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Dahar Raikanda

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About Dahar Raikanda

  • Birthday 05/17/1986
  1. Dahar woke up in a startled fashion from the dream he just had. Things were all jumbled together, all the power players in his life spinning in a torrent, but he was nowhere to be found. It seemed as if he had excommunicated himself from the galaxy. But why? He took a deep breath, almost as a reflex, and beckoned the Force to nourish him. Having spent decades as a servant of the Force Dahar knew it inside and out. Suddenly the Dark Side came swirling into his being. He had opened the floodgates a few months ago and now it came to him on command. The visions in his head calmed and reality quickly rushed to him. He turned over in his bed to see the beautiful blonde hair of his apprentice, Allison. She sluggishly turned to him, put her hand on his face and asked, "Is everything alright, Atlas?" The Force swirled through him at the mention of his new name. Yes, this was who he was, and this was where he was supposed to be. Call it mental illness, or perhaps some sort of brain aneurism, but he was a different man than he was before. Often the voices and visions would lie to him. They reminded him of how his friends has betrayed him, how his own mentor tried to kill him. Atlas believed these things and over the past few months had learned to harness his anger. The Dark Side had awakened him to new ideas and new abilities. His trip to Korriban had strengthened him. "Everything is fine, my love, get me a cup of water, would you?" Allison leaned over and kissed his neck before she got out of bed and went into the other room for water. Atlas sat up and looked at his surroundings. He was home. The humble hut that he had spent years in before was now the base of his new operations. He looked out the window to see his children scurrying about the yard. Atlas was teaching all of them, honing all of their force abilities, and opening their eyes to new truths. "Live! Love! Burn! Die!" he shouted out his window to the younglings preparing for their day. "Live! Love! Burn! Die!" A group of students responded with a raised fist towards Atlas. He had no need for the Jedi anymore. He trusted his friend Sheog but that was the only real connection he had to the Sith. No friends, no enemies, nothing to do except exist. The Dark Side, the Light, he allowed both of them to pour through him and taught his students to do the same. They no longer looked at him as a Jedi Master, but as their father. The Family was strong, focused, and Atlas still made an effort to produce medicine for the nearby village. Allison returned to him with the cup of water. She sat down next to him on the bed, looking out the window. Allison was his most prized student, the only one he would call apprentice. Someday when his inevitable non-existence came to be he hoped that she would continue the Family. "Master, I love this place, thank you for bringing us here." she laid her head down on his shoulder and let out a deep exhale. "Remember, everything is temporary." He looked deep into her eyes, "Live. Love. Burn. Die." She gazed back, as if speaking to his soul, "Live. Love. Burn. Die."
  2. Allison scurried back to her room completely oblivious of what was going on around her. Many of the heavier presences had left Korriban. The Dark Side still hung over the planet but the oppressive signatures of the Sith Masters had shrunken. She tried to remember her breathing exercises as she rushed back to the slave quarters. Her friends were happy to see her. After all, when a Jedi child was summoned by the Sith they often did not return. But Allison had returned and brought a surprising tale to her fellow padawans of how the Jedi Grandmaster had come to save them. There were more than a few dozen of them, 44 to be specific, and they listened with eager hope to news of their potential rescue. --- It was a few days before the heroic Master Dahar finally came for them. He was led in by two armed guards who departed after his arrival. It was now only Jedi in the room, although he didn't look much like a Jedi anymore. His face had taken the tint that Sith so often develop, and his cloak wasn't one of the Jedi, but jet black with crimson red trimmings. After he knew the guards were out of ear-shot he crouched down and beckoned the children around him. "My dear, dear children. I'm so sorry it's taken me this long to get to you. I had to make them think I had come to switch sides. But I promise you, I will get you out of here." Allison stood by his side, attempting to press herself into an apprentice-type role. Even in these circumstances she knew what happened to padawans who were never picked up by a master. "As I explained to Allison, your captors have fitted you all with explosive devices set to detonate if you leave. Normally this