Darth Furion

Gala? Hmm...As the woman turned, Julio faded into the quickly enveloping shadows, making his way back to the ship. This was not where he wanted to be. His place was among those potentially great, not these unlearned.

A sly smile broke Julio's stern features. Now everything should be alright, barring any extremists begging for his blood. Excellent. My name is Julz.He bowed his head slightly. As I said, I've come here to learn. I require access to your archives, on a limited clearance I'm sure. I'd also like to have the chance to speak with a couple of your masters, and a chance to spar with one or two of your padawans. He could empathetically feel the hesitation in her. What he asked was a tall order, but he felt if was ever to become great, he needed this. I know it's a lot, but I promise you I will harm no one as long as they don't harm me. I will keep mostly to myself. (( I don't know why the text is larger in the last half. I can't seem to fix it. ))

Julio's eyes narrowed behind his cowl. The pretentiousness of some... Is that how the order is teaching you these days? Go straight to violence when a potential threat presents itself? What happened to a Jedi's love for life, or the Jedi's so called galaxy renown diplomacy? I haven't been here five minutes and you threaten to take my life just because I landed here? You don't know me or my motives, no matter how high and mighty you think you are. And thinking I came here for confrontation? You must think I'm stupid. Why would I come to a Jedi temple alone to kill? I'm a Sith, miss, not an idiot. Who's teaching your tactics classes? God. If you must know, I'm here to learn, much as you are. We may be on different paths, you and I, but really, who among us walk our very same path? Aren't all paths different? I'll ignore your death threat this once, but I will go about my business as planned unless someone of influence says otherwise. Now, take me to the Grand Master.

The Chameleon, cloaked as always, popped into the Ilum system with matched speed and subterfuge. Part of him worried about how the Jedi would react to the sudden appearance of an unmarked, unknown ship landing on their planet, but it didn't matter. If they were what they claimed to be, Julio had nothing to fear. Right now, they couldn't see the ship, though some of the more powerful masters would be able to pick up on his presence regardless of the ships advanced cloak system. Closer to the planet he turned off the cloak and began hailing procedures, moving ever closer to the Jedi base. Guardians of the light, this is Chameleon Captain Julz, acknowledging hail. I don't seem to be getting a response, so I'm landing anyway. Even if they responded, he'd pretend he didn't hear them and land anyway. They weren't going to tell him no until the could to it to his face. Or, they could blow him out of the sky, but that seemed rather harsh for Jedi. Landing neatly on the pat, the ship skidded a few feet as the landing gear found a patch of ice. What a horrible place for a base. It's so cold. You'd think if you were going to hide for extended periods of time, you'd do it in a place with a nice climate. For the first time in a long time, Julio took off his weapons, locking them in a chest on the ship, taking only Rose with him. Not really for protection, but more for comfort. Rose was always warm to the touch, no matter the room temperature. The unrelenting torrent of force weaving through the weapon was soothing at times. Julio positioned his cowl to hide a majority of his face as he walked down the boarding ramp. With a thought relayed through his neural implant, the door closed and locked. It was cold, so cold. He was glad he had exchanged those thin robes for the warm coat earlier. And it was far more elegant than the plain robes, and this was in some way a state visit. Hands clasped together in front of him, Julio began walking toward the temple interior.

The screens fade galaxy wide as the holonet is hacked, the signal relayed and encoded uncountable times. Death will never stop. Where it strikes next, I can't say. Learn to embrace it.Though the security on the source, those the message was aimed at would be more than capable enough to decipher the messenger's location.

What is greatness really? Is it the masses raising your name to the heavens, proclaiming your wisdom and superiority for all to hear? Is it fear and obedience from the very same mass, bending to your will for the shear sake of their own survival? Could it even be an idea housed solely within the mind of one's self, your own will and egotistical selfishness imposing your importance upon the world? No. It can not be any of these. If it were so, the kings would outnumber the pawns in the universe. So many powerful deeds go unheard of in the grand ear of the universe. The Jedi with their unwavering devotion towards the preservation of life alone would guarantee their greatness. And the Sith, with their less than humble stance on power would have imposed themselves into the great hall long ago. But in reality, very few are given the title of Great. Those that are are seldom talked of or even heard of, their deeds unnoticed, their wisdom lost from the world. So what does it mean to be great; to be a titan among men? It is this: surpassing the expectations of others, transcending even your own value of self worth, and to become truly knowing. This idea in itself is abstract enough to ween a vast majority of those wishing to become great out of the picture before even knowing their goals were set for it. Have no goals, no aspirations, to simply know. If only it were so easy.Within the small meditation chamber, Julio's mind had extended far beyond any time or place, and simply was. He had no aim, no direction, and for a moment, he knew what it was to be great. When he became aware of what he was, his baser sides joined him, wishing more greatness. The part of him that was great, if even for the fraction of a second, contested this, wishing only to remain as it was. When greatness, left him, Julio had but one desire. To once again know what it is to become great. A little part of him was saddened by this thought, for he knew the path he aspired to travel was far beyond his abilities. There was but one way to start down the path he chose, and that was to start knowing.

