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Vincent Mikaru (Galactic Civil War)

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"I, am the darkest shade of Grey."
—Vincent I
Vincent Short Hair
Vincent
Kahn iceayAdded by Kahn iceay

Vincent Mikaru I later known merely as Vince was the first Mikaru to ever join the Templars of Twilight. He was also the oldest (chronologically) Mikaru to ever live. Being born in 6 ABY and alive well into the Sith-Imperial War.

PersonalityEdit

Personality wise Vincent was very much like his eventual Descendant. The Biggest difference however was He was far easier to anger, and eventually, after the events including Insipid, became semi-obsessed with revenge, going so far as to leave a message for Insipid to find. In fact while his descendant was calm, and belonged to the Ice Sage cast, Vincent relied on his emotions to operate and belonged to the Fire Warrior cast.

BiographyEdit

Vincent Mikaru was born in the year 6aby to the Echani Mikaru Clan on Coruscant. Discovered to be Force sensitive as a toddler, he was one of the first 'younglings' of the Jedi Academy started by Luke Skywalker. His training differed none from any of the other Jedi, and he didn't stick out aside from his hair, and his attitude. He tended to disagree with the methods and Modus Operandi of the Jedi Masters, being more aggressive and with "Darkside tendencies".

He personally believed that they were holding back their interactions with the Force. Fear of people falling to the darkside by viewing the source as open, hypocritically avoiding the fact that its fear that leads to the darkside. Because of these thoughts, the Masters were reluctant to give him the rank of Knight, but his skills in lightsaber combat, adherent to his Echani Heritage, and he was relatively skilled in the ways of the Force.

Just before to the onset of the Yuuzhan Vong War Vincent vanished, leaving the order after having grown tired of the Masters one sided view of things. He was convinced his concept of the Force wasn't limited to him, and began a quest to find others who thought similar, it didn't take him very long. Not even 2 months into his journey had passed before he was approached by two individuals calling themselves "Templars". The leader called himself, Kev-Mas Colcha, and he explained that they had been watching him for a very long while, even since word reached them that he showed a belief towards the force being a whole, and not two divided sides.

They told him of their order, the Templars of Twilight, their belief that the force was not split into a light and dark side, but that it wished to be used as a whole and that the Jedi and Sith unbalanced it by using only part of it. And they told him the wanted him to join their order. Vincent agreed, and left with them to their base of operations on the hidden planet, Zonama Sekot.

However, just as Vincent's training began, the Yuuzhan Vong War began, and Vincent was torn between the need to finish his training, and the want to help others. However, Kev-Mas assured him, that while he too wanted to take the fight to the invaders, The Templars would act, when the time was right. Over the next 4 years Vincent trained, a good deal of which was under Kev-Mas, to the point that the two became like brothers, despite their age. Kev-Mas even presented Vincent with a duplicate of his ship the Crimson Dagger, dubbed the Ivory Dagger.

In 29aby, Zonama Sekot decided to aid the Jedi and their allies in the Second Battle of Coruscant, and many Templar, including Vincent and Kev-Mas joined, though namelessly, as pilots of Sekotan Fighters. Tragically during the Battle, Kev-Mas' fighter was struck by enemy fire and slammed at high speed into a Worldship, dealing heavy damage to the immediate area and apparently killing dozens of Vong in the process. This was a blow, to both Vincent and the Templars as a whole, who took the loss silently, deep in their temple, where they mourned their fallen comrade, but rejoiced at his joining the Force.

"We are gathered here today to pay final respects to our honored dead. But it should be noted that this death takes place in the shadow of new future, the sunrise of a freed world; a world that our beloved comrade gave his life to protect. He did not feel this sacrifice a vain or empty one, but an honorable one and for the better good. Because his was a good death. There was no shame in his death. This man, who had done great things. We're making a better world. A galaxy of better worlds. And this man, gave his all."
—Vincent I at Kev-Mas Colcha's funeral

After the war, and for the years to come, Vincent would continue his training. Eventually rising to the Rank of Master and he was very close to getting a place on the Council. However, starting in the year 49aby, a series of events lead up to Vincent's sudden disappearance on a mission. Having now been gone for the better half of a Century all records show him MIA, but that, is far from the case.

Vincent's DirgeEdit

Vincent's Dirge

By Sinrebirth

with contributions from Kahn Iceay


Chapter 1Edit

In the darkness, invisible threads in a minds eye became corporeal, and a monster glided a piece across a dejarik board. The monster had a name, many names, almost as many as the target of his latest piece.

The ‘Twilight’ Force users had drawn the monsters molten eye for sometime. His droid eye, the analytical part of his mind, saw them as a burden, but the darkness inside the monster considered them an impressive tool, one to be used at a later date. The One Sith were not strong enough yet to make use of them, but they grew stronger daily. The Second Galactic Civil War was over, and the Miranda Crisis had passed, weakening the resolve of the galaxy.

Forty five years ago today, Darth Sidious and Darth Vader had died. The Battle of Endor had broken the Empire’s heart, and the monster in the darkness of Korriban was constructing a new one – a darker and more potent one.

While Sidious and Vader had provided the beating heart, infecting all around them, the One Sith were not just within the heart, they intended to be through the entire body of the Empire, controlling every nerve and cluster of strength within the beast.

Darth Krayt tapped a button on his datapad, and the message was sent. He took his comlink, and opened a channel, glancing at one of his higher-ranking pieces, one of the forty or so he had gathered for the new Sith Empire he was forging.

