Count Dooku
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| Saturday, July 22nd, 2006 | | 12:07 pm |
OOC: Is this the end?
Well, you post irregularly for a year and then not at all for three months and look what happens. It seems I've been unceremoniously booted off of theatrical_muse. And, well, considering I found out a good two weeks ago and have done nothing about it (not even a "Hey...what's up with this?" e-mail to 'em) I think this signals an ending. It's been a crazy year and an even crazier summer what with the whole "getting married" thing and my interest in writing the Count has waned. There may be an epic fic or two in the future, but for now I'm putting the old boy to bed. I just wanted to put an official coda on this journal; too many of these fic projects fade away into mystery and I did't want that. Count Dooku was my first experience with fanfic writing and, I have to say, it was a blast. I want to give a special thanks to all of the people that have commented to this journal. Praise from other writers and Star Wars fans means a lot to me and I truely appreciate it. As for me, I'll still be around. Lurking, skulking, writing here and there and whatnot. My personal journal, twick516, exists in fits and starts (Again with the crazy recent life). As for the Count; oh, let's imagine him relaxing in a state room, just off the Invisible Hand's observation deck. A glass of fine wine in his hand, he watches the battle churning through a viewport and thinks back on the days that brought him to this moment. It was his destiny... Current Mood: thoughtful | | Thursday, May 18th, 2006 | | 10:44 am |
What was your childhood ambition?
Gaurnar Sok had the resigned sigh in her voice of one that had settled for the station in her life. Too weak in the Force to become a Jedi Knight and not quite bright enough for the Agricultural or Medical Corps, Sok had taken her place in the Order as an “administrator”. Even as a child I knew the truth; bureaucratic drones and busybodies the lot of them. Not the people that made a difference in the galaxy. “And this, younglings, is the chambers of the Jedi Council. When in session, Jedi Masters meet to discuss…” Most of the youngling group I was in had long stopped listening to Sok as she wound us through the Temple’s upper levels on some obligatory instructive tour. Upon entering the Council chamber, her hold on the group finally splintered and younglings scattered like Jerba cats. “Dooku, look!” Lorian Nod, still a friend then, had plastered his face against one of the chamber’s sweeping windows. “You can see Brant-Tel Port from up here. And then…” He balanced himself up on the tip of one foot and squinted. “Yeah! All the way to the Works!” “You cannot see the Works from here,” I countered. “Half the planet would be in the…” I trailed off, distracted. Sok was shooing a pair of Wookie younglings off of the holo-controls and the movement caught my eye as to what was behind them. The chair. His chair. It was smaller than the others and, with the room’s circular arrangement, at first glance held no special station. But, even at that young age, I could see the subtleties of the seat’s position. With the pretext of equality, a strong leader could draw the weight of the room to himself, have all of the power and influence of the Jedi Order at his command. The only being in the universe I felt respect for sat in that chair. An important person, someone that made a difference. That was what I wanted. | | Saturday, March 18th, 2006 | | 5:10 pm |
Write about your father.
The whirring silver toy clicked its way down the hall, bounced off of an antique cabinet and through an open door. I remember laughing and chasing after it, gleeful to have escaped my nannies smothering care. The toy had rolled deep into the room and sunk itself into the thick, hand-woven carpet, resting up against a well-polished boot. I squealed and pounced on the mechanized ball, holding it up in my childish pride. I looked into a face of confusion. My father was there, immaculate in a finely crafted suit, the height of fashion for the staid gentleman of the Core Worlds. The Serenno Cloak-of-State, the symbol of his office as Count, was draped across his shoulders. He was just passing a datapad back to one in a group of sycophantic attendants. I must have interrupted a meeting of some sort. I remember the look of shock on his face, like I was some alien thing that had invaded his private world. That look held only for an instant, replaced with a flicker of annoyance and then the deadness of dismissal. He turned back to his attendants and went on with the business of their day. One of the nannies scuttled in behind me, head bowed and muttering a litany of apologies. She scooped me up and hauled me out of the office, hushing my squawks of displeasure. No one in the room acknowledged our presence or departure. He had already moved on. This is the only memory of my father | | Friday, February 10th, 2006 | | 12:09 am |
Describe your worst failure.