The clip of Corellia's destruction was both unsettling and awe inspiring. These...machines...had both the capability and resolve to impose their will on the galaxy. This was to be admired, if not some idiotic form of jealousy. Galactic destruction, though a grand and insidious goal, was not his goal. This will not do. Julio was surprised and slightly saddened his master released the Black sun operative. He had hoped there would be a new play thing in his future, but his master's plans surpassed his momentary gratification. At the moment, Julio just felt useless. Something able to destroy worlds was far beyond his capabilities. This was his master's fight. All he could do was obey, and pray his value was not forgotten.

It felt as if fire was coursing through his very veins, the unnaturally warm bacta on his skin in stark contrast, bringing the slightest of calm against the burn. At the return of his consciousness, the tank drained, allowing him to breath the dry, hermetically sealed air of med bay. He found his joints stiff, the bones swollen and bruised from the sudden trauma. Naked and slightly confused as per custom of black outs caused by blood loss, his first instinct was to search for clothes. After a brief excursion through med bay, Julio found everything he was looking for in a neatly folded stack on the table, his weapons lying in perfect symmetry next to the clothes. He looked through the neatly arranged pile of cloth, amused at level of thoughtfulness whichever of the master's men had expended in choosing the clothing on The Chameleon. Of the small wardrobe he carried with him on the ship, this was one of the few things he wanted to wear. The pants were long and flowing. At a glance it appeared to be a skirt of some sort. Only when the legs were contorted beyond the standard motions of walking was the separation of the material discernible. Running lengthwise down the right side were light red veins, similar to those on Rose. The primary advantage of the pants was the added mobility the extra room provided. The shirt was equally loose, the sleeves going just past the elbows. This too had a light red vein like pattern running lengthwise down the right side. The shoes were light in weight, the patted sole providing equal traction and silence. To complete the ensemble, Julio donned a massive coat made of some creature's thick hide. The coat was both long and wide, providing comfort much like the rest of his clothing while adding the always welcome ability of concealment. The collar ran long, half bent up to conceal and protect his neck, half bent down to show the slightly ornate trim, also a light shade of red veins. The outfit looked a bit much for an assassin, and in truth it was. Julio had originally bought the set on Coruscant while he waited for his ship's completion. It was intended for more formal occasions under the assumption that he wouldn't always be in battle. He had hoped there would be chances for him to practice his diplomacy, something he felt he was never strong in. Though he was sure he would get some questionable looks, Julio didn't care if anyone but his master objected to his choice in clothing. The rest of clothes had no longer suited him since his ascendancy to darkness, all brighter, heavier clothes, not at all suited for murder. His immediate need for concealment sated, Julio began putting his weapons back in their respective places as his mind began to recall the past events. He had...failed, both himself and his master. He was arrogant, assuming his strategy flawless. He had disregarded the possibility of possibilities and rushed into battle unprepared. How foolish. He didn't need his master's words to cut the painful lesson into his mind this time, though he expected it none the less. When it came time to put the ryyk blades in their place, he found he was missing one. The kerathorr was still with him, but the other was not among the rest of his possessions. He reflexively glanced around the room in the chance it had simply been misplaced, quickly realizing that wasn't the case. The ones that had picked up Julio wouldn't have left anything behind. If they had time to get both him and his ship back aboard his master's vessel, they would have brought the blade. He knew instantly what had happened. That pretentious bastard excuse for a warrior had taken it, probably as some trophy or for his own use. A flash of anger flew out of Julio as he punched the table in front of him, the crushgaunt making easy work of the soft metal. He turned to leave the med lab, eager to vent some anger in the training room before he met with his master. He wouldn't use the force as a crutch again. Instead he would begin to focus on his body's development. He had been so wrapped up in the idea of the body being merely a shell for the soul that he forgot the importance of it. Countless hours of meditation developed the mind and soul, yes, but at the same time his body had begun to weaken. What use is a bullet if the gun is in disrepair? Just before he made it far enough toward the door for it to open automatically, he stopped dead in his tracks. Whether it was the Force, fueled by his sudden self loathing, whispering cryptic warnings or simply his mind recalling memory vital to his survival, Julio suddenly remembered reading the specs on his master's ships during his training on Umbara. The entire ship was covered in poisonous red miasma, presumably to discourage the boarding of unwanted guests. The crew had either acclimated to the poison or wear some sort of rebreather. Julio began to search the medlab. Certain medlabs were equipped with rebreather for the doctors should they have to operate on a patient that breathed different forms of gas. A ship as large as his master's should be fully capable of such occurrences. He found half a dozen rebreathers in a drawer among several other medical utensils. He put one on and stuffed a spare in his pocket. Never could be too careful. Julio's anger had faded during the search. His mind had focused on something else, the feeling come and gone. He started heading toward the bridge, ready to face his punishment. Part of him wanted it to be swift or not at all, his mind trying to trick itself in thinking the failure wasn't his fault, but the other part was almost begging for the forthcoming lesson.