“You have your objective. Depart immediately for Fondor.”

---

Vincent Mikaru was a Twilight Templar, a student of both light and dark. It was thus with that in mind that the Council, based on Zonama Sekot in the Unknown Regions, had been able to detect the eddies and pools of darkness that surrounded the Galactic Alliance.

It was not a Twilight Force Users’s responsibility to maintain such things, but Vincent had identified a direct threat to Sekot and thus the Order. The Avengeance and it’s crew - Bothan’s determined to genocide the Yuuzhan Vong - had escaped from the GA during the Battle of Fondor, and recaptured by the GAG shortly thereafter. Under Caedus’ cruel but short-lived regime, they had been tortured to reveal the source of their spies in the GA – those who had informed them of the location of Zonama Sekot.

With Caedus poised to conquer the galaxy, the Templar’s had chosen to act even as the Jedi finally resolved the crisis, but they found, from their limited involvement, that there were many loose threads still at large. A Sith meditation sphere, and a mysterious frigate deployed in the Bimmiel system, as well the existence of Darth Vectivus and the information about Bothan’s informant – a man named Aden Kya, who had gone missing during the Yuuzhan Vong War, and resurfaced as a Jensaarai in the GA fleet. That information had not been acted upon, and deftly ignored by the Daala administration, as well as numerous other War Crimes that may have been prosecuted under Cal Omas or even Darth Caedus – the GA was too fragile to even point fingers at its Force User allies.

But Vincent wasn’t one to let loose ends die – his obsessive personality simply wouldn’t allow it. He made efforts to track down Aden Kya – who had vanished after the war - and made use of various agents to find the man, in-between his studies and duties as a Templar – limited as they were by the decision of Kage Hwarang to make the group a shadow organisation, and secretly attached to Sekot – not even Magister Danni Quee was aware of them.

This limitation slowed down his search, and heightened his obsessive bends, until he was literally throwing all his spare time into discovering Kya’s location. After nine years, an anonymous tip was logged by his personal vessel, and Vincent had his location, gathered from his vast information web, expanded beyond that of even the Templar’s knowledge.

He had detected numerous dark side schemes and plots, gathering together images of a man that was possibly an heir to the Sith, possibly the last Sith alive – and determined to destroy the Templars before he acted with a precision rivaling Lumiya’s. It was possible he was attached to them, with the actions of Vergere and Lumiya confusing without a third person being included in their machinations. The question was essentially this:

Why would they throw away their lives without an insurance policy?

Vergere’s death made sense considering that Lumiya remained active.

But Lumiya’s death made no sense; how could be sure Darth Caedus would fulfill his destiny, fully, and continue the Rule of Two, when he failed so spectacularly?

There were plots being stirred in the Unknown Regions, in the Deep Core, around the Force cults of the Outer Rim, attached to entities such as Aurra Sing and Aden's late mother, and even the Stenax Massacres of 4 ABY – complexities immense.

Vincent had speculated, as was his nature, and assumed that the third man – this Aden Kya – was the third piece of the puzzle, the man that Vergere and Lumiya had been cooperating with for those many years. It explained why Lomi Plo had saved him from Fondor, another piece of the puzzle which had seen the Yuuzhan Vong capture the woman during that ‘gap’ where Vergere roamed the galaxy for a year.

However, even with all that knowledge, even with all the pain and strain that he’d put himself under, he responded blankly to his first tangible lead in nine years.

“About time.”

Chapter TwoEdit

Darth Insipid, the man once named Aden Kya, once named Aden Lin, found himself above the world of his birth, and found he was filled with melancholy. No, this was not the world of his birth – nearby Tallaan filled that niche in his heart. But it was where Aden Kya and eventually Darth Insipid were born, the names he had chosen to keep.

His mother had left him at the age of two, and his father had spurned him in exchange for more political power, abandoning the Sith Lord as a teenager to Fondor’s slave racket. The Yuuzhan Vong invasion saw him saved, recovered by Lomi Plo and Welk, and he became another of his grandmother’s apprentice’s.

It was strange, to discover your grandparents had been Sith, but it was obvious, in hindsight, what with his mother vanishing. It hadn’t been long before Aden – his faith in democracy shattered as Fondor was struck again and again – had become Darth Insipid, and then advanced in the ranks of the One Sith.

And here he was again, back where he was born, nearly twenty years after the fact, in his StealthX, acting as Aden Kya, a Jensaarai. He’d done this many, many times – but never to his homeworld. That shouldn’t matter to a Sith, but Insipid was an individual who had believed that Krayt was intending to use Caedus and his GA to conquer the galaxy – not sit back for another century and do nothing.

It was... disappointing, to be betrayed by the Dark Lord, more than anything. Treachery is the way of the Sith, but the One were supposed to be different. Insipid truly believed that, and so hadn’t been scheming to depose Krayt as much as create a better vision of the One. His escapades on Sarafur had nearly gotten the order exposed to Alema Rar and Aurra Sing of all people, and had seen him become a field agent rather than teacher – allowing him to see just how much Krayt had used them.

But, now, the Dark Lord had dispatched him to Fondor to recover the Kashi Mer Talisman. Used by Arden Lyn to place herself in stasis for twenty five millennia, it was an ideal tool for Krayt to place himself in stasis for prolonged periods. Insipid had been provided with data on placing Krayt in stasis, and was expected to use the Talisman to assist Krayt’s recovery from the ailment which attacked him.

