Smug Slug
@[member="Daella Apparine"] @[member="Diana Moridena"] @[member="Syn"] @[member="Carn Dista"] @[member="Joshua DragonsFlame"] @Iella E'ron @[member="Sochi Ru"]
@anyone else who is Jedi and would like to join
JEDI TEMPLE
CORUSCANT
Within the Jedi temple halls, a giant wept. Slouching on a bench in the room of many fountains, tears streamed down Hion's face. He felt the pain of millions as a planet mourned the loss of thousands. The Senate was destroyed. Hundreds of senators were dead. Many of them had been his friends. Now their souls rested in the Great Ocean. Time had passed, but it didn't matter. The wound was still too fresh.
What's more, with the election of the new Grandmaster, Hion feared for the course of the Jedi and the Republic as a whole. Their recent campaigns were... aggressive. So much death in the galaxy, it sent shivers along his spine. How much of it was necessary? He understood the need for preserving order through use of force, but... how far was too far. And the blood he had spilled, not with his flippers or saber, but merely with his voice. He had shouted men and women to pieces. Memories of blood-smeared walls and dismembered bodies, blown apart as if by an explosion, flooded his mind. Then he remembered his greatest failure at the Jedi Archives. He had failed to stop Velok and he had failed the Order. Velok had pushed him over the brink and Hion had lashed out blindly at hurt his brothers and sisters. The blood-craving he so often struggled with, part of the Koodans curse, had gotten the better of him. Most Herglics were peaceful, but some had such an urge for violence that... that... Hion hunched further.
Grief mingled with crushing remorse and changed to fear. He was capable of so much destruction. It terrified him, not because he could do it, but because he knew that part of him actually enjoyed it. Nothing could compare to the thrill of the fight. And he found himself constantly on the verge of succumbing to that thrill, but he knew where that path led. And it filled him with fright. Perhaps he should avoid any contentious confrontation altogether and become a hermit, far away from conflict and violence. In isolation, he could have control. But he was a Herglic. And his species had a natural tendency for games of chance. For the gamble, to go against all odds. That thrill of being on the edge, of taking risks, it made life worth living.
He would be a very poor hermit. But perhaps-
The doors opened hissed open behind him and he was suddenly assailed by a crushing headache and a sense of nausea. Something evil had come into this room. Hion turned around slowly, fearful, but saw only a padawan human male of about age sixteen, holding something in his hands and looking at it with a perplexed expression.
"Padawan Toth?" Hion rumbled. "There is a darkness around you..." His flipper moved to the greatsaber on his belt slowly.
The Padawan looked up at Hion. His eyes were a raw red and irises a liquid gold. Hion started, alarmed. "Knight Hion... do you hear it?" The boy's voice was strange, almost monotone, and his eyes slightly glazed.
"Hear? I hear nothing but the sound of the fountains..."
Frowning, the Padawan looked back to the item in his hands: a cylinder of black with a bronze dragon wrapping around it. "Listen. Can you hear it? The voice... it wants me to kill you, Knight Hion."
"Hauum, what?" Hion stood quickly, his massive 800 pound bulk rising to his full 7'2" height. He unclipped the greatsaber from his belt as he stood.
"I'm sorry, Knight Hion... but, I want to kill you. I have to kill you. Do you hear it?"
Snap-hiss. A violet blade flecked with red sprang to life in the boy's hands, emitting from the jaws of a dragon. An ancient evil radiated from that saber. Hion took a step back. The very activation of the blade filled the room with the crackling energy of the Dark Side. Hion had no choice. He activated his own blade. The ocean blue greatsaber sprang to life.
"Padawan Tosh, stop this at once! Padawan T-"
The boy attacked, faster than Hion thought possible. The violet blade snicked in and out, darting and weaving in the forms of Ataru as the boy began to leap about the room, performing acrobatics a fully-fledged Jedi Knight would admire. Hion fought back using his preferred form of Shien. He was not the greatest duelist in the Order, but he certainly was not the weakest. Each blow smote aside the boy's blade, opening Tosh up to a counterattack, but Hion did not take the opening. He did not wish to hurt the boy, yet the urge to fight, the thrill of battle, began filling up his mind. Red started to come in at the edges of his vision, but he kept up the struggle to hold it back. He would not give in to his emotions. He was a Jedi Knight.