Shock and panic; two things everyone has to deal with but never truly become desensitized to. Once again this infamous pair bore their way through Julio's will and set themselves within the more primal parts of his mind as Canderous' hand clutched tightly around his. The fear came not from the possible forthcoming of pain and death, but from miscalculation and misdirection, something he wasn't used to being on the receiving end of. Julio's whole plan had revolved around the assumption that he had stripped this agent of his sight, thereby weakening him beyond hope of redemption. For whatever reason, regardless of his sight stricken and the infuriating concoction coursing through his overworked circulatory system, Canderous had managed to not only predict, but stop Julio's blow. The question was how? The creature before him was a Miraluka, this fact could not hide itself from Julio's grasp, and Miralukas saw through the force. This was something he was sure of. Did the rage the poison released in Canderous' mind unlock some form of bestial instinct of enhanced self preservation? Or was there something about Canderous he didn't notice, or the much more frightening possibility something about sentients as a whole Julio had overlooked? The uncertainty left Julio in an obscure self reflective state. The self imposed distractions proved to be too much for him as Canderous' fist tightened, sending Julio to his knees. "Forgive me, for i meant not to kill you with it, but merely for wounding purposes." Pieces of the puzzle that was all thing corporeal came together as the words were processed through the disarray of the assassin's mind. Whatever part of a human's mind that causes you to make random associations seemed to be working separate from the rest of the portions wrapped in self doubt and confusion as a new train of thought presented itself. So, does that mean he just wanted to incapacitate me beyond the point of being a threat? Maybe to toy with me? Perhaps even kill me in some undignified manner? That would mean he's fighting for amusement and not for his life, which means he thinks he's better than me. That pretentious mother... The discernibly aimless rant of thought was ended as Canderous' foot landed squarely against his chest. His tight grip on the mandalorian's pistol lessened as he fell back, the twisted metal gun landing with a dull thud to his right. With Canderous' hand released from his own, Julio reflexively opened his hand, letting the ryyk blade fall to his left. Julio's life flashed before his eyes as he stared up at Canderous, finding himself not looking into the eyes of his would be murderer like he had always assumed, but alternatively down the bottomless pit that was the barrel of a gun. The destruction of his home, the promises sealed with blood and hate, the trees of Kashyyyk, the sound of echoing footsteps as he embraced his destiny down the shadowed path, all present at once as he looked down that barrel. This is not your moment of escape. You promised, remember? Begrudgingly, he silently nodded, knowing all too well what was left to be done. The sealed oath made long ago gave him focus, meaning. He existed for revenge, his soul at constant unrest until vindication was his alone. Once again centered, he summoned what darkness his will would allow, the thirst for death rejuvenating him. With a burst of the force, he pivoted on his tail bone, his left leg kicking up and outward, pushing Canderous' left arm and the gun out of harms way as his torso and head moved to his own left. Continuing the momentum from the spin, his left foot planted as his body rose, spinning on the ball of his foot. A roar erupted from Julio as the dark side surged through his right arm. He completed the spin as he brought the balled fist of the mandalorian gauntlet around. Anything caught in the path was sure to be sundered. ((3. Contacting KvC now.))

For a moment, Julio saw only the bright blue of the sky. He fell with a dull thud as his body finished the spin Canderous' foot forced it into. He reflexively blinked, momentarily hiding his golden orbs from the world as snapped back into reality. All he could remember was pushing the mandalorian's blade away, then blue. Julio forced himself to stand, his head spinning and his jaw aching. That was twice now he had been struck hard in the head today, and if he didn't watch it, it'd start to get to him. For whatever reason, Canderous had decided to give him a moment to collect himself. Julio took the brief respite to actually observe his opponent. Where had he seen that sort of attack before? That flip was something only seen in a few choice martial arts. Ah yes, the Echani. Odd that he would know the tiers. The Echani weren't exactly known for spreading their art to strangers. What was he? Obviously, a Miraluka from the hair and eyes, but what connection did he have with them? Julio watched the warrior wipe the crimson fluid from his cheek. He had to make a slight effort to keep his face emotionless as he thought of the poison that would soon take effect. It was then that Julio finally understood the gravity of Canderous' species. They saw through the force. To him, Julio was just a black figure with a defined structure. Julio's mind left the pain of the world behind as he focused inward to his very essence. With each deep exhale, his opaque presence extended outward. He no longer let his body contain the concentrated power his training gifted him, instead letting the darkness within spread forth from the carnal shell. Julio stared into his opponent's doll like eyes. To Canderous, what was once a defined, dark figure was now an over inflated shadow stretching some three feet past it's previous bounds. As Canderous lunged again, Julio positioned himself for the attack, now watching his body as a whole instead of just the arms and shoulders. Julio turned sideways to show a smaller target, his gauntleted right arm leading his form. As the warrior's right arm shot up through what he perceived to be his opponent's torso, Julio bent back. He saw the sword fall from Canderous' grasp as he reached for the gun. As the slug thrower rose to take aim, Julio's right arm shot out, catching the gun at the top of the barrel. He squeezed tight, keeping the gun in place, if not pinching the barrel closed. I grace you with a fight and you insult me with this? Julio's left arm shot forward and up, his fist aiming for the uppercut while the ryyk blade aimed to cleave Canderous in half. ((2)) ((Here's the link to the Sith Poison the ryyk blade was coated in.))