As a matter of fact, Aden intended to use the Talisman to kill Krayt, and Darth Wyyrlok, and take the Order to new heights – sooner, rather than later. Aden amused himself with those thoughts. The Order would be his – he would be the One at the heart of the new Sith.

And so, he landed his StealthX, and made his way to the meeting point. Several Sith artefacts had ended up in the Colonies region, and Krayt had tracked down the source to be some kind of Sith lackey named ‘Darth Solari’, an Anzati who had wandered the galaxy for at least a century, though Darth Wyyrlok believed Solari had been active since the days of Kaan. It was he who had allowed Sith Lanvarok’s to go onto the market and fall into Empress Iceheart’s hands, and Krayt believed it was that darksider who had been responsible for Tavion ending up with the Scepter of Ragnos on Commenor.

And so, Krayt had apparently organised a meeting to trade the Kashi Mer Talisman for stasis techniques, which had suggested to Wyyrlok and Insipid that the Anzat was nearing the end of his lifespan. The Anzat did in-fact exist, and Insipid had been briefed fully on the existent threat – Krayt revealing that there were in-fact quite a few Sith groups stirring the threads of darkness, mostly unaware of each other.

Insipid mission, however, was not as complex as picking out the webs; he was to kill the Anzat and take the Talisman.

A relatively simply mission, Insipid had long concluded. Setting down his StealthX in an abandoned shipyard in orbit above his homeworld, Insipid looked at the lightwhip he often carried with him, and instead wrapped it up and placed it under his seat. If the Anzat attempted to drain his ‘soup’, a lightwhip would be too dangerous. His lightsaber would make do, Insipid decided.

He leapt from the StealthX, creating a bubble of oxygen around himself with the Force and slowing his breathing. He allowed some of the air surrounding him into the bubble, decided it was breathable, and released his protection, breathing properly once more. His black Sith cloak flowed behind him, his cowl up in-case the Anzat proved a liar and brought others – it would not do to reveal he was Aden Kya also, and that was particularly obvious considering he, like perhaps half the Sith Order, had chosen not to tattoo themselves crimson and black.

Insipid strode into the centre of the construct, into the crew areas beyond the hangar, into the main hall, which was used for celebrations and funerals. The other bays and yards all lead here, and Insipid had no doubt he would see his Anzati contact.

He stopped, and before him, perhaps a dozen meters away, stood a man with a long cloak, clearly a Force user, but just as clearly not an Anzati, his human face visible.

Darth Insipid frowned, taking a long moment. “And who are you?”

- - -

Vincent Mikaru had found his enemy. At last. The Sith robes, the cowled hood, the lightsaber hanging from his belt. The dark side reeked from the man, and Vincent’s narrow focus collected his thoughts.

The link – which had proven time and time again to be a good source during the Second Galactic Civil War - had informed him that Darth Insipid had contacted his anonymous tipster about a Sith Talisman belonging to one Arden Lyn, an Emperor’s Hand of considerable skill and power. Insipid had apparently been responsible for that mess, and even the Disciples of Ragnos that arose during the first Galactic Civil War.

“And who are you?”

The tone was clinical, uninterested, almost bored. Vincent bared his teeth. “My name is Vincent Mikaru. I am a Twilight Templar.”

“Never heard of them,” said the man Vincent knew as Aden Kya.

“Oh, Aden, I’m very surprised at that. Considering your efforts to eradicate us,” said Vincent.

The black cloaked man took a step forward, pulling down the cowl of his hood and revealing a man who surprisingly appeared around the age of Vincent – but there was that dark side aging, and with that in mind… he could be younger than Vincent. Vincent had a great deal of experience with darksiders, during the rampage of Lord Shadowspawn and the subsequent rise of ‘Darth Sanguinis’.

A part of Vincent became concerned by that, starting to suspect that this man wasn’t the Sith that he had believed him to be. Before his mind could properly engage with that thought, Aden spoke, an anger becoming apparent.

“My name is Darth Insipid. I earned that name decades ago, and you shall address me by it. And if I had made a concerted effort to destroy you, you would have known.” The Sith snorted. “It strikes me that my efforts to crush your movement were an aside, showing my real concern about you.”

“Oh very funny,” snorted Vincent, taciturn and cold. “For someone who handed the coordinates to the True Victory party, and then helped them in their release…”

At that, Darth Insipid’s eyes flickered, yellow eyes glimmering. “So, you’ve been directed here to kill me, by my ‘Master’.”

Vincent allowed a modicum of worry to influence him, eyes blinking, but only once, his control reasserting itself quickly. “So, you’re not the one who had been working with Lumiya and Vergere.”

‘Darth Insipid’ – who Vincent’s analytical mind was starting to treat like the ‘Darth Sanguinis’ back in 6 ABY, as a pretender who was worth nothing – laughed, a full blown explosion thrown at the ceiling, his head held back. Vincent tensed, recognising the tactic from one Skywalker had recorded from Dark Jedi Master C’Boath, but Insipid did nothing.

“I worked with them, don’t worry. I met Vergere, once, but Lumiya and I were great friends. No doubt they noticed that I would be a great ‘tool’ to destroy the One Sith,” said Insipid, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“The One Sith?” said Vincent, his mind running through the information this man was divulging. That sounded like an organisation of some kind – an organisation of Sith? Curiosity ebbed into his concern, and the Templar began to realise he had no reason to engage these individuals – perhaps this ‘Master’, who had directed Insipid.

