The Reformer
It was raining again. For what seemed like the third time that day, small drops of water began to fall onto Mazrith's tiny camp. He stood from his seat below the twisting trees above and he retreated to the shelter of his tent. He was lucky to acquire a tent, a mobile shelter for his own personal use. Along with it were a few new trinkets, a communication device with a built in holo-projector, a battery cell and several data cartridges. They all sat lined up just inside the flap of his tent, by which Mazrith sat.
Mazrith was able to slowly lower himself to the floor of his tent, though with a bit of trouble. The piece of shrapnel had been removed from his leg almost two months ago, but pain was still radiating from the wound. But the wound within his leg was the least serious of them all. His arm had been almost permanently pressed across his chest, as if in a sling. The arm, thankfully not his dominant, had been practically disintegrated by the flames. What used to be skin was now a white layer of tough and stiff scar tissue. His hand could only move slightly, though had been slowly improving as each healing session passed. Though Mazrith knew that he would never again have full control of his limb, instead it would be a reminder of the cruelty in the universe. The last wound was his face. He was completely unsure of what it looked like, he had decided to always wear a metal helmet, hiding himself from the world. His vision was rather blurry, to the point of where he would keep his left eye closed to focus on details.
Mazrith had been finding himself again at the question of what to do. He was at an impasse, with so many thoughts and ideas, but no way to act upon them. He found himself trapped. Not by the lack of money, in fact he had enough to go practically where he wished. He had to do something soon, but what eluded him.
Mazrith's most recent thoughts were on his most complex topic, the force. It had always mystified him and was the subject of many internal debates. The two main users of the power were the Sith and Jedi, with many other groups in-between. His opinion on the two was rather simple, something he had long ago came to the conclusion on. The Jedi were flawed in most of there teachings, the pure denial of many aspects of the force kept them bound to a small island of the force. The Light Side itself was different, though it still felt like a prison to itself. The Dark Side on the other side was freedom, but perhaps too much. Those that wished to walk in ultimate freedom from the bonds of the force could, thought there are many that use it for the opposite. The Sith has long been the most fearsome, villainous and even insane group in the galaxy. While Mazrith preferred the Dark side, he still saw where it needed its limits.
The Sith had long been the pillagers and conquerors on the galaxy, there bloodlust being their greatest flaw. Mazrith hypothesized that the Dark Side could be used in a better way if the core principles of Bogan: Passion, Anger and fear, were to be better controlled. Instead of letting them consume you, as so commonly with most Sith. The focusing and controlling of emotions could not only unlock a greater power, but allow one to find balance. Mazrith thought on this a while and he could imagine what a idealistic group of force users would look like. Though his day dreaming was disturbed by water leaking into his shelter, dripping onto his only possessions. Sighing he climbed into his tent and closed the flap, finally getting the sleep he needed
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