Scarface
Ned Stark's Bastard, Knows Nothing
((This is open to anyone, regardless of class or faction.))
Unbelievable.
A mere few weeks in and Gryphus Antares barely felt attuned with the Force. He had joined up with the Sith Council for hopes to better himself, however his training was progressing slower than ever. He even felt the audacious sensation that his own master was holding him back. Such a cliche'd scenario was a common occurrence in all facets of the Force, but Gry would not accept the same fate for himself.
He was on the planet Tatooine, the lawless no man's land of the Galaxy. A hive of scum and villainy, if one would. His ship rested silently on a flattened dune just over yonder. The Jundland Waste was a precarious locale, but Gryphus was enticed by the sense that anything of any size could outflank him and potentially eat him alive. What a thrill - at least he would die on his feet. This was unlikely though, for Gry intentionally emanated such a dark presence that any creature of non-sentience would instinctively keep away. Even the Sand People seemed to avoid him, as he had only spotted a small troupe, however they retreated into the Dune Sea before he could lay waste to their bodies.
He was here for the purpose of furthering his progress, even if it meant that he had to do so alone. With a deep breath, Gry sat crosslegged. Focus. He took a deeper breath now, and thrust himself to his feet once more and let out a terrifying, otherworldly scream as the Force flowed to his extremities. A sudden blast of energy erupted from his fingertips, but it only repulsed the sand away from him to a minor extent. It wasn't good enough. Why couldn't he focus. The prospect of failing himself was alone to stir his anger. He closed his eyes beneath the photoreceptors and took another sharp breath. Before exhaling, he tore the photoreceptor goggles away from his eyes with force, the pins which needled his corneas tore out with a disgruntled sloshing sound. A sudden shock of excruciating pain came over him as the sunlight burned away at his ruined eyes. He could not see anything more than dark shadows, and yet he felt freer than ever before.
With an even louder scream, now charged by a surge of adrenaline and discontent, Gry extended his arms in front of him once more. A powerful blast of the Force Push variety tore away at a particularly large mound of dirt. The sand kicked violently, stinging his face as the wind struggled to carry it back. It seemed as though his anger was indeed his greatest ally, it was the only thing he had trust in anymore.
Unbelievable.
A mere few weeks in and Gryphus Antares barely felt attuned with the Force. He had joined up with the Sith Council for hopes to better himself, however his training was progressing slower than ever. He even felt the audacious sensation that his own master was holding him back. Such a cliche'd scenario was a common occurrence in all facets of the Force, but Gry would not accept the same fate for himself.
He was on the planet Tatooine, the lawless no man's land of the Galaxy. A hive of scum and villainy, if one would. His ship rested silently on a flattened dune just over yonder. The Jundland Waste was a precarious locale, but Gryphus was enticed by the sense that anything of any size could outflank him and potentially eat him alive. What a thrill - at least he would die on his feet. This was unlikely though, for Gry intentionally emanated such a dark presence that any creature of non-sentience would instinctively keep away. Even the Sand People seemed to avoid him, as he had only spotted a small troupe, however they retreated into the Dune Sea before he could lay waste to their bodies.
He was here for the purpose of furthering his progress, even if it meant that he had to do so alone. With a deep breath, Gry sat crosslegged. Focus. He took a deeper breath now, and thrust himself to his feet once more and let out a terrifying, otherworldly scream as the Force flowed to his extremities. A sudden blast of energy erupted from his fingertips, but it only repulsed the sand away from him to a minor extent. It wasn't good enough. Why couldn't he focus. The prospect of failing himself was alone to stir his anger. He closed his eyes beneath the photoreceptors and took another sharp breath. Before exhaling, he tore the photoreceptor goggles away from his eyes with force, the pins which needled his corneas tore out with a disgruntled sloshing sound. A sudden shock of excruciating pain came over him as the sunlight burned away at his ruined eyes. He could not see anything more than dark shadows, and yet he felt freer than ever before.
With an even louder scream, now charged by a surge of adrenaline and discontent, Gry extended his arms in front of him once more. A powerful blast of the Force Push variety tore away at a particularly large mound of dirt. The sand kicked violently, stinging his face as the wind struggled to carry it back. It seemed as though his anger was indeed his greatest ally, it was the only thing he had trust in anymore.