The next statement by Insipid dispelled the notion that pleasantries could be exchanged and they could walk away from each other.

“We have been played, young Vincent. But clearly you know more than you are allowed to. So, I’m going to kill you.” Darth Insipid ignited his crimson lightsaber, and spoke, clearly.

“Twilight Templar Vincent Mikaru, I tell you this, now; I am the greatest danger you have ever met. My family has wrought darkness on the galaxy for three generations. It was my grandfather who was the Supreme Prophet who deposed Sanguinis and wrecked the galaxy. It was my mother who brought forth the resurrection of the technology which gave birth to the Empire Reborn. I shall kill Darth Krayt and bring down a Sith civil war upon the cosmos, and destroy your Zonama Sekot once and for all.”

Insipid crackled with darkness, but also so much more – his madness was palpable, an evil that was beyond even the Emperor, intending not to simply control, but ravage the galaxy simply for the sake of it – a family which would create generations of such individuals, until there was nothing left.

A true threat, one even a Templar could agree to fight.

Chapter ThreeEdit

Darth Insipid was a master of Soresu and Makashi, but he had been dabbling in Djem So as of late, to complete his offensive weaknesses. However, he chose the opening stance of Soresu to oppose Vincent, sweeping his left foot forward and holding his crimson blade above his head, his left hand held out and the Force kept close. "Prepare to die."

Vincent's features hardened, He knew very well when he had arrived at this point a fight would be highly possible, and he was prepared for it. Simultaneously he grabbed his silver hilted saber from his belt and activated it while sliding his left foot backwards, almost in-line with his left. A stance, highly reminiscent of Makashi. "If one of us dies on this day, it is going to be you, not I, I assure you." Vincent was hoping his training, coupled with his knowledge of Echani Arts, would grant him the upper hand in what was to come.

The stance that Vincent chose to take was intriguing, reminiscent of Makashi, which would run quite well against Soresu. Darth Insipid flared his hand, throwing a bolt of lightning at Vincent as an opener. It was a cheap shot, but one that he approved of.

In a simple move, Vincent brought up his left hand, calling on Force Deflection, to block the incoming lightning. The move was cheap, but also, not very effective, it had been used against him by Kev-Mas in sparing matches often. "I do hope, I haven't been so mistaken, that that is the best you have." Focusing just a tad more he pushed the Bolts away, directing them towards Insipid's feet.

Insipid found himself bemused at that response, taking a step back, the long distance the lightning had to cross giving him that chance, the lightning leaving his fingers behind before the return bolts reached him. He took steps forward, slow ones, to cover the meters of distance, speaking politely. "I see that you Templars are not fools. That is good. I shall learn something from this fight, perhaps."

"Perhaps more than you assume." Vincent said calmly as he focused the force around him, clearing his mind. It was called Harmonic Resonance - becoming one with his surroundings. It combined an Echani's ability to predict movements, with his lightsaber style. "Do your worst Sith, It won't be enough."

Insipid smirked, and gestured, flattening his hand and slamming down on Vincent's head with telekinesis, taking steps to cover the gap quicker. It would be a moment before they were in dueling range.

This was exactly why Vincent had used harmonic resonance, the moment he felt the focusing in the force above his head he shifted all his weight to his right foot. Which he used, with the aid of the force, to leap forward at Insipid, thrusting his lightsaber forward in a move that he called, Cho Dawn. A play off Cho Sun, instead of removing the arm, he would damage the hand. And it was Insipid's saber wielding hand that was his target.

The telekinetic blow crashed down, Insipid feeling the Force rumble a moment before Vincent leapt the meters distance. Cutting his efforts short, Insipid had anticipated some kind of telekinetic move and shoved out with the Force, forward. Insipid was surprised to see Vincent leap, but the shove out - not powerful enough to achieve much more than slowing anyone - gave him the space to act. His outstretched hand he pulled back to his weapon hand as he swung his body around in a jung ma, coming back around in time to club at Vincent's blade, intending to smack it aside with a move of brutal Djem So, before lunging back at Vincent with a stab of Makashi, intending a shiak on what he anticipated would be an exposed body.

Vincent could have almost smirked, there was always something satisfying about surprise your opponent. Combat was Vincent's home, not by choice but by blood. It gave him a near precognitive ability in seeing an opponents moves.

Vincent saw, just seconds before it happened, Insipid's move to club away his saber. Vincent ducked his head, and lowered his saber just enough to avoid the blow. Then, in an acrobatic move taught in the Echani Firedance arts he moved his hand down flat against the ground and spun his weight, sweeping his legs towards Insipids, to knock him over.

Insipid was surprised but not enough to throw together a response, using the Force to push himself even further back and then to hold himself in mid-air, flipping around his centre of gravity to land on his feet. He was barely down before he gestured, hard, to the left, intending to shove Vincent that direction.

Vincent felt the blow coming at him and flipped into it, letting it propel him to the left and drop him on all fours, his blade now deactivated and attached to his belt. He pushed off within a moment, darting forward. Insipid appeared even less concerned, bringing his hand around forward and pushing out, telekinetically, a wave of dust and debris showing the path.

Gotcha, thought Vincent, who pressed himself to the ground and sent the blow off his personal shield, the two slanted so Insipid’s strike was sent up to shatter the room lighting. Darkness surrounded them, and Vincent lurched forward again, Insipid’s position illuminated by his crimson blade. He used the Force not to hide the sound but deflect it, sending the sound throughout the abandoned facility to mask his approach.