would make escape impossible. However, I have discovered an old friend working here for the Sith, a scientist who owes me a life-debt. His loyalty is without question, and he is going to help us. I will be bringing you one by one to see him and remove the explosives." The children gazed at him with reverence. He had become their savior from certain death. Over the course of that day he did as he said he would, bringing each one personally to visit the scientist Lord Ishmeicitty. One at a time the children were anesthetized under the guise of surgical explosive removal. Each child left the science wing with some minor stomach pain and the confidence that they'd be able to escape. Each child also left the science wing with an abdomen full of remote explosives. The last child to go with him was Allison. As he accompanied her to surgery they talked, "Allison, you've been so brave through all of this. You will make a strong Jedi Knight someday. When we return to Tython I am going to take you as my own apprentice." Those carefully crafted words solidified her unyielding loyalty to him. Not only had he saved her from the Sith Hutt but now he would give her a life as a Jedi. In the operation room Atlas stood over her as Ishmeicitty prepared the young girl's surgery. "Is this the last one, Master Atlas? "Yes. But the explosives won't be necessary with her. A simple tracking device will do. And..." Atlas moved a finger to her face, pushing up her lip to expose a few teeth. Such a pretty little mouth he thought to himself. "A thorough teeth cleaning..." --- It was the day after their collective surgeries that Atlas returned for the final time. The temple was beginning to clear out as Sith forces, Lords, and Masters were being called away for something of no concern to him. He entered again with two armed guards, this time they remained. They stood for a moment behind the Force Master but then with a clench of his fists they both grabbed at their necks. It took only moments for them to pass out from lack of oxygen. "Come children! This is our only chance. Follow me, and quietly!" The group journeyed surprisingly undisturbed from their holding place to a hangar. A transport ship waited in the seemingly abandoned bay. Atlas ushered the children into the cargo hold. He informed them that they'd need to hide there for the short journey back to Tython in order for him to be able to successfully steal the ship. He shut the door with force and quietly walked over to the hangar's entrance. The two guards he had seemingly incapacitated appeared from around the corner. "I am aware that your master, Lord Sheog, has been called away on business. Inform him that I have left with my tools. The ship will be making a series of carefully calculated hyper-jumps. Be sure to trace me with the utmost detail and upload the path into your database as soon as I reach my destination. You can tell Sheog it's a token of my gratitude for his... hospitality." The guards bowed as Atlas walked back to the ship. He entered through the main door and soon found himself at the helm. The ship exited the hangar, the atmosphere, and then blasted into hyperspace.
  3. Dahar left the room with his new acquaintance and began to traverse the halls of the temple. His Jedi robes normally would have drawn attention, although his growing Dark Side presence combined with Sheog's protection allowed him to move about freely. He reflected on everything he had seen. Originally the disgruntled Grandmaster had come here under the promise of fun. That was the word Sheog had used. Yes, the feast was fun. It was also fun for Dahar to learn of his fondness of fine teeth. He glanced down at the young female padawan walking with him. She certainly had... pretty teeth. He wondered if perhaps a girl of twelve was too young to have these thoughts about. Irrelevant, he was having fun here. But it seemed to him that Sheog was the only one out of the Sith who knew how to have a good time. The other Sith reminded him all too well of his former Jedi companions. They all took themselves very seriously. They demanded respect, and bowing, and silence. It reminded him of the royal families back on Adumar. It was something he had left behind because he didn't want a part of it back then, and it was the same reason he had left the Jedi. Dogma. The Jedi Order, the Sith Order. Order, order, ORDER. It seemed that none of these Force wielding sects appreciated that the galaxy was nothing but chaos. Even death was an illusion, only claiming those who didn't know how to hold on to life after their bodies had perished. But Dahar knew how. And now, in the realm of those mad scientists that he had heard of who worked for the Sith, he would be even better equipped for immortality. His first pressing order of business was what to do with the girl. Sheog had instructed him to use her and he didn't want to disappoint his host. The