The headache and feeling of nausea grew until Hion could barely think. And he felt the source of all these negative emotions: that dolorous blade.
The room of many fountains was filled with the sizzling sound of lightsabers colliding again and again. At last, the boy took advantage of Hion's restraint and rolled underneath a high horizontal swing, thrust as he came up to one knee. The violet blade pierced Hion's side and he instantly felt as if he had been plunged into the deepest, darkest, and - most of all - coldest ocean. The cold was so intense and piercing that it felt as if he had been flash frozen. Every muscle in his body tensed up and he let out a wailing cry of unbelievable agony. At once, his serenity shattered like glass. It was instantly replaced with unadulterated rage.
His vision went red.
The Dark Ocean roared within him, filling him with hideous strength.
The boy withdrew the blade and prepared to strike again, finishing Hion off, but black, merciless eyes locked upon Tosh and he faltered. The blue greatsaber flashed, severing both of Tosh's arms at the elbow. The boy stared in shock. Smoke curled from the cauterized stumps. The violet blade clattered to the floor and deactivated, but Hion was still filled with a lifetime's worth of withheld fury that now flooded out. Hion reached out and wrapped a giant flipper around the boy's neck, lifting him into the air. Then he bellowed fully in the boy's face.
"HAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM!"
The boy's head blew clean off. Blood, bone and flesh sprayed into a fine mist. Hion let Tosh's headless body fall to the floor with a thud.
The red tunnel slowly began to fade and Hion felt the pit of his stomach drop out. He sank to his knees. What had he done? WHAT HAD HE DONE?
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps sounded just outside the room. Hion stood hastily, picking up the Dark Side lightsaber as he rose.
It was a mistake.
He felt a sudden flood of intense emotion. He turned large, black eyes toward the door as a group of Jedi entered.
They saw him standing there, holding a weapon emanating the Dark Side, with a dead padawan at his feet. "I can explain" wouldn't cut it. And why should he have to explain? Why should he feel regret for what he had done? The boy had been the one who attacked him, not the other way around. The red began to creep back, slowly, into his sight.
@anyone else who is Jedi and would like to join
JEDI TEMPLE
CORUSCANT
Within the Jedi temple halls, a giant wept. Slouching on a bench in the room of many fountains, tears streamed down Hion's face. He felt the pain of millions as a planet mourned the loss of thousands. The Senate was destroyed. Hundreds of senators were dead. Many of them had been his friends. Now their souls rested in the Great Ocean. Time had passed, but it didn't matter. The wound was still too fresh.
What's more, with the election of the new Grandmaster, Hion feared for the course of the Jedi and the Republic as a whole. Their recent campaigns were... aggressive. So much death in the galaxy, it sent shivers along his spine. How much of it was necessary? He understood the need for preserving order through use of force, but... how far was too far. And the blood he had spilled, not with his flippers or saber, but merely with his voice. He had shouted men and women to pieces. Memories of blood-smeared walls and dismembered bodies, blown apart as if by an explosion, flooded his mind. Then he remembered his greatest failure at the Jedi Archives. He had failed to stop Velok and he had failed the Order. Velok had pushed him over the brink and Hion had lashed out blindly at hurt his brothers and sisters. The blood-craving he so often struggled with, part of the Koodans curse, had gotten the better of him. Most Herglics were peaceful, but some had such an urge for violence that... that... Hion hunched further.
Grief mingled with crushing remorse and changed to fear. He was capable of so much destruction. It terrified him, not because he could do it, but because he knew that part of him actually enjoyed it. Nothing could compare to the thrill of the fight. And he found himself constantly on the verge of succumbing to that thrill, but he knew where that path led. And it filled him with fright. Perhaps he should avoid any contentious confrontation altogether and become a hermit, far away from conflict and violence. In isolation, he could have control. But he was a Herglic. And his species had a natural tendency for games of chance. For the gamble, to go against all odds. That thrill of being on the edge, of taking risks, it made life worth living.