This man is more powerful than I had allowed for. Even a Sith shouldn’t be this strong alone…

Vincent curtailed the thought as he bounded up, intending to strike at Insipid from above. The Sith’s golden eyes, remarkably, followed him, which Vincent managed to anticipate. Telekinesis grabbed him and slammed him down, Vincent still only barely managing to catch and brace himself on the floor with his hands and the Force.

Insipid pushed down, harder, as the emergency lighting flickered on, still standing exactly where he was. “Young fool. Surely you realise I am capable of engaging in a Force duel.”

That much was clear from the way that Vincent had driven him away in the sword fight. Vincent had to get closer to him – but found himself pinned even more violently. The edges of his personal shield were digging into the metal, cutting into it as Insipid made efforts to crush Vincent within his own defences. Vincent felt himself getting irritated, and then furious, with the Sith Lord.

“I am not a fool!”

---

The Templar shoved out one of his hands, throwing a bolt of darkness at Insipid. His Sith eyes widened, and he erected a shield around his chest hastily, the blow still catching him hard and lifting him off the ground. Such power!

Insipid rolled to his feet and saw Vincent dart forward, closing the remaining gap between them rapidly. Insipid swore, and reached out, using a technique his first master had given him – and drained the emergency lights. They snapped off, and Insipid deactivated his blade, hiding himself, but he did not do the same in the Force. Instead, he pushed his presence to fill the entire complex, making it so large that Vincent would be unable to distinguish it from the rest.

Insipid leapt into the air, keeping the Force close to him as he spun so he would land behind where he had been a moment ago, his expanded presence masking his actions – the sound scattered by Vincent’s lunge – and landed, opening his hand and throwing lightning. It illuminated the ground, carving sparks into it. Insipid’s eyes, caught adjusting to the darkness once more, took a second to realise Vincent wasn’t where he should be –

Vincent’s foot burst into Insipid’s face, from above, shattering the nose and sending him back. Insipid’s concentration vanished, his presence dwindling, and the emergency power free to illuminate the area once more. Insipid didn’t notice behind the pain, hissing as Vincent landed and leapt after him.

This one is actually more dangerous than I’d imagined.

Insipid was barely back on his feet before Vincent clipped him with his fist in the side of the head, and Insipid fell in that direction, landing on his hand and kicking forward at Vincent’s head – who was already stomp-kicking Insipid in the chest. Insipid crashed down, rolling and throwing off his cloak at Vincent, who dove under it somehow and darted forward and uppercut him in the chin, lifting him off the floor and cracking teeth.

Insipid still had his faculties under control as Vincent reached with his outstretched hand for Insipid’s blade, the Sith locking his hand around Vincent’s and pulling on the cloak with the Force to wrap it around Vincent’s legs as his own feet found the floor again. The Templar’s hand suddenly left Insipid’s grip, inexplicably skilfully, and he hopped, grabbing the cloak with his own Force control and pushing it forward to wrap around Insipid’s own legs, Insipid barely igniting his blade in-time to cut it in two.

Vincent’s own blade had activated in his other hand, and was swinging at neck height. Insipid pulled himself back with the Force, the blade cutting a gash in his throat that took away skin layers but nothing more, and Insipid moved to block, Vincent inverting his blow and following through with a stab which cut through the shoulder of his weapon arm.

Insipid screamed.

---

I have him now!

Vincent was far into the dark side, using it’s aggression to fuel his technique just long enough to gain an advantage over Insipid. The man’s eyes were alive with pain, his broken teeth clenching as blood ran down his chin, as Vincent pulled back closer to his own line, his calculating mind returning and concluding that Insipid wasn’t going to achieve anything in the split second it took him to regain full control.

Then something flickered in Insipid’s eyes, and a hand darted from his blade’s hilt to hover above Vincent’s chest, incredibly fast – it was as if the equivalent of Force adrenaline had been pumped into Insipid, allowing him to reach for Vincent before he’d even had a chance to breathe.

There was a flicker of energy, and then Insipid’s momentum – from the falls, from the uppercut, from the kicks and the chase – carried him off Vincent’s blade and to the floor. Vincent felt his body collapse, sagging, as he resorted to pure willpower – in the Force and in his mind – to hold himself upright, nausea and dizziness attacking him simultaneously. He fell back, his pure force of will making it so it appeared he was sitting down.

“What – What have you done?”

Insipid lay there, taking in gulps of air, and looked up. “Moricho. The technique for stasis, I believe. Sorry if I threw in some malacia, too, I only learnt the skill about… an hour ago?” The Sith chuckled, self-depreciatingly, before returning to breathing.

Vincent had heard of moricho, and malacia. He had never mastered the skills, and moricho had only been known to very few individuals before the Jedi Purge. After it, the skill had lightly percolated the Dark Order that Sidious had created, and very few knew how to use it, let alone the location of the technique. Considering how young Insipid was, clearly Vergere or Lumiya had taught him the skill. Or this ‘Master’ he spoke of.

“Tell me,” he said, pulling on the light side to heal him as strongly as he could. It wasn’t working very well – in-fact, he was beginning to believe he was accelerating the contagion. “Tell me who you are.”

“I’m Darth Insipid. A Dark Lord of the Sith,” said the dark robed man, as he sat up, the Force helping him. “And, seemingly, you master. Now I’ll have to be Aden again, to check myself into a hospital.” Insipid sighed. “Irritatingly, I must say. And of course I’m going to have to leave my Masters organisation, too – as he informed you of me.”