girl had memories of him as a Jedi, as a respected Master of her Order, and he was going to use those memories to achieve his goals. The two walked the halls and conversed. "You know who I am, don't you child?" "Yes..." the girl spoke, still choking back the terror in her voice, "I know who you are." "Do you know why I am here?" The thought had certainly crossed her mind as this was no place for a Jedi Master to be. "No." Dahar let out a fake sigh, as if she had failed some sort of test. With the disappointment of a Jedi teacher in his tone he asked, "What is your name, padawan?" "Allison," she managed to choke out, "Allison Gold." "Allison, I am here to complete a mission. One of the young Jedi you have been imprisoned with has managed to escape, to return to the council, and to inform us of your captivity." In truth there had been no escaped Jedi, in fact, Dahar wasn't completely sure there were other padawans here. But it seemed unlikely that the Lord of Gluttony would bother to steal only one Jedi padawan. "I've uncovered information disguised as a guest of the Sith. Each of you has a tracking device implanted in your spine that will explode if you try and escape. We need to remove those first before we do anything else. Go back to your friends and tell them that I am here and to be ready soon." It was a bit of a stretch to believe even for a child. Dahar didn't even bother to explain the plothole of the escapee not exploding. But the effort it took for an experienced Master of the Force to influence the mind of a young padawan was minimal. She believed him, and scurried off, not even questioning why she was being allowed to return un-escorted to her holding area. ----------------------------------- Dahar continued on alone. Lies and deceptions had never been tools of the Jedi, but they were very easy to use and yielded impressive results. Such was the way of the Dark Side; quick, powerful. With a bit more walking he arrived at the science wing. After consulting with a droid at the desk an old man came shuffling out. His age seemed unnatural. He was a human well over one-hundred but still carried himself with determination. His eyes carried the taint of a Sith Master who had been relying purely on the Dark Side for a lifetime. "My name is Lord England Ishmeicitty. I am the director of this laboratory. Lord Sheog informed me that you would be coming. How can I help you, Master Jedi?" he said the word "Jedi" with the respect that he would offer an equal but the disdain he held for his most hated enemy. The word wounded Dahar the same way. "That title means nothing to me anymore. Please, just call me..." Dahar thought for a moment. You know what they say about first impressions, "...Atlas." It rolled smoothly off his tongue. He liked it. A small but noticeable shift took place deep in his being. He had left behind his old identify marking the first step in a true transformation. The Force approved. He felt the Dark Side stronger than ever before. It was opening up to him, allowing him entry to a world of power that he had only glimpsed before. The energy swirled around him and passed through every breath. It took root in his hatred. His loathing for his former brothers was so strong that he had now denied his old self. The Dark Side gave its blessing. "I am in need of your expertise, Lord Ishmeicitty. I am planning an extremely dangerous mission with a large chance that this body I carry may not return. I don't plan on waking up in one of the many Jedi cloning facilities that hold vessels for me, I would like to wake up here. But..." Atlas's imagination started to light up. He knew of the many horrors Sith scientists were able to fashion. "Well, I'd like to leave the details up to you. This is your field of expertise, your artwork, and I'd like my new body to be your canvas. Keep it similar, if you can. I'd like to look myself. But see if you can make it a bit more resilient. You know, imbue it with the Dark Side and stuff like that." Lord Ishmeicitty cracked a wicked smile. He loved an unrestricted opportunity to do something unholy and unnatural. "Master... Atlas. I do have to warn you that this process will alter your midichlorians in a way that calling on the Light Side, as I can sense you still do from time to time, will become much more difficult. There has to be some balance and if you want a body forged in the flames of Darkness you can't expect to be a friend of the Light." Atlas nodded, "That will be fine, my friend. I believe we are on the same page." Ishmeicitty took a sample from Atlas and gave it to the droid to bring into the lab. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" With a simple blink Atlas's eyes made a Skywalkerian change from brown to a deep sickly yellow. It was the first physical manifestation of the Dark Side taking hold of the former Jedi Master. "Yes... do you have any experience with children?"
