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  1. Aurion


    ".. The name is Aurion," Colorless pupils met cardinal ones, the differences between the two were quite noticeable. One from the sands, and one from the stars. Aurion watched for a moment to discern what Ash actually was, but distracted himself so he did not stare for too long. He was a creature he had not witnessed before this, but his physical characteristics closely resembled what was familiar to him. It mattered not, the two were interconnected as bread was broken within their encampment. Eyes were everywhere, and from here, they would have to walk with caution. Aurion shifted his weight closer to where the out-lander sat, brushing the prussian blue from his face, speaking in a quieter tone. "There are some inside the camp that would see the outsiders disappear, will the Alliance come back for you?"
  2. Aurion


    These dreams never end Aurion rolled over on his side, and brushed the sleep from the corner of his cursed eyes, aches and pains still riddled his calves from his hunt. Blinking curiously, he found at his surprise, a hand extended with a courteous offering. Aurion covered his mouth with his left before he could respond, only because the yearning of a hearty yawn could not wait to escape him. He stalled for a moment, wondering if there was purpose hidden behind the gesture, but the murmurs of his own belly persuaded him against better judgment. The appropriation of food had been his sole objective for the last several sunsets, feeding those left underfed. However, when it came to his own rations, he had starved himself beyond belief. “Thank you,” The tradesmen twine that composed his sleeves hung loose as he reached out, and snatched the bread piece from the outsider. Without pause, Aurion shoved the small loaf into his mouth and savored the arid taste that came with it. It was in this moment, that Aurion had painted himself with a mark that would stick with him for the remainder of his time inside of this settlement. He broke bread with an outsider, one that fell from ships not of these sands. There were those that scorned those not of these lands, rejected the instruction to share equal in the plunder that was afforded the encampment. Aurion did not choose sides, for had traveled, and had witnessed a power unlike any that ordinary man could fathom. “I am born of Savareen, what brings you here, stranger?”
  3. Aurion


    The small settlement drew extremely weary with time and the erratic abuse of sand storms that hounded them at every sunfall. He could feel the tension bleed from every tent, and the mouths of the stragglers all around him. Countrymen, refugees, and travelers all blended upon these shores of Savareen, combing their experiences together in order to survive. Aurion was no more than a fly on the wall, wrapped mysteriously in the bleached raiment of a merchant, with no more than the clothes on his back to offer. He was a survivor, with ties to no one in particular amidst the rubble, but an affinity for helping them all. It had been his third night enduring the wild winds, and the harsh thrashing of small stones, in order to operate in the chaos of the nightly tempests. Reports of theft had spread like wildfire, fueling the strain on the ungainly community, but he insisted. Under the mask of pandemonium, Aurion made his way by taking from the rich and lending to the poor. There were men and women who possessed more than what was necessary to continue forward, and hissed at the mention of splitting their hoards. These were the individuals he preyed on, indiscriminate of their reasons. Rationings of food and water appeared to be divided without bias, but as a fly on the wall, Aurion watched an undercurrent of corrupted power begin to slowly surge in the administration. Desperation would reveal the wolves in sheepskin, it was only a matter of time. He suspected the refugee Ash knew nothing of his little excursions, even though proximity to his resting place essentially made them neighbors. For now, the comfort of his cot steadied him to sleep and worked to ease his subtle wounds.