Vincent flopped to the floor, trying to land on his lightsaber and end this, rather than be tortured. Insipid flicked a finger, pulling the blade to him. He didn’t catch it, instead letting it roll past him, and then gestured, draining the power.

“And you’re a Twilight Templar. Most curious, as a user of the light and dark.”

Vincent hissed, glaring at Insipid. “Kill me now, Sith. End it.”

Insipid stood, carefully, his weapon arm hanging to the side. “I think not. I think I’ll keep you here, as a tool to learn from.” Insipid held out his free hand, gathering the Force to it to place Vincent into permanent stasis.

“I’ll come back for you one day, I have no doubt.”

Vincent Mikaru felt the darkness push on him, and found himself believing Insipid. The darkness made its followers into egotistical madmen, who would resurrect their foes if only to defeat them again – assuming they could. And Vincent had no qualms with dwelling in the darkness until that day.

He was halfway there already.

Chapter 4 65abyEdit

Vincent had never been hit by consciousness before, but when he was, all he could say was that it hurt. It was as if his world had expanded vastly, from that tiny spot where he had resided to fill a body, and then, with the Force, the entire galaxy came rushing in, overwhelming his senses as they awoke, his body jerking, the fire of pain pushing him back to the floor in spasm.

Hurt was all he could say in Basic, of course. In Echani, he swore so hard that he felt like he was inventing words.

Wait, he was inventing words – his tongue wasn’t responding accurately, as if he hadn’t spoken for a decade, and then his mind finally caught up, and remembered

- about a second after he was grabbed in the Force and threw bodily into the bulkhead, his spine slamming first, sending another wave of inferno through his body. His eyes exploded open, harsh light flooding them and causing them to white out – blinded – and then he was grabbed again and hurtling towards the other wall, and down, crashing into the floor and sliding, skin being ripped and left behind.

He thrashed out with his hands, and the Force, carving chunks out of the floor with his grip – invisible or otherwise – as he stopped. Vincent forced himself to breath, and his ears caught up, at last –

I can hear him laughing.

Vincent rolled, weakly, back, and into a crouch, his tattered clothes following him almost belatedly. His eyes adjusted to the light at last, and he finally grasped his senses in the Force – and Darth Insipid punched him full in the face. Vincent was lifted from the floor, and then the stomp-kick that followed caught him in the gut and crushed him to the floor, sending him rolling.

His mind finally adjusted as he stopped and came back into a crouch, realising he had to get a hold of the situation and he looked up, saw the Sith lunging for him, with no weapons to hand, just that cloak and that sneer and that laugh.

Echani reflexes caught up with reality as Insipid reached him, and Vincent reached out for that cloak as he pulled down, intending to place his foot on Insipid’s chest and throw him headlong into the bulkhead behind him. Insipid pulled his arms close to his own chest and rooted himself to the ground to the Force, pulling Vincent back up and towards Insipid with pure muscle – impossibly - and converting the momentum Insipid had gathered forward –

Insipid pushed out, and Vincent’s grip was broken – impossibly – and he flew back. Vincent reached into the Force, realised he didn’t recognise the eddies and flows, and slammed into the wall, hardly cushioned. He cried out, slinking down the wall and, leaving a trail of blood, collapsing to the floor.

His mind managed to work out, finally, that his skills with the Force and in the physical world had atrophied, while Insipid had only pulled him out of the stasis when the Sith had recovered from its affects. Vincent cocked a crooked smile, and started to make a wisecrack, when Insipid shoved forward his hands, unleashing a ball of kinetite into the Templar's chest which crushed Vincent to the wall, bones cracking under the strain - two ribs, three. Four.

Not the time for jokes, Vincent.

He winced, and thrust out with his hand, darting his mind down pathways that didn’t necessarily require finesse and control, a bolt of blue lightning emerging with his hatred. Insipid deflected it aside, clearly with difficult, and Vincent pushed up, off the floor, to attack, lunging forward despite the pain in every nerve he owned.

Insipid gestured, lifting Vincent over his head, and slamming him down face-first. Something broke in his face, and he tasted blood – My nose – and then he felt a jolt, his heart halting, and that terrible darkness approached again. And then, his voice. “Fool. You have learned nothing. I doubted you would. But, I have grown even more powerful than before, my old friend. And I shall continue to do so.”

Vincent reached out, with the Force, hard, but couldn’t stop it, and, once again, he was gone. Shrouded in darkness, once more – but this time it wasn’t just darkness. He knew that Insipid would be back, knew that Insipid would want to try his luck again.

And he’d be waiting.

Chapter 5 RemembranceEdit

It was only the third time the two men had met, and Darth Insipid was quite willing to go through another encounter. He doubted the young man before him – chronologically into his hundreds, now – would have agreed. Kept in stasis by Darth Insipid, Vincent Mikaru had been a Jedi of the Rebel Alliance, trained by Princess Leia during one of her erstwhile attempts to bump the SpecForce operatives of the old Rebellion into full-blown Knights.

Considering the majority of her Knights had either fallen dark or been killed, to call the experiment – during the dark days following Lord Shadowspawns return – an unmitigated disaster would have been unfair. However, even within the confines of the Order, Vincent had been a rogue, and eventually joined a group named the Twilight Templars.