  4. It was becoming obvious to the Jedi Master that Sith-y things were happening that didn't have much to do with him. Sheog had presented him with a task, perhaps a way for him to prove himself to his new... friends. And he was going to have some fun with it. He retracted his blade and the young padawan let out a barely audible sigh of relief. He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "Come with me, child, I will get you out of here." He said this with the most sincere Jedi-like tone he could muster. He still wore a holocron of light around his neck which aided in giving the illusion of good in him and masking the growing darkness. It singed his skin each time he dipped further away from the light, and he embraced the pain as a sign of positive change. He addressed the Hutt in a tone implying that he was attempting to relieve the burden of his presence and leave the Sith to his Sith business. "Understood, Lord Sheog. If you would be so kind as to allow me access to some of your temple's armaments and science engineers, to whom I would insist report my workings back to you, I would be most gracious. You know how to reach me on comm if you need me." The ever-darkening Jedi bowed to his host, also turning and bowing to the new arrivals whom he didn't know, but assumed that he should. It seemed to him that tradition and respect were important to these people and he had no reason to be of aggravation. He put his hand on the padawan's shoulder, using every bit of his energy to muster up some of the lightness left in him to comfort her. Soon she would think his actions had all been a charade and that he was here in secret to save her.
  5. Dahar watched the little girl enter the room and stand in fear of the Hutt lord. He mulled over Sheog's question. What was it that the Jedi deserved to be punished for? In Dahar's mind it was their failures. As a Jedi he had tried to bring some stability to the galaxy by pushing to eliminate those that would bring chaos. But the Jedi refused to do anything, inaction was their sin. But he had also come to realize his own faults, the main one being an assumption that stability was possible, or even worth striving for. The little girl looked from the Hutt over to the former Grandmaster. "Master Dahar?" His name was all she was able to muster through her tears and fear. Hearing it pierced him as if it were a deep insult. Her recognition of who he used to be was salt on the wound of his past as a slave to the Order. He had commanded the Jedi yet was always their prisoner. Perhaps in time he would find a different name... "I did indeed, although it was in the interest of achieving a goal. That goal being penetrating the very heart of the Order itself. And I can no longer see any reason to let things get in the way of my goals. But this," Dahar motioned at the girl, "I see no point in this." Although he had served the Jedi faithfully there had been a great number of years where Dahar had gone off on his own. In that time he learned from the man whom was both Aryian Darkfire and Darth Ares. The Grey Hermit had shown him a few special tricks about bending the Force in unnatural ways to fulfill a need... Dahar looked into the girl and she suddenly became very cold. Visible goosebumps appeared on her skin and her face turned a slightly paler shade. The molecules around her were slowing down and she became almost stuck in place. In contrast to her body, her mind was beginning to stir. Her thoughts sped up, and enhanced by Dahar, she began to see the Force through the power that the Jedi Master had donated to her. She could see her past in clear detail and could glimpse a small picture of herself in the future. She was taller, stronger, with her very own lightsaber. She was beautiful, the woman she had always wanted to grow into. Her padawan braid was gone and she wore the garb of a Jedi Knight. It was everything she dreamed of being some day. With a blink of his eyes Dahar brought her visions to an end, leaving her with only blackness. For a moment she couldn't even see where she was. Her vision returned and so did reality. She would not grow up, never become a Jedi Knight, she would most likely die in this place. Pure terror overtook her as she stood motionless and chilled. Dahar looked at his Sith friend. Sheog, being a Master of the Dark Side, would surely feel in detail what Dahar had done to her. "The goal of that demonstration was to give you a glimpse of the means I am willing to justify in order to achieve my ends. Killing thousands of them would demonstrate to the Jedi just how weak they are and how powerful of an adversary I will become to them." Dahar released the girl from his mental hold. She fell to her knees and gasped for air. "But killing the young and defenseless purely for the sake of it, well I just don't see the point in it." The girl stood up, relieved to be able to slowly gather her wits back together. But she froze in motion when she heard the ignition and hiss of Dahar's amethyst lightsaber blade holding just inches from her ear. "Unless you can tell me the goal achieved in killing her, in which case..."
