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- Dec 17, 2016
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Savin is, as one might expect from a Chiss, cunning, arrogant and analytic. Ever since a young age, due to his upbringing, he feels superior to others, feeling only reinforced by his discovery of the Force, rooting itself as a somewhat expansion of the Chiss’ xenophobia, applying to even fellow Chiss; despite the effect the Sith training had on him, as soon as he was taken as an apprentice, he once again exhibited such a trait, despite his time as a mere acolyte, perhaps due to his rather short training. A follower of “knowledge is power” and “the ends justify the means”, he’s rather ambitious, determined and ruthless, stopping at nothing to achieve his goals, whichever they are. While Savin might seem initially honourable to many, his “honour” is merely an expression of contempt and arrogance, as he does not believe that other, lesser beings could stand any chance against him without such concessions, and that such a reputation is of great use to catch a truly powerful enemy surprised; such applies to many other virtues he displays somewhat often, such as mercy or even kindness. Despite such pragmatism, he’s genuinely worried and protective of his Family, as it is all his own past left for him, and thus he’ll go to somewhat extreme measures in order to ensure its stability, even abandoning his own pursuits for it.
When around people he finds worthy of his interest, he assumes an apparently carefree attitude, unlike most Chiss or Sith, though it’s little but a tool to have the other party lower their guard. While he’s definitely analytical, he’s not beyond trusting the Force over a careful battleplan, as it has proven itself useful time and time again. When nearing his objective, he can be strangely reckless, potentially risking himself and even others when finally approaching his goals. Due to what he suffered by the Brotherhood, he harbours an intense hatred for them as well as a fear for the Lords of the Sith’s capabilities, utilising it to power his abilities with the Force. His hatred is what led him to his ambition; to rule over all of the Sith, as a means of revenge against them for his family. Despite that, he doesn't have a set plan on how to achieve such, or what to do oncehe achieves it; to him, it doesn't particularly matter. Truly, his wish is to prove himself superior to even his fellow Sith, rather than a desire to eradicate the order.
Despite his apparent composure and politeness, he’s a rather emotional person, as he understands such to be a powerful tool for a Sith. However, he’s capable of hiding his emotions and thoughts so as to keep his image, channelling them with absolute finesse through both words and the Force, but if he ever came to care for someone, he might genuinely lower his guard and fully expose himself. He has a habit of biting his lip whenever thoughtful or even the slightest bit troubled, with varying intensity according to his emotions. Another habit of his is one of rubbing his hands even through gloves, as he finds his own hands deeply uncomfortable, and a powerful remark to himself. He suffers from a lighter case of OCD, leading him to always, without exception, fire his blaster twice and ensure that things are neatly and tidily organized, even if such organization isn’t too sensible.
Savin is rather intelligent and cunning, though without a single doubt arrogant. Despite such a mighty brain, he lacks that might through most of his body, having a low constitution for his species, as well as being lacking in strength, though by no means is he sickly or incapable. Savin suffers from a somewhat limited case of obsessive-compulsive disorder, leading him to odd behaviour such as always firing his blaster twice, as well as a more traditional meticulous perfectionism. Despite his lacking physical condition, Savin is nonetheless somewhat agile, though not in regards to running speed; while he runs about as fast as an average Chiss without the use of the Force, he can draw a blaster, aim and pull the trigger or type something on a datapad quicker than most, though by no means is he faster than an experienced smuggling gunslinger.
Thanks to years of rigorous training, as well as an effort to reach perfectionism, Savin’s mind is strong, being able to sustain even a couple of days of tasks demanding mental effort, such as reading a particularly dense book, preparing plans and, with luck and in a somewhat controlled environment, attempting to utilize the Force for a similar continuous time; despite that, as soon as he finishes his task, it’s not unlikely for him to collapse, as his body isn’t quite fit for such activities.
Savin is relatively proficient in Forms I, II, III and VI, with his main forms being an orthodox II and III depending on occasion, though he’s far from a skilled warrior; however, his aim is pretty good, being able to hit a target with a blaster pistol even under pressing circumstances, though by no means is he a great marksman, who would best a bounty hunter in a showdown at high noon. He’s not a good pilot, being barely able to take off a ship on his own, but he’s aware of the galaxy’s geography well enough and he's somewhat skilled in driving landspeeders.
His skill in the force is generally lacking due to his rather short formal training, though he shows extraordinary premise and power in the use of Sense and Trance abilities, with his skill in the art of psychometry being by far his most powerful technique. He’s mildly proficient in Status Effect, Mental Control and Acrobatics as well, though less than adept. His lack of skill in the use of more direct Force powers, such as Telekinesis or Energy Manipulation might be unrivalled by any other Sith, as he seems to be able to do little but what even a youngling is capable of, possibly even injuring himself in his attempts as of now.
He’s multilingual, with fluency in Galactic Basic, High Galactic, Cheunh, Minnisiat and Sith, thanks to his extensive research and upbringing. He’s a very capable historian, being aware of most major events in galactic history and several minor events, and constantly seeking to learn of more of them. Thanks to his cunning, education and ability with the Force, he’s a highly capable strategist and tactician, winning his struggles mainly through exploiting his enemy’s physical, mental and emotional weak spots. As such, he's an user of the Sith technique of Dun Möch, using it as a tool to have the enemy show its own weaknesses.
It was cold. The night of my birth was the coldest night that year, according to admiral father.
I was born twenty six years ago, to, of course, admiral father and Aristocra mother both of rather high class within Csilla. As Aristocra mother was an Aristocra to the Oura family, my adoption was a given, though I nonetheless bore father’s family name- Zurs. Thanks to our beloved Ruling Families, I was afforded with all I was needed; education, food, culture and clothing... And thanks to my parents, all I wanted; expensive robes, books in High Galactic, the finest food coming from the Core Worlds... And eventually, weapons, armour, ships and droids, as it might be expected for a surprisingly wealthy CEDF admiral to gift his son. My upbringing afforded me my every wish, my every whim; and what I was unable to acquire through it... The Force was with me, through every battle simulation father ran, through every desire I had, through every test I faced, as they were many; after all, I was to bring pride and prestige to the Oura family; that was my duty, and the very meaning to my life for years.
I to this day remember rather vividly the day I first felt it; it was... it was like a stream, full of harmony, life, power and darkness. As if every single being in the galaxy was comprised into a single thing, a continuous existence stretching from Kinooine to Belkadan, a river to drink from. I, still being a foolish child at the age of three standard years, did not understand at that moment what I faced, and merely followed the river’s course, leading me to what I sought; a piece of Corellian aircake, a human delicacy I used to greatly enjoy. To me, then, it was without a doubt a great and unnatural achievement... And thus, I slowly started testing the properties of such stream. While manipulating it was rather hard, though far from impossible, I slowly gained the ability to understand its way, see what events would happen, rarely comprehend others’ thoughts and even move around objects with my mind, though barely. Of course, as I discovered the nature of my abilities, my training slowed down; what I possessed was a disease, an affliction without cure; a shame upon the Oura name… Thus, I had to hide it, and my training was restricted to what could be dismissed as skill, mere meditation or be easily hidden.
