[member="Darth Mephirium"]
Korriban.
It was a world of dust, rock, and tombs. A world that had seen so much looting and ransacking that there was naught left but empty chambers and long dead corpses. Aellin knew the truth of this, he knew that it had been so for centuries now. The Empire, The Republic, The Primeval, The Silver Sanctum Coaltion and even The Mandalorians had held that once great world. They had taken and taken, looted the tombs of the once great lords and left nothing for those who would come later. It was the tragedy of Korriban, the lament that so many had played through.
The very fact disgusted him.
There was no respect for the lost, no respect for those who had come before.
People wandered around with trinkets from those who had once caused the galaxy to shake with fear. They moved with Darth Bane's cloak, frolicked with the lightsaber of Darth Revan, posed with the gauntlet of Kresh. The very thought abhorred him, that these once great men, these symbols of power and passion had nothing left even within their after life. Their Legacy's tarnished, destroyed, the things that they held of value within their life left as nothing more than mere trinkets collected by those who now considered themselves strong.
Fury pulled through him as Aellin looked through the empty tomb, his eyes wandering along the desecrated corpses and withered husks. He felt saddened, depressed almost by the state of this once Throne World. He wished to have seen it in it's prime, to witness the power and glory of the ancient Empire. His hands curled at his side, the brand upon his shoulder burning as he wandered through the broken stone archways.
There was something wrong here. Deeply wrong.
Korriban.
It was a world of dust, rock, and tombs. A world that had seen so much looting and ransacking that there was naught left but empty chambers and long dead corpses. Aellin knew the truth of this, he knew that it had been so for centuries now. The Empire, The Republic, The Primeval, The Silver Sanctum Coaltion and even The Mandalorians had held that once great world. They had taken and taken, looted the tombs of the once great lords and left nothing for those who would come later. It was the tragedy of Korriban, the lament that so many had played through.
The very fact disgusted him.
There was no respect for the lost, no respect for those who had come before.
People wandered around with trinkets from those who had once caused the galaxy to shake with fear. They moved with Darth Bane's cloak, frolicked with the lightsaber of Darth Revan, posed with the gauntlet of Kresh. The very thought abhorred him, that these once great men, these symbols of power and passion had nothing left even within their after life. Their Legacy's tarnished, destroyed, the things that they held of value within their life left as nothing more than mere trinkets collected by those who now considered themselves strong.
Fury pulled through him as Aellin looked through the empty tomb, his eyes wandering along the desecrated corpses and withered husks. He felt saddened, depressed almost by the state of this once Throne World. He wished to have seen it in it's prime, to witness the power and glory of the ancient Empire. His hands curled at his side, the brand upon his shoulder burning as he wandered through the broken stone archways.
There was something wrong here. Deeply wrong.