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 Darth Auralias

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Sith Tyro
Sith Tyro

Posts : 4

PostSubject: Darth Auralias   Sun Aug 28, 2011 4:34 pm

I am both disgrace, and hero. I am all that is to be adored, and scorned. I am nothing of importance, and all that you will ever need. I am Sith.
Name: Auralias
Rank: Sith Apprentice
Alignment: Dark Side
Species: Human
Age: 26
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 190
Eyes: Brown with red streaks
Sex: Male
Preference Female
Appearance: Simple black robes with hood, Cropped black hair, scar over left eyebrow
Fighting style: Double bladed Double-Bladed Varient of Ataru
Favorite Techniques: Force Concealment and Force Lightening
Lightsaber/Weapon: Double-Bladed Lightsaber
Starship: http://images4.wikia.nocookie.net/starwars/images/e/e1/Sithinfiltrator-NEGVV.jpg
Theme Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z8PcfX0xgC4&feature=related


Aurlias, The Sorrowful

Let it not be said that I am without knowledge of what I am.

I am a killer. I am a vile and unwholesome thing, clinging tenaciously to an existence that does not condone my choices. Since that fateful day, I have come to know sadness, and understand what I must be to end such sadness for my kind.

I am unlike most other Sith. I am without rage. Rage is a response to being a victim of wrongdoing, which has never been my experience. If ever I was a victim, it is of my own consequence. Instead, I am driven by sorrow. Sorrow is the deepest emotion, a wellspring that is pulled from the very depths of the heart. I have intimate knowledge of sorrow, being both it's object, and it's harbinger.

My mother died in childbirth. Hardly the uncommon tragedy typical of Sith, but painful nonetheless. My father, dutiful as he was, ensured that I wanted for nothing. We had wealth, and respect, and a quiet suite in Coruscant far from the criminal dregs of our homeworld. He was a droid programmer, one of the best and often held in the highest regard. He was responsible for the core routines of a vast variety of droids, mostly of the combative nature. I was proud of his success, and sought his tutelage so that I could take up the family business.

Had I but known that treachery was the foundation upon which our empire had been built.

There were two mercenary factions constantly at each others throats in the battle for business, and supremacy. Each was known for using combat droids as shock troops for their less subtle operations. Naturally, both had the same supplier, the best in the business, my father. But while on group had an honorable, albeit competitive leader, the other group was less apt to shy away from unsavory methods of getting ahead. So it was in this spirit that the leader of the latter group came to my father personally to order the next batch of droids, and offered him a sizable donation for a bit of creative alteration to the droids' core programming, for all future models.

The software update included a voice command that, when activated, gave complete authority to the invoker.

The next event was easy to foresee, but my father simply accepted the money with a broad grin and black heart, just days before the leader brazenly walked into his rival's headquarters, spoke the command override, and ordered their own droids to massacre them.

The news holos blamed cyber hackers, as there was no evidence to pin the culprit at the scene.

I was a smart lad, and the Force was blooming within me, so when I asked my father what he knew of the incident, I felt it. That twinge of regret easily smothered by his own avarice. That night I accessed my father's transaction history and noted the absurd amount of money deposited for a "software upgrade."

I checked back further, and found that there were many deposits of questionable nature for seemingly mundane things. My stomach turned as I realized the legacy my father was going to leave me. But I was not angry.

I felt a deep and crippling sorrow for everyone who was victimized by my father's greed. I knew that this sorrow had to be rectified, someone had to be punished. I checked the account log.

The address of the mercenary who commissioned the change to the droids was still on file.

Two days later, my father watched the news, sweating as he realized that someone had deduced the foul play, and murdered one of the two parties who benefited from it. He realized he was next.

He did not know that I was the one who slit that mercenary's throat with a vibro blade purchased from my education fund.

The next day, I asked my father to take me to the factory floor. I told him I was interested in seeing the product that so many people were so proud of. The look of surprise was absolutely priceless when I spoke the override to the droids that had been activated for weapons testing.

We stared at each other, father and son, for what seemed like an eternity. Recognition flashed across his eyes as he perceived the threat. He grabbed a nearby part and threw it at me, in an attempt to knock me out and run before I gave the next order. It caught me across my brow, and it cut deep, but I stayed resolutely conscious as I ordered the droids to target and destroy the man who brought me into this world.

As the blaster fire tore my father asunder, I felt the sorrow again, the grief of knowing what I had done, what I had become. I fled Coruscant in my father's vacation vessel before his body was cold.

I knew that no Republic party would harbor a fugitive, and the Jedi Order would condemn me for my commitment for murder.

I set a course for Korriban.

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