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Caduceus Rhade
[fancybox4= http://i.imgur.com/BabZb9y.jpg "]FULL NAME: Caduceus RhadeAGE: 31
SPECIES: Appears Human, True Appearance: Sith Massassi Caste
HEIGHT: 6'10"
WEIGHT: 255lbs
EYE COLOR: Amber
HAIR COLOR: Black
SKIN COLOR: Fair
MARKINGS: Multiple Scars along the Torso, branded mark on left shoulderblade
FACTION: Sith
RANK: Supreme Commander of the Imperial Legion
Theme Music: Link
Voice Sample: Link
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HISTORY
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"He who fights monsters must take care, lest he himself become a monster in the process. For when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you." - Friedrich Nietzsche
Prelude: Blasphemous Sinner
Prelude: Blasphemous Sinner
Born upon the frozen wastes of Khar Delba, the man that would be known as Caduceus Rhade entered the world fitfully as did all newborns. He was soon given over to a Creche of other children to be raised and taught in the ways of the warrior. While he showed an aptitude for the blunt, lethal method of combat that was the Massassi's blood rite, Caduceus secretly coveted more than brutal force. He craved the mystical arts of the ruling Kissai. While looked down upon by most of that particular caste of Force-users, one took an interest in the precocious child.
Whether it was an experiment to see if such monstrous warriors were capable of using the Force, or simple pity and desire, Caduceus got his wish. Albeit in secrecy. From the age of ten onward, Caduceus learned the dark art of Sorcery and the forbidden practices of Alchemy. Whereas his warrior's birthright taught him brutality, his new tutor taught him cruelty and cunning. When those of his tribe learned of this breach, Caduceus received a 'light' punishment. Pummeled to near death and branded.
He'd gotten off relatively easy all things considered. Exiled, the brand upon his flesh marking him. Caduceus eeked out a meager living on the fringes of society, abandoned by the master who had gifted him with the secrets of the Force. He continued to practice, eventually drawing the attention of a Sith Lord. Soon, gone were the worrisome feelings of an outcast, replaced by the beginnings of power, the trappings of another calling.
Whether it was an experiment to see if such monstrous warriors were capable of using the Force, or simple pity and desire, Caduceus got his wish. Albeit in secrecy. From the age of ten onward, Caduceus learned the dark art of Sorcery and the forbidden practices of Alchemy. Whereas his warrior's birthright taught him brutality, his new tutor taught him cruelty and cunning. When those of his tribe learned of this breach, Caduceus received a 'light' punishment. Pummeled to near death and branded.
He'd gotten off relatively easy all things considered. Exiled, the brand upon his flesh marking him. Caduceus eeked out a meager living on the fringes of society, abandoned by the master who had gifted him with the secrets of the Force. He continued to practice, eventually drawing the attention of a Sith Lord. Soon, gone were the worrisome feelings of an outcast, replaced by the beginnings of power, the trappings of another calling.
Part: I Knowledge is Power and a Prison
What transpired between his youth to the height of power is relatively unknown. Save for himself, no one alive could tell his tale. At the very top of his prowess, the Empire of that time was on a steep decline. Things were not going well for the ever shrinking Sith Empire. He was a devout follower of the Force, plying its awesome powers in defense of a failing homeland. Desperation, in the end, caused him to abandon the Empire and go his own way. Still, the questions remained, the desires left unfulfilled.
Krayiss Two may have held the answers he was seeking. Now free of restriction or duty, Caduceus journeyed to the nearly forgotten world. There, on its sand-ridden surface, he found the ancient Temple-Libraries half buried within the sands of this most desolate of worlds. The entrance to the sacrosanct mausoleum tested his mind, his resolve and his power. For as he stepped into its depths the long-dead ghosts of the Sith that came before him stirred. Awakened from their slumber by this intrusion. And they would not be denied their due.
It was while searching through this trove of forgotten knowledge that they struck. The vengeful dead, so full of hate, malice, and desire to add him to their collection of tormented souls made their move. Senses assaulted, mind besieged, and body wracked, he was under attack on all fronts. Yet his will sustained him. His stubbornness saw him through, and the power he plied helped ensure a measure of survival. Fleeing deeper into the Temple-Library, Caduceus set what wards he could against their onslaught. Where he found himself, he was trapped in a spacious room filled with all manner of devices and implements.
