Marik Dasturb - Memories of the Fallen

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Marik Dasturb - Memories of the Fallen

Postby bigpapi3493 on Fri Nov 28, 2008 1:34 am

As the transport sped through hyperspace, Marik sat in his small compartment, beginning to plan out his strategy. He would need to take this transport until it reached Kashyyyk. Then, he would have to hire a ship to take him to Ossus. If what Cogari had told him were true, he would find Tosen in the spaceport’s only cantina. There, Cogari has said, was where Tosen launched all his operations. Marik knew that this operation would take stealth. He would have to walk casually into the cantina and find Tosen. He couldn’t afford to start a fight in the cantina, as all of Tosen’s men would be there, looking for a fight. Marik decided that he would need to train more before he faced Tosen because he knew that, upon seeing the crime boss, his Force powers would be triggered by his inconsolable rage at finally finding his brother’s killer. He stowed his star charts and clipped his lightsabers to his belt.


Marik found an old, retired loading bay at the back of the ship. He pushed some old metal crates together and sat down. He calmed himself, focused his mind and began to meditate. The crates began to float in a large ellipsis around him as he channeled his Force energy into massive sphere surrounding his entire body. As his mind relaxed for the first time in what seemed like eons, he began to see things. Just flashes of images at first, but they slowly became more fluid thoughts, forming streams of sounds. Of images. Of lights. Of memories.

Remember, Marik”, began Jasis, “you must never let your emotions get the best of you. It is imperative that you keep a level head in battle. Otherwise, you are nothing more than an animal.”

At first, Marik could only see flashes of himself and Jasis. Then he began to hear Jasis’ voice. And his own.

“Jasis! Stop telling me this crap! Teach me how to fight! Not how to be a philosopher!”
“Marik, if you want to learn to fight, you must first learn to focus. You’re too aggressive and you can’t keep a level head when we argue, let alone in a fight. If you can’t keep calm, you’ll die as soon as you set foot on the battlefield.”
“Damnit, Jasis, just tell me how to fight! You’re the tactician. Staying calm is your job, not mine.”
“Alright, Marik, you win. We’ll start your training tomorrow morning.”

Marik began to tense, as the memories came to him faster and faster. He began to remember another day with Jasis. The crates started revolving in quicker succession, as though gravity was pulling them into a tight spiral.

Marik and Jasis were standing in an abandoned warehouse several blocks from the safe house.
“Swing lower, Marik. You’re coming in too high and leaving yourself open!”
Marik slashed at Jasis’ midriff with his sword.
“Good, Marik! Now try to sweep my legs.”
Marik lashed out at Jasis with his right leg, trying to trip his brother. Jasis easily leapt over the kick and launched a punch at Marik’s face. Marik brought the flat of his sword up at the last minute and blocked the punch. Then, he put all his weight behind the blade and brought Jasis crashing to the floor. As Jasis hit the ground, his sword was sent spiraling through the air and landed in a corner. Marik put his sword to Jasis’ throat.
“Checkmate, brother.”
Jasis smiled as Marik helped him back to his feet.
“You’re getting better, Marik. You’re rapidly becoming better than me. You’re swordsmanship is flawless, despite a few mistakes when you lose focus. You are able to think on your feet when in a sticky situation. There is one last thing you must learn.”
“What’s that, Jasis?”
“When an opponent is bluffing!”
Jasis pulled a dagger from his belt and thrust it towards Marik’s ribs. Marik brought his sword around and, not only did he block the thrust, but he also managed to knock Jasis off balance. He sent a roundhouse kick at Jasis’ head and it connected with full force. Jasis, quite literally, flew through the air. He sailed back 30 feet and slumped down against the wall. Marik stared at Jasis with surprise on his face.
“How did I do that?”
“I have no idea. You’ve kicked me like that plenty of times and I’ve never flown across the freakin room before! That hurt.”
Jasis clambered slowly to his feet.
“Well, confusion aside, I think it’s time to pack it in for today, Marik. We need to get back to the safe house for dinner. It’s almost dark and I’m on sentry dinner tonight. Hurry and get your stuff together.”
“Okay, Go on ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’ll be fine. See you at home.”