  4. Aurion


    AURION. Identity Real Name: Aurion Alias: Homeworld: Savareen Species: Morellian / Near-Human Physical Description Age: 26 Height: 6'4" Weight: 190 LBS Hair: Prussian Blue Eyes: Grey Sex: Male Equipment Ӣ Ӣ Ӣ Weapon: Ӣ Ӣ Ӣ Common Inventory: Ӣ Ӣ Ӣ Faction Information Highly Force Sensitive Alignment: Current Faction Affiliation: Former Jedi Guardian Current Faction Rank: Jedi Knight (Lost) History: Force Side: Light Trained by: Hou-Jo Poleb (Master), Seraphim (Knight), Master Ession (SJK), Aryian Darkfire (Jedi Master / Councilmember) Trained who: --- Background Below the belt of the Savareen sun, there have always been those blessed with the power of spirituality and foresight. The only son of aging trinket peddlers, Aurion did not realize his gift until his parents had already succumbed to a wasting sickness, leaving the young, traumatized boy to fend for himself across the dispersed cities of Savareen. He read fortunes in the gutter, for a coin or scraps of bread. He sculpted a hustle in order to keep his head above water, and watch others deeply to imitate their way of live. As his premonition proved more and more accurate, his reputation grew. He used his second sight to where targetable men and women could be found, or how the cards would lay in games of chance at the local bazaars. Soon, he began to receive patrons dressed not in dirtied sandals, but jeweled slippers. However, for all this, Aurion could never see his own destiny. His future was hidden. Increasingly disillusioned with his success, he noted the common disparities of wealth, and witnessed those unhappy with their lives acting out in spiteful violence against one another. It was apparent to him that people were bound up in a never-ending cycle of pain, often of their own making, and no hopeful prophecy seemed able to break it. Aurion himself soon felt nothing but a sense of emptiness, finally relinquishing his mortal possessions and leaving his home-city for good on the coattails of professed Jedi. This too, did not last long. Learning what he could, he disappeared and returned to the place that called to his heart. For years, he roamed the land, from the trackless wastes of the lesser civilizations to the ruins of plunder and riches. By distancing himself from others, he was alone with his thoughts at last. He divined not just how callous people could be, but also how corrupt the world might yet become. Feverish visions began to plague his waking hours, along with otherworldly whispers of war and strife, and endless suffering. He wandered far, until the sands turned to salt. He could not know that he had arrived in Crowvale, a lost city ravaged in the wars of a bygone age off the coast of the Pnakotic Coast. There, gazing into the depths of a ragged abyss, Aurion opened his unsteady mind, desperate for understanding and came across a remarkably uncanny community. ======
  5. Survive Nevan drew impatience from the interference that wandered all about them and then relaxed his stance. He could feel the adrenaline bubble like steam throughout his blood, and a heartbeat that pumped like no other. He wanted this. Nevan however, allowed the words of the Master pass him as if he spoke to another because psychological repartee could not affect him whatsoever. Then, the Master vanished in the opposite direction. It was here where he stood confused and wondered if Master Darkfire could find the humour in his new instructions. The challenge was to survive, and yet, if Nevan simply stood here and neglected the temptation to pursue the Jedi Master into the conventional holo-room””he could do just that, survive. He looked towards the ceiling, let out a small chuckle and tossed his lightsaber into the air, snatching it swiftly as it began its fall. ”œI'm not into impressing anyone anyways.”
  6. ”œI wonder what”””œ What had happened, he didn't have the time of space to reassure himself of. Instead, as instinct provoked, Nevan ducked and rolled in the opposite direction as a spill of Force poured towards him and unleashed a coil of color towards where his neck was just a second before. Sparks showered the left of him and Nevan couldn't abstain from a smile; combat enlivened him to mention the least. As quick as he was on his feet, he couldn't measure up to the trained competence of a Jedi Master, this much was obvious. For the moment, he'd have to be innovative. In another hurried manoeuvre, Nevan spun two steps from the Master and then back-flipped to more or less seventeen feet of distance. He withdrew his single-handed lightsaber but did not stimulate the blade””Nevan simply spread himself into a basic defensive stance with his feet equidistant and the tip of his tool pointed towards Aryian Darkfire. ”œYou sure you're ready for this?”
  7. The monarch of Nevans' march was his own as he awakened undisturbed upon a vessel he was most unfamiliar with. He understood Master Darkfire would be crushed with the amount of commissions now put before him with the new recruits, and so Nevan took it upon himself to fade from the scene but remain up to speed. As he trailed the woman ahead of him, he took time in the silence to appreciate the unsullied constructions all about him. The spark buried within his irises was that of interest, and there was enough there to last him the next couple of hours. His pace was still swift and as he wandered towards the few that stood about, he could hear his next task being explained to that same woman that had led him here and as it was so, Nevan took the initiative to complete it before he was finished explaining. The cultured leather sleeve that wrapped his left hand was unravelled and tossed to the side. He brushed the powder white from his face and then leaned towards the terminal. Conveniently, his name was locked into the roster and a soft smile brushed his features. ”œMuch easier.”