Some were known, others he could not divine. The spirits of Krayiss Two battered against the protective measures, sensing his very life force. His essence, it was what drew them to him. Desperation gave way to a maddening plan. For in the room was a chamber. One used to place someone in a state of stasis. It was archaic, older than even this iteration of the Empire. But it was the only thing that he had found that may see him through. Spirits to the front, and basalt walls behind, he had no other play to make. Caduceus rolled the dice. Entering the stasis chamber, he watched as the clear-plas shuttered down upon him enclosing him in its embrace.
In the back of his mind, he believed he would die. To accept the eventuality of his demise. That this stasis device would not work, that his wards would fail and the dead would attain their due. Whether by some metaphysical entity's intervention, or mere happenstance it worked. His vital functions reached the point of rendering him in hibernation. His life force seemed to disappear to the scholarly ghosts, no longer did they feel the strong emanations of vitality. No longer was his presence in the force felt. It had just ceased. There was no lamentation at being denied. No furious outrage as their prize slipped through their grasp. Elation perhaps, or maybe glee suffused the withered phantoms.
For while he had cheated death itself, he had ensured his own demise in a way. His body slumbered, held in suspended state, but his mind. His mind remained aware. Too late, Caduceus realized it for what it was. A method of torture. A torture one would have supreme difficulty in escaping if that were even possible.
It was here that the story of a Sith ended, the Empire ended. Burnt to cinders by its own hubris as much as by the Republic's bloated corpulent might. For over three hundred and eighty-five years he screamed, battering at the walls of his mind. Going mad, feral, unable to feel, to speak, to move. Time passed him by. It had forgotten the man in the box.
Begging, pleading, praying, nothing helped. The lack of sensation, of the mundane aspects of the living were things he lusted after now. Desiring with a clarity he had once taken for granted. Fear, Lust, Madness, in the end it left him a wretch in his own thoughts.
Providence found him.
The seconds, minutes and hours. Weeks, months and years ticked by. A Brotherhood arose on the decayed back of a once mighty Empire. It was perhaps not providence for he had long since forsaken faith of any kind. No, it was a matter of failure. The very thing that had both saved, and damned him failed. Ancient even by the time he'd discovered it, its power source, a source which had held firm for nearly four hundred years finally gave up the ghost.
Those first moments of derealization came slowly. Denied them. Tricked him. But feeling, true feeling had begun to seep into the extremities. Such a foreign concept now. To be held against one's will for so long. To not experience sensation had left a feeling, of being trained to no longer having felt they had experienced it at all. It had become a dream. The ragged inhalation of stale air told him otherwise. His lung filled, body shuddering at the freezing temperatures. Overwhelming at first, his mind no longer being used to processing such things gave way to fear. Hands pressed against the clear-plas, banged against it before brute force threw it open in a fit of fear-fueled exertion.
Caduceus lived.
Now, having escaped his prison, the once trapped man fled the depths of the tomb. Blindly at first, the sense of panic and disorientation falling away to old memories, long hidden. Steps were retraced in a mostly trance-like state. Desire drove him forward, memory nipped at his heels. And the tormentors of ages past stirred once more. But this time, this time he would be the victor.
Part: II Surreal Realism
Escaping had been a problem all its own. But somehow he'd managed it. Those first weeks were spent in a haze of sensational overload. The galaxy as he knew it was no longer the same. Centuries had passed. The once mighty Sith Empire had perished, giving way to the Sith Brotherhood. They were like physical blows, unrelenting blows rained down upon his still fragile mind. And it would be many months yet before being able to once more steer a course of his own devising.
In the ensuing months, a drastic change occurred. No longer was he the Massassi Pureblood of a once proud people. His skin no longer crimson, no longer did tendrils adorn his face or ridges on his brow. It had given way to a fair complexion, to smooth skin. Eyes that had once been a fiery red now had gone to coals then cinders of amber. He was just another human, albeit a tall, self-hating human. Alchemy had seen to his change. While it could change his outward appearance, it could not change what he was on the inside. He was still Sith, the blood flowing through his veins; years of living under the yoke and rhetoric still clawing at his soul.
It was a fresh start, or so he told himself. This drastic transformation from red-skinned conqueror to the fair complected human. A chance to reinvent himself.
