GhostOfProtocol
The OOC One
Strange, each step beating off the floor of his quarters, each one matching the rhythm of his heart. Pacing, back and forth as the light breeze blew through his open window, the bottle left on the side blowing lightly, steadied by the force.
The decline he'd suffered possibly had changed him from his laid back state. Pacing, each step drumming as he tried to find the meaning of it. He tried to find the meaning of the change, of the sadness, the anger and the hate. Perhaps it wasn't anything to do with what he thought, perhaps it was Solan Charr, opening his mind and flooding him with all the emotion inside of him.
Perhaps it was that, that foul night that caused this downfall. However, the night had been useful. The night on Endor had provided Jardo an extra way to fight, an extra way to cripple those who stood in front of him, challenged him, tried to stop him breathing.
The lack of light was disturbing, almost as if he wanted it to be dark, as if he wanted to blend with the shadows. His jet black cloak hiding his black robes, the two hints of colour coming from the hilt of the lightsaber he held at his side and those yellow/blue eyes. One might still call those eyes a turn on, even if they were slowly turning, a sign of his fall to the darkside.
It was with this breeze he left his quarters, eyes darting between the odd few men and woman who made their way down the corridor, each one staring at him. While they were training, he was already a Sith Knight, in his eyes anyway. He was ready, he had enough training. Yet, no-one else seemed to think so, every seemed to think he was too cocky, to arrogant.
Perhaps he was, perhaps he was too cocky. His fight with the Young Jedi might of proven that. Even with the fall to the dark, he was still cocky. He wanted to learn Makashi, the form that would make him less so, in his eyes, and make him more relaxed.
Perhaps he would.
[member="Vengeance"]
The decline he'd suffered possibly had changed him from his laid back state. Pacing, each step drumming as he tried to find the meaning of it. He tried to find the meaning of the change, of the sadness, the anger and the hate. Perhaps it wasn't anything to do with what he thought, perhaps it was Solan Charr, opening his mind and flooding him with all the emotion inside of him.
Perhaps it was that, that foul night that caused this downfall. However, the night had been useful. The night on Endor had provided Jardo an extra way to fight, an extra way to cripple those who stood in front of him, challenged him, tried to stop him breathing.
The lack of light was disturbing, almost as if he wanted it to be dark, as if he wanted to blend with the shadows. His jet black cloak hiding his black robes, the two hints of colour coming from the hilt of the lightsaber he held at his side and those yellow/blue eyes. One might still call those eyes a turn on, even if they were slowly turning, a sign of his fall to the darkside.
It was with this breeze he left his quarters, eyes darting between the odd few men and woman who made their way down the corridor, each one staring at him. While they were training, he was already a Sith Knight, in his eyes anyway. He was ready, he had enough training. Yet, no-one else seemed to think so, every seemed to think he was too cocky, to arrogant.
Perhaps he was, perhaps he was too cocky. His fight with the Young Jedi might of proven that. Even with the fall to the dark, he was still cocky. He wanted to learn Makashi, the form that would make him less so, in his eyes, and make him more relaxed.
Perhaps he would.
[member="Vengeance"]