This particular Templar had become convinced that Insipid was the element behind the background Sith activity, when Lord Krayt had used Insipid, on his only mission after the Battle of Gilatter within the Galactic Alliance, to free the crew of the Avengeance and provide them with the coordinates for Zonama Sekot. The vessel had vanished, undoubtedly arriving in-system and being destroyed, but the vessel had been loaded with Force-nullifying technology and ysalamiri, and Insipid had no doubt the cost had been high for the planet and the Templars.

Krayt had provided Vincent with Insipid’s location, and dispatched Insipid on a mission which would see the two cross paths – resulting in Insipid subduing the Templar and placing him into stasis for the next century. During that time, Vincent’s body and ability to touch the Force had diminished, and now Insipid was returning – himself in full possession of his skills once more – to toy with his Templar.

Vincent’s mind, however, had spent the last few decades – since Vincents last revival – planning for this. And so, when his dulled mind suddenly felt the Force and his senses return to him, he acted, lunging forward and shoving his head into Insipid’s gut.

The Sith Lord winced and was thrown back, feeling Vincent scrabbling for the lightsaber at Insipid’s waist. In a moment of panic Insipid struggled back, but his confidence returned and Insipid let him, the moment between Vincent grabbing and igniting the blade allowing the Dark Lord to bodily grab the man in the Force and slam him into the roof of the abandoned Fondorian shipyard – left to drift for a century by the greedy corporations of the planet.

Vincent deactivated the blade as he dropped to the floor, attempting to brace himself. His arms were too deteriorated, and his chin clapped on the durasteel floor. Vincent looked up to see Insipid drop a lightsaber into his hand, grinning malevolently. “So, you planned for this. I remain unsurprised.”

Vincent worked his mouth, aware on some level he couldn’t speak anymore, let along fight properly. That wasn’t going to stop him from trying. He held the lightsaber low in a two handed grip and charged, flicking it up and hacking at Insipid with all his strength.

The Sith Lord side-stepped, and flicked his foot out, to trip the Templar.

Vincent, however, had prepared for this, and even with a weakened body and diminished Force skills, had spent the last few decades retaining his mental faculties, recalling every move of his Forms, every twist of his personal combat style, and every counter and move Insipid could envisage – he’d only opened up with such an obvious attack to confirm Insipid’s already remarkable ego.

As such, he simply pressed his bare foot down on Insipids ankle, pressing the ball of his foot into it and, with a loud pop, rebounded off and twisted, slashing at Insipids flank. The Sith roared at the disabling pain, dropping to one knee and fending Vincent’s blow up and away. Insipid brought his blade back around, but Vincent’s momentum continued him back, his feet managing to stop him in time to slash down one handed. Insipid caught the blow, deflected it away with a single hand and brought his free hand up, nimbus blue gathering. Vincent placed his free hand on Insipids shoulder and flipped over in a manner which would have dismayed his masters, crashing to the ground behind him but rolling on his back out of the way as the Sith clumsily hacked at the floor behind him.

Vincent then ran from the Sith, towards what he had seen during the fight – the Siths fighter craft. He locked the lightsaber on and threw it at Insipid, his bolt of lightning deflected by the spinning blade but stalled nonetheless. Vincent leapt up into the open cockpit of the unfamiliar fighter, and –

Was grabbed in the Force and slammed to the floor, Vincents arm bending into an unpleasant angle. He screamed, and Insipid stood, seemingly using the Force to resist the pain in his ankle. He not-quite hobbled over, laughing. “Was that your best shot? Truly?”

Vincent breathed, moving to free his arm from beneath him, closing his eyes and pushing away the pain with short starts. Truly?, Vincent thought, Truth is elusive to those who refuse to see with both eyes wide.

“Little Vincent, you are my paramour, nothing more. Surely you should enjoy these little trysts?” The laugh became a manic cackle as he loomed over Vincent, crimson blade humming.

Vincent flashed open his eyes, his mind, already protected by his efforts during his slumber, finally reconnected with the Force and yanked out. Insipid spun, catching the returning lightsaber on his own, the weapon rebounding up into the air, and into Vincent’s grasp as he leapt over. Insipid opened up with a bolt of lightning, which Vincent avoided, landing and twisting to face the Sith. Insipid grabbed at the lightsaber with the Force, no longer impressed by the farce.

Vincent held onto it, somehow, and resocketed his arm with the Force alone. Closing his eyes at the pain, he brought his renewed arm to hold his blade, and shifted his legs into a defensive pose.

“Come on.”

“Fool!” spat Insipid. “I am a Dark Lord! A ruler of darkness! While you have been in stasis I have learnt the powers to surpass death, to conjure monsters, to conquer entire armies!” The Sith pointed at Vincent, “You shall kneel!”

Vincent felt himself going down on one knee and his blade deactivating, even as he gathered the Force around him. He looked up at Insipid, knowing, even in a thousand years, his mastery of the Force would never be up there with Insipids. His skills in a fight, clearly beyond Insipids, but the Force? Never. But that didn’t stop him, the moment he reached the floor, from pushing words from his mind into Insipids.

Never.

He re-thumbed the lightsaber, the crimson blade emerging from his back, and Vincent’s life force vanishing. Insipid looked at the man, and sighed. “He would have made such a wonderful apprentice,” said Insipid. “But never mind. He proved my point – he is dead, and I am alive.”

At that, Insipid spun on his heel – not on his injured ankle, however – and departed.