About 10 minutes after Jasis had left the warehouse, Marik strapped his swords to his belt and pulled on his goggles to keep the outside fumes away from his eyes. He walked out of the warehouse and started to walk back to the safe house. He walked past an alley and looked around. The street was eerily quiet. Marik knew something was wrong even before the three Rodians burst from the alley entrance. One hit him in the stomach and tried to throw a sack over his head. Marik tackled the assailant with the sack and brought him crashing to the pavement. The other two Rodians came from behind and one hit Marik in the back of his head. Marik stumbled and barely managed to block a savage kick aimed at his chest. He rolled behind the kicker and sent a fierce punch at the mugger’s knee. He heard a satisfying crack as the Rodian’s knee shattered under the force of the punch. He pulled his swords from their scabbards and slashed at the third Rodian’s back. One sword connected as Marik brought its twin around in a blindingly fast arc to parry a dagger thrust from the Rodian who had first hit him. Marik sprang to his feet and sprinted into the street.

As his assailants approached him, weapons at the ready, Marik examined his surroundings. He was in a narrow side street with a few shops and plenty of rubble on the ground. As he glanced at one specifically large pile of rubble, the Rodians began firing their blasters at him. Now, Marik was always pretty light on his feet. He began to spring lithely up the pile of stone and durasteel. He found a flexible-looking sheet of durasteel and placed it at the top of the pseudo-mountain. He drew his swords once again and hopped onto the sheet. The would-be sled started sliding down the pile. As he shot towards the first Rodian, Marik raised his swords. He slashed downwards at the Rodian’s head with his right-handed blade and thrust his other sword at the mugger’s stomach. Both blades found their targets as Marik flew past his first assailant. As the sled approached the other two thieves, Marik threw both of his swords at them. One Rodian was skewered through the chest and the other fell with the sword piercing his head. Marik reached down and, as the board approached a smaller pile of rubble resembling a ramp, he pulled his weapons free. The board sailed off the ramp and shot towards the ground.

When he was back on the street, Marik sheathed his blades and dusted off his jacket. He pulled a lighter and a bottle of Johrian whiskey out of his pocket. He poured some booze on each of the bodies and lit them up. As he walked away, Marik pulled out a cigara, ignited it, placed his lighter back in his pocket, and headed home.

The crates came smashing to the floor as Marik slumped down onto his back. Blood was dripping from his nose. He sat up and, for the first time since leaving Coruscant, he wept. The tears poured copiously from his eyes as the pain in his heart was finally allowed to escape. He clambered to his feet and staggered off towards his room.
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Re: Marik Dasturb - Memories of the Fallen

Postby bigpapi3493 on Fri Nov 28, 2008 1:37 am

When Marik entered his room, he noticed a data-slate sitting on his bed. He poured himself a glass of Johrian whiskey and sat down next to the slate. He thumbed the power key, and the screen lit up. A message flashed on the screen before him. A blunt, abrupt, painfully simple message.
“We have her”
“Had who?”
Marik thought.
He started to think maybe this was some sort of prank. Then it appeared on the screen before him. A single picture. A picture of two teenagers, standing arm-in-arm with each other. They looked so happy together. Marik had to stop himself from crying again as he looked at the picture. He was the guy in the picture. He almost laughed at how he had looked back them. No scars. No phrik-mask. Eyes full of happiness instead of the pain- and hate-filled orbs that sat in his skull, looking at this photo. He remembered how happy he was back then. Jasis was still alive. The gang wars hadn’t started. They were one big, happy family: Jasis, Marik and her. Serasha. She had been Marik’s only real friend from when he arrived in the lower levels. They had spent years together. They were best friends, but anyone who saw them together could tell that there was more than friendship between them. Marik finally asked her out when he was 14, and she had said yes. Marik had never been happier than when he was with her. They did everything together. When Jasis started teaching him to fight, Marik passed on his lessons to Serasha. They grew ever closer. Until that day. After Jasis was killed, Marik drifted away from her. He still loved her with all his heart, but he wasn’t willing to let her get hurt. He knew his enemies would go after her. When he left for Corellia, he went to see her one last time.