As I approached adulthood, my time already three standard years over a decade, I, as a matter of course, was slowly pushed into choosing my career, and honouring the Oura name; I was to join the academy, become an officer, “ensuring our House’s safety”, as admiral father might put it. Foolishness, yes, though as usual with ignorance-filled speak, bearing a drop of reason. A military career in the Ascendancy would be merit based, accounting for my skills, and it was a possibility to gain great power, even in the then-present times of apparent peace in the Galaxy. Of course, I could follow Aristocra mother and become a politician, eventually representing our House, as one with my skills and cunning would easily achieve such a rank despite what inferior men might believe, but was not the path I intended on trailing; admiral father's path was one of aggression and strength, both virtues of those who would rather conquer than defeat; and Aristocra mother's path was one of reliance and servitude; traits for a Twi'lek or an Ithorian, but far from suitable for the Chiss. Rather, even then, my fate was clear before my eyes without the need for the Force's help; I was to become the most powerful man in the Galaxy, as fitting of one such as me... And as they say, “knowledge is power”.
I became an academic, a historian; not a prestigious office, but one honourable enough to not bring shame upon the Oura, and one which I could easily utilize to progress my own training and cover such without bringing us shame. A seeker of lost knowledge, I used my family’s resources as much as I was allowed, seeking ancient tablets and writings, and even the rare holocron, practicing my skills to gaze into the past of artifacts that came before me, slowly unravelling their history and gaining knowledge upon their workings, witnessing their history and living through it as though I was present; though many of the few holocrons that fell on my hands were fake, the minority which opened themselves up taught me of a great many deal; they taught me of the Jedi’s creed and history, the workings of their weapons and even how to better channel and improve my skills, meditating in order to glimpse into time and space or sensing another’s presence with little chance of failure. Those were the teachings I sought.
As the Sith returned under the banner of the Brotherhood with the attack on Felucia, a far-away planet, my admiral father sought to combat them as he believed they'd soon attempt to annex the Ascendancy; of course, despite Aristocra mother’s support, the other Ruling Families disagreed with such a departure of our culture, as a pre-emptive strike, as proposed, would be taboo. The admiral who raised me fled Csaplar, alongside a small squadron of loyal men. The night before his departure, I had a dream. One in which legends would rise and fall, heroes would be made for all sides, and conflict would spread across the galaxy, despite its uncertain demise... History was to be made, without a doubt. I awoke restless and quickly prepared myself, taking little but my blaster and an old officer uniform of admiral father’s, and joined my admiral father's foolish enterprise, sneaking into the Oura, his personal corvette. Thus, despite my refusal to join the army, I followed the admiral out of the Ascendancy and into the Thanium Sector, recent victim of the legendary Sith warriors.
All of us knew what we were doing. Abandoning the Ascension to wage war against a distant “enemy” would sentence us to exile, without a doubt. We were all silent, each of us planning a different battleplan, walking into a hopeless battle without intel nor manpower. We were at most forty, separated between five different vessels. All plans pointed towards death and failure, as the admiral’s move was reckless, and he knew of it. Worried for us all, I closed my eyes and started meditating, the way the holocrons taught me. My fear for our destiny seemed to give intensity to the river’s stream, granting me a glimpse of the future itself. It was... It was blurry, hard to make things out. However, I saw one thing... I saw my victory at my home at Csaplar. I would not be defeated there, I’d triumph and survive. As the vision ended, I was more confident than ever, knowing that the Sith stood no chance before our Ascendency squadron... And yet, all was dark. My body was unable to sustain the Force’s passage through it, and thus, I passed out in front of the soldiers.
When I awoke, there was silence. Not the quiet silence of before, but rather emptiness, a vacuum of the dark. My eyes slowly opened, and I started standing up. I knelt, surrounded by about a dozen soldiers from the Ascension, perhaps a little less than that... I cannot quite remember. What I recall were their faces, contorted in expressions unthinkable for our kind... Fear and despair. Their limbs all over the ground, without a single drop of blood spilled in the ship. It was... It was utterly terrifying for my younger self. I finally looked up, my conscience back despite the scars of the imagery... And I understood what we... No, what I feared.
The sound of the plasma blade had overridden any other possible noise in the ship, and the red light emitted by it seemed to be the only light source present. Its wielder stood above anyone else there, living or dead, their presence imposing itself upon me, those yellow eyes piercing my mind like a drill. I did not know who they were, or their reasons for keeping me alive; all I knew was that they were Sith.
He shut down her lightsaber before hitting my head with its hilt, once again knocking me unconscious.
I awoke at the Sith world of Korriban, a precise opposite of my homeworld of Csilla; it was hot, dry and sandy, though both places shared their barrenness and strict discipline, without a doubt. There, I was broken; stripped of everything I had, I was introduced to the cruel reality of Sith society, where my birth and my skills were worth nothing, and no longer was there a rigid order in place, but rather only the whims of the strong. It seemed that the man I met on the ship sensed my connection with the Force, and took me to the Brotherhood’s training temple... It no longer mattered; my every day was hell, being overworked, treated with the utter disrespect one might afford to a stray dog, competing with others who had trained for much longer. Slowly, I learned how to use the Force to increase my effectiveness, through increased strength and speed; despite my previous studies, I hadn’t managed to do such a simple thing yet, and it filled me with confidence... All the more since I believed the Force has abandoned me after my last vision.
The instructors were merciless, carrying discipline that even now I must admit to be comparable to the Ascension’s. Nobody asked for a name, nobody cared; Savin was a secret kept to myself, as an acolyte doesn’t need an identification beyond “mutt” or “toy”, sometimes "Chiss", if one of my fellow acolytes addressed me. Slowly, the more I was forced to train, the more I improved; they gave me a vibroblade and told me to spar. They gave me a prisoner, and told me to extract information from him in less than five minutes. I had no power, as all I was granted would be taken away as soon as I found a use for it. For months I struggled, facing the harsh punishment of the instructors every time I failed... It seemed hopeless. There was nothing to gain but suffering at the hand of those who murdered the admiral... And yet, I persevered.