  6. The soon-to-be ex-Jedi thought hard about what the Sith was telling him. Had the rest of the Galaxy always known about the Jedi's lack of action? How had he not seen it himself after all those years? Surely he had been in battles, done things, but it was always in reaction to something else. It seemed to Dahar that the Jedi only acted when forced to. He was done sitting around in a meditation chamber. "The Jedi Code has become to me an unwanted bondage. I want to be free of those chains. I don't want to have to consult a committee every time I want to make a move. You are right, they are stagnant. I would like to do something about it. Perhaps teach them what happens when you sit and wait." Dahar considered his words. "Actually, no, I don't want to teach them anything. I want to punish them." "If the plot to take my life was truly handed down from the top then the rest of the Order may not be aware of it." In actuality nobody had tried to take Dahar's life. He had left Kirlocca, a heartbroken Wookiee, in disbelief of his resignation. But reality was irrelevant because in Dahar's fractured mind, the part that had taken over his body, the Jedi had betrayed him. "I may be able to obliterate one target before I publicly become Jedi Enemy #1. Truthfully the Order is in disarray, that is why they betrayed me when I tried to fix things. There wouldn't be much tactical advantage to one spot over another. However, there is one place that is central to the figurative heart of the Jedi Order. It was the birthplace of the Jedi and home to the very first Jedi Temple. It's still where younglings go to train and Jedi go to refresh and regroup..." Dahar edged toward his Hutt host. "What's in it for me? I'll help you penetrate the very heart of the Jedi Order... in return I want to learn the ways of the Dark Side."
  7. Dahar joined Sheog in the smoking activity. It wasn't something he was accustomed to but he was reminded of the old adage, "When in Korriban, do as the Korribianians." It was only recently that he had begun to drink on occasion, and the calming effects of the device was new to him. He obviously didn't have the body mass to take the same size puffs as the Hutt, but he took little inhales, enough to get a taste of it. "Well, Sheog, in your original message you told me the Dark Side was more fun. It may sound childish, but I've had very little fun as of late. Being the Grandmaster certainly wasn't fun. It was the opposite. It became painfully clearly to me that the Jedi were useless. At first I thought you," Dahar motioned to Sheog and the entire temple, "the Sith, were the problem in the galaxy. But now I realize the true enemy... to all of us... is stagnation. Just like water sitting in a pond, the Jedi are rotting and festering. Balance be damned, the Force can balance itself, I want to do things." Dahar took another deep inhale and allowed both the smoke and the Force to flow through him. With the ysalamari gone his wits were becoming increasingly sharp. "Well, that and the fact that the Order tried to assassinate me."
  8. Dahar picked a bit at a bowl of pudding. The Sith certainly had better food, that was for sure. It was as if the Jedi Order, in a stuffy meeting room somewhere a millennia ago, had banned flavor. The sugary taste dissolved on his tongue heightening his awareness of the possibility flesh pleasures could bring. He thought for a brief moment about how awesome it would be to see that pretty dancer girl that had escorted him licking some of the pudding off her sparkly white teeth. He shuddered in ecstasy at the thought. Seeing as he didn't really have anything to contribute to the conversation he continued to eat, biting into a soft candy. If it weren't for the food he would probably be getting bored and starting to question his decision to come out of his month-long retirement and journey to Korriban... But the Hutt Lord sure knew how to rock a feast.