My worst failure? At any other time I would say such a notion was preposterous. Failure was the realm of lesser beings. I had…setbacks, misfortunes, and more than anyone’s share of betrayals, but never failure. Here, now, however, the situation has become all too clear. I should have listened to the little voice. Everyone has a little voice in the back of their head. It whispers to you every time you make a decision. Most species think of it as their conscience, usually backed with a healthy dose of common sense. Others see it as the voice of their gods or ancestors or whatever arcane notions they place their faith. Qui-Gon would have called it the Living Force, the guidance of the collected wisdom of the universe. Mine would sometimes echo with the dim memory of my mother’s lectures. Other times it would be small and raspy, its sentences inverted. Mostly, though, it was my own voice, but still with the shine and hope of youth. It reminded me of my duty, not to put my own needs above those of the Order. It warned me that yes, the Republic was corrupt, but it was best to encourage reform peacefully within the system. It told me not to leave the Jedi, they were my family. It told me on Vjun that they were still my family; that I could go home again. It told me don’t start this war, don’t build Greivous. Every act of treason, every battle, and every death it was there. But most of all, every time Sidious spoke it said do not trust this man. I didn’t listen. I was too enamored with my own glory, so absolutely sure that I was right that to entertain the notion of doubt was foolish. A failure of pride. And it has brought me here; my wrists ending in cauterized stumps, staring up into the faces of two men and my destiny. | | Monday, December 12th, 2005 | | 7:54 pm |
What is the thing you regret most NOT saying?
“It’s just as well. Obi-Wan and I have been given a mission offworld.” Qui-Gon Jinn’s image flickered in the holo, cosmic radiation interfering with the interstellar transmission. Still the image was clear enough for me to see the lines that had crept into his face, the grey in his hair. Was it just the wistfulness of my own old age that would always have me think of him as a boy? Or was it the fact that this was my strongest memory of him; my inquisitive padawan, fresh from the Temple and ready to explore the galaxy. “Then it’s settled,” I replied. “We will meet when we are both able to return to Coruscant. The Kourani are…obstinate, but their negotiations with the Corporate Alliance should not take much longer. I will have both sides seeing reason soon enough.” Qui-Gon and I had intended to share a simple meal in one of the small cafes near the Jedi Temple. It had been weeks since we had spoken, nearly years since we had seen each other in person. Unfortunately, my diplomatic mission to the Outer Rim was more involved than I had envisioned. The Kourani required ceremony; the delegates had to be placated with ritual poetry specially crafted for this occasion. The Corporate Alliance, of course, required more bribes. This appointment with Qui-Gon, like others in the past, would need to be broken. I must admit, there was as much relief as disappointment when I made this decision. Even with my fondness for the boy a barrier had grown between us. He felt it as well; it was all too easy for him to take another mission, run out amongst the stars. “I’m sure you’ll have things in that sector running smoothly in no time, Master.” Qui-Gon nodded to me with a slight smile, but one that didn’t reach his eyes. It was the fundamental difference between us. I had taught him everything he knows about diplomacy, but he had always refused to rise above it. He learned how to be fair-minded and just, how to use others’ weaknesses to your advantage in negotiations, how to craft a dialogue and keep people talking. But he would always find himself bogged down with his compassions. It was personal for him, how these people we dealt with lived their meager lives. He could never let go. It was, ultimately, what had wedged us apart. “I appreciate the vote of confidence. I’m sure your journey will go just as smooth.” Our recent conversations always fell into this bland pattern. Casual chit-chat from people that have known each other for decades. He would never tell me about his greatest triumphs, I would always hear about them from others. He had become a most impressive Jedi. Someone destined for the Council, if he chose. It was not a feeling the Jedi would approve, but I was quite proud of him. “Our transport to Naboo leaves in a few hours. The Chancellor hopes we can bring an end to the Trade Federation’s blockade. I’m sure the negotiations will be short. We will speak again when the mission is complete.” Qui-Gon bowed slightly. “May the Force be with you.” Tell him, I thought. Tell him you’re proud of him. Let him know.“May the Force be with you,” I returned, and deactivated the viewer. | | 6:29 pm |
Write a letter to yourself as a child. Of all the insipid trials Sidious has tasked me with this is the most ridiculous. It’s nearly inane enough to be taught at the Jedi Temple… Young Dooku, Your life thus far has been difficult; torn from your rightful home, forced to explore your natural gifts under the yoke of Jedi dogma. Not to mention enduring the company of your slow-witted, ill-mannered classmates. I know this creates a hunger within you. A churning hope that one day all of this will have been worth it. One day, the Jedi will recognize your abilities, your greatness. You will take your rightful place at the head of the Council and your leadership will drive the Republic into a Golden Age. Then, assuring your place in history, the Prophecy of Balance will be fulfilled by your hand. You feed this hope like a parasite in your soul with the knowledge that the life you deserve will one day be yours. This will never happen. Things will never get better. Your ambitions will never be filled. There will be no recognition, no ultimate appreciation. The hunger will never be satiated. Everything you believe in; the Jedi, the Republic – all will betray you. You will be forced out of your skin; pushed from Jedi to outcast to things far darker. In all this time the hope within you, the pride in yourself, will devour your soul. It will drive you to places…well, places a child in the Temple could not imagine. It is your destiny. Ah, yes, I see Sidious’s point. This sort of ghastly navel-gazing does leave one with a strong desire to commit violence… | | Tuesday, October 18th, 2005 | | 3:40 pm |
What is your favorite thing to do to relax?
