Architect of Oblivion
“I acknowledge neither the Sith Order nor the Galactic Alliance. To be restrained by the formality of an organization is, in a way, death itself.” - Darth Azal’thul
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION
Darth Azal'thul (Azal), like the rest of his race was born without eyes. He commonly dons a blindfold, although for little reason more than aesthetics, or a mask (shown above) with yellow emulated eyes.
INVENTORY
- Two crimson red lightsabers
- One Blaster Rifle, similar to a DC-17m
- Mask with emulated yellow eyes
- Red/Black Bandana
PERSONALITY AND BELIEFS
Azal believes the Force is a gift; something to be trained and honed to the select few strong enough to recognize what the Force is, without the influence of the teachings of old - Jedi or Sith. He further believes that order has it's place; Jedi, Sith, or Independent, but it should not prohibit one's personal growth and potential within the Force.
Azal is a firm but fair individual, sparing life if situation dictates; and taking life if the next situation dictates. He does not believe in small scale antics and political squabbles, rather the long term "game of Dejarik in the universe", ensuring that he will be the last "player" standing.
STRENGTHS
Force Sight: Azal was born with a connection to the Force, as his only way to see was via channeling it. It is for this reason that a mask or blindfold is always seen on his face; he ensures this.
Innate Awareness: Perhaps another benefit from being blind in the common sense, is his sensitivity to Force pings. Seldom do individuals with Force Sensitivity pass by his localized area without him knowing about it. He can usually differentiate Jedi from Sith from happenstance (regulars who happen to have Force Sensitivity).
Unconventional Mastery: Azal's rejection of traditional teachings allows him to explore the Force creatively and adapt his techniques to unique situations. He can be unpredictable, even to himself, as he discovers new applications and nuances of the Force beyond existing doctrines. This makes him a formidable opponent who cannot be easily categorized or countered.
WEAKNESSES
Internal Imbalance: Due to his history, Azal does not trust easily. As such, any mention or slander about the abandonment by his former Sith Master will cause Azal to be overcome with anger, often leading to reckless and often self endangering moments; such as starting fights at the local cantina, leading to many a night spend in detention blocks.
Arrogance: Azal's belief in his own potential and self-made path has lead to occasional arrogance. He might underestimate established orders or dismiss traditional knowledge, potentially overlooking valuable insights or making critical mistakes due to overconfidence. This arrogance has also been known to alienate potential allies who might be hesitant to trust an individualist who rejects accepted wisdom.
HISTORY
Azal’thul (Azal) was born to the ruthless crime lord Mørka’thul, known for spice smuggling and “acquiring” new cargo to sell to fund his escapades. His mother was absent, with the only insight young Azal received being, “She got what she deserved” from his father. His upbringing was harsh, between an overly disciplinarian father and being one of only two Miralukans on his birth planet Eos. Azal went to a military boarding school, learning martial arts, strategy, and military doctrine. While he didn’t fall behind, he was usually scored as “satisfactory” in his academics. He only exceeded expectations in one category - Battlefield Tactics and Strategy. Seldom had Azal played Dejarik, or participated in real combat simulations, and lost due to flawed strategy; partly due to his upbringing, but moreover thanks to his innate sensitivity to the Force, allowing him to read his foes in a way they could not counter.
The Force was never a foreign concept to him, as being a Miralukan made him particularly adept to the ebb and flow of the Force. Azal was educated on the “light” and “dark” sides of the Force, but he never saw himself truly aligned to either, rather somewhere in the middle, favoring the Sith ways. What was foreign to him, however, was the seemingly foundationless fire within him to use the Force however it called to him, disregarding the instructions of his teachers and mentors. This fire always came with horrendous nightmares; ones he couldn’t wake himself from. They had begun causing Azal to sleepwalk and perceive his dreaming reality as the real one. Despite the school's best efforts, they could not find a solution.