But no more the dutiful, loyal Sith. But one of giving himself over to lecherous impulses and debauch behavior one of sensation. Yet etched deep in his core and psyche remained a hint of madness, of anger, rage and now resentment. Unable to bring himself to it, he could not leave the Sith.
The pull had remained after all these years. A bitter resentment intermingling with the desire to see this new epoch either rise or fall with him in its ranks once more. It was the only place in which he felt a lingering sense of belonging, the pull of power, the thirst for knowledge, the lusting for recognition. He would find a home among this resurgent Empire.
To be Continued. . .
What transpired between his youth to the height of power is relatively unknown. Save for himself, no one alive could tell his tale. At the very top of his prowess, the Empire of that time was on a steep decline. Things were not going well for the ever shrinking Sith Empire. He was a devout follower of the Force, plying its awesome powers in defense of a failing homeland. Desperation, in the end, caused him to abandon the Empire and go his own way. Still, the questions remained, the desires left unfulfilled.
Krayiss Two may have held the answers he was seeking. Now free of restriction or duty, Caduceus journeyed to the nearly forgotten world. There, on its sand-ridden surface, he found the ancient Temple-Libraries half buried within the sands of this most desolate of worlds. The entrance to the sacrosanct mausoleum tested his mind, his resolve and his power. For as he stepped into its depths the long-dead ghosts of the Sith that came before him stirred. Awakened from their slumber by this intrusion. And they would not be denied their due.
It was while searching through this trove of forgotten knowledge that they struck. The vengeful dead, so full of hate, malice, and desire to add him to their collection of tormented souls made their move. Senses assaulted, mind besieged, and body wracked, he was under attack on all fronts. Yet his will sustained him. His stubbornness saw him through, and the power he plied helped ensure a measure of survival. Fleeing deeper into the Temple-Library, Caduceus set what wards he could against their onslaught. Where he found himself, he was trapped in a spacious room filled with all manner of devices and implements.
Some were known, others he could not divine. The spirits of Krayiss Two battered against the protective measures, sensing his very life force. His essence, it was what drew them to him. Desperation gave way to a maddening plan. For in the room was a chamber. One used to place someone in a state of stasis. It was archaic, older than even this iteration of the Empire. But it was the only thing that he had found that may see him through. Spirits to the front, and basalt walls behind, he had no other play to make. Caduceus rolled the dice. Entering the stasis chamber, he watched as the clear-plas shuttered down upon him enclosing him in its embrace.
In the back of his mind, he believed he would die. To accept the eventuality of his demise. That this stasis device would not work, that his wards would fail and the dead would attain their due. Whether by some metaphysical entity's intervention, or mere happenstance it worked. His vital functions reached the point of rendering him in hibernation. His life force seemed to disappear to the scholarly ghosts, no longer did they feel the strong emanations of vitality. No longer was his presence in the force felt. It had just ceased. There was no lamentation at being denied. No furious outrage as their prize slipped through their grasp. Elation perhaps, or maybe glee suffused the withered phantoms.
For while he had cheated death itself, he had ensured his own demise in a way. His body slumbered, held in suspended state, but his mind. His mind remained aware. Too late, Caduceus realized it for what it was. A method of torture. A torture one would have supreme difficulty in escaping if that were even possible.
It was here that the story of a Sith ended, the Empire ended. Burnt to cinders by its own hubris as much as by the Republic's bloated corpulent might. For over three hundred and eighty-five years he screamed, battering at the walls of his mind. Going mad, feral, unable to feel, to speak, to move. Time passed him by. It had forgotten the man in the box.
Begging, pleading, praying, nothing helped. The lack of sensation, of the mundane aspects of the living were things he lusted after now. Desiring with a clarity he had once taken for granted. Fear, Lust, Madness, in the end it left him a wretch in his own thoughts.
Providence found him.
The seconds, minutes and hours. Weeks, months and years ticked by. A Brotherhood arose on the decayed back of a once mighty Empire. It was perhaps not providence for he had long since forsaken faith of any kind. No, it was a matter of failure. The very thing that had both saved, and damned him failed. Ancient even by the time he'd discovered it, its power source, a source which had held firm for nearly four hundred years finally gave up the ghost.
