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Sith Gene Starri

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  1. The Vengeance, or what was left of it, came into space above Mimban. Only an insane man would pilot something so hazardous into the vacuum of space, but at this point Gene would rather die than remain another day on the barren rock that had been his life. In moments of rash decisions he had learned to go forward without a care in the world, an odd sense of serenity permeated this insanity. "Off to Coruscant," he said to the decomposed companion-head he had kept all these years with an evil grin on his face as activated the hyperdrive. Sparks flew out of the terminals and the screens blew out as more unimportant panels fell of the edges of the ship.
  2. It had been years, many years since Gene had found another part of his ship. He had given up hope of ever leaving this forsaken rock, reverting to a primitive lifestyle. Surviving the swamp and jungles, the gas and wandrellas- all of these challenges had been harrowing. But here lay his salvation, the final piece of the puzzle that was his ship. He set off to repair his ship for the final time. He would be leaving this place, finally. He looked to the head of Nom, for he had kept it all these years even after the freezer failed and the flesh rotted away, and said "We're finally leaving this place." Punching in the co-ordinates for his home planet of Coruscant he looked back on the hovel he had created for survival. Activating the cannons he incinerated the entire area. As the blaster cannons and one of the laser cannons fell off Gene laughed, the entire area burning. This ship wouldn't last long, but one more flight would be all it would need to do. He took off, a few unimportant parts peeling off as he went into space.
  3. Thinking of maybe starting up again. So updating Character Sheet. CHARACTER SHEET Real Name: Alastair Genesis Nickname: Gene Age: 35? Honestly the guy's been living on a rock for a while, like he knows. In the range of 35-45? Species: Human Height: 6 feet 9 inches Weight: 227 pounds Hair: Jet-Black Eyes: Gray Sex: Male Homeworld: Coruscant Alignment: Chaotic Evil (living alone on a barren rock causes mental instability don'tcha know?) Clothing: Black and Red torn robes with parts of battle armor under Weapon: Sith Sword, 2x DT-57 heavy blaster pistol. Force User Inventory: A few repair tools and a head.... yes a head. Modifications to self: Ocular implants for tracing movement quicker and zooming in. Cybernetic enhancements to bones and major organs that increase speed, strength, and endurance. Self regeneration, Acute Senses, and improved reaction speed due to nanite integration with his D.N.A. Possessions: Whats on his back.... and a head. It'll come in handy one day. Special Skills: Combat training, Pilot training, Computer skills (hacking, etc), Survival Training, Top marks in classes while in Caridan Military Academy. Personality: An ex-commando for the empire he retains his bleak outlook on all things. Sharp, but quick to anger. Image: Just replace the jug with a head, and is more worn. Back story: The years stuck in Mimban's wild have proved Gene's skills and willpower, but they also can break an individuals mind. Of course Gene is quite insane now. After finding the remainder of the parts for his ship he decides to head back out to Coruscant to finish the Sith training he had once started under John Skywalker.... years ago.
  4. Yes, I love when one can find the allusions I so... well bluntly put in. I do love Tolkien's work, but this isn't within his universe. It's not Middle Earth in.... well mostly in spirit I guess. Though this is a problem with most fantasy worlds, many seem to have roots in Tolkien. Though it will have it's own original flavor. Trust me.
  5. Funny, I'm actually trying to make a dialect for the story but that leads to some errors... though I see what you're hinting at. I am writing this story for others so I guess I should use a more "correct" form of speaking. I don't really get a chance to proofread as I update this at work when there is nothing else to do, usually takes me several hours to write a chapter as I write sentences at a time. So if there is a feeling of missing unity between thoughts, trust me there is.
  6. Good premise for a story, please continue! Some grammatical mistakes yes, but that is to be expected of writing a lengthy post. Just re-read your writing, that helps quite a bit.
  7. Yea, I don't have a lot of time to update this thing but I'll continue to post every once in a while. Honestly I have no idea where I'm going with this, at least yet. Chapter 2 Desperation Time was of the essence. The Nâlôtrahdos necromancers had unleashed an army larger than any the world had ever seen. Ranks of skeletal warriors lined up, all marching to the same rhythm. An army that never needed rest or food, an army that knew no fear. And here was my meager resistance. Peasants and farmers, hunters and blacksmiths. Men of no military training. We were all that remained of our once glorious country, holed up in the last remaining fortress of Kalindon. Constructed in the first age it was meant to be an ultimate defense against an army of a long forgotten foe, and it still stood. Impressive stone walls, heavy iron gates, and built into the very foundation of a mountain pass it was considered impregnable for many generations. Clean water flowed from the majestic Mt. Uhn, and the soil was fertile and well tended. It was all that remained of the once greatest kingdom of men, and it would soon fall if my scouts were correct. The words of the first age traitor Lord Soren rung true in my ears, our king was near death and so was our kingdom. Zaron had left the lands of Kalindon 3 months back with a single goal on his mind, the very loss of his land. Protection, the Elven lords had promised. Where were they now? Dead perhaps, I thought. No elves had shown up to share in our doomed fate. "Xylos!" One of my few remaining soldiers ran up the stairs to the wall I was on. "Xylos, we saw the army heading this way. They'll be upon us by nightfall on the morrow! What should we do?" I could tell the man was nervous, I was myself. Looking around the battlements I could see that an air of fear permeated all, every mans eyes were fixed on the ground. The look of the damned, the look of the dead. "We fight, what else can we do? There is no retreat from here. Kalindon will not fall now, we will win this fight!" I could see that Calos could see that I was lying. Every man knew that we would only see victory by a miracle. I retired and left for my tent, trying to think of a plan for the coming fight. However, the only thought I could conjure was damn you Sareth, son of traitors. And I hoped for a miracle as I slipped into a sleep far too deep for a dead man.