Nevertheless, Azal did graduate from the academy and had a commission waiting for him in the Galactic Alliance. Only a few days out from his formal acceptance into the Galactic Alliance, Azal began packing his things when Mørka stormed into his room. This was commonplace for the young soldier, being that he grew up around this, but his father seemed directly infuriated with Azal this time. He accused his son of abandoning him and all he had done to chase a “fairytale”, which frustrated Azal, as everything up until this point he had done to please his father. Nonetheless, Mørka was resolute in not permitting his son to leave and attempted to fight Azal. Azal did his best to passively diffuse the situation, but Mørka would not relent. Anger eventually overcame the fresh graduate, and he unintentionally force-choked his father until he stopped moving.
After realizing what happened, Azal’thul was in a state of panic as he didn’t want to murder his father; nor did he want to jeopardize his opportunity at a better life within the Galactic Alliance. Whilst in his disarray, he heard a female voice in his head, clear as day. “Azal’thul”, she whispered. “Worry not about what you’ve done. Meet me at your academy’s training grounds, and we shall set off towards your life’s purpose. Do not wait, Azal”, the woman enchanted into his mind as he sat on his bed, adjacent to his recently deceased father. For a moment, he contemplated the validity of her claims, and if she was real at all. Trusting his connection to the Force, he set out towards the all too familiar training grounds to meet this unknown voice.
Like clockwork, once Azal’thul reached the grounds, he drew his blaster and began searching for threats. He kept a level head and ensured his connection with the Force was uninterrupted, but this was not enough. The voice returned, in a sing-songy fashion in his mind; “Azal’thul, Azal’thul, to see without sight, is to be a fool”. He immediately turned around, expecting to see her but did not. “How do you know that?” He asked, as it was a tune sung about him throughout his upbringing. She giggled and barked sharply into his conscious, “Left flank!”. He spun to his left and again found nothing. Getting frustrated, Azal backed himself to a wall and entered a light meditative state to hone in on the signal. After a brief moment, the faintest Force ping could be sensed by him, and he drew his weapon in that direction and fired. Nothing. The ping darted to the right, then above him, and in every direction. Unable to rely on his senses, Azal’thul finally caved and screamed out, “Where are you?!”. “Here”, the woman finally physically spoke, but it was too late when Azal realized she was directly behind him.
Before he could turn around, he heard the ignition of a lightsaber and felt a faint red glow emitting on the ground beside him. In a panic, he attempted to kick backward and roll away from her, but she had speed that he had never experienced before. She caught his leg and pulled him to her, back to the ground. Azal’thul landed with a heavy thud and felt a sharp pain emanating from his diaphragm as the female warrior struck her boot onto his chest. “You have power within you, young warrior. But just as Beskar is strong, you too need to be forged and formed.”, she said boldly. After retracting her blade, she lifted her boot. Azal felt a hand reach down to help him up, but he shot it away and stood on his own. “I will not accept help from my opponent. Identify yourself.”, he barked. Tones of his military upbringing coming to the surface. “So serious, even for a soldier.” She said calmly, walking around him. In a surprise to Azal, she matched his tone and gave her own order as she stepped behind him. “Troop, tench-hut!” She barked, sounding well-versed and seasoned in the culture. Azal immediately reacted before he processed that he obeyed the command, and stood at the position of attention.
She walked back in front of the soldier and matched his stare, dropping all the games. With deadly seriousness, she spoke to him. “Azal’thul, I can save you from the hell you put upon yourself mere moments ago. I ask not for indoctrinated jargon nor friendship, but the opportunity to show you who you can really become through the Force. What say you?” She looks over Azal’s dress and stance, as he had grown accustomed to from the thousands of inspections he had undergone in the past. Azal thinks over his response, and after careful consideration, replies to her. “I do not know your name, your history, nor your motives. But I do need a way out of this situation. I will follow you, Commander.” She subtly tilts her head but does not correct her new title, rather uses it as a means to bond, knowing that response to be habit. She leads Azal to her personal ship, and escorts him off Eos, the only planet he had ever known.
