imported_Grev Drasen
Feb 24th, 2003, 10:22:26 PM
A city of resplendent activity and impelling nightlife; Coruscant was a city which harbored some of the more unique personalities of the universe in its bustling streets. It was a sanctum for wantonness and crime alike, just as much as it was an attraction to lure tourists of all walks from the galaxies. Among the petty street mobs and artful scoundrels, a particular evil seemed to overhang from the conventional madness of the city on this night.
After months of concealment, tonight was the night chosen by Drasen to indulge in a little bit of mischief. He had been cast into banishment and left for dead by his previous Order, and for that time a certain requital had been swelling inside of him. Alone, he stood, that anger kept dwelling in his mind, tonight just as fractious as ever before.
None were held responsible but those who subjected him to such punishment. In his eyes, it was different. The entire city would feel his bitterness, innocence was something long forgotten in his sense of mind.
“Come on out,” he spoke to himself, and the voices responded just as sharply.
”What are you going to do?”
“What ever needs to be done,” he laughed to himself, allowing his body to freely loosen from its tightened stance. His arms swung in flaccid movements, the cylinder hilt of his light saber, which was fully ignited, scraped along the rooftop of the building carving scars in self-directing patterns along its surface.
He continued to stagger in befuddled circles, allowing for the crimson blade to freely explore his surroundings. Sometimes even lifting the weapon over his head and swiping it fiercely at no particular pattern. Only to miss, and the applied force sending his body stumbling forward; at some points falling upon a fine line of almost toppling over the vast scrapers.
From abroad it was a man on the bounds of his sanity.
That was hardly the case. He was more sound than ever before, and while most sought the affiliation of others to obtain their stability, he was resolute with the fact that the binding of the Order had been broken. He was free from their conformity, and he had an acquired taste for bloodshed to show his content.
“I said come out!”
After months of concealment, tonight was the night chosen by Drasen to indulge in a little bit of mischief. He had been cast into banishment and left for dead by his previous Order, and for that time a certain requital had been swelling inside of him. Alone, he stood, that anger kept dwelling in his mind, tonight just as fractious as ever before.
None were held responsible but those who subjected him to such punishment. In his eyes, it was different. The entire city would feel his bitterness, innocence was something long forgotten in his sense of mind.
“Come on out,” he spoke to himself, and the voices responded just as sharply.
”What are you going to do?”
“What ever needs to be done,” he laughed to himself, allowing his body to freely loosen from its tightened stance. His arms swung in flaccid movements, the cylinder hilt of his light saber, which was fully ignited, scraped along the rooftop of the building carving scars in self-directing patterns along its surface.
He continued to stagger in befuddled circles, allowing for the crimson blade to freely explore his surroundings. Sometimes even lifting the weapon over his head and swiping it fiercely at no particular pattern. Only to miss, and the applied force sending his body stumbling forward; at some points falling upon a fine line of almost toppling over the vast scrapers.
From abroad it was a man on the bounds of his sanity.
That was hardly the case. He was more sound than ever before, and while most sought the affiliation of others to obtain their stability, he was resolute with the fact that the binding of the Order had been broken. He was free from their conformity, and he had an acquired taste for bloodshed to show his content.
“I said come out!”