Sion Alar
| Music | this ain't the road |
| Aliases | Sy, Khet |
| Title(s) | 'The Ebon Savant' Archon of Naught |
| Class(es) | Ruiner |
| Birthplace | Serenno |
| Age | Twenty-eight |
| Virtue(s) | Appropriation, Protection, Loyalty |
| Rank(s) | Soldier |
| Faction(s) | New Imperial Order |
| Home | Carlac |
| Species | Human |
| Language(s) | Galactic Basic and Ancient Sith |
| Occupation | Asset |
| Gender | Male |
| Force Sensitive | Yes |
| Force Alignment | Dark |
| Character Alignment | Lawful Evil |
| Height | 6'2” (181cm) |
| Weight | 180lbs (77kg) |
| Hair Color | Snow White, with a black strand flowing from the left crown. |
| Eye Color | Yellow (Dark Side Corruption) |
| Skin Color | Pale |
| Distinctive features | Heavy geometric tattooing down both arms, across his chest, and up to his neck. Albinism. Severly withered and weakened left arm. |
| 'Other | Asharo Madar |
There is no other singular cause that has contributed more to advancement and innovation than conflict. Advantages sought bloom quickly to fruition during times of strife, with the only price of admission often being ethics. When leaders tire of traditional innovation, and the acceptable methods begin to fail, the macabre and unsavory are quickly plucked from their taboo prisons. Once free, the menageries of sick possibilities begin to crop up among the development of advantages.
Sion would be one half of the ticket that granted admission to their putrid evolutions.
The albino heir to House Alar's birth reverberated a disturbance across the cosmos, one that harmonized all the way to the galaxy's core, to Coruscant. Despite the unfathomable distance between them, they were one. An eccentricity in the force such as this did not go unnoticed, and unfortunately for Sion and his Other, the first to find them were not well-intentioned. The earliest memory that still plagues is that of a Sith Sorceror stealing him from his own bed with a vile incantation. The warm sun and vibrant greens of Serenno were all at once replaced with the biting winds and eye-numbing whites of Carlac. It was here that those wicked magi would begin their long campaign to break his mind, and mold it into what they wanted it to be.
Sion and his Other were mercilessly inculcated in death and all which facilitated it. Their minds were constantly bombarded with venomous incantations that sought to link them beyond what the force itself had machinated. Every thought, every feeling, the very will to be, it was all merged into a singular, intangible force. Sion fought, gnawing every tooth to the gum stretching every finger to the bone, yet the efforts of his Other and those of the Sorcerors overcame him. There was no longer an individual, nor could there ever be Sion without Asharo.
Where Asharo's struggle bred strength, tenacity, and valor; Sion could only grow rage, hatred, and the urge to destroy. Despite all attempts to deny him his past, Sion remembered. Unlike his Other, he did not fall as easily into the symbiosis the Sith worked so hard to achieve, he couldn't. Perhaps their ironic duality was an intentional machination, or maybe it was a testament to Sion's defiance.
In his suffering, he found hatred.
In his torment; rage.
And in his Other; loathing.
LONGING:
“The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.”
- Friedrich Nietzsche
Sion's mind is torn at daily, his dyadic connection with his other being the heavy cross he's forced to bear. Sion can feel the thoughts and emotions of his Other, as well as their pain and suffering. They are one in everything, and as such their suffering is no exception to that law. A constant and unending force meld wracks their collective consciousness, making them repulsively efficient not only on the battlefield but also in any other joint effort. The downside to this advantage comes in the form of spiritual exsanguination; the more they draw from one another the weaker they become.
Involuntarily, they finish the thoughts and sentences of one another. Sometimes, this quirk manifests against their own wishes. No thought or feeling is truly their own.
Should this bond ever become severed, by force or otherwise, they will both cease to be. There cannot be one without the other.
EBB AND FLOW:
- + Eloquent
- + Impersonal
- + Cunning
- +/- Force dyad with
Asharo Madar
- +/- Individualistic
- +/- Passionate
- - Shortsighted
- - Moody
- - Defiant
- Lightsaber - Sion's weapon is his oldest and most prized possession, as it was all he had when his worth was that of the musty dirt beneath Carlac's snow. The exterior appearance is crude and utilitarian, a modestly constructed weapon of war to defy the luxury he was born into. The hilt would look more at home in a heap of scrap rather than on the belt of a practitioner. The blade once ejected from the emitter displays as a further testament of defiance, appearing a black, light-bending plasma. It's nauseatingly unnatural appearance contrasts heavily with the brilliant silvery blade of his Other.
APPAREL:
- Khet - Sion generally picks clothing based on modesty and coverage. Generally darker shades of ebony and other stygian hues. Taste aside, the sunlight denying color of the fabric protects his sensitive albinic epidermal layer. Long sleeves, hoods, and extra layers are the norm.
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:
Sion's training emphasized quickness, flexibility, and nimbleness. While a lithe stature was initially maintained intentionally, the corruption of the dark side has begun to run him to the verge of gauntness. Though, multiple layers of sable fabric tend to downplay the severity of such withering. Silvery strands of hair are often kept within a hood or other head-adornments for the sake of keeping a low profile.
Inky geometry still mires the porcelain skin of the arms and torso. The irregular and serrated shapes that the rituals left upon his body still haunt inch after inch of his physical 'ka', and will continue to do so for as long as he persists. Gloves often cover the hands for the sake of not only hiding these irregular patterns but to protect his skin as well.
With the loss of his Other's right arm, Sion's own left arm has begun to deteriorate. Glove over the left hand also serves to obscure this fact, but the flimsy and pathetic state of his arm is easily discernable where hefty layers fail to mimic girth. If exposed, the greying flesh is plagued with wrinkles and loose skin that clings desperately to a near bone-thin limb.
VENEER:
"Just because you're in my head doesn't mean you can touch me."
Similarly to his Other, Sion comes off as cold and aloof on the surface, though in actuality he is rather expressive with his malice and near-constant vexation. His tense and confrontational demeanor is often a foil to his Other's own personality. When nearby said Other, the unwelcoming tension only seems to grow in intensity with every fleeting inch.
SHIP:
To be updated.
KILLS:
To be updated.
THREADS:
To be updated
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