The more time I spent at the academy the more I saw of the Sith; their power, their knowledge, their freedom to do as they pleased. Nothing went unnoticed; nothing was forbidden. Despite it all, the more I understood their ways, little by little... A determination to join them was created at the face of it all. At first, as it would be expected, I was moved by fear; by fear of punishment, fear of death. Then by anger. The hatred I felt for those who murdered my father was channelled into each of those lessons, my hits struck harder and lost their precision, trading them for sheer strength. Both of those failed, as others were my betters, as my anger and fear were easily exploited and as I ignored my previous training. Thus, I was now moved by ambition. Ambition and determination were my weapons, and thus I knew I was superior to any other acolyte, all I required was practice. I started practising even when I was to rest, meditating upon the force, channelling all those emotions into it to glimpse into it. I saw only the future I gazed upon in the ship. I was to be victorious, to survive; every vision I had was now the same, repeating every night in my dreams and every day in my trance. Before I knew, despite my lack of skill handling the lightsaber that was given to me for training, I started to win, for I knew where the opponent was weakest, and where they would strike. My skill with the Force improved as I was able to see the past in more detail, enhance my senses such as sight or hearing and slowly develop the ability to even fully comprehend simpler minds with ease, surveying their thoughts as though they were a book. Thankfully, such advancement was noticed by one of the Sith; she was an Inquisitor, the assassins, torturers and, as it should be evident, inquisitors, of the Brotherhood.
At first, there was little way to understand her identity; she wore a cloak and a mask, hiding even her sex from any onlookers. To many, she was known as Parzisti Vohm... But to me, she was Master, and I, Acolyte.
Master took me away from Korriban, away from the academy. As her apprentice, I was to accompany her everywhere, to follow her every word, and learn from every comment, become not merely a tool, but an extension of her will. As a Sith, her mission was to track down artifacts and take them, ensuring that they would stay in the hands of the Brotherhood instead of with collectors or Jedi. I supported her efforts with every single breath I took, and I was slowly shaped into her perfect tool. We both acknowledged her superiority, but she had her uses for me; my abilities in sensing the Force were of use to her, who mastered the arts of altering its flow. Slowly, with enough time and concentration, I could locate her targets or identify them, through what she called “psychometry”, a form of postcognition. In return, she taught me how to wield a lightsaber, manipulate weaker minds to do one’s bidding, move objects through the force and even control and create energy through the Force, though I’ve always found the latter to be a foolish enterprise, not developing skills for it.
Over my apprenticeship, as the war raged on, I became gradually more powerful, thanks to my experience, Master’s training and studying. Reading captured writings, both Sith and Jedi, expanded my knowledge of history, religion, politics and the Force, gaining comprehension about both orders, one’s strengths and the other’s flaws. As Master started taking me along in the missions themselves, and I started to murder at her command, I took small items, mainly lightsaber parts; as they say, all the power an acolyte possesses is that which he seizes, and thus, I seized all I craved, as my time as a Sith was sure to come soon. At Nar Shaddaa, I finally completed my own lightsaber, made from looted parts I had taken for myself, including a kyber crystal I used to test the idea of bleeding it to make it bend to my will, as dictated by Master. It was far from impressive, nor was it anything suitable to me, but nonetheless it was a powerful symbol.
Ord Mantell taught me caution and confidence, as it was there that Master taught me more of the Force, such as the valued ability of the Sith to conjure lightening from their very fingertips. As I recklessly attempted to do so, finally approaching what is perhaps the most powerful skill amidst the Brotherhood, I utterly failed, causing nothing but damage to myself. Ever since that accident, my hands’ skin has been burned, causing certain discomfort and requiring the use of gloves for many activities. It’s a powerful reminder that, no matter how much I've studied, one must understand their own limitations in order to overcome them.
In Corellia, at the heart of Republican space, I slew my first Jedi on my own, through the careful use of Form III, a challenge to a fair duel and my blaster; ultimately, what killed him were the two blaster shots to his chest, as he was too focused on breaking through my Soresu to defend them, not considering such “dishonour” to be possible in our fight. To remember such, I took a single one of his gauntlets, white and seemingly made of a lightsaber resistant material as he used it in his attempt to counter my Form III. That was a powerful lesson to me; honour is a tool to be used, an incredible weapon to gain advantage over more powerful and yet foolish enemies.
Eventually, as the Force would have it, ghosts came back to haunt me; Master was assigned to a mission in Csilla, as there seemed to be a collector of both Sith and Jedi artifacts, hoarding them for no apparent reason besides sheer collection, as unusual for a Chiss as such was. This time, due to the attachment I felt towards my homeworld, we walked together, for it was to be a rite of passage; Master sought a way to test my allegiance to her and the dark side... And thus, I was to return home, now a Sith, despite my probable exile.
I was tasked with getting local supplies, so that we wouldn’t be traced by investigators. I got myself a second blaster, now Chiss in origin, rope and a hook, in order to create evidence. As night fell upon Csaplar, I met up with Master; she guided me to a window entrance we’d use, briefing me about our operation; we were to get in, murder the collector and take all artifacts, framing something more realistic than Sith assassins. Due to her skillset, we agreed that she’d infiltrate the house, unlock the doors and get the holocrons while I looked for our target, in order to murder them and start the framing. With somewhat ease, we reached the window by utilising the rope and hook alongside a small reinforment of our strength through the Force, an action I’d have found almost impossible not too long ago. As she quickly opened the doors, with careful thought so as to not ruin our framing, I went down a long stairway, doors opening before me as my Master sliced through the house’s systems. Through the Force, I sensed a presence up ahead, a new development in my skills... And such, I followed that feeling. Indeed, a lone figure, a Chiss woman, in robes characteristic of a political office in the Ascendancy, coloured white and gold, stood alone in a room, admiring something. With slow and silent steps, I approached, though I did not crouch; such was for the weak. I walked, standing proud, and put my lightsaber hilt to her back... And she seemed to notice it, turning around. The woman’s visage was instantly recognizable to me, as she was none other than the one who bore and raised me. I was shocked, barely believing what had occurred... And then I heard her amidst the silence, letting my lightsaber fall to the ground. My face did not show emotion, but I tasted my own blood as my teeth dug into my own lips.
Her red eyes widened, as she seemed even more shocked than myself; mother clearly didn't believe, or perhaps chose not to believe, as perhaps it'd have been easier. I heard a blaster shot, coming from behind me, from the stairs... A quick and simple death, as the bolt hit her face right in front of me… I’ll never forget such a moment.
As the body fell to the ground, lifeless, I felt... Something. As though the Force had been shaken, as if a speeder crossed the stream of existence. I looked down, and understood what Master meant by this being a rite of passage... I heard steps, and quickly turned around; Master came down the stairs, her pacing slow and careful, her presence imposing as she holstered a small blaster, the one I had bought earlier.
“Acolyte... It seems that you have completed your task.”
I answered her with silence. As she approached me, lifting down her hood, I finally saw her mask in its entirety, covering her entire head, and yet I could understand she grinned at that moment with sadist pleasure. My heart burned in anger as I listened to her words, understanding what had happened that night. It was a valuable lesson; the love the weak hold for family is useless and worthless. What a true Sith requires is passion for their aims, cold hatred towards the world and fear of the Dark Lords of the Sith for what they can do.