A few hours later, the body that had been Vincent in life became so again, and the Templar breathed out, a wave of reality hitting him and mingling together – the ache in his arm, the sound of the world, the rushing thunder of the Force, and the fire in his stomach. He’d missed his spine – just – and had fallen into a deep trance, providing the appearance of death.

It was a skill he’d never had the time nor knowledge to master, but Insipid, having placed Vincent into stasis, had given him both – he’d had his life paused, and made into nothing within the Force. And so Insipid, in his foolishness, had allowed the Templar to escape.

The Templar lay there, focusing all his energy on knitting his wound together, on reattaching himself to the Force, for days, and, eventually, became, in body and soul, Vincent Mikaru once more.

Darth Insipid better watch out.

The Force Cold WarEdit

"Can each of you in this council look me in the eye and tell me that by sitting on our asses here on this world secluded away from the Galaxy can protect the Balance? Can any of you? Greyst? Dade? No, you can't. The time of hiding in the shadows, doing subtle manipulations is over. I read the reports, You've been building a fleet for over forty years now. Its time we used it!"
—Vincent I

The Sith Imperial WarEdit

"Do you think it's possible to discuss politics without preaching?"
—Vincent to a member of the council

One Last Struggle...Edit

"The struggle is always worthwhile, if the end be worthwhile and the means honorable; foreknowledge of defeat is not sufficient reason to withdraw from the contest."
—The final words Vincent places into his Holocron.

SkillsEdit

The PhysicalEdit

Being Echani Vincent was extremely Physically fit, looking to be in his mid 30's even when nearly 50 years old. The Combination of the Force, and Physical training made him extremely healthy like most of his race. He was still able to teach Combat and other skills to students at the Age of 90, when he finally retired. He knew Tsurugi Enkatsu, and Taras Kasi, he was also fairly skilled with various forms of the quarterstaff and poll arm, but not the double lightsaber.

EquipmentEdit

LightsabersEdit

Vincent's Paired SabersEdit

Vincent I Saber
One of Vincent's paired sabers

Vincent Mikaru I's primary lightsabers were twin silver hilted lightsabers with crimson blades. The hilts were comprised of titanium, lanced with agrinium, and contained two focusing crystals. Both shared twin crystals, that gave the lightsabers red blades, Dalwyn crystals. The focusing crystals were Stygium crystals taken from Kev-Mas's Stygium Cloaking device, granting Vincent while using the sabers the ability to mask himself or his movements, should he chose to, an ability he lacked mastery over in the force normally. It was rare for him to do so but Vincent would occasionally wield both sabers together, though normally one was merely a spare.

Knuckle BlasterEdit

Knuckle Blaster
Knuckle Blaster
Kahn iceayAdded by Kahn iceay
Vincent understood that combat would not always be decided by martial skills and bladed weapons. To this effect he carried a knuckle blaster with him. It was called such because it was a holdout blaster of a nature similar to brass knuckles. The fore of the gun was reinforced and could easily be used as a melee weapon. The Blaster itself had a range of about 25 meters and could fire both stun and kill shots. The Blaster had a third function, if the barrel was placed up against a target and the handle was squeezed, depressing the small button on it, the gun would emit an arc of electricity between the two prongs near the barrel acting as a tazer.

ArmorEdit

Vincent I Armor
Vincent I's Armor
Kahn iceayAdded by Kahn iceay

Vincent's Armor was something he and his friend and Mentor Kev-Mas Colcha hand crafted as one of their many tasks together. The armor was just as much a visual piece of art as it was a functional set of armor. The leather vest, was made of Balfugl leather a leather known for its heat resistance as the Balfugl lived in and around flowing lava, the leather was able to stand up to a direct lightsaber strike for a few moments. The leather as such had to be chemically treated to be useful in clothing. Toping the vest was a silver and titanium collar engraved at the insistence of Kev-Mas, the engravings went on to patters in the leather on the vest and bracers that were worn on the wrists.

The bracers also had metallic insets featuring gems which were a purely ascetic feature. The belt however, was comprised of titanium and phrik and held an Echani personal shield that could cover the entirety of the wearer and withstand several normal powered blaster shots and even lightsabers for a short while without needing recharge or new powercells. The pants were comprised of the same form o leather that the vest was, though treated more so for freedom of movement, resulting in less heat resistance. Under the vest was a white surcoat with a blue accent. It was also accompanied by an armored robe.

Behind the ScenesEdit

Theme SongsEdit

Vincent's theme song The Revenge was picked for his eventual obsession with revenge on revenge upon Insipid. "Now it's your turn to live in fear. Now it's your turn to hide in the dark. The time has come for you to feel what I feel" is a lyrical version of how Vincent feels for Insipid, he wishes to put on insipid all the stress and emotions that was placed on him.

Vincent's 'Anger' or 'Battle' theme (though the author believes the term "Emotional State" fits here) Indestructible is very fitting. Despite his anger, and rage, Vincent remains loyal to the Templars, even channeling his anger and rage into something beneficial as a Fire Warrior. This is touched on the lyrics. In addition, despite being beaten, placed in stasis, and stabbed through the chest he has managed to survive. He is a fearless, and adept warrior, and commander, and his Echani Battle Armor can make him seem Indestructible.

I'll have you know that I've become indestructible
Determination that is incorruptible
From the other side a terror to behold
Annihilation will be unavoidable
Every broken enemy will know
That their opponent had to be invincible
Take a last look around while you're alive
I'm an indestructible master of war
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