Jayce
한국 화이팅!
NAME Jayce Izen
ID# 4202529348
SPECIES Firrerreo
GENDER Male
AGE Seventeen, GSY
FORCE.SENSITIVE Yes
A low growl permeated the otherwise silent chambers. Long digits, red like clay of the earth rose to his chin and clutched there, digging ridges into the skin of his face. The Sith's eyes once again returned to the holopad he held in his other hand. Predictably, the information on the screen hadn't changed in the few seconds since he'd looked at it the first time. He moved his gaze again to meet the face of his companion, who stood on the opposite side of the conservatory, all wrapped in black and clutching those damn baubles as usual. The disapproval emanating from the Lord was palpable but nevertheless, the proposal at hand did have his curiosity piqued.
"This is the one you took on Ambria, correct?"
The response immediately elicited a slow nod of confirmation from his silent partner. The Lord breathed deep and stepped forward, tossing the holopad across the room into the hand of its owner.
"And we would be served by another of your pets?"
"Of course. He's certainly got the foundations..."
"You've broken him?"
Grey lips twisted upwards as the Man in Black let out a soft purr in response. Enough, it seemed, to please the other man who nodded and then waved his wrist towards the door, which opened silently.
"This is the one you took on Ambria, correct?"
The response immediately elicited a slow nod of confirmation from his silent partner. The Lord breathed deep and stepped forward, tossing the holopad across the room into the hand of its owner.
"And we would be served by another of your pets?"
"Of course. He's certainly got the foundations..."
"You've broken him?"
Grey lips twisted upwards as the Man in Black let out a soft purr in response. Enough, it seemed, to please the other man who nodded and then waved his wrist towards the door, which opened silently.
In the broadest sense, Jayce is similar to the many hundreds of young Sith in the Galaxy. At seventeen, the Firrerreo sports a tall, sinewy frame that lends itself well to athletics and cross country running but lacks the raw power or dizzying agility that many others can claim to possess. The hallmark of Jayce's aesthetic, however, is undoubtedly his face. Mounted in a wreath of white hair are a pair of dull amber eyes and the soft features of his nose and eyes, as well as a strong jawline and full lips give the boy something of a cherubic quality, enhanced further by the golden tone of his biological skin. In spite of this classical facade, Jayce's face is scarred around his left eye with brands, and his neck and cheeks are covered in rivers of silver scars which cover nearly the entirety of his otherwise golden torso.
Though he spent many of his formative years imprisoned, his mental fortitude has not seemed to completely collapse though simple psychological observation would easily reveal some of the more chilling changes that the events of his live have invoked within the youth. The most obvious quirk Jayce has is his utter obsession with the acquisition of knowledge, bordering on psychotic. He is known to fits of paranoia and psychosis which can last days at a time. Jayce also has a somewhat potent phobia of heat and fire which extends in part to the choice weapons of all Force users, the lightsaber. Because of this, Jayce is weary and uneasy around the weapons and does his best to avoid using them himself whenever possible.
Jayce has a background in classical training in the Force, though his education was halted from the ages of ten through seventeen due to his imprisonment, he is still familiar with all the basics and theory of the Force and its use. While his unease with lightsabers certainly helped, it was certainly a case of natural aptitude which led Jayce to his vehement interest in the study of the Force and Sith Sorcery. The boy is decidedly more talented in matters of the mind than he is in matters of the body. Though his physique with long legs and arms would possibly lend itself well to mastering the lightsaber, Jayce really has very little interest in it beyond what he cherry picks and deems worthy of his study.
'If a brief history is necessary,
I was born on Ossus. Most of my childhood is just swirling colors now, I remember the temple a little, and the classes. My first memories are of starting my training as a Padawan under a single master. I remember feeling accomplished when he dragged me off world for the first time to a trade summit where I spent days roaming the halls of the government building bored out of my skull. After this first assignment the more interesting excursions began almost immediately and before long my master asked me if I wanted to join him on a preliminary scouting run to Ambria, as I remember it was the first stage of planning some salvage and archaeological project. I was excited to be travelling somewhere with the express purpose of exploring possible digging sites and we set off the following day.
We spent nearly a week camping within our first scouting zone before we encountered much of anything at all. They set upon us while we slept, set fire to our tent and cornered us as we escaped. Six hissing red blades fanned in a circle in the pitch. The next I remember I was restrained with lights shining in my eyes and before long I was sold. The next years run together for some time. I lost track of the days and nights after close to a year and once the rituals began, I was barely conscious most of the time. The Sith who I was shared among had a daily schedule. I awoke and was taken to one of several ritual chambers where they cut my arms and legs with knives and bled me over a filigree of intricate symbols to provide material for their alchemy and sorcery. Due to my natural healing I was bled for hours each day before being returned to my cell in order to recover for the next day's ritual. Of course, days held their own unique surprises, between the flesh they took, the branding and starvation I was kept relatively subdued.
During the years of this, I came away with more knowledge on the Force than I think I would have ever had anywhere else. The constant watching of ritual preparation, the symbols and litanies they scrawled day in and day out, incantations spoken in lost tongues memorized through years and years of repetition. I suppose you could call it an appreciation for the power available to those few who I saw that dedicated themselves to the Dark Side. I leered on as they performed their dark magic for unending hours and through the torture I lived on, my body refused to let me die. It seems that this impressed one of my shared captors who took it upon himself to buy me for himself. He came to my cell one morning and covered my eyes. For days it was black.
I lost perspective on sleep and consciousness and then from nowhere the light came back into the world. The smell hit me first, burning into my sinuses the stench of rotting flesh. I looked around the bloodied walls of the chasm I found myself at the bottom of. The Lord who had taken me loomed over the edge of the pit. With the sky in view I was able to keep track of the four days I spent at the bottom of that pit while the Lord lectured me and tossed me raw meat to sustain myself. When he was satisfied he dragged me from the pit and dragged me with him back to a temple where I slept for some time. He told me I was to begin study under his tutelage.
Of course, I agreed, power is an enticing concept, after all. Especially for a slave.'