“We are to go now.”
Her voice was once again heard, filtered through the helmet, sounding strangely robotic, perhaps even metallic. I took a step forward, my lightsaber lunging towards my hand as I approached the stairway. It was then that the Force gave me a glimpse into its will.
It was a blurry vision, difficult to understand. However, despite that, I saw one thing; my victory at Csaplar. Thus, I activated my lightsaber, the crimson blade cutting through her body, leaving no trace of blood.
“Zurs’avi’noura.”
I spoke my name, looking down at my dead master; She taught me all I knew, turned me into more than a mutt when the Force had abandoned me... And yet, my heart burned with rage against her, against the Sith. I showed a morbid smile to the mirror nearby, and clearly saw it; a vein showed itself on my neck... A mark of the Brotherhood. I ran up the stairs, and finally, after years, I once again slept at ease, victorious at my own home.
I stayed in Csilla for a few weeks more, handling the issue regarding the death of Aristocra mother and my own return. I unveiled myself as a lie; a shadow child, hidden until now in order to ensure that our rival Families would be unable to wipe us out. With the careful analysis and manipulation of the minds of those with a previous inclination towards me, my place as the de facto leader of the Noura and thus, heir to my latest victim, was ensured. Of course, I allowed another- Flaz’ari’noura, apparently a recently merit adoptive member - to be our Aristocra, as I could hardly stay to participate in Chiss politics, as wonderful an experience as that might appear to be; after all, if someone afflicted such as myself came to become an Aristocra, Family Oura might fall… And it is my duty to not allow such to happen.
Finally, I was no longer an exile, Family Oura had recovered from the previous Aritocra’s death- though apparently we lost the status of Ruling Family since I left- and I arranged myself a ship- an H-Class yacht- as well as appropriate clothing for myself; that is, a custom made uniform, made with the design of the CEDF and yet my family’s colours- white and gold- as my own personal mockery of the Defense Fleet, those who would weaken the Families and wear my colours. Once all that was ready and finished, I took off, heading towards the same world I had been taken to before, Korriban.
As I arrived, the ship slowly made its landing, and I walked out of my own territory into the Sith’s. I repeated the same process Vohm had done before too many times; precisely, word by word, doing all she did from my own memory. Of course, it was at least somewhat suspicious for an acolyte to perform a Sith’s duty, and therefore I was inquired and taken to an Immortal, who inquired me upon my predicament; as it was expected, his eyes glimmered at the prospect of my refusal to answer… But I hadn’t forgotten the teachings of my artifacts. I told him precisely what had happened; I had slain my Master, and now I completed the task she was unable to do.
For a single moment, I could not predict the Sith’s actions; there was nothing pointing towards what the decadent man was about to do… I gazed into his eyes, as he appeared thoughtful… And then he grinned, before laughing. It was all clear then; as I proved myself her better, no longer would I be an acolyte, even if no Darth decided to knight me as the Jedi would do in such a promotion; I was now a Sith, the second step on the ladder to my destiny.
I was now, once again, Zurs’avi’noura, the man destined to be the most powerful man in the galaxy; or, as my baser enemies would know me, Savin.
I returned to my homeworld, setting up a base on the same estate I spent my childhood in. It was now mine, and thus I fit it with every one of my whims; it became my own personal palace within Csaplar. I took up once again my office as a historian, though I’ve been training more than ever. Exercising my own powers, improving them, growing my skills… I even built myself a new lightsaber, entirely from new parts; I designed its hilt to auxiliate my use of Makashi, as it would appear it is the best form of swordfighting for me… Every day, my knowledge expands, and every now and then I work for the Brotherhood like Vohm did, collecting artifacts, aiding the war effort in my own ways… And now, I’m ready.
Savin wears a custom-made uniform inspired by the CEDF’s, though its colouration is primarily white with golden linings, and lacking in the Ascension’s iconography or badges as a mockery of the Chiss’ Defense Fleet, though his boots and pants are still the traditional black; alongside it, he wears a white cloak, which can easily be used to conceal his outfit and weaponry, though it has no hood to hide his visage underneath. His right hand is covered by a black leather glove, perfectly fitting his measures, while his left hand and part of his left arm are covered by a white phrik gauntlet which he looted from a Jedi, keeping it as a memoir of sorts. Around his waist is wrapped a golden utility belt, with a few small bags for miscellaneous items, a belt hook for his lightsaber and a holster. His armour has negligible weight, but can’t really sustain any damage except for the phrik gauntlet, capable of sustaining a single lightsaber blow before requiring repairs, or alternatively 2 to 3 shots from a heavy blaster, depending on conditions. It’s highly resistant to vibroblades, taking up to five strikes before becoming mostly useless, but since it doesn’t mitigate kinetic damage, it’d be useless against something like a staff.
After becoming a Sith Sorcerer, he built a proper lightsaber for himself, with a curved hilt to benefit his use of Form II. Apart from that, there aren’t any apparent special characteristics to it, besides the traditional dark sided red blade. When in field, he carries it attached to the back of his belt, hidden by his cloak, as he’d rather not make a show of being a Sith, all the more since he rarely draws it.
His main weapon is the SA-21 heavy blaster he carries on his holster, ensuring that it’s always easy to be drawn. However, he also possesses a set of six Merr-Sonn SG-4 sonic grenades, a SA-17 stun blaster and a set of two EMP disabling granades, though he generally leaves them on his ship when not required.
Inside his belt’s bags, he generally carries a comlink and around 2000 credits in the form of a few credit chips, used strictly for emergencies, as neither Sith and Chiss require the frequent use of credits.
Savin possesses an H-Class personal yacht named "Oura's Pride" as a personal ship and main mean of interplanetary transportation, as its automated crew largely solves his issue regarding his piloting abilities. For ground transport, he mainly utilises an Opulence 2000 landspeeder, choosing it due to its comfort and luxurious appearance.
All his equipment is acquired thanks to his Family’s wealth, as he recently took control of it.
Still empty! Soon™
ZURS' AVI' NOURA
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Full Name: Zurs’avi’noura
Core Name: Savin
Age: 26
Species: Chiss
Height: 1,86m
Weight: 66 kg
Eye Color: Red
Hair Color: Jet black
Skin Tone: Blue
Force Senstitive: Yes
Theme: Ominous
Appearance: Savin is a humanoid figure bearing the blue skin, red eyes and jet-black hair of the Chiss, his species. He stands at a respectable 1,86m, taller than most of his kind and towering over other species, such height contrasting his weight of 66 kilograms, fitting of his light build, lacking in both muscles and fat. Due to a certain incident, Savin’s hands’ skin is burnt, though his hands are still functional. A vein is visible on his neck when exposed, a consequence of his use of the dark side.
