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What is it that causes us to go on? Why do we bother...why are we concerned...why do we live? The eternal questions that plague the mind and burden the soul are ones that are to forever go unanswered by a greater power. Some dwell on it, some forget, some never cared in the first place. But there are a few, beings that go beyond the preconceived and expand their minds further, for knowledge, for wisdom, for understanding. Locked in a deep meditive state was one such being, the fallen and at the same time the chosen, and his lone Baudo-class Star Yaht elegantly rocketed through hyperspace. There he sat, in a beautifully soothing room adorned with crystals and artifacts of emotional power that he had gathered in all his years of searching. There was a quiet peace to be absorbed by this place, the tranquil waves of Force energy eminating from the objects washed over the rogue and a kind of strange understanding found him. For so long he was lost, not knowing when to act and when to sit, but now things were different...he had control. Finally his thoughts were his and his alone, he no longer allowed the past to control him, but in the same sense he lost it; even through all his discipline and seeking parts of him were still plummeting more so then before.
His mind flooded backwards through his lost fragments of time to his past and once more he was lost. Redemption was so close and yet it would always be just out of his grasp, he would forever stand outside the edges of the spotlight, never eclipse it. He couldn't let it rule him though, there was no past for those on the quest for atonement, but could that ever really be achieved? Could we ever undo what was done? Was there really a second chance for us all? In his moment of half despair and half clarity the heretic was rocked with a sudden feeling of torment. Pain...it was pain upon no end; the misery...the anguish...the agony...the hatred...the rage; too much it was too much. So much in fact it nearly broke his concentration, but it didn't, they weren't his own feelings. Immediately he snapped his emerald eyes open to attention and brushed his left hand through his hair, a shade so raven black it almost had an azure hue around it's edges. He callously rose to his feet and began walking towards the cockpit, but he stopped and turned to one of his focusing crystals and reached out for it. He'd acquired this one on the planet Cricin, a stop off on the Outer Rim, just before he left for the Unknown Regions. He didn't know why, but he took it off of it's shelf and placed it in his pocket before continuing forward to the cockpit.
With the quick pull of a lever, the Harmatia emerged out of Hyperspace before the looming city-planet Coruscant, and bringing the sub-lights online he rocketed to the surface. He casually darted in between the many airlanes and the speeders that trafficed them, nearly colliding with two or three...but he quickly compensated. Hands dancing across the controls he nimbly set the ship down on one of the many docking pads and as he walked down the landing ramp he was met by a dock droid.
"I want her re-fueled and restocked," he flatly said.
Once again he could feel the torment in his mind, but rather embracing it he focused his thoughts and refracted the emotions back to the source, the entire planet. Coruscant was in mourning, the aura of the vast planet was in a state of unparelleled agony, but why....the Republic had been in a state of peace for some time, yet hatred dwelled. Hatred would always dwell, pain would always be real...nothing would ever change that. He methodically made his way toward the Outlander, a place he had spent many a night downing drinks and being carried out of. With a hiss the doors opened and peering around the room he made his way over to a recently vacated booth and sat, piercing emerald eyes scanning the room and observing all those around him.
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