Canderous came around the corner, sword in hand. Julio found his opponent's choice of weapon to be somewhat obscure. Mêlée combat wasn't normally a big thing in organizations such as Black Sun. They tended to be more shoot'em up than anything else. Black Sun hadn't been known for it's tactical prowess until recently, when Wartide took the reigns. Julio could surmise through all this that since the warrior started off with a blade instead of drawing guns on him, he at least knew how to use the weapon. Feeling the rush of the last kill, Julio breathed deep, closing his eyes. The physical realm was shut out as he focused on the omnipresence that was the Force. Canderous's heart was beating fast in contrast to Julio's. The Black Sun operative held no anger in his stride. It was as if it were just another battle to him. The idea was infuriating to say the least; having an opponent that didn't feel the fight was a special one. Bastard thought he was just another corpse in his way. Julio remained still as Canderous charged, eyes still closed, breathing slow and steadily. As the warrior lunged, Julio made his move. His gauntleted right arm rose. The two similar metals scrapped together as the blade ran between Julio's thumb and index finger. Inches before the tip of the sword would enter him and make his life that much more painful, the mechanical fingers of the crushgaunt closed shut, the added strength the gauntlet provided stopping the blade mid-thrust. Julio's left hand reached behind him, pulling his kerathorr ryyk blade from its sheath. His left leg stepped in as the crushgaunt bent the top half of Canderous' blade at a ninety degree angle. In the same fluid motion, Julio's left arm shot toward Canderous' face. Julio's actual fist was aimed at the mandalorian's jaw, but if it missed, or even connected for that matter, the blade would still be running dangerously close to his face. ((1))

Fueled by the dark tempest itself, Julio's movements were blurringly fast. Between the ryyk blade and crushgaunt, all but two of the blows were knocked away. Crosa had finally given over to his anger, his fear and pain quickly fading. This amused Julio to no end, as it was the very thing he himself was doing. Through shear insanity one blow from the weak excuse for a weapon struck him in the stomach. Julio stumbled back a few steps, the pain only reminding him of his goal. Blow after blow, the mandalorian kept up the fight. He's wounded. He'll tire soon. Another unexpected blow leveled him, Crosa quick to pin him to the ground. Julio's arms were too busy attempting to deflect the relentless strikes to manage a way out of the pin. Suddenly there was a pause. ”œYou may not know this, but you have taught me much in the ways of battle, such as don't underestimate your enemy. But, you have also brought much harm to me and the organization that I have devoted myself to. For that you must face death. Farewell, worthy opponent.”