Core Name: Savin
Age: 26
Species: Chiss
Height: 1,86m
Weight: 66 kg
Eye Color: Red
Hair Color: Jet black
Skin Tone: Blue
Force Senstitive: Yes
Theme: Ominous
Appearance: Savin is a humanoid figure bearing the blue skin, red eyes and jet-black hair of the Chiss, his species. He stands at a respectable 1,86m, taller than most of his kind and towering over other species, such height contrasting his weight of 66 kilograms, fitting of his light build, lacking in both muscles and fat. Due to a certain incident, Savin’s hands’ skin is burnt, though his hands are still functional. A vein is visible on his neck when exposed, a consequence of his use of the dark side.
PERSONALITY
Savin is, as one might expect from a Chiss, cunning, arrogant and analytic. Ever since a young age, due to his upbringing, he feels superior to others, feeling only reinforced by his discovery of the Force, rooting itself as a somewhat expansion of the Chiss’ xenophobia, applying to even fellow Chiss; despite the effect the Sith training had on him, as soon as he was taken as an apprentice, he once again exhibited such a trait, despite his time as a mere acolyte, perhaps due to his rather short training. A follower of “knowledge is power” and “the ends justify the means”, he’s rather ambitious, determined and ruthless, stopping at nothing to achieve his goals, whichever they are. While Savin might seem initially honourable to many, his “honour” is merely an expression of contempt and arrogance, as he does not believe that other, lesser beings could stand any chance against him without such concessions, and that such a reputation is of great use to catch a truly powerful enemy surprised; such applies to many other virtues he displays somewhat often, such as mercy or even kindness. Despite such pragmatism, he’s genuinely worried and protective of his Family, as it is all his own past left for him, and thus he’ll go to somewhat extreme measures in order to ensure its stability, even abandoning his own pursuits for it.
When around people he finds worthy of his interest, he assumes an apparently carefree attitude, unlike most Chiss or Sith, though it’s little but a tool to have the other party lower their guard. While he’s definitely analytical, he’s not beyond trusting the Force over a careful battleplan, as it has proven itself useful time and time again. When nearing his objective, he can be strangely reckless, potentially risking himself and even others when finally approaching his goals. Due to what he suffered by the Brotherhood, he harbours an intense hatred for them as well as a fear for the Lords of the Sith’s capabilities, utilising it to power his abilities with the Force. His hatred is what led him to his ambition; to rule over all of the Sith, as a means of revenge against them for his family. Despite that, he doesn't have a set plan on how to achieve such, or what to do oncehe achieves it; to him, it doesn't particularly matter. Truly, his wish is to prove himself superior to even his fellow Sith, rather than a desire to eradicate the order.
Despite his apparent composure and politeness, he’s a rather emotional person, as he understands such to be a powerful tool for a Sith. However, he’s capable of hiding his emotions and thoughts so as to keep his image, channelling them with absolute finesse through both words and the Force, but if he ever came to care for someone, he might genuinely lower his guard and fully expose himself. He has a habit of biting his lip whenever thoughtful or even the slightest bit troubled, with varying intensity according to his emotions. Another habit of his is one of rubbing his hands even through gloves, as he finds his own hands deeply uncomfortable, and a powerful remark to himself. He suffers from a lighter case of OCD, leading him to always, without exception, fire his blaster twice and ensure that things are neatly and tidily organized, even if such organization isn’t too sensible.
ABILITIES
Savin is rather intelligent and cunning, though without a single doubt arrogant. Despite such a mighty brain, he lacks that might through most of his body, having a low constitution for his species, as well as being lacking in strength, though by no means is he sickly or incapable. Savin suffers from a somewhat limited case of obsessive-compulsive disorder, leading him to odd behaviour such as always firing his blaster twice, as well as a more traditional meticulous perfectionism. Despite his lacking physical condition, Savin is nonetheless somewhat agile, though not in regards to running speed; while he runs about as fast as an average Chiss without the use of the Force, he can draw a blaster, aim and pull the trigger or type something on a datapad quicker than most, though by no means is he faster than an experienced smuggling gunslinger.
Thanks to years of rigorous training, as well as an effort to reach perfectionism, Savin’s mind is strong, being able to sustain even a couple of days of tasks demanding mental effort, such as reading a particularly dense book, preparing plans and, with luck and in a somewhat controlled environment, attempting to utilize the Force for a similar continuous time; despite that, as soon as he finishes his task, it’s not unlikely for him to collapse, as his body isn’t quite fit for such activities.
Savin is relatively proficient in Forms I, II, III and VI, with his main forms being an orthodox II and III depending on occasion, though he’s far from a skilled warrior; however, his aim is pretty good, being able to hit a target with a blaster pistol even under pressing circumstances, though by no means is he a great marksman, who would best a bounty hunter in a showdown at high noon. He’s not a good pilot, being barely able to take off a ship on his own, but he’s aware of the galaxy’s geography well enough and he's somewhat skilled in driving landspeeders.
His skill in the force is generally lacking due to his rather short formal training, though he shows extraordinary premise and power in the use of Sense and Trance abilities, with his skill in the art of psychometry being by far his most powerful technique. He’s mildly proficient in Status Effect, Mental Control and Acrobatics as well, though less than adept. His lack of skill in the use of more direct Force powers, such as Telekinesis or Energy Manipulation might be unrivalled by any other Sith, as he seems to be able to do little but what even a youngling is capable of, possibly even injuring himself in his attempts as of now.
He’s multilingual, with fluency in Galactic Basic, High Galactic, Cheunh, Minnisiat and Sith, thanks to his extensive research and upbringing. He’s a very capable historian, being aware of most major events in galactic history and several minor events, and constantly seeking to learn of more of them. Thanks to his cunning, education and ability with the Force, he’s a highly capable strategist and tactician, winning his struggles mainly through exploiting his enemy’s physical, mental and emotional weak spots. As such, he's an user of the Sith technique of Dun Möch, using it as a tool to have the enemy show its own weaknesses.
BACKGROUND
It was cold. The night of my birth was the coldest night that year, according to admiral father.
I was born twenty six years ago, to, of course, admiral father and Aristocra mother both of rather high class within Csilla. As Aristocra mother was an Aristocra to the Oura family, my adoption was a given, though I nonetheless bore father’s family name- Zurs. Thanks to our beloved Ruling Families, I was afforded with all I was needed; education, food, culture and clothing... And thanks to my parents, all I wanted; expensive robes, books in High Galactic, the finest food coming from the Core Worlds... And eventually, weapons, armour, ships and droids, as it might be expected for a surprisingly wealthy CEDF admiral to gift his son. My upbringing afforded me my every wish, my every whim; and what I was unable to acquire through it... The Force was with me, through every battle simulation father ran, through every desire I had, through every test I faced, as they were many; after all, I was to bring pride and prestige to the Oura family; that was my duty, and the very meaning to my life for years.
