[originally posted by osnola] (( I come from the Rp community of Conan so I am more used to magic and slavery than lightsabers and the force , so I hope I do good. I decided not to make Osnola come to the past but rather link my new Character, in the following way , I hope you can aprdon my english)) The room was quiet; only the threads of long black Korrbanic silk could be heard waving through the great hall of the house, an old Korriban desert palace. This old property was perfect for Paslastair’s meditation sessions, a mix of his force sensitivity and old drugs mixed with wines. He was sitting in the middle of a hall that had seen so many generations, in so many of the times in which the Sith had been prosperous, because his family had the peculiarity they would only live as the Empire did, if it happened to be the Empire was in great conditions, of luxurious, raging and lustful feelings, so was the family, yet if the Empire was old, decaying and unfertile, so were they. Some of the superstitious Korriban’s desert families, though this relationship between the family and the Empire, was because of the force and so, the simple people this family had ruled over many times, in different intervals, had come to though of the family as specially gifted, as if part of some prophecy. Paslatair, though it did not have such dramatic force related reasons, it was a thing of mood, yet as he had also taught himself many years ago, when a young man, the force is everywhere and so it did affect mood. Thoughts of this level of stupidity disarranged his meditations, little stupid factors he had never though of while in the times of war with the Republic, during those days lust, rage and power took over him and the Dark side wielded him as its blade, his though channelled with those of the Emperor’s objectives and nothing disturbed him in his frantic killing rhythms, a simple and prolonged dance of Jedi’s heads flowing through the floor at his path, rhythmical as the drums of the Sith tribes, the sensual movements of the hips the dancers of the City produced, and he had enjoyed many times, yet now with this cease of fire, and with Emperor suddenly breaking the frenetic killing and warfare that linked him to Paslatair, his humble servant retired back to his desert palace, to oversee his lands. “Meditating is not a thing of the Sith, we sweat and kill, we lust and desire, we crave and monger power, we do not sit to inhale non aggressive air.” Were his thoughts while meditating, yet over the days he had come to a conclusion as for His Majesty’s sudden decision to lay peace at the table of the Jedi. “We have come into this Galaxy once again. We have crushed and conquered many, but we have to face the fact we have not an Empire but a big military camp, with no tradition. We have no money, and we dance over a pool of possible danger, if we continue to neglect the fact we need years of Jedi like rest to create an Empire that can replace the corrupted Republic of the Jedi.” Sometimes he though of himself as a philosopher and not as a wielder of the Dark side, he though of blood and power, yet he though of the problems they had as an Empire. He though of himself more as a politician that as a warrior, yet none of the one’s before pleased him as much as his desire and lust for knowledge of all kinds, and his infinite curiosity of the universe current state, he would had wished to be one with force completely as do the dead ones, just to be able to slide into anyone houses and knew what was happening, that was as a boy, then as an older man of the power craving society of the Sith he seeked enlighment through the force the same way, through curiosity and knowledge, and so he many times entered trances of rage and madness, in which he revealed to himself many of the secrets of this Galaxy and even beyond, and when he trusted such thoughts to the Imperial Inquisitors that in turn gave this thoughts to the great council, which reported them to the Emperor, he was given rather great importance, not because his thoughts were something new but, because such though were only old because of the Emperor and the great council own meditation, and that a simple Sith Noble had reached to such conclusion deserved something for the man. He was made an Inquisitor, and in the peace he was given the time to spend much of his time meditating, over and over, a task fruitful yet distrusted by most sith’s, since they were incapable of concentrating. One day Palastair, found a trend of disturbance in the Force in his meditations, at first they were little cries in his thoughts, then big bubbles the exploded into waves, afterwards the sensation of great disturbances made him uncomfortable, and meditated in reclusion for entire time of three weeks in his halls to meditate. He searched and even tried entering a trance in which he would dance with his lightsaber, and search for this disturbances, someday, he just felt as a member of the force just felt for much more newer than any other, almost as if this being had being from years afar, but in the forward direction of the calendar; he felt the aura of children inside their mother’s womb, one of the future, one of the things that will be but are not yet. He talked this to his old master a man that secluded himself within a cave in the desert until war called him again. “Perhaps boy, this force sensitive beings you feel, are from the future” the man gave Palastair a grin. Palastair arranged for his family to care for the lands, and mines he had taken care of since the end of the war, and he went into searching these disturbances, these little newborns of the force, younger souls than any he had ever met.
Imperial Army 47th