((I don't particularly like it when people post my actions. I'll roll with it this time.)) It would appear Julio had given the mandalorian too little credit. He could, in fact, think clearly in a crisis, ripping the leaking fuel container off his armor, throwing it far enough it would be a small chore to get it back. Not that Julio would bother retrieving it. The fuel container had already fulfilled its use. The flaming warrior stood, stubborn enough to ignore his defeat. There was nothing left, no hope. He started towards the torch, lightsaber poised to finish the charade once and for all. Whether through courage, stupidity, or the horror being on fire can cause, Crosa summoned enough strength to charge. Julio positioned himself to cleave the man in half, missing his mark by mere inches. Instead of following through with the swing, Julio had to change his motion in mid swing to avoid being run over by the armored bull. Rose fell from his hand in the grapple as his attention was turned to avoiding the barrage of hay makers aiming to level him. He was able to slip his leg between them, planting his foot squarely on Crosa's chest. With one massive thrust, Crosa was once again thrown to the floor. Julio placed his palm on his slightly bruised jaw, a quick shove putting it back in it's place. Pain shot through his skull, his ears ringing from the relocation. He looked up just in time to spot the metal bar flying through the air, dodging out of the way just in time to avoid a broken nose. Anger started seething within him. The audacity of the whelp! Flailing his limbs like some...some...madclaw! And then the childish attempt at injuring him with the pipe! His feelings for the man moved from contempt and disdain to outright hatred. He was an animal and needed to be put down as such. He summoned Rose back to his hand, warm to the touch as always. He turned back to mandalorian, who was now making an attempt to flee. The fire had apparently consumed what was left of the fuel, leaving only the shell. Don't run! DON'T RUN!It was in these rare moments of unbridled hatred, of an uncontrollable hunger to extinguish life, did the dark side open itself up so clearly to Julio. Everything started to become more instinct than conscious thought. He even felt he could sense what the prey would do before even it did. He felt as if he could see...everything, and it only angered him further. Everything was wrong; everything was weak. His master's magnanimous presence in the sky above seemed to be the only think that brought some control to the storm. As the prey continued its futile attempt to thwart his intentions, Rose snapped alive, deflecting the hot plasma toward what little cover the prey took. Then there was a slight pause in the fire, and he could see it. The orb, gently resting in the desperate's hand, the near silent tick counting the moments until it ended life. It seemed like the prey wished to take its own life. No! His life is mine! Only when the prey started to move its hand in a throwing motion did he know the true intent. As it sailed through the air, Julio outstretched his gauntlet shrouded hand, dark tendrils of the force catching the grenade in flight. With a wave of his hand, the grenade was sent straight up, the explosion taking out a five meter radius of the hanger ceiling. The prey started firing again, forcing Julio to once again go on the defensive by deflecting the bolts. ENOUGH!The shout ripped through both the hanger and both of their minds. He stretched out once again, violently ripping the power cell hanging on the blaster's left clean from its chamber, landing some twenty meters to Julio's right. Rose's blade extinguished, returning to her place on his belt. Julio picked up the pipe lying not far behind him and tossed it back to the cowering prey. Julio summoned his ryyk blade back to his hand. His golden eyes burned alive with fury, his stare boring through the physical realm to the prey's very essence. ((3))

Julio couldn't help but sneer at himself as all six slugs missed their mark. He thought his aim was better than that. At such close proximity such failure would have been unheard of in the past. A silent self promise told him there would be many hours devoted to his marksmanship in the future. As his ryyk blade rose in its defensive position to his left, his opponent appeared to perceive it as the major threat, bringing his right hand in to intercept. Only too late did the mandalorian realize he identified the wrong threat, Julio's crushgaunt connecting squarely on the left side of his helmet, sending the unprepared punching bag to the hanger's cold stone floor, sliding several meters in the process. Julio paused for a moment, surprised his blow threw his opponent as far as it did. He knew the hit would be substantial, but throwing someone that distance? The agent got to his feet with haste, apparently completely unfazed by the near crushing of his skull or the small flight thereafter. Raising his E-11, the Mandalorian charged, letting loose half a dozen red bolts into the air. Enh, Shi- As quick as his force enhanced reflexes would allow, Julio raised his right arm in front of his face as he ducked low, strafing to his left in an attempt to avoid the searing hot plasma. One struck the crushgaunt on what would have been the back of his hand while a second grazed his right shoulder. The remaining three flew aimlessly past his head as he moved, silently cursing all blaster based weaponry. After recovering from the small volley, Julio was able to catch the end of the mandalorian's baseless acrobatics, now kneeling. My name is Crosa Hoverich, prepared to be torched. As Crosa spoke, Julio started to move, running at and to the left of his opponent. There was no reason for him to stand still and listen to the fool speak while he pointed a flamethrower at him. Julio was counting on two things. One, Crosa's vision would be obscured by the damage Julio's crushgaunt had done to his helmet, and two, the inferno erupting from Crosa's wrist would mask his movements to a degree. As effective as setting your opponent on fire is, the flame equally hides what you're trying to destroy. Mid charge, Julio found his right arm to be less than cooperative. The bolt had only been a graze, but even a graze of superheated gas had the capability to do rather extensive damage. The limb could move, but not as fast or as strongly as he wished. To add to the damage, the left side of Julio's cloak had caught fire. Feet from the crouching mandalorian, he painfully rolled his right shoulder back, letting the cloak fall off his arm to hang limp on his left shoulder. He stepped in, now face to face with Crosa. The hellfire that was his left arm shot forward, still clutching his precious ryyk blade. The blade slid ever so gently between them, severing the line providing the precious liquid to the flamethrower, showering Crosa's left torso and back in the flammable substance. In the same thrust, Julio's cloak slid down his left arm, throwing itself over Crosa's right arm and shoulder, spreading the fire to it's original creator. Continuing the lunge, Julio buried his left shoulder into the kneeling warrior's helmet, a sizable force push throwing him back several meters. He released his ryyk blade so the cloak wouldn't catch at his wrist as the human torch flew. He removed Rose from her place on his belt to fill his now free left hand, the rich crimson light casting a malevolent glow on his uncovered face. He stood back, waiting to see if the fuel coating his battered foe would spread and potentially explode. Julio chuckled at the thought as he watched the fire rage on. ((2))