  8. Wow, takes a lot to grab my interest. I'm jaded to stories apparently. The flow, structure, and diction of this story make it so simple and yet enticing. The parallelisms between story arcs only add to its suspense. I applaud you.
  9. A kingdom is only as good as its king -Lord Soren, 1st age. Kalindon. Courage is not something one is born with, it can be taught. As a child is taught to read, so too can they be taught nobility, virtuosity, and most importantly courage. On the flip side of this coin a child can learn the polar opposites, through pain and death, hate and anger, suffering and loss. The very fabric of existence is based on this, the balance of all forces, and its push and pull on the ways of the world. As evil always fights against good, so too must courage fight against cowardice, light against dark, nobility vs vileness. None may gain the upper hand, none may gain more power than the other, none may triumph in the eternal battle. We are the guardians of this balance. We are the Aspex. This is the story of an initiate. An initiate that gave their lives for the very balance that we hold for granted. CHAPTER 1 "Putrid swamp,"a soldier whined "why does the General always lead us on these death marches through the worst parts of the country?" "Oh, quit your whining Vorn. We're the guardians of the crown, a little muck can't possibly be that discomforting." Annuitant chided the soldier. "Not like we need to be out here...." Vorn said. "The King has to meet with the lords of the elves, or this pointless war will never end." replied Annuitant. "So keep quiet, we're supposed to be dignified and quiet. These elves see our talking on their sacred lands as an offense afterall." Short pieces of speech emanated from the column of soldiers, each man caked in mud. A look of weariness on all of their faces, their weathered arms and armor betrayed their high position of the King's Guard. Clad in once bright blue full-plate steel with torn, ratty cloaks, cracked shields and broken helmets they were only shadows of the inspiring vision they once were. Countless battles against insurmountable odds had forged them into warriors far beyond their years. Dwindling in number, their already thin ranks seemed to be broken. Cuts and scars, missing limbs, eyes, and fingers seemed to plague the group. Not one man was unwounded. Yet their glorious warrior king Zaron showed the worst signs of wear. His once majestic aura, from his sparkling blue eyes to his grand size, an immense 7 feet 4 inches and 320 pounds of muscle, had all but diminished to make him naught but a specter of his previous self. The blood of the first men ran through his noble veins, but even this was not enough to stop the effects of 40 years of war. His now sunken eyes, showing the despair of a man who had lost his lands and his love. Thin now, his heft had left him. Constant life threatening wounds that could not be taken back even by the best of healers were to blame. One could see he was desperate, depressed, lost in the sea of pain that was his life. The color had long left his skin, leaving a pale broken man. At the end of his life, 320 years of suffering, he takes a deal from the lords of the elves. Vassalage, protection from the forces of the Nâlôtrahdos and their leader Sareth. Slavery is better than death.... the thoughts of a dying king.
  10. Gene walked up to the corpse of Nom pulled out his blade, and chopped his head off, he'd like to keep a trophy for the event that happpened, even if it wasn't his kill. He walked to his ship, got in, put the head in a freezer and punched in the co-ordinates to Selonia, heading torwards space. The ship, however, had been tampered with and Gene crashed in the wilderness of Mimban. Things had been confusing lately anyway. Much of his reasoning to be Sith was lost at this point, and he was partially happy he could escape the Sith like this. Surviving off the wild wouldn't be that hard anyway.
  11. Gene walked through the field, there was nothing to do, so he went to his ship. Noticing 2 jedi next to eachother he walked up to them, smirking maliciously. Then walked away heading torwads his ship, it wasn't honorable to strike down a downed opponet, and even though he was sith his old code kept him from doing that and more. Although he felt strange recently, calmer, ever since he got that crystal off Korriban, he lifted it and looked at it, amazingly the colors of red and black switched to blue and green. Gene kept walking, slowly now, and concentrated on hate, the crystal shifted back to red and black, then just as quickly he lost his hate and it turned back blue and green. Not trully a good sign for him he thought as he walked on, realizing he only moved a few feet away from the two jedi.
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