I to this day remember rather vividly the day I first felt it; it was... it was like a stream, full of harmony, life, power and darkness. As if every single being in the galaxy was comprised into a single thing, a continuous existence stretching from Kinooine to Belkadan, a river to drink from. I, still being a foolish child at the age of three standard years, did not understand at that moment what I faced, and merely followed the river’s course, leading me to what I sought; a piece of Corellian aircake, a human delicacy I used to greatly enjoy. To me, then, it was without a doubt a great and unnatural achievement... And thus, I slowly started testing the properties of such stream. While manipulating it was rather hard, though far from impossible, I slowly gained the ability to understand its way, see what events would happen, rarely comprehend others’ thoughts and even move around objects with my mind, though barely. Of course, as I discovered the nature of my abilities, my training slowed down; what I possessed was a disease, an affliction without cure; a shame upon the Oura name… Thus, I had to hide it, and my training was restricted to what could be dismissed as skill, mere meditation or be easily hidden.
As I approached adulthood, my time already three standard years over a decade, I, as a matter of course, was slowly pushed into choosing my career, and honouring the Oura name; I was to join the academy, become an officer, “ensuring our House’s safety”, as admiral father might put it. Foolishness, yes, though as usual with ignorance-filled speak, bearing a drop of reason. A military career in the Ascendancy would be merit based, accounting for my skills, and it was a possibility to gain great power, even in the then-present times of apparent peace in the Galaxy. Of course, I could follow Aristocra mother and become a politician, eventually representing our House, as one with my skills and cunning would easily achieve such a rank despite what inferior men might believe, but was not the path I intended on trailing; admiral father's path was one of aggression and strength, both virtues of those who would rather conquer than defeat; and Aristocra mother's path was one of reliance and servitude; traits for a Twi'lek or an Ithorian, but far from suitable for the Chiss. Rather, even then, my fate was clear before my eyes without the need for the Force's help; I was to become the most powerful man in the Galaxy, as fitting of one such as me... And as they say, “knowledge is power”.
I became an academic, a historian; not a prestigious office, but one honourable enough to not bring shame upon the Oura, and one which I could easily utilize to progress my own training and cover such without bringing us shame. A seeker of lost knowledge, I used my family’s resources as much as I was allowed, seeking ancient tablets and writings, and even the rare holocron, practicing my skills to gaze into the past of artifacts that came before me, slowly unravelling their history and gaining knowledge upon their workings, witnessing their history and living through it as though I was present; though many of the few holocrons that fell on my hands were fake, the minority which opened themselves up taught me of a great many deal; they taught me of the Jedi’s creed and history, the workings of their weapons and even how to better channel and improve my skills, meditating in order to glimpse into time and space or sensing another’s presence with little chance of failure. Those were the teachings I sought.
As the Sith returned under the banner of the Brotherhood with the attack on Felucia, a far-away planet, my admiral father sought to combat them as he believed they'd soon attempt to annex the Ascendancy; of course, despite Aristocra mother’s support, the other Ruling Families disagreed with such a departure of our culture, as a pre-emptive strike, as proposed, would be taboo. The admiral who raised me fled Csaplar, alongside a small squadron of loyal men. The night before his departure, I had a dream. One in which legends would rise and fall, heroes would be made for all sides, and conflict would spread across the galaxy, despite its uncertain demise... History was to be made, without a doubt. I awoke restless and quickly prepared myself, taking little but my blaster and an old officer uniform of admiral father’s, and joined my admiral father's foolish enterprise, sneaking into the Oura, his personal corvette. Thus, despite my refusal to join the army, I followed the admiral out of the Ascendancy and into the Thanium Sector, recent victim of the legendary Sith warriors.
All of us knew what we were doing. Abandoning the Ascension to wage war against a distant “enemy” would sentence us to exile, without a doubt. We were all silent, each of us planning a different battleplan, walking into a hopeless battle without intel nor manpower. We were at most forty, separated between five different vessels. All plans pointed towards death and failure, as the admiral’s move was reckless, and he knew of it. Worried for us all, I closed my eyes and started meditating, the way the holocrons taught me. My fear for our destiny seemed to give intensity to the river’s stream, granting me a glimpse of the future itself. It was... It was blurry, hard to make things out. However, I saw one thing... I saw my victory at my home at Csaplar. I would not be defeated there, I’d triumph and survive. As the vision ended, I was more confident than ever, knowing that the Sith stood no chance before our Ascendency squadron... And yet, all was dark. My body was unable to sustain the Force’s passage through it, and thus, I passed out in front of the soldiers.
When I awoke, there was silence. Not the quiet silence of before, but rather emptiness, a vacuum of the dark. My eyes slowly opened, and I started standing up. I knelt, surrounded by about a dozen soldiers from the Ascension, perhaps a little less than that... I cannot quite remember. What I recall were their faces, contorted in expressions unthinkable for our kind... Fear and despair. Their limbs all over the ground, without a single drop of blood spilled in the ship. It was... It was utterly terrifying for my younger self. I finally looked up, my conscience back despite the scars of the imagery... And I understood what we... No, what I feared.
The sound of the plasma blade had overridden any other possible noise in the ship, and the red light emitted by it seemed to be the only light source present. Its wielder stood above anyone else there, living or dead, their presence imposing itself upon me, those yellow eyes piercing my mind like a drill. I did not know who they were, or their reasons for keeping me alive; all I knew was that they were Sith.
He shut down her lightsaber before hitting my head with its hilt, once again knocking me unconscious.
I awoke at the Sith world of Korriban, a precise opposite of my homeworld of Csilla; it was hot, dry and sandy, though both places shared their barrenness and strict discipline, without a doubt. There, I was broken; stripped of everything I had, I was introduced to the cruel reality of Sith society, where my birth and my skills were worth nothing, and no longer was there a rigid order in place, but rather only the whims of the strong. It seemed that the man I met on the ship sensed my connection with the Force, and took me to the Brotherhood’s training temple... It no longer mattered; my every day was hell, being overworked, treated with the utter disrespect one might afford to a stray dog, competing with others who had trained for much longer. Slowly, I learned how to use the Force to increase my effectiveness, through increased strength and speed; despite my previous studies, I hadn’t managed to do such a simple thing yet, and it filled me with confidence... All the more since I believed the Force has abandoned me after my last vision.
The instructors were merciless, carrying discipline that even now I must admit to be comparable to the Ascension’s. Nobody asked for a name, nobody cared; Savin was a secret kept to myself, as an acolyte doesn’t need an identification beyond “mutt” or “toy”, sometimes "Chiss", if one of my fellow acolytes addressed me. Slowly, the more I was forced to train, the more I improved; they gave me a vibroblade and told me to spar. They gave me a prisoner, and told me to extract information from him in less than five minutes. I had no power, as all I was granted would be taken away as soon as I found a use for it. For months I struggled, facing the harsh punishment of the instructors every time I failed... It seemed hopeless. There was nothing to gain but suffering at the hand of those who murdered the admiral... And yet, I persevered.