Standing with his arms clasped in front of him, Julio waited. Much to his pleasure, it was only a matter of time before his prey had chosen to come to him. The Black Sun agent had an aura of righteous arrogance about him, as if his natural superiority should have been enough to make Julio cower. It was actually amusing to a degree. Certainly Julio felt just as superior as the agent, but he made a point of trying not to show it. He took a moment to observe his surroundings, taking note of the spacious hanger, rather what was left of it. Before his opponent had a chance to start throwing hot plasma in the air, he introduced himself. Before we start, let's make this formal, shall we? My name is Julio.He tilted his head up just enough to let the hanger's light show the bottom half of his face beneath his robe's dark cowl, revealing his closely becoming trademark grin. His auriferous orbs scoured his foe, taking note of what he had at his disposal. The armor was archaic to say the least. One not used for thousands of years, though the color scheme was something to be admired. The small flamethrower on the wrist wasn't a common weapon, but it wasn't unheard of in Mandalorians. The four thermals at his waist and the E-11 in his hands seemed to be the extent of his arsenal. Pity. And I thought I picked a worthy adversary. He flexed the fingers in his right hand, the crushgaunt responding like it was a natural extension of his arm. He was still trying to get used to the feel of the thing. His mind bounced back and forth, trying to decide which route to take. So many ways to deliver death, yet so little did it matter. They were about eight meters apart; just enough room to start the firefight the Black Sun agent had no choice to resort to. The thermals would prove almost useless in such close proximity. The only real option was to get in close, take away what little advantage his weapons offered. Deep breath, exhale. Close out the world, follow the currents. A tide of darkness washes over, engulfing all within. Envelop me the night, lost am I in the torrent. Wreathed in dark energy, a sinister toll brought him from his statuesque state. In one fluid action Julio's left hand shot up, reaching within the folds of his cloak to reveal a slugthrower. With inhuman speed Julio squeezed off half a dozen rounds at his opponent as he charged forward, ignoring whatever may be coming his way. Three meters between them, he dropped the firearm as he drew his Kerathorr Ryyk Blade. His left hand brought the blade high enough to intercept a blow coming to his left side, simultaneously bringing his crushgaunt shrouded right arm around to connect with the left side of his opponent's helmet. ((3 Post Modded Duel. Dagon Mods, if that's okay with you.)) ((1))

Julio stood on the ramp as his master left to his own devices. He looked past the physical realm of the shattered base to the force, observing the scattering life as it focused only on self preservation. Pathetic. Even the famed associates of the Black Sun fled instead of defending what was theres. The thought of such cowardice left a sour taste in Julio's mouth as he boarded his ship once again. They would stand and fight, even if he had to break their knees to do it. His ship broke gravity's grasp as it sped back toward the battle overhead. Once again weaving through the chaos, he pushed aside conscious thought and relied on the force to choose his targets. One by one he passed over the fighters as if they were protected by lamb's blood. One seemed to stand out from the rest, doing far better against his master's fighters than the rest. Julio serpentined through what little resistance the shattered organization committed until coming to his mark ((Canderous)). A few quick shot to his ship's thruster's and the Black Sun associate was sent in a possibly fiery death somewhere on the planet's surface. Julio picked his next target ((Corsa)) and tagged the hull with a few glancing shots before returning to the planet's surface. Hopefully one of the two would prove to give a legitimate fight outside of a dogfight. Which one shall sate the hunger? I suppose we shall see.

Vivid flashes of reds and greens; gone as soon as they came and with them resonating power, nowhere near contained by the fragile rock and brittle metal taking the brunt of the assault. Screams; terrible and brilliant in their own regard thickened the air around him. As he stood still, watching chaos blossom in it's unkempt beauty, Julio could feel only hopeless. A familiar figure stood in the distance, waving him closer as bits of rock curtained the air, light grey dust flowing in no predictable pattern. He had been here before. The day oh so long ago carved into his memory, taking residence right behind his eyes, always present, always whispering. The woman in the distance grew more worried by the second, her face begging him to come closer. As he started to run toward her, the hall stretched onward, a disorienting haze rushing in to engulf him. Time seemed to slow. The faster he tried to run, the slower he seemed to go. With a loud crack, the scene changed, the much younger Julio now holding on to the upper half of his mother, horrible burns covering her from head to mangled waist. God...Her eyes lacked the glow of life, now dull and glazed over. Julio's own golden eyes shone back in mocking perversion, showing his grief only through what little tears his wounded body would allow. Bone chilling laughter cut through the mournful whispers of the dead, a cold click of metal on metal rising above all other distractions. Julio tilted his head to the side to catching the image of a nearly pitch black figure shrouded in a crimson coat, gun pointed right at the the cowering youth. With a wolfish grin the figure squeezed the trigger and Julio's eyes snapped open. Now he was staring out the window of his ship. The screens showed it was Selvaris. The dream was still fresh in his mind. It was the day his parents had died, a memory still painful for him, though why he couldn't figure out. The memory burned behind his eyes and was quick to anger him. To be hurt by the past was a weak thing. The past was there to teach, nothing more. With his anger came focus, and with it a familiar presence. He scanned the console and the scene, assessing the situation as best as he could. His master's ship was deploying ships and firing on the planet while ships from the planet came forth to intercept. Excellent. It would seem I wake up to a battle. Without word to his master, Julio began dialing in commands, his twin slug throwers answering his summon from their resting place, landing neatly on his lap. He strapped the holsters under his robe then checked Rose. Weapons in order, he brought the ship into a deep dive. Mid descent, he turned the ship's cloak on, firing on enemy ships as they crossed paths. Faster and faster the ship fell towards the planet, weaving in and out of enemy ships and debris.