Through rigorous training Azal honed what combat knowledge he had, and gained more through the teachings of his new master. She embraced his militant education and leaned into it to better teach him how to harness the capabilities he had within the Force. Over the following years, Azal had become proficient with Force Telekinesis, single and dual saber combat forms, and the inner workings of personal transport vehicles. His master tested him unorthodoxly via sending hired guns and common street thugs alike to kill him. Her intent (to his understanding) was at least two fold; to see if her teachings actually stuck with him, and to see if he can handle matters discreetly as to not achieve a bounty for his arrest. Azal mostly avoided receiving a bounty, but when he did have one, his knowledge in mechanics would help sway the odds to his favor allowing a quick means of escape from the authorities.
Years had gone by and Azal had become very attuned to his master’s teachings. The two of them together made a well refined machine, leaving the only obstacle between them and their goals being interest. While out on a sabotage mission, Azal’s new world would be flipped upside down. As they touched down in his master’s transporter, the now familiar instincts kicked in and the duo went to work. While Azal had become proficient with sabers, he still preferred his custom blasters. He would be the offense to his master’s defense, eliminating targets as she operated as his impenetrable, walking shield. That was, until a thermal detonator had found itself between Azal and his better. He was focused on eliminating as many combatants as he could yet missed the grenade that had made its way between the duo. She, however, did recognize the threat and Force Pushed against her apprentice as to push them both outside of the detonators effective range.
Azal, out of breath from combat and being flung a good distance and landing on his back, quickly scrambles to his feet in search of his defense. After a frantic moment of searching, his blood went cold. He lowered his weapon as he witnessed his master get impaled by a green saber, held by a fellow Miralukan. Her face, however, seemed at peace. Like she had finally been relieved of a burden weighing on her for years on end. As a last act, she closed her eyes and connected with Azal via Force to deliver him a final instruction: “You are unneeding, young Azal’thul, lacking nothing. My purpose is now complete. The path before you is paved with the bones of the weak. Walk it without remorse.” Immediately following her telepathic transmission, a sharp fissure was felt in the Force by Azal. He knew what this meant yet he looked on. The Jedi withdrew his blade as his master’s body fell to the hard ground, lifeless.
Enraged, the Miralukan hasted towards the Jedi who, to Azal’s surprise, was very calm. “We do not need to shed more blood, Sith. I do not want to kill a fellow Miralukan.” The Jedi calmly stated. He was met with an overhead axing strike from Azal, to which the Jedi deflected and counterattacked via striking the Sith’s head with the hilt of his saber. “Enough of this. You are not past saving. Let me help you!” The light sided Miralukan pleaded with the dark aligned one. Before Azal could retort, the Jedi’s attention was drifted to a matter Azal could not see and he leapt away. Puzzled at the mercy given to him, he got to his feet attempting to study the Jedi as he left.
After the battle had concluded, Azal returned to his master’s transporter with an uneasy feeling sitting in his gut. “Now what? My master and guide left me” His mind would say to him. “You do not need another. Set out and become.” It answered itself as he took the controls to the ship and flew off the planet. Reaching his master’s flagship, the “Necrobris”, the young Azal’thul is approached by one of the stewards. “Welcome back, Lord Azal’thul. I see that you are alone?” He says in an open ended fashion. Azal’thul, now entirely enveloped by the darkness, turns his head towards the steward and speaks through his chest; “I am all that remains of our efforts in this battle. Make it known that I, Darth Azal’thul, succeed my master and am now the Commanding Officer of Necrobris.” “Right away, my Lord!” The steward bows himself away from the CO and hurries down the corridor.
Assuming the throne at the helm of the flagship, Azal’thul sits in thought as to the next steps. Freedom such as this is a construct foreign to him. A stewardess approaches from his flank, speaking with brevity; “My Lord, we await your command”. After a moment of reflection, the self appointed Darth sits back into his throne, his eyes trained on the stars before him. “Plot a course for Eos” he says eerily calmly, before entering a Force meditation to prepare him for returning to his home world.
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