  9. Dahar was starting to get a little bit of a feel of who was who at the party. The angry dude who called him a worm seemed to be the higher ranking of the group. It was a bit of a cliche insult, "Jedi Worm" being the number two most popular insult on the holowebsite Galactic Buzzfeed's "Top 10 Slurs For Jedi", but he let it slide. Truthfully nothing had any effect on him anymore. The Jedi had nearly completely lost his mind. The original Dahar, the kind-of balanced and sensible Dahar, had been snuffed out by this new, senseless Dahar, who just wanted to randomly go places and do whatever. So, along with the madness, came a complete and utter lack of regard for his own safety. It just didn't matter to him anymore what situations might be copacetic and what wouldn't. Sure, it had occurred to him that showing up on a place like this could be a trap that would result in the Sith sharing pieces of his body to make jewelry out of... but he just didn't care. That didn't, however, completely eliminate his common sense. Dahar had come here on a promise, a promise that the Dark Side would be "fun". And now, having the mental balance of a lunatic, he would pursue that fun. Picking a fight with the Dark Lord could DEFINITELY be fun. But not now, not yet. Dahar logically knew that he wasn't safe here, but he wasn't capable of the emotions that would bring him to fear anymore. He had been reprogrammed. Logic told him he was outnumbered, and therefore in no position to challenge anyone at the gathering. Individually, however, his own confidence, perhaps even arrogance, told him that none of them would be a one-on-one match for the former Grandmaster. He would indeed prove himself useful. The malice these men clearly held towards the Jedi was matched with his own. The difference was that Dahar had secrets, locations, knowledge. Perhaps he even still had access to certain things. The holocron he wore around his neck had at one point ran an entire temple... it had reached out across the entire galaxy to relay a message to all the Jedi. Surely it could be of some use if he were to return it to one of the temples. Yes, he would prove himself useful. But for now he would pick his battles. And this was not a battle for him. The former Jedi gave a small bow to the Dark Lord and rejoined the Hutt in his section of the table. He sat down with a smile, the maniacal smile of a man who had nothing to lose, and grabbed another piece of meat.
  10. Dahar joined the festivities and sat down near the Hutt who invited him. It was a weird place to be even for a disenfranchised Jedi Master. He hadn't had a feast like this since his youth. Dahar had grown up as royalty on Adumar and the concept of gluttony had escaped him since then. But Sheog sure appeared to be having fun so he figured he'd try and indulge. The other participants varied as much in personanlity as they did species. It was evident to him that his presence was not without suspicion. Dahar had been staying out of the public eye so he wasn't even sure if it was known to the galaxy that he was no longer Grandmaster. The turn of events for him were almost random, as if some puppetmaster holding his strings had gotten bored with the course of events and decided to completely change things up for no reason. It had also been quite a while since his last exposure to ysalmari. It wasn't a pleasant experience, and it was clear that nobody attuned to the Force, either Light or Dark, enjoyed having that connection severed. He wondered if Faust's actions had been so grave that the Force had abandoned him. He knew about what had happen, at least through the whispers that traveled telling the Jedi side of events. He hadn't seen Faust in ages, the aged master being part of Dahar's motivation to stay open to all aspects of the Force. He had always respected, perhaps envied, Faust's power. "Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Sheog, it's a pleasure to be here in person." Dahar looked around making it plain that he was no addressing everybody. "I know my presence here is probably... a little weird. But I want you to know that I have no loyalties to the Order that I used to represent. When I exposed them for the weakness and tried to bring about revolutionary changes... they tried to have me killed. At the Wookiee's orders, I suspect, although he was the one who tipped me off. The motives behind these actions are very shaky... I'm here because our gracious host gave me an offer that I chose to accept. I want to learn what you're all about. In turn, and perhaps to prove my honest intetions, I offer any information about the scum that I used to call my brothers that you may be intersted in." After finishing his little introduction to everybody he approached the... much differnt than he remembered... Faust, getting as close as his cohorts would allow. He pressed through the bubble that the lizards were creating, feeling the very essence stripped within him, relearning how to survive on only oxygen. He gave a small bow, and made direct eye contact with the man he had once shared a flight with... "I'm not even sure how to address you, Faust. Not as your fellows here would, because I am not one of you. But with whatever way respect is shown amongst you, that is what I offer. I doubt you're aware of the influence you had on the young Jedi Knight that I used to be. You are a legend in my eyes."
