Post by ravendarkrebecca on Apr 4, 2004 17:29:03 GMT -5
The sands of the Dune Sea whipped against the lithe body of Corynth Anon, sending his tattered cloak into wild convulsions. Yet, with the aid of the Force, he endured. His boots wrought crudely of Dewback hide had worn away at the soles, leaving his feet badly blistered by the scorched terrain. He paused for a moment, guarding his eyes from the blasting sands with his left hand while pulling out his datapad with the right. He was close… Close to his home.
Battling his weariness with his iron will, he pushed on, trudging through the scalding sea of dust toward the silhouette of a small homestead, its image pressed against the fiery backdrop of Tatooine’s renowned two-suns. Corynth’s eyes widened with excitement, his weariness seeming to wane as he hastened toward its familiar effigy. Perhaps he wouldn’t die, choking on the seemingly infinite supply of sand riding on the back of the untamed winds.
Corynth eagerly pushed aside the dilapidated door, stepping inside and shutting the door on the bellowing insanity that would await his return anxiously. Turning about, his sage gaze crept about the interior of his father’s small hut, unaltered except for the thin layer of dust that had amassed from years of idleness. Finally, he was prepared to face the anguish that was his past.
Corynth’s father, Feyr, was a strong Jedi Master, having received the tutelage of Luke Skywalker himself. When Corynth was just a young boy, Feyr was summoned by Master Skywalker to investigate a disturbance on a small, uncharted world on the edge of the galaxy. Feyr was a wise Jedi, and by means of incredible foresight, he knew that he was not to return from this quest to quell the fires of civil war. And so it was that before he departed, he gave Corynth an old key and instructed him to one day return to their home on Tatooine and receive the cloak of their ancestor Caarpayth, a famous Jedi in the time of the Clone Wars. Corynth was headstrong yet, pleading with his father to take him along, but Feyr knew better. He was just a Padawan, and the numbers of their order were waning… He wasn’t willing to waste such a precious life in such a time of need.
Corynth recalled standing there on the landing platform, watching his father’s Corellian freighter ascend so lethargically it could’ve been in slow motion, vanishing into the abyss that was space abruptly afterwards. It was so painful, helplessly viewing his father’s vessel blast off into the cruel unknown. He knew he was gone forever. Luckily, he was staying at the Jedi Academy, else he may’ve indeed fallen into despair so deeply that his mind would be poisoned by the dark side.
Corynth shook his head, returning to the bleak reality he was now faced with, staring blankly upon the filth-laden kitchen table. He drew a deep breath, exhaling slowly as if to soothe his ailed mind. He was beyond such emotions. His father’s memory was a source of inspiration, now… a concrete reason to defend the light. He had striven with such sorrow in his younger days and emerged a stronger, more collected individual. He was determined never to fall into melancholy again.
Steadying himself, Corynth moved around the circumference of the table and strolled down the darkened hallway with purpose, effectively ignoring the blisters impairing his feet for the time being. Diving into his father’s room, he knelt in front of a weathered chest, wiping away the thick dust that had settled upon its surface. His woeful stare was reflected upon its mirrored surface, his fingers tracing the engraving of “Anon” in elegant lettering about the center. Corynth tarried no longer, finding the key in the folds of his robes and tentatively sliding the archaic implement in the lock. Upon its turning, it seemed as though brilliant white light ran along the opening as it widened to earthen-tone robes, as pristine as they were the day of their sewing. He lifted the tunic, britches, boots and cloak from the box and stood, laying them all out upon the vacancy that was his father’s bed. It was a truly amazing ensemble, one that gave strength to his will, and pride to his amble.
After tending to his sore feet and staying for a much needed night’s rest, he awoke and threw on the apparel of his progenitor, eating any food stored that had resisted the spoil of many years. He pulled the gray hood of Caarpayth’s cloak over his dark young countenance, tightening the draping garment about his broad shoulders and heading out into the disagreeable company of the Dune Sea.
Battling his weariness with his iron will, he pushed on, trudging through the scalding sea of dust toward the silhouette of a small homestead, its image pressed against the fiery backdrop of Tatooine’s renowned two-suns. Corynth’s eyes widened with excitement, his weariness seeming to wane as he hastened toward its familiar effigy. Perhaps he wouldn’t die, choking on the seemingly infinite supply of sand riding on the back of the untamed winds.
Corynth eagerly pushed aside the dilapidated door, stepping inside and shutting the door on the bellowing insanity that would await his return anxiously. Turning about, his sage gaze crept about the interior of his father’s small hut, unaltered except for the thin layer of dust that had amassed from years of idleness. Finally, he was prepared to face the anguish that was his past.
Corynth’s father, Feyr, was a strong Jedi Master, having received the tutelage of Luke Skywalker himself. When Corynth was just a young boy, Feyr was summoned by Master Skywalker to investigate a disturbance on a small, uncharted world on the edge of the galaxy. Feyr was a wise Jedi, and by means of incredible foresight, he knew that he was not to return from this quest to quell the fires of civil war. And so it was that before he departed, he gave Corynth an old key and instructed him to one day return to their home on Tatooine and receive the cloak of their ancestor Caarpayth, a famous Jedi in the time of the Clone Wars. Corynth was headstrong yet, pleading with his father to take him along, but Feyr knew better. He was just a Padawan, and the numbers of their order were waning… He wasn’t willing to waste such a precious life in such a time of need.
Corynth recalled standing there on the landing platform, watching his father’s Corellian freighter ascend so lethargically it could’ve been in slow motion, vanishing into the abyss that was space abruptly afterwards. It was so painful, helplessly viewing his father’s vessel blast off into the cruel unknown. He knew he was gone forever. Luckily, he was staying at the Jedi Academy, else he may’ve indeed fallen into despair so deeply that his mind would be poisoned by the dark side.
Corynth shook his head, returning to the bleak reality he was now faced with, staring blankly upon the filth-laden kitchen table. He drew a deep breath, exhaling slowly as if to soothe his ailed mind. He was beyond such emotions. His father’s memory was a source of inspiration, now… a concrete reason to defend the light. He had striven with such sorrow in his younger days and emerged a stronger, more collected individual. He was determined never to fall into melancholy again.
Steadying himself, Corynth moved around the circumference of the table and strolled down the darkened hallway with purpose, effectively ignoring the blisters impairing his feet for the time being. Diving into his father’s room, he knelt in front of a weathered chest, wiping away the thick dust that had settled upon its surface. His woeful stare was reflected upon its mirrored surface, his fingers tracing the engraving of “Anon” in elegant lettering about the center. Corynth tarried no longer, finding the key in the folds of his robes and tentatively sliding the archaic implement in the lock. Upon its turning, it seemed as though brilliant white light ran along the opening as it widened to earthen-tone robes, as pristine as they were the day of their sewing. He lifted the tunic, britches, boots and cloak from the box and stood, laying them all out upon the vacancy that was his father’s bed. It was a truly amazing ensemble, one that gave strength to his will, and pride to his amble.
After tending to his sore feet and staying for a much needed night’s rest, he awoke and threw on the apparel of his progenitor, eating any food stored that had resisted the spoil of many years. He pulled the gray hood of Caarpayth’s cloak over his dark young countenance, tightening the draping garment about his broad shoulders and heading out into the disagreeable company of the Dune Sea.