The White Wolf
Dog of the Sith
Time. The line of everlasting existence through events and history? Or what it something more? Fact was time was not something that could truthfully be explained by anyone. It was infinite. Just like the mysteries it holds deep within its roots. Many thought of time as a way to recognize the present…but no. Others believed it to be so much more. A force beyond comprehension doing its work unintentionally and perfectly all at once. The stubborn existence of organization that held the past within a seal. The bringer of the future and the giver of the present. Some believed time to be a god all itself, invisible to the naked eye and unheard through religion. It very well could have been. When phrases are shouted out like ‘we are out of time!’ or ‘Times up.’ To some they are just phrases, to others they are tribute to the all mighty god of time. Whoever it may be weather it was real or not. Or perhaps…for something to be real one must simply believe it to be real? Faith was a powerful substance in many nations throughout time.
Consisting side by side with time was the gift of history. A function of time stored within the subconscious of ones mind throughout the period of their lives. Of course…there were always memories better left forgotten. Despite the fact memories would always eventually be forgotten in the downward spiral called time. The memories of the past, of those before us. Never told from the beholder but often from the witness. Stories and legends passed down generation to generation but with each generation only losing more and more of the truth as the line between reality and fantasy grows ever so thinner. It was the same with the beings that traveled the world. Over time ones blood does not strengthen. It weakens. If one were to make a copy, of a copy, of a copy it would not come out stronger. But weaker. This has always been true. The memories that held the truth where lost…forgotten In the web time.
So here he was...the once former Jedi Knight now hanging about in the undergrounds of Coruscant. A remnant of what and who he once was. Funny how someone who showed so much promise had been reduced to nothing but an assassin for hire. He had been dodging the sith for months now...intercepting their transmissions and out running them. The young knight was unsure what they wanted with him...all he knew was everything a straggler got the chance they would often try to convince him to join. The Empire must of been running low on valuable pawns. At any rate...he figured he would be safe from them on the republic world. Looking out the window of his small crappy apartment he sighed and looked over at his helmet. Turquoise eyes softened as he reached for it and placed it onto his head. Wearing his Assassins Attire 13 sighed and placed his pistol into its holster. Putting his lightsaber on his back and made way for the door. Pushing it open and shutting it behind him he walked out the hotel and turned to walk down the busy streets of the underground. Drunks, murders, thieves...they all lived down in this wretched place. Apparently he was now one of the crowd.
Consisting side by side with time was the gift of history. A function of time stored within the subconscious of ones mind throughout the period of their lives. Of course…there were always memories better left forgotten. Despite the fact memories would always eventually be forgotten in the downward spiral called time. The memories of the past, of those before us. Never told from the beholder but often from the witness. Stories and legends passed down generation to generation but with each generation only losing more and more of the truth as the line between reality and fantasy grows ever so thinner. It was the same with the beings that traveled the world. Over time ones blood does not strengthen. It weakens. If one were to make a copy, of a copy, of a copy it would not come out stronger. But weaker. This has always been true. The memories that held the truth where lost…forgotten In the web time.
So here he was...the once former Jedi Knight now hanging about in the undergrounds of Coruscant. A remnant of what and who he once was. Funny how someone who showed so much promise had been reduced to nothing but an assassin for hire. He had been dodging the sith for months now...intercepting their transmissions and out running them. The young knight was unsure what they wanted with him...all he knew was everything a straggler got the chance they would often try to convince him to join. The Empire must of been running low on valuable pawns. At any rate...he figured he would be safe from them on the republic world. Looking out the window of his small crappy apartment he sighed and looked over at his helmet. Turquoise eyes softened as he reached for it and placed it onto his head. Wearing his Assassins Attire 13 sighed and placed his pistol into its holster. Putting his lightsaber on his back and made way for the door. Pushing it open and shutting it behind him he walked out the hotel and turned to walk down the busy streets of the underground. Drunks, murders, thieves...they all lived down in this wretched place. Apparently he was now one of the crowd.