  8. The 74-Z pounded with incredible exhaust, even more so with the remarkable boost expansion that drove him at speeds that surpassed five hundred kilometres an hour apiece. Powder white, of the finest ashen ever seen, drew backwards as the wind waltzed with his extraordinary mane of hair. The swiftness of the machine did little to bend the expression of calm painted upon his face, little at all, but on the other hand the hushed tremors of the engine complimented the meditative state he assimilated his mind too. The communication device buried inside of his ear beeped and informed him of his exact destination. A short-lived smile was all he could muster as he considered the possibilities of an ambush. He knew what he headed for, and without the caution of his Master, he was a lion let loose from his chains. The speeder swerved with a powerful clutched turn on the handle and cut sharply into a diffuse alleyway. Nevan abandoned the vehicle and dusted himself off before he scaled the hotel structure with an inquisitive eye. A mental count of floors ticked while he recalled the amount of other vehicles stationed in and around the area. The public still motioned as expected and there were still quite a few of them towards the front and rear, so this was the perfect location. With eyes closed, he lowered himself and summoned what comprehension he had of the Force towards the muscles stiffened within his legs and fired himself upwards. His first intention was the ledge of the balcony that was positioned a pathetic distance above him which he barely managed to take hold of. Before he lifted his own weight, he searched the immediate area as best as he could with his limited experience of the Force. Not one person within sight, successful so far. This continued until he reached the floor that this suite number was detailed to be on, and conveniently””the final outcropping he latched himself onto held the most activity. Suspiciously, Nevan cast himself over the balcony barricade and landed soundly. He smiled as he identified the man known order-wide as Aryian Darkfire just on the other side of the glass. Knowing it was him belittled what he thought was quite an achievement in secrecy, since he had more than likely sensed him long before. ”œOh well, the exercise was worth it.”
  9. The wind scoured the world for answers be-known to mankind, beautifully carving the landscape with its uncompromising fingers, all the while commanding a weeping calm. Thick rivets of dust leapt out of the way, and filled the valley with a masquerade of sunburnt dirt. Effortlessly, the world and all its forces had built an eerie dominion out of rock and sand; everlasting structures void of technology and civilization. Although ever-changing, they would outlast every single living creature however naive or all knowing they may be. The anonymous vessel drew a path far from this planet but made it here with haste as the communications relayed to the pilot built an immediate interest. Nevan kept low and pushed the machine at a clandestine pace as he neared his destination which soon led him into a structured and developed settlement. His hand traced the controls and a powerful retina trained the radar while he kept his intuitive senses about him. On the outskirts, Nevan opted to abandon the vessel and unload the speeder bike from the cargo space to accomplish his journey. ”œWell, this is it.”
  10. "..I" The question took him to different sides of opinion, and none of which he could side with. Perhaps he would come to understand the question once the arch of experiences fell upon him but for now he was dumbfounded beyond belief. Even as his Master intercepted communications and spoke to a cause irrelevant to this one, his mind still tried to wrap itself around the question. He leaned his weight upon the wall and closed his eyes, his Master might be off once more to deal in more political matters of the Jedi, so he had further time to waste. ".. I'm at a lost Master. However, I will find you that answer."
  11. The door slid open and revealed his Master in wait. Nevan paused before he spoke a word as he dried his white mane with a contrasting black towel. His chest still exposed the beads of perspiration and rain from his shower-tap as he stood there half-dressed anxious to start on the path of his Knighthood once more. ”œWhat's on your mind, Master?”
  12. Powerful hands mounted the protrusion of a metal bar outside of his room, it was Nevan, and he was restless. He clenched the bar and lifted himself off the floor panels, once his chin was raised above the bar, back down he would return. Exercise was an essential part of his life, and respite was a weakness that he never wanted to surrender too. His pull-ups were executed with flawless precision and his breath control was maintained despite the injuries he had sustained beforehand. ”œThirty-two””Thirty-three”¦Thirty-four”
  13. He squinted as he tried to remember what had happened, at least a simple detail, a seconds' worth perhaps”” There wasn't even one that he could draw to mind. Nevan drew the silver-white strands from his face and then flinched once his Master clasped his impaired shoulder. ”œYe””Yes, Master.”
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