V’yr suggested that I do a fiction about joining the Disciples of Baas, so I took that as an opportunity to do a back story on my character aswell. Since I was technically around for the creation of the House and all that jazz, I did as best as I could to gather the necessary information. Let me know if this conflicts with anything so I can change it Also Mar I used your character a little bit in the story, basically just asking me why I want to join the Disciples. I tried to make it as close to your character sheet as possible. Let me know if you have any problems with it
It’kla Memorial Gardens
“Recount to me your story, Padawan, so I may see your motivation.” Droveth shifted uneasily on the beautifully crafted stone bench. It was hard to believe that one could feel so uncomfortable in such a beautiful place, but the tall robed figure that stood before him had achieved it. His ghostly pale demeanor and cold eyes bore into the young man’s soul. Droveth felt almost as if the answer to the Disciples’ leader’s question was already found, lying within that golden ring around his pupils. The Padawan had seen Mar Sûl many times before, but it was always in passing, never a face-to-face situation. Perhaps he had made the wrong decision in joining the Disciples of Baas.
“When I was a young boy I read the stories of the Jedi every night before I slept,” Droveth spoke now as if he were dreaming, staring off into the wilds of the It’kla gardens and watching the memories unfurl before him. “Back home on Talus, my mother would sit in the sun with me and tell me that I was a Jedi, that I could help people if I chose. She told me that the forces of darkness were everywhere, and that I could stop them. That I would have to devote my life to it. As a child I never would have imagined that I would be here on New Tython with you, sir. It was just silly games then…” His voice trailed off as a small blue lizard ran past his feet. Mar Sûl stood silently, watching, waiting.
“My older brother, Taneth, did not see things the way my mother and I did, unfortunately. He drifted towards greed and anger, and when we lost our home to poor trades he believed that he could fix it. Taneth flew in the night without waking my mother, but woke me to say goodbye. I remember him whispering, ‘I will make them pay, Dro. You will see. When I return I will have riches beyond your dreams, and we will take Mother somewhere beautiful.’” Droveth stood now, adjusting his robe and rubbing his bald head. “I didn’t see Taneth for another 10 years.”
“Your brother went to the dark side, did he?” Mar Sûl finally spoke, breaking the eerie silence that had fallen on the gardens. “He fell to his anger?”
“He forgot the good of the world, and when I saw him again, he was only anger.” This was the hardest part to recall for the Padawan. “By this point I had met a man on Talus who told me of New Tython, of a school where I could learn, if I was worthy. He told me that I was destined to go there. He too believed that I would help people. I ate lunch with this man once a week at the dock, and he taught me the principles of the Jedi order. I never even knew his name…”
“I was in the city, going to meet with the old man when I saw my brother. There was a commotion in the market district, screaming and smoke pouring into the sky. I ran there immediately, weaving through the crowds of people running away, desperate to provide assistance. When I finally arrived at the market square, I saw him. Taneth stood in a crowd of soldiers, all with weapons drawn, moving through the square and laying down a barrage of blaster fire. It was a death squad, killing everyone innocent or not, as long as they stood in their way. Taneth was on the front line, laughing and smiling as he took lives. He turned his head and his eyes met mine; I knew then that my brother was lost forever. Then he fired. I was so scared, sir, I feared for my life. I was dead, and I would never be able to help anyone. But someone saved me that day. I stood for a long while, with my eyes closed, waiting to feel, or not feel, something. But when I opened my eyes the soldiers were all dead. Even my brother. I never saw or heard a thing.” Droveth was nearing the end of the story, yet Mar Sûl showed no change in appearance. He stood, as he had the whole time, patiently watching.
“When I saw what had happened, how I had been saved. I knew what I had to do. I collected all the money I could and set out for New Tython. I knew that my future was at the Arca Praxeum. I have not regretted a single moment.”
“And what did that old man instill in you? What did he teach you?” Mar Sûl asked, now seemingly interested.
“He taught me that violence is the last resort. He said that ‘Darkness does not learn through violence. The only way to change the world is to use your voice.’ He said that if I was going to help, I would have to do it diplomatically.” Droveth spoke the words of the old man as though he were sitting right beside him. He would often quote him, when no one was around, to calm himself.
“That is sufficient, Padawan. We will see if you are cut out for the Disciples.” And with that Mar Sûl left, leaving as silently as he came. Droveth felt a sense of relief, the sun almost shining brighter and the birds chirping louder. The gardens truly were a beautiful place.
“So much violence and death has happened here,” the young consular spoke to himself, “Yet it is so peaceful. How could someone seek to destroy this?” The small lizard was now beside him on the bench, and Droveth reached over and stroked its back. “Yes, this was always my home, I just didn’t know it yet.”