Apple
SWRP Writer
- Joined
- Apr 1, 2014
- Messages
- 55
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Summoning. Rooms of malevolent intentions and disaffected malcontent. All Sith ever knew were these inclinations as the dark side drove them closer to their destinies. Some of the Sith were meant to die, some meant to rule, and others meant to serve. The difference between these distinctions is not power, but ambition. Often times, it was not the strongest that prevailed, but the one most willing to assert his strength. Cleaving through your enemies is not a function of strength, but willpower.
Determining. He who have been summoned here. Let it be known your intention and do not stray from your destiny, for it is what you carve out yourself.
Fearing. Do'Rak, a Korun, a warrior, and a Sith. He has arrived to a room as black and inspiring as his vanguard armor. One could lose themselves in the dark and foreboding cavern that is the inner reaches of the Sith Temple on Ziost. The walls and floors built with a stone unnaturally black, and every where the eye can grasp is a strange marking meant to inspire fear and power. Do'Rak was an acolyte and all that stood between him and his seemingly alone position was a lightsaber and his will to be. A powerful, albeit strange force had summoned him here for reasons he had been almost aware of. In the coming months to this moment, Do'Rak was plagued with visions of a lonesome room with a figure of power closing in upon him. The intentions were indeed malevolent, but one such acolyte was not the target, merely enemies in a vague notion. Do'Rak sat upon the ground, gathering his rage as he awaited in the middle of these ominous halls, never really knowing why.
Strength always finds a way.
Determining. He who have been summoned here. Let it be known your intention and do not stray from your destiny, for it is what you carve out yourself.
Fearing. Do'Rak, a Korun, a warrior, and a Sith. He has arrived to a room as black and inspiring as his vanguard armor. One could lose themselves in the dark and foreboding cavern that is the inner reaches of the Sith Temple on Ziost. The walls and floors built with a stone unnaturally black, and every where the eye can grasp is a strange marking meant to inspire fear and power. Do'Rak was an acolyte and all that stood between him and his seemingly alone position was a lightsaber and his will to be. A powerful, albeit strange force had summoned him here for reasons he had been almost aware of. In the coming months to this moment, Do'Rak was plagued with visions of a lonesome room with a figure of power closing in upon him. The intentions were indeed malevolent, but one such acolyte was not the target, merely enemies in a vague notion. Do'Rak sat upon the ground, gathering his rage as he awaited in the middle of these ominous halls, never really knowing why.
Strength always finds a way.
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