The more time I spent at the academy the more I saw of the Sith; their power, their knowledge, their freedom to do as they pleased. Nothing went unnoticed; nothing was forbidden. Despite it all, the more I understood their ways, little by little... A determination to join them was created at the face of it all. At first, as it would be expected, I was moved by fear; by fear of punishment, fear of death. Then by anger. The hatred I felt for those who murdered my father was channelled into each of those lessons, my hits struck harder and lost their precision, trading them for sheer strength. Both of those failed, as others were my betters, as my anger and fear were easily exploited and as I ignored my previous training. Thus, I was now moved by ambition. Ambition and determination were my weapons, and thus I knew I was superior to any other acolyte, all I required was practice. I started practising even when I was to rest, meditating upon the force, channelling all those emotions into it to glimpse into it. I saw only the future I gazed upon in the ship. I was to be victorious, to survive; every vision I had was now the same, repeating every night in my dreams and every day in my trance. Before I knew, despite my lack of skill handling the lightsaber that was given to me for training, I started to win, for I knew where the opponent was weakest, and where they would strike. My skill with the Force improved as I was able to see the past in more detail, enhance my senses such as sight or hearing and slowly develop the ability to even fully comprehend simpler minds with ease, surveying their thoughts as though they were a book. Thankfully, such advancement was noticed by one of the Sith; she was an Inquisitor, the assassins, torturers and, as it should be evident, inquisitors, of the Brotherhood.
At first, there was little way to understand her identity; she wore a cloak and a mask, hiding even her sex from any onlookers. To many, she was known as Parzisti Vohm... But to me, she was Master, and I, Acolyte.
Master took me away from Korriban, away from the academy. As her apprentice, I was to accompany her everywhere, to follow her every word, and learn from every comment, become not merely a tool, but an extension of her will. As a Sith, her mission was to track down artifacts and take them, ensuring that they would stay in the hands of the Brotherhood instead of with collectors or Jedi. I supported her efforts with every single breath I took, and I was slowly shaped into her perfect tool. We both acknowledged her superiority, but she had her uses for me; my abilities in sensing the Force were of use to her, who mastered the arts of altering its flow. Slowly, with enough time and concentration, I could locate her targets or identify them, through what she called “psychometry”, a form of postcognition. In return, she taught me how to wield a lightsaber, manipulate weaker minds to do one’s bidding, move objects through the force and even control and create energy through the Force, though I’ve always found the latter to be a foolish enterprise, not developing skills for it.
Over my apprenticeship, as the war raged on, I became gradually more powerful, thanks to my experience, Master’s training and studying. Reading captured writings, both Sith and Jedi, expanded my knowledge of history, religion, politics and the Force, gaining comprehension about both orders, one’s strengths and the other’s flaws. As Master started taking me along in the missions themselves, and I started to murder at her command, I took small items, mainly lightsaber parts; as they say, all the power an acolyte possesses is that which he seizes, and thus, I seized all I craved, as my time as a Sith was sure to come soon. At Nar Shaddaa, I finally completed my own lightsaber, made from looted parts I had taken for myself, including a kyber crystal I used to test the idea of bleeding it to make it bend to my will, as dictated by Master. It was far from impressive, nor was it anything suitable to me, but nonetheless it was a powerful symbol.
Ord Mantell taught me caution and confidence, as it was there that Master taught me more of the Force, such as the valued ability of the Sith to conjure lightening from their very fingertips. As I recklessly attempted to do so, finally approaching what is perhaps the most powerful skill amidst the Brotherhood, I utterly failed, causing nothing but damage to myself. Ever since that accident, my hands’ skin has been burned, causing certain discomfort and requiring the use of gloves for many activities. It’s a powerful reminder that, no matter how much I've studied, one must understand their own limitations in order to overcome them.
In Corellia, at the heart of Republican space, I slew my first Jedi on my own, through the careful use of Form III, a challenge to a fair duel and my blaster; ultimately, what killed him were the two blaster shots to his chest, as he was too focused on breaking through my Soresu to defend them, not considering such “dishonour” to be possible in our fight. To remember such, I took a single one of his gauntlets, white and seemingly made of a lightsaber resistant material as he used it in his attempt to counter my Form III. That was a powerful lesson to me; honour is a tool to be used, an incredible weapon to gain advantage over more powerful and yet foolish enemies.
Eventually, as the Force would have it, ghosts came back to haunt me; Master was assigned to a mission in Csilla, as there seemed to be a collector of both Sith and Jedi artifacts, hoarding them for no apparent reason besides sheer collection, as unusual for a Chiss as such was. This time, due to the attachment I felt towards my homeworld, we walked together, for it was to be a rite of passage; Master sought a way to test my allegiance to her and the dark side... And thus, I was to return home, now a Sith, despite my probable exile.
I was tasked with getting local supplies, so that we wouldn’t be traced by investigators. I got myself a second blaster, now Chiss in origin, rope and a hook, in order to create evidence. As night fell upon Csaplar, I met up with Master; she guided me to a window entrance we’d use, briefing me about our operation; we were to get in, murder the collector and take all artifacts, framing something more realistic than Sith assassins. Due to her skillset, we agreed that she’d infiltrate the house, unlock the doors and get the holocrons while I looked for our target, in order to murder them and start the framing. With somewhat ease, we reached the window by utilising the rope and hook alongside a small reinforment of our strength through the Force, an action I’d have found almost impossible not too long ago. As she quickly opened the doors, with careful thought so as to not ruin our framing, I went down a long stairway, doors opening before me as my Master sliced through the house’s systems. Through the Force, I sensed a presence up ahead, a new development in my skills... And such, I followed that feeling. Indeed, a lone figure, a Chiss woman, in robes characteristic of a political office in the Ascendancy, coloured white and gold, stood alone in a room, admiring something. With slow and silent steps, I approached, though I did not crouch; such was for the weak. I walked, standing proud, and put my lightsaber hilt to her back... And she seemed to notice it, turning around. The woman’s visage was instantly recognizable to me, as she was none other than the one who bore and raised me. I was shocked, barely believing what had occurred... And then I heard her amidst the silence, letting my lightsaber fall to the ground. My face did not show emotion, but I tasted my own blood as my teeth dug into my own lips.
Her red eyes widened, as she seemed even more shocked than myself; mother clearly didn't believe, or perhaps chose not to believe, as perhaps it'd have been easier. I heard a blaster shot, coming from behind me, from the stairs... A quick and simple death, as the bolt hit her face right in front of me… I’ll never forget such a moment.