  11. The Jedi had never really considered what kind of being he would enjoy having dance for him. He had been with some women when he was younger, at home, but the concept had fell away from him a long time ago. He tried to think what kind of physical traits he enjoyed in others. This was hard because he rarely thought of people in that way. So he thought about what he liked in himself, what he thought was a sign of good health. "Um... a human... with nice teeth if you have one... will do nicely. I'll be planetside shortly. Thank you." He brought his ace down to the gemini pad as instructed. He wasn't alone, there were other ships making an arrival as well. It seemed as if he had arrived at a particularly notable occasion. He wasn't all too familiar with Sith politics but he knew that the powerful didn't gather together as often as the Jedi did. Quite frequently Jedi Masters would meet as a council, or complete tasks together, with their signatures multiplying each other through the Force. But what was going on here was quite literally the opposite. In the same way that Tython amplified the Ashla, Korriban seemed to be amplifying the Bogan. That combined with all the master wielders of the Dark Side created an atmosphere, a feeling, that Dahar hadn't experienced in quite a while... and perhaps never at this magnitude. The holocron hung around his neck was heated to the point of singeing the flesh it rested on. At the landing pad there was indeed a pretty young human with spectacular teeth. She smiled at Dahar and he admired the immaculacy of her teeth. Every tooth stood perfectly in the place it was supposed to be, shiny and beckoning. This little show of flesh was the first time in decades Dahar experienced something that could be compared with arousal, or at least an appreciation for the aesthetics that the Jedi had denied him. The girl escorted the wayward Jedi to where the Hutt Lord and his guests would be.
  12. The former Jedi Grandmaster sat at the helm of his ship and pensively stroked the strands of his long black hair that fell down his cheek. His ship was a Jedi Ace, a model of the same squadron he had flown in the last time he had encountered Sheog almost a decade earlier. He mused to himself that it was an almost poetic irony. Dahar had died that day, or at least one his prisons of flesh had been incinerated. Death could only stop those without the resolve to hold on to the world of the living. He still wasn't sure why he bothered anymore. He had gotten into long-winded philosophical conversations with his friend Aryian about the balance of the Force. And with his old pal Tobias about what it was like to exist in the spirit world. Yet here he was, still clinging to a familiar bag of carbon, exiting hyperspace above a Sith world. This certainly wasn't someplace he would have visited even a few months ago. Back then he was determined that the Sith were the problem with the galaxy. But now he had a new enemy, the foul rot of stagnation. He had to keep moving, keep doing, keep changing. The Dark Side was the last house on the block for a Jedi who had done it all. After all, after Grandmaster of the Jedi Order what else was there left to achieve? He thought he'd be able to bring about change in that role but he found out that he was wrong. The Jedi were lazy, stale. Most of Dahar's companions who dabbled in the Dark Side did so on a level that would benefit them. None of them truly belonged to it. Except for a man Dahar met when he was just a Jedi Knight. Vladmir Faust's power and demeanor had been intoxicating to the young Jedi. They had spoken only once, on a short flight that eventually left Dahar stranded. But the man went on to do great things... or great from a certain point of view. "At least he did something," Dahar muttered to himself. His ship was coming up on Korriban. The console beeped the usual beeps that signal it's time to send a message and not get blown up. Or at least hopefully not blown up. He sent a message directly to the channel that had contacted him a few weeks ago. "Sheog, this is Dahar, former Grandmaster of the Jedi Order... As I'm sure you've assumed from the ship. Remember these? I do believe you told me we could have some fun?"