Relax! Don’t you know there’s a war? I don’t seem to have one standard minute when there’s not some crisis at the front. Or a diplomat who’s ego need caressing or crushed. Or some bit of espionage skullduggery that will go horribly wrong without my immediate attention. The galaxy is in a whirlwind of chaos and blood and I am in its eye. Just this morning I had to divert a droid battalion to Brucolac to put down a Republic-inspired miner’s rebellion. The one peace I have is the few, small moments late at night, knelt in meditation, clearing myself of the day’s traumas, calling forth my Jedi training for a brief serenity. But it is only a small weakness. A need required by my aging form. It is not true “relaxation”. To be relaxed is to be in one’s natural state. Mine is in the whirlwind. It is my destiny to turn the galaxy by my will. To live to the heights on my passions and destroy those that opposes me. Rest and quiet contemplation will not give me the galaxy. Only pursuing this war to its gruesome end will I gain what I desire. Relax? I am relaxed. | | Saturday, September 24th, 2005 | | 5:23 pm |
Talk about a time you realized that someone close to you was not the person you though you knew.
“I’m staying.” A gritty wind scoured the landing platform. The spaceport on Spen Toroun was as ramshackle and impoverished as the rest of the planet. At the moment, though, it was a hive of activity. Anything space worthy was being launched before the Republic could organize its quarantine and lock the planet down. Our own cruiser was powered up and ready, waiting for us to board. I, personally, was quite prepared to leave this forsaken rock behind and return to Coruscant. Qui-Gon, however, had other ideas. “What did you say?” “I’m staying.” Qui-Gon’s matter-of-fact tone in his defiance was confounding. Six months of tracking the fugitive Yanith Greywater across the Outer Rim Territories to the edge of Wild Space. Two months of tromping through Spen Toroun’s never ending mountain ranges; negotiating with unfriendly, sometimes hostile, tribesmen. Not to mention fourteen hours stuck in a half flooded cave, cornered by one of the myriad of local life forms with very large teeth. Now, we were finished; Greywater had rather anticlimactically surrendered and was relaxing in the ship’s brig. Any delay was preposterous. Especially in light of what we found in those mountain villages “Master Dooku, these people need help. You saw how the Domician Pox is spreading through the mountain tribes. Unless something is done soon entire villages could be wiped out.” “Something is being done. We recognized the symptoms and sent an emergency medical alert to the Republic. A quarantine fleet is on its way. The doctors and medical droids on board can tend to the mountain folk.” “But we’re here now. Who knows how many will die by the time the fleet gets here.” “Qui-Gon!” This was becoming tiresome. I squared my shoulders and faced the young man, “Our mission here is complete. We have been ordered to return by the Council--“ “The Council!” Qui-gon’s voice rose to match my own. “Don’t start acting like their word is law. How often have you conveniently disregarded their wishes to suit your own? “ “This is not about me! This is about you. You and your accursed need to become so involved in the lives of every pathetic life form that crosses our path. Even a Jedi cannot save everyone.” “No, but a Jedi should try to help where he can. That’s why I’m staying.” In the years I had been training Qui-Gon I had never been able to break that defiant streak of compassion. It made him so earthy, so entangled in the lives of the lowly and wretched. It was here, on Spen Toroun, that I knew I never would. He would never be the refined gentleman-warrior cast in my own image. He would always be common. “Very well, do what you must.” I turned and walked up the boarding ramp, sealing the hatch behind me. | | Saturday, September 10th, 2005 | | 4:58 pm |
What is the one thing about yourself that you don't want anyone ever to know?