As the body fell to the ground, lifeless, I felt... Something. As though the Force had been shaken, as if a speeder crossed the stream of existence. I looked down, and understood what Master meant by this being a rite of passage... I heard steps, and quickly turned around; Master came down the stairs, her pacing slow and careful, her presence imposing as she holstered a small blaster, the one I had bought earlier.
“Acolyte... It seems that you have completed your task.”
I answered her with silence. As she approached me, lifting down her hood, I finally saw her mask in its entirety, covering her entire head, and yet I could understand she grinned at that moment with sadist pleasure. My heart burned in anger as I listened to her words, understanding what had happened that night. It was a valuable lesson; the love the weak hold for family is useless and worthless. What a true Sith requires is passion for their aims, cold hatred towards the world and fear of the Dark Lords of the Sith for what they can do.
“We are to go now.”
Her voice was once again heard, filtered through the helmet, sounding strangely robotic, perhaps even metallic. I took a step forward, my lightsaber lunging towards my hand as I approached the stairway. It was then that the Force gave me a glimpse into its will.
It was a blurry vision, difficult to understand. However, despite that, I saw one thing; my victory at Csaplar. Thus, I activated my lightsaber, the crimson blade cutting through her body, leaving no trace of blood.
“Zurs’avi’noura.”
I spoke my name, looking down at my dead master; She taught me all I knew, turned me into more than a mutt when the Force had abandoned me... And yet, my heart burned with rage against her, against the Sith. I showed a morbid smile to the mirror nearby, and clearly saw it; a vein showed itself on my neck... A mark of the Brotherhood. I ran up the stairs, and finally, after years, I once again slept at ease, victorious at my own home.
I stayed in Csilla for a few weeks more, handling the issue regarding the death of Aristocra mother and my own return. I unveiled myself as a lie; a shadow child, hidden until now in order to ensure that our rival Families would be unable to wipe us out. With the careful analysis and manipulation of the minds of those with a previous inclination towards me, my place as the de facto leader of the Noura and thus, heir to my latest victim, was ensured. Of course, I allowed another- Flaz’ari’noura, apparently a recently merit adoptive member - to be our Aristocra, as I could hardly stay to participate in Chiss politics, as wonderful an experience as that might appear to be; after all, if someone afflicted such as myself came to become an Aristocra, Family Oura might fall… And it is my duty to not allow such to happen.
Finally, I was no longer an exile, Family Oura had recovered from the previous Aritocra’s death- though apparently we lost the status of Ruling Family since I left- and I arranged myself a ship- an H-Class yacht- as well as appropriate clothing for myself; that is, a custom made uniform, made with the design of the CEDF and yet my family’s colours- white and gold- as my own personal mockery of the Defense Fleet, those who would weaken the Families and wear my colours. Once all that was ready and finished, I took off, heading towards the same world I had been taken to before, Korriban.
As I arrived, the ship slowly made its landing, and I walked out of my own territory into the Sith’s. I repeated the same process Vohm had done before too many times; precisely, word by word, doing all she did from my own memory. Of course, it was at least somewhat suspicious for an acolyte to perform a Sith’s duty, and therefore I was inquired and taken to an Immortal, who inquired me upon my predicament; as it was expected, his eyes glimmered at the prospect of my refusal to answer… But I hadn’t forgotten the teachings of my artifacts. I told him precisely what had happened; I had slain my Master, and now I completed the task she was unable to do.
For a single moment, I could not predict the Sith’s actions; there was nothing pointing towards what the decadent man was about to do… I gazed into his eyes, as he appeared thoughtful… And then he grinned, before laughing. It was all clear then; as I proved myself her better, no longer would I be an acolyte, even if no Darth decided to knight me as the Jedi would do in such a promotion; I was now a Sith, the second step on the ladder to my destiny.
I was now, once again, Zurs’avi’noura, the man destined to be the most powerful man in the galaxy; or, as my baser enemies would know me, Savin.
I returned to my homeworld, setting up a base on the same estate I spent my childhood in. It was now mine, and thus I fit it with every one of my whims; it became my own personal palace within Csaplar. I took up once again my office as a historian, though I’ve been training more than ever. Exercising my own powers, improving them, growing my skills… I even built myself a new lightsaber, entirely from new parts; I designed its hilt to auxiliate my use of Makashi, as it would appear it is the best form of swordfighting for me… Every day, my knowledge expands, and every now and then I work for the Brotherhood like Vohm did, collecting artifacts, aiding the war effort in my own ways… And now, I’m ready.
EQUIPMENT
Savin wears a custom-made uniform inspired by the CEDF’s, though its colouration is primarily white with golden linings, and lacking in the Ascension’s iconography or badges as a mockery of the Chiss’ Defense Fleet, though his boots and pants are still the traditional black; alongside it, he wears a white cloak, which can easily be used to conceal his outfit and weaponry, though it has no hood to hide his visage underneath. His right hand is covered by a black leather glove, perfectly fitting his measures, while his left hand and part of his left arm are covered by a white phrik gauntlet which he looted from a Jedi, keeping it as a memoir of sorts. Around his waist is wrapped a golden utility belt, with a few small bags for miscellaneous items, a belt hook for his lightsaber and a holster. His armour has negligible weight, but can’t really sustain any damage except for the phrik gauntlet, capable of sustaining a single lightsaber blow before requiring repairs, or alternatively 2 to 3 shots from a heavy blaster, depending on conditions. It’s highly resistant to vibroblades, taking up to five strikes before becoming mostly useless, but since it doesn’t mitigate kinetic damage, it’d be useless against something like a staff.
After becoming a Sith Sorcerer, he built a proper lightsaber for himself, with a curved hilt to benefit his use of Form II. Apart from that, there aren’t any apparent special characteristics to it, besides the traditional dark sided red blade. When in field, he carries it attached to the back of his belt, hidden by his cloak, as he’d rather not make a show of being a Sith, all the more since he rarely draws it.
His main weapon is the SA-21 heavy blaster he carries on his holster, ensuring that it’s always easy to be drawn. However, he also possesses a set of six Merr-Sonn SG-4 sonic grenades, a SA-17 stun blaster and a set of two EMP disabling granades, though he generally leaves them on his ship when not required.
Inside his belt’s bags, he generally carries a comlink and around 2000 credits in the form of a few credit chips, used strictly for emergencies, as neither Sith and Chiss require the frequent use of credits.
Savin possesses an H-Class personal yacht named "Oura's Pride" as a personal ship and main mean of interplanetary transportation, as its automated crew largely solves his issue regarding his piloting abilities. For ground transport, he mainly utilises an Opulence 2000 landspeeder, choosing it due to its comfort and luxurious appearance.
All his equipment is acquired thanks to his Family’s wealth, as he recently took control of it.
ROLEPLAYS
Still empty! Soon™
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