under the doctrine of the Sith. No, I sought dominance on my own terms. You'd be surprised how much you can gain just by signing enough cheques to the right people. Once I finished, I had a veritable library of dark side knowledge at my disposal, and devoted myself to it in earnest. My parents, bless their hearts, were forever ignorant of my peculiar hobby. Though, I did have to swear a couple sisters into secrecy on the matter. You'd think such confidentiality impossible to maintain, but putting someone's entitlements on the line is an excellent way to keep their lips sealed. After all, if one of their own was found to be cavorting with dark side occultism, what would that say about the family's repute at large?
By the time I reached adulthood, I had gone on a sabbatical of sorts, with of course my true goal being to allow my education to expand unimpeded by societal mores. And with that newfound freedom, my shackles were broken. I studied, I trained, and I excelled in every facet. I learned with ancient teachers whose knowledge eclipse even the most extensive of archives. Sparred with duelists whose deadly grace and precision with a blade could only be defined as a form of art. Sought counsel from esoteric beings so horrifying and powerful, the galaxy would tremble to learn of their existence.
My potential was vast, and ever growing. It was only a matter of time before my strength achieved heights heretofore only dreamt of. The galaxy would be mine. Everything would be swept under my dominion, and those foolish enough to stand in my way would bathe the void of space with their blood. And as they cry out to their paltry gods for salvation, I would laugh, for when they did they would find only me...
But before any of that could happen, my ship (with myself included) exploded into a million pieces in a freak hyperspace accident mid-transit...
Pity. I was looking forward to the whole "lording over all of creation" thing.
Traits
Hapan physiology - Hapans are generally considered a good-looking people. If you ask Aramis, exceptionally so, in his case. Though due to the perpetual daylight in their home system, they have a hard time seeing much of anything in the dark.
Bruised ego - At the height of his power, Aramis had a cosmically-proportioned god complex that rivaled history's most powerful dark lords. However, the same could not be said for his actual level of power. His unceremonious demise, plus a few years spent reflecting in the Netherworld, have significantly humbled the young aspirant. He's still a smug, pompous bastard, but he has started to give his bold and sinister agenda a slight reevaluation.
Dead - Aramis' body was torn asunder on the molecular level in his little hyperspace incident, and as a result he is quite deceased. Being an apparition has its perks though. All things considered, he's taken to death rather swimmingly.