He would be a very poor hermit. But perhaps-
The doors opened hissed open behind him and he was suddenly assailed by a crushing headache and a sense of nausea. Something evil had come into this room. Hion turned around slowly, fearful, but saw only a padawan human male of about age sixteen, holding something in his hands and looking at it with a perplexed expression.
"Padawan Toth?" Hion rumbled. "There is a darkness around you..." His flipper moved to the greatsaber on his belt slowly.
The Padawan looked up at Hion. His eyes were a raw red and irises a liquid gold. Hion started, alarmed. "Knight Hion... do you hear it?" The boy's voice was strange, almost monotone, and his eyes slightly glazed.
"Hear? I hear nothing but the sound of the fountains..."
Frowning, the Padawan looked back to the item in his hands: a cylinder of black with a bronze dragon wrapping around it. "Listen. Can you hear it? The voice... it wants me to kill you, Knight Hion."
"Hauum, what?" Hion stood quickly, his massive 800 pound bulk rising to his full 7'2" height. He unclipped the greatsaber from his belt as he stood.
"I'm sorry, Knight Hion... but, I want to kill you. I have to kill you. Do you hear it?"
Snap-hiss. A violet blade flecked with red sprang to life in the boy's hands, emitting from the jaws of a dragon. An ancient evil radiated from that saber. Hion took a step back. The very activation of the blade filled the room with the crackling energy of the Dark Side. Hion had no choice. He activated his own blade. The ocean blue greatsaber sprang to life.
"Padawan Tosh, stop this at once! Padawan T-"
The boy attacked, faster than Hion thought possible. The violet blade snicked in and out, darting and weaving in the forms of Ataru as the boy began to leap about the room, performing acrobatics a fully-fledged Jedi Knight would admire. Hion fought back using his preferred form of Shien. He was not the greatest duelist in the Order, but he certainly was not the weakest. Each blow smote aside the boy's blade, opening Tosh up to a counterattack, but Hion did not take the opening. He did not wish to hurt the boy, yet the urge to fight, the thrill of battle, began filling up his mind. Red started to come in at the edges of his vision, but he kept up the struggle to hold it back. He would not give in to his emotions. He was a Jedi Knight.
The headache and feeling of nausea grew until Hion could barely think. And he felt the source of all these negative emotions: that dolorous blade.
The room of many fountains was filled with the sizzling sound of lightsabers colliding again and again. At last, the boy took advantage of Hion's restraint and rolled underneath a high horizontal swing, thrust as he came up to one knee. The violet blade pierced Hion's side and he instantly felt as if he had been plunged into the deepest, darkest, and - most of all - coldest ocean. The cold was so intense and piercing that it felt as if he had been flash frozen. Every muscle in his body tensed up and he let out a wailing cry of unbelievable agony. At once, his serenity shattered like glass. It was instantly replaced with unadulterated rage.
His vision went red.
The Dark Ocean roared within him, filling him with hideous strength.
The boy withdrew the blade and prepared to strike again, finishing Hion off, but black, merciless eyes locked upon Tosh and he faltered. The blue greatsaber flashed, severing both of Tosh's arms at the elbow. The boy stared in shock. Smoke curled from the cauterized stumps. The violet blade clattered to the floor and deactivated, but Hion was still filled with a lifetime's worth of withheld fury that now flooded out. Hion reached out and wrapped a giant flipper around the boy's neck, lifting him into the air. Then he bellowed fully in the boy's face.
"HAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM!"
The boy's head blew clean off. Blood, bone and flesh sprayed into a fine mist. Hion let Tosh's headless body fall to the floor with a thud.
The red tunnel slowly began to fade and Hion felt the pit of his stomach drop out. He sank to his knees. What had he done? WHAT HAD HE DONE?
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps sounded just outside the room. Hion stood hastily, picking up the Dark Side lightsaber as he rose.
It was a mistake.
He felt a sudden flood of intense emotion. He turned large, black eyes toward the door as a group of Jedi entered.
They saw him standing there, holding a weapon emanating the Dark Side, with a dead padawan at his feet. "I can explain" wouldn't cut it. And why should he have to explain? Why should he feel regret for what he had done? The boy had been the one who attacked him, not the other way around. The red began to creep back, slowly, into his sight.