Those first moments of derealization came slowly. Denied them. Tricked him. But feeling, true feeling had begun to seep into the extremities. Such a foreign concept now. To be held against one's will for so long. To not experience sensation had left a feeling, of being trained to no longer having felt they had experienced it at all. It had become a dream. The ragged inhalation of stale air told him otherwise. His lung filled, body shuddering at the freezing temperatures. Overwhelming at first, his mind no longer being used to processing such things gave way to fear. Hands pressed against the clear-plas, banged against it before brute force threw it open in a fit of fear-fueled exertion.
Caduceus lived.
Now, having escaped his prison, the once trapped man fled the depths of the tomb. Blindly at first, the sense of panic and disorientation falling away to old memories, long hidden. Steps were retraced in a mostly trance-like state. Desire drove him forward, memory nipped at his heels. And the tormentors of ages past stirred once more. But this time, this time he would be the victor.
Part: II Surreal Realism
Escaping had been a problem all its own. But somehow he'd managed it. Those first weeks were spent in a haze of sensational overload. The galaxy as he knew it was no longer the same. Centuries had passed. The once mighty Sith Empire had perished, giving way to the Sith Brotherhood. They were like physical blows, unrelenting blows rained down upon his still fragile mind. And it would be many months yet before being able to once more steer a course of his own devising.
In the ensuing months, a drastic change occurred. No longer was he the Massassi Pureblood of a once proud people. His skin no longer crimson, no longer did tendrils adorn his face or ridges on his brow. It had given way to a fair complexion, to smooth skin. Eyes that had once been a fiery red now had gone to coals then cinders of amber. He was just another human, albeit a tall, self-hating human. Alchemy had seen to his change. While it could change his outward appearance, it could not change what he was on the inside. He was still Sith, the blood flowing through his veins; years of living under the yoke and rhetoric still clawing at his soul.
It was a fresh start, or so he told himself. This drastic transformation from red-skinned conqueror to the fair complected human. A chance to reinvent himself.
But no more the dutiful, loyal Sith. But one of giving himself over to lecherous impulses and debauch behavior one of sensation. Yet etched deep in his core and psyche remained a hint of madness, of anger, rage and now resentment. Unable to bring himself to it, he could not leave the Sith.
The pull had remained after all these years. A bitter resentment intermingling with the desire to see this new epoch either rise or fall with him in its ranks once more. It was the only place in which he felt a lingering sense of belonging, the pull of power, the thirst for knowledge, the lusting for recognition. He would find a home among this resurgent Empire.
To be Continued. . .
APPEARANCE
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[fancybox2][/fancybox2][fancybox2]Tall. Tall is likely the first thing people take notice of about Caduceus. While he was able to change his outward appearance to that of a human male, one of the things that remained was his height standing just shy of six feet, ten inches tall. Also thanks to his native heritage, Caduceus appears an exceptional physical specimen. Broad shouldered, barrel chested, long of limb, it is clear that despite his lifestyle choices he keeps himself in excellent shape.
Clear of complexion, with a chiseled jaw, vaguely aquiline nose and high cheekbones. His eyes are darkly amber in hue to go with his short cut jet-hair. Considered physically attractive and knowing it, there is an almost arrogant air about him. From the unconscious, artless grace of movement. Fluid, Panther-like, he displays a somatic awareness of a warrior well beyond his years.
Whatever motion he makes tends to come out exactly as envisioned with little effort, making his movements something that is minimalistic, purposeful and precise.
Clear of complexion, with a chiseled jaw, vaguely aquiline nose and high cheekbones. His eyes are darkly amber in hue to go with his short cut jet-hair. Considered physically attractive and knowing it, there is an almost arrogant air about him. From the unconscious, artless grace of movement. Fluid, Panther-like, he displays a somatic awareness of a warrior well beyond his years.
Whatever motion he makes tends to come out exactly as envisioned with little effort, making his movements something that is minimalistic, purposeful and precise.
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WEAPONS & ARMOR
[fancybox4="http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f47/LupusRaga/Finava_zpsgrsztyig.jpg"]- Double-Bladed Lightsaber, Violet Kyber Crystal, Cortosis overlay
- Old-Style Sith Armor
- Focusing Gem - Pendant Around the Neck
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SHIP
[fancybox4="http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f47/LupusRaga/destiny_vehicle_ship_concept_01_additions_04_zpsvis1a4rd.jpg"] [/fancybox4]
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