The room continued to bear itself to him as the pair entered. Their presence added to the complexity of the chamber, changing the tides of the dark current flowing throughout. Julio felt his heart skip a beat as they entered, but stayed still upon noticing his master hadn't moved. If he remained still, then there was either nothing to fear, or death would be his to deal or meet soon enough. As the pair began to divide between master and apprentice, their auras betrayed them; they're murderous intent worn like banners around their necks. He waited until the man was standing behind him to act. He called Rose to his right hand as he sat in silence, his frame hiding the lightsaber from his would be killer. As he strained his ears to pull out the hum specific to his assailant, he continued to feel the room and everything in it. As the vibrating blade came crashing down, Julio called the dark currents of the room to his aid. The flow of the room shifted at his command, pushing the descending blade hard to the left. The tight grip didn't break as the dark source persuaded it to the left, twisting his torso with it. The unexpected twist would surely put the man off balance to some degree, so Julio seized the opportunity. He lit his lightsaber, swinging it in a wide backward arc as he rolled back and to the left, closer to his opponent, the blade aiming for the commonly ill armored portion of the left knee.

Echoes, in all their boundless obscurity, ran rampant through the clarity he worked so hard to maintain. History unfolded itself before him, begging to retell its lessons. The concept of now, or what currently is, took off its cowl to express the full extent of its intricacy, and what would be showed itself to be an endless pattern of what ifs and maybes that could never truly be answered. All these and more unfolded themselves at once inside the quickly overheated cranium of the untried, as he was called. He grabbed at particular things as an infant at a mobile, his mind grabbing nothingness with its stubby little fingers. When he finally grasped the ability to focus on particular thing, it was as if he were trying to hold onto sand. ”œDo not be fooled, the emotions that run rampant in your head are sheer allusions to upset focus. Contest them, conquer them, and try to feel the atmosphere around you with your mind alone. Unfasten your raw senses to the scent of the darkness, the elements of this fortress; through your mind, there is no boundary.”

Julio walked softly upon the hallow surface of the meditation chamber. His head held low, he offered up every ounce of formality he could to such a room. He took special note of the silver runes covering the wall, the strong presence of the dark side twisting the silver color to an array of different hues, all darker and unforgiving than the last. Ignoring his childish urge to further inspect the runes for their meaning and what power laid behind them, Julio took a seat opposed to his master. He felt somewhat lacking as his robes where old and scarred from battle, while his master wore rather ornate robes, an odd contrast to his form but suiting to the situation none the less. The dark side was strong in this room. The energies in the room flowed about unrestrained and for the first time since his awakening, he didn't have to listen for them, rather they were easy to hear. Even a novice like him could feel the power this room held. ”œSit, focus, and reflect. It is this that power will be drawn from; to shut your physical eyes from reality and open your mind to the world around you. You will be blind at first, but like a newborn you will evolve and your mind will fight these limitations in order to transcend the darkness. Sit down and suffer a world anew.”

Julio walked a distance behind his master, his body still weary from the previous experience. When the pair came to what seemed like a dead end, he stopped. There was something here. It wouldn't be like his lord to get lost. He stood patiently in mild curiosity as events unfolded. As the stone wall erupted upwards, Julio tensed himself, readying for the unexpected. Even as tired as his body was, his mind attempted to always stay alert, especially around Exodus. A gust picked up within the tunnels, sending Julio to the floor. When the wind passed, he pulled himself to his feet, not wanting to look stupid as it hadn't moved his master an inch. A familiar voice arose from in front of Exodus, one Julio had not heard for a while. He couldn't place it, but he was sure he had encountered it before. The face, the stance, it was all somewhere in his past but he simply could not remember the man. He listened to the brief exchange between the two men, noting his master's comment on the meditation chamber. That sounded nice, a reprieve from the world, a chance at rest. He soon cursed his body for it's weakness. His body was fine, as his mind was perfectly willing to remind it until it finally bowed in submission. "Furion. We shall start from the bottom and build up. You will know where to find me." Julio took that as a sign that he had time to himself, should he require it. He pushed the idea of rest from his mind as he walked to the meditation chamber. His mind was excited enough to continue to make up for his body's weariness. He arrived to the room not long after his master, slowing his pace to give Exodus any time needed should any additional preparations be needed.

