- Joined
- Aug 15, 2023
- Messages
- 53
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- 91
Ezekiel Dragul
| Species | Sephi |
| Gender | Male |
| Age | 24 |
| Hair Colour | Bald - White when it grows |
| Eye Colour | Golden - Brown normally |
| Height | 6' |
| Weight | 186lbs |
| Force Sensitive | Trained |
•Professional Status•
| Affiliation__ | Sith |
| Rank/Occupation | Champion |
•Personal Status•
| Status | Alive |
| Homeworld | Zygerria |
•Equipment•
| Weaponry |
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| Miscellaneous___ |
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I was no stranger to being a slave. It was all I knew. The Sith were… different than the Zygerrians. Menial tasks and work were abundant, but every so often the Zygerrians would have me fight in their pit of an arena. When I was sold to the Sith, my Master put me into a much nicer arena. Everything was focused on wielding power, not showing it. Much different than the Zygerrians.
There was one fight in the arena that I lost. I tried something fancy and paid the price for it. When I awoke in a hospital bed, my Master standing over me with glaring golden eyes, I thought for sure that my life was over. I was still new to how a Sith could operate. There are fates worse than death, that much is true.
“How are you feeling, Ezekiel?” he asked me. I had taken a metal pipe to the throat, so I croaked out a wordless sound. I was fine- ready to jump back into the arena should he give the word. My Master smiled and pat my arm gingerly. I remember having a fleeting moment of hope that he cared for my well-being. I lay there staring into his golden eyes for what seemed an eternity before he spoke again.
“You are my most prized possession. Losing you would be... unfortunate. You fight with such focus- such energy. It’s the Force within you, and I plan to cultivate this power within you until it flourishes.” His smile deepened- became sharper. I remember feeling sick in that moment as he brought out a dagger. It glowed a crimson hue, swirls of darkness danced up and down the blade. “There is a price to losing, as my apprentice… as a Sith.”
His words had barely cut into my mind before the burning of the blade puncturing my cheek filled my senses. I screamed, but it only made his job easier- more fulfilling for him even. My Master cut me with this arcane blade, following ear to lip, lip to ear. My blood poured out and stained the white hospital sheets. The droid nurses stood by and watched. What would they have done against my Master anyway?
When he was finished, he wiped the blade clear of my blood with the bed sheets, and slid the dagger back into his black robes. Through the tears and pain, I could see his sharp smile. I knew what it was then. Sinister intent, passion for causing pain and enacting justice on me for wronging him and his legacy. I should have won that match in the arena, and this was the price I would bare forever because I didn’t.
“Let this be your first lesson, Acolyte Dragul. For a Sith, failure is worse than death. Fail me again, my apprentice, and it will your heart that I carve out.”
-
Apprenticeship under my Master was… difficult. It was clear to him from the start that I was more martially inclined, but he still taught me as he would a sorcerer. When I failed to lift an object with the Force, to enact my will over the Darkside, I was punished; beatings, lightning, anything my Master could use to cause me pain. But I endured. There were many Acolytes far stronger than I in the Force, but I learned to hold my own without specializing.
Eventually my Master sent me into a cave boiling with the Darkside of the Force. I was to retrieve a crystal; it was time for me to construct myself a lightsaber. I remember the excitement as I entered the cave, the growing tension as I came across threatened mynocks and destroyed them to get to the chamber I needed. I remember the way my mind switched from completing my mission to wonder as I stepped into that chamber of crystals.
I wasn’t the only one, however. My Master was somewhat of an academic; he fancied himself a teacher- an instructor. He hadn’t just sent me into the cave, but his other Acolytes as well. They were more powerful in the Force, sure, but in the confines of the chamber they were nothing more than a rock in a river. Something I as the river how to deal with, and move on from. I was the only one to leave that chamber of crystals, and I took a crystal for each Acolyte I had killed with me. I presented my Master with only one.
His instructions to me were to bleed the crystal- bend it to my will. To do so required all of my concentration, and my Master was gracious enough to let me use his meditation chamber for the effort. The blood of his other Acolytes still covering me, I did as instructed. As I meditated and focused on the orange crystal that I had chosen to present, my mind was snatched into the Force. Before me was the crystal, and standing behind it was a doppelganger of myself with glowing, golden eyes.
“You’re here to bleed me?” the doppelganger said. “You haven’t given yourself to the Darkside, and you want to bleed me?” It was my first taste in the vastness of what the Force could do. Learning how to use it as a weapon and utility was one thing, this was different. I can’t remember what my response to the doppelganger was, nor the conversation that followed for the most part. It was the ending that I remember the most.
“What is your passion?” they asked. I thought about it for a moment, probably less than I should have.
“Fighting,” I said. The doppelganger chuckled and shook their head. I was confused; I hadn’t said anything funny, at least, not that I was aware of at the time.
“Yes, you do enjoy a good fight, don’t you? But that’s too easy. What is your real passion?” So I dove deeper. What about fighting was what I liked? The fight itself, sure, but what gave me the best feeling? Winning. The roar of a crowd. The recognition on my name. It was something foreign to me, yet familiar.
“Recognition. I fight so that my name will be recognized. I want to carve my name and legacy into the galaxy. To control my enemies by the mention or thought of me,” I answered. The doppelganger smiled, the ear to ear scar tied its lips making the smile even more sinister. That is what I looked like in that moment.
“How will you revel in that passion?” the doppelganger asked.
When I awoke from the trance, the crystal before me was bled crimson, and my eyes were fiery gold. -
Finally I was ready to become a Sith Champion. I had learned the ways of the Force, given myself to the Dark Side, bent a kyber crystal to my will and bled it. Forged not one but two lightsabers- one full length purple blade, and the other a dual-phase shoto with my bled crystal. I wanted recognition on my name, not on my being a Sith.
My Master made preparations for a ceremony in my honor. I had grown up. My scars and tattoos a testament to my achievements. It wasn’t enough- not for me. I needed more. Failure for a Sith is worse than death. So I did what I thought was the only logical answer. I challenged my Master to Arauk'kesh. He held no holdings, no powerbase. Only his Acolytes would survive him in his death. I would either rise a Champion, or fall a failure.
As we stepped out into the arena, my Master did his best to break me verbally. I was trained better than that; he would have to try a lot harder to break me, and if he did, it would have to be through the Force. What my Master hadn’t counted on in his unthinking rage, was the strategy of a duel. One could overpower their opponent outright, sure, and if I had tried to do that I would have failed against him. Likewise, when he tried to do the same to me, he failed.
For the first half of the duel, I was on the defensive by choice. I kept my distance, allowing my Master to throw the Force at me in any way he could. Sith Lightning, chokes, elemental type powers. I blocked and dodged until there was nothing left of my Master but a drained husk wielding a lightsaber. Then I turned the tides and struck.
My Master, unable to wield the Force the defend himself and no match with a lightsaber compared to me, last mere seconds. I wanted to make him suffer, as I had suffered through his training. First I severed his arms, bringing him to his knees before me and the audience. And with my golden eyes staring into his, I eventually severed his head.
I rose a Champion, my Master fell a failure. But I need more. Much more. -
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