  13. The two masters of the Force had left Coruscant and were now floating again through space. Aryian had performed this technique once before on Dahar way back on Mechis when they first attempted to dive into new training. The difference now was that Dahar was unbound. He saw a different Darkfire standing before him. Dahar senses this was how Aryian viewed himself in the Force. Dahar looked... the same. His body had died only a few times and his spirit had found itself in adequate clones. The infinite whiteness stretching out was quite similar to the basement sanctuary at Gala. At thought of that the crystal around Dahar's neck became slightly warm. He remembered arriving there with Tobias and leaving with Kirlocca and a young Jedi exorcist. Times had certainly changed... Dahar softly waived his hand through the air, getting a feeling for the atmosphere in the room. There was no wind, no resistance. It was artificial yet at the same time more real than anyone place he had been in a while. "Hmm... Who's head are we in, Aryian?"
  14. The visible sorrow in Kirlocca caused Dahar to question his actions. He felt as though he was selling out his family. His resolve, however, was unyielding. This inner conflict didn't go unnoticed. He was finally realizing what others had warned him of. He had thought, for a while, that the Dark Side was just part of the spectrum. That althought there were indeed good and evil there was no Dark or Light. But what was happening inside of him was different and finally apparent. His emotions were fueling him. But logic still held balance. He was doing what he knew to be right. In accepting the braid Dahar grasped the Wookiee firmly at the wrist. With strong eye contact he gave him a final nod of respect. He tucked the item carefully in his tunic and turned away. "Coruscant works for me," he answered to Darkfire as the two left for their ship.
  15. The Galacron around Dahar's neck grew just a little bit warm. It was faint enough for him to notice, to draw his attention to it. Was the Force trying to tell him something? As far as he knew the device that had once powered the Gala temple was of a pure Light Side concentration. The warmth shifted Dahar's attention to his own thoughts. The Code, the Light Side. His mental processes were moving in a different direction. He was beginning to feel anger and resentment. He had put into motion plans to restore strength and purpose. Sure, the faceless masses had appreciated his fancy words. But here he stood with a man he once considered his mentor. He felt as if the Wookiee, and those who followed him, were dedicated to tradition more than the Force. The Jedi had lost their way. This whole time Dahar had thought the existence of the Sith was what was keeping the Force out of balance. But it was now, at this moment, that he realized everyone was to blame. Himself included. He was just as guilty as everyone else of this dogma worship. The Code? The code he and countless others had lived and died by. Where had it gotten them? Was the galaxy not as chaotic now as it had ever been? Here he stood on the verge of greatness, face-to-face with a man who represented an addiction to the status quo. The Jedi didn't want change. Nobody wanted change. Except for him. There was a bigger picture here, one that was revealing itself to him, one that few would every feel comfortable grasping. It was all wrong. Everything was wrong. Dahar, Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, was wrong. His own docile responses to being challenged had convinced him of that. He had come here with such resolve, but being around Kirlocca had convinced him to back away from his new ideals and embrace the lackluster ways of old. Kirlocca stood before him, waiting for a suggestion from on where to move the Jedi to. Kirlocca, Dahar's greatest teacher. The embodiment of strength that he had once hoped to be. Dahar's face turned pained, his eyes grew weary, strained. What he saw before him would always be a friend, or so he hoped, but no longer an ally. With a swift motion he pulled off the datapad attached to his wrist. This had been programmed for him on Tython to allow him to control all the logistics of the Order from wherever he went. It was the symbol of his power as Grandmaster. With the gentleness he would have used with a newborn baby he tossed it to Kirlocca to catch. "I wish it not. The order is yours, old friend. This is goodbye." With this Dahar made it clear he was finished. Finished as the Grandmaster. He wondered if he would perhaps always identify as a Jedi... but he wanted nothing more to do with the current order. Dahar turned to Aryian, motioning that he was leaving. "I've done as you suggested. I need to complete this training. We can even stop for custard on the way." The heat from the galacron grew hotter and hotter. It was beginning to singe his neck. He embraced the pain as a sign of a correct decision. He focused on the heat searing his flesh and felt stronger for it.
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