The consuming sickness coursing through his body vanished instantaneously, as if were never there. He obeyed the command to stand, his mind and body feeling somewhat numb from the struggle. Had it all been in his head, or some manipulation the unwavering figure before him had concocted as some form of test against his will? Regardless, the eyes of his master betrayed nothing. He spoke of belief. Was that how the force was commanded, because you believed you could? So far, Julio had commanded the force because he knew it would work. There was no thought devoted to the possibility of it failing, it simply worked. In a way knowing is believing. It was odd for him to consider himself a believer. Did believing make it true? His mind was weary of all the questions. He just wanted silence for a moment to think, but the echoes refused to settle. Vision beyond the physical realm began to take over, scenes he had not witnessed began gaining corporeal mass in his mind. The heat of battle spread through his body, oddly refreshing as it contrasted the cold floor. Frame by frame, second by second, he saw through his master's eyes yet again. The gruesome mosaic he presented began to take on more essence as he found himself surrounded by more and more death. With the death of his brothers, it seemed all inhibitions fell. Even the mortal coil couldn't keep him from rising above the insurmountable disparity surrounding him. Each death acted as a stare step, raising him like Icarus beyond reality. When his morbid wings could take him no farther, Transcendence itself what was there to help breach the gap. For a moment, he could almost see it. The feeling of absolution, always out of reach. Julio's eyes fluttered, and the vision passed. As a virgin cheated, he felt robbed. There was more, and it was gone from him. "Show me this."

He collapsed to the cold stone ground, his limbs instinctively pulling themselves close for protection. As affliction set in his muscles tensed in protest. His head turned just enough to see Exodus' face, his animal like golden eyes seething with pain and anger as he stared into the nothingness that was Exodus. This couldn't be his end. It wouldn't. The poisons struck a new nerve and his body convulsed. His jaws clinched tighter to avoid crying out, the pain rising as control faded. Memories began to blend together and conscious thought became harder and harder to command. The looming figure before him continued to stare down, not offering up parting words nor advise, only a question. ”œ”¦ Then how will you face death?”

The word was could almost be felt, the disdain adding chill to the cool air of the cavern. The question had bounds of depth Julio wouldn't have even been able to search through before he came to this planet. Did his master know the volumes he had already taught him? Did it even matter if he did? Would the conversation been different if he had reached his elevation through traditional methods, with the two of them spending countless hours in such a setting, weighing the galaxy around them. Probably not. He had seen the training the Dark Lady had received, and their master had been the same then and now. Distant, uncaring, power in his words but little emotion behind it. Julio found himself shrugging the perplexity off for another, the one fresh in his ears. Immortality. Was that his goal? Ever since he started on the path Exodus laid before him the only thing in his mind was the promised power. At first he wanted it to defeat his enemies, but even that faded as he delved further in his studies. He then wanted his enemies to fear him, wiping away the idea of battle in favor of veiled power, but again this was dismissed. What he truly sought was to see his will carried out. To do what he wished, when he wish, and none with the capability to stop him. Carnal pleasures were nothing to be desired, as they were momentary and only left you with a deeper lust. "Immortality and death are ultimately the only two paths anyone has laid before them. Considering my options, immortality seems like the natural choice." His face was sullen as he stared into shadows. There were so many echoes bouncing around inside his head. Some of them easily understood, conveying lessons he learned long ago. But there were others that flew around that made little sense. They were annoying to no end. They were in a language he could understand, and if he listened carefully he could pick up half a word or even a small phrase, but in the end it always seemed beyond him. As if it were on the tip of his tongue.

As he got closer to his assigned destination, he was certain of the presence. His master had returned from the realm of the fallen. Had it been anyone else, Julio would have found this to a monumental event, but as it was Exodus, he expected nothing less. Leaving your body in an ashen ruin in a war torn base, only to be found with an audience with the Dark Lord on a completely different planet wasn't that far of a stretch for the man. Exodus left Dominique alone in the room, both figures with substantially heavier hearts than when he had seen them last. Did either make any strides? Was the charade to continue on as it always had? Julio pushed these thoughts from his mind as he greeted his risen master. "It would seem you've proven to be Azrael's most elusive prey." He found his place flanking the titan, keeping stride as they walked to what Julio could only assume to be the hanger. He seemed similar, but something had definitely changed, for better or worse, he didn't know. "My ship is ready to depart at your leisure."