As Marik knocked on the door, he already knew that he was doing the right thing. Serasha opened the door and gazed in shock at the boy who stared back at her. Marik was twenty, but for all the battle scars and wounds, not to mention the psychological trauma of all that he had seen, he was still a boy. On the outside, a rough, scarred man. On the inside, however, she saw the headstrong, caring boy that she had loved for a very long time.
“Marik?” she asked. “Is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me”, he replied.
“What happened to you? I haven’t seen you in months! I was so scared! What happened?”
“The wars. It’s that simple. I was second in command under Jasis, and when he died, I stepped in to take his place. It’s been hard without you.”
“I thought you were dead. I barely sleep at night because I wonder where you are. What’s all this?”
She pointed to the rucksack and messenger bag sitting at his feet.
“I’m leaving. I’m going to Corellia. I can’t stay here any longer. It’s too painful.”
“Why would you leave? You still have me.”
“That’s the reason why I have to leave. They’ll come for you next.”
“Who’s ‘they’?”
“The guys who offed Jasis and tried to kill me. They know about us. That’s why I’m going.”
“But, I love you. Why are you leaving me here?”
Because I’ve lost everything else. All of my friends and comrades are either dead or missing. My parents are long dead. Jasis is gone. You’re all I have left. I’m not willing to lose you, and I’ll do anything to keep you safe, even if it means I have to leave you.” When I’ve had time to think and sort out my problems, I’ll come back. I’m going to hunt down the bastard who killed Jasis and I’ll destroy him. When he’s dead, I’ll be back. I’ll take you away from here, and we can live in peace somewhere else. I promise”
As he said this, tears began to pour from Serasha’s eyes. He embraced her in a hug that affirmed his promise. He held on to her so she wouldn’t see the tears flowing freely from his own eyes. He didn’t want to leave, but he knew he had to. He pulled back a bit, and then leaned in to kiss her. He pulled her close again as they kissed, and they both began crying afresh. They broke apart and Marik reached into his bag for the gift he had brought her. He had decided to give them to her when Jasis died. He pulled forth from the bag Jasis’ twin swords. They were much like his own, but they were a little less worn then Marik’s were. They were bright green and looked almost identical to Marik’s blades.
“This is my last gift to you. They’ll keep you safe. I taught you well. I know you’ll be here when I get back. Take care of the swords for me.” Marik said.
“Whose are they?” Serasha asked.
“Jasis’. He used them when he taught me to fight. When he was in the actual war, though, he used a kukri. Much easier for him to conceal. He valued these more than his own life. Remember me if, God forbid, you ever need to use them.”
And, with that, Marik kissed her once more and strode away.

He was crying again. God damn it, he was crying again. He always regretted leaving her. He pressed the “next” button on the data-slate and then froze. His blood ran cold as he stared in horror at the picture that had just appeared. It showed Serasha lying in a small cell. Her body was covered in gashes and bruises, as though she was beaten regularly. She was dangerously thin, and she looked dehydrated. Marik noticed a caption under the gruesome picture.
“She doesn’t have long, boy. Hurry.”

As the ship landed on Kashyyyk, Marik rushed towards the cantina. He asked the bartender if he knew of anyone who would fly him to Ossus. The barman pointed to a man in the corner, and Marik went over to talk to him. After a few minutes of explaining his situation to the man, Marik had secured a transport to Ossus.
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