He’s better than I am. I know that should seem obvious. When one person is referred to as “master” and the other “apprentice” a hierarchy is implied. Sidious is, for all intents and purposes, my superior in our little scheme. He is “the” Lord of the Sith, not just “a” Lord; and, as I have learned under some unpleasant circumstances, his power is not to be questioned. Still, there is a sense of partnership in our venture. He came to me out of need: Sidious had always chosen to work behind the scenes, and with Maul’s dispatching by Kenobi he required an operative. I, to make a very long story short, was desiring a new direction in life; one that fit my own personal beliefs, not the Jedi’s. Our needs meshed well. Additionally, as the face of the Confederacy, it’s me waving from the holotranmissions. I sit at the head of the Separatist Council. Grievous’s armies answer to me. My force of personality bends worlds to our cause. Those that even know Sidious exists know him only in rumor or story, at most a flickering hologram. I have heard some Separatists whisper that Sidious doesn’t even exist; that he’s only a phantom I created to frighten them. So, couched in those terms, I, Dooku, refined and mighty Count of Serreno, would loathe admitting that anyone is better than I. Particularly, some little man hiding in the shadows. But he is. Despite everything; my experience, my wisdom, my power, my ruthlessness, he always manages to outmaneuver me. The man’s labyrinthine plots bring new levels of deviousness to the galaxy. What frightens me the most is that even when there’s a setback, a planet falls to the wrong side or the Jedi achieve some daring deed, he acts as if everything’s falling his way. There are wheels within wheels here that I can’t see. I can’t trust him, but the contingency plans I form never seem sufficient. When the end of this war comes I must place my faith in a man that has dragged the galaxy through misery and terror for his personal gain. Until then, this inferiority must be hidden. This is the fear that can never be shown. | | Monday, August 22nd, 2005 | | 8:39 pm |
Describe the place you grew up.
Where I grew up? What can I possibly say about the Jedi Temple that has not already been said. The Great Hall with its expanse of windows, the golden glow of Coruscant's sun granting halos to the statues of past Jedi Masters. The Archives, a repository of knowledge unsurpassed in the galaxy. The Chamber of the Jedi Council, where the wisest beings in all the universe sit and meet and discuss the lives of their lessors. What can I tell of the Jedi Temple that has not been written about or shown on the Holonet? Millions of beings have seen it with their own eyes; there were tours twice a week before the war. What can I say? I can tell a few, small details. An access panel in the western hanger is loose. Sliding it off and crawling inside brings one to the ventilation system. A ten minute crawl down, then left at the K3 power juncture takes one to a decommissioned exterior vent. A minor power re-route and a finesse of the security grid opens the vent's iris grate. Leaning out, on say a summer evening well past lights out, one could see a great swath of the city's buzzing nightlife, all the way down to the Senatorial district. It is an excellent place to sit and think, alone on a planet of teeming billions. One could contemplate the family that so readily gave him away, the parents that thought their lives would be better without him. Or, perhaps, the impressive performance one gave that day in class, and how his fellow students whispered behind his back in their jealousy; how his teacher gave him a wary look, like he had outstripped even her. Or, one could reflect on the one being in the temple he actually respects, an ancient little man with an antiquated speech pattern that keeps advising him to accept this life and be humble about it. Advice that carries less and less weight every day. But, it is perhaps best for simply staring up at the sky, thinking about the stars hidden by the city's glare and knowing that his destiny lies among them, not here. | | Tuesday, August 16th, 2005 | | 8:29 pm |
OOC update
Hello! I'd like to break character for a moment and apologize to any of Dooku's regular readers. It's been a hectic summer for me, so I haven't had the opportunities for writing I would've liked. That accursed "real life" keeps getting in the way. Some of you have had some kind words to say about past entries, so I'd like to thank you once again. Anyway, I'm hoping to get back in the swing of things soon. As for the Count, he's still brooding over his unfortunate treatment on screen earlier this summer. Thanks again! | | Thursday, August 4th, 2005 | | 7:41 pm |
What is the biggest obstacle you have overcome in your existence?
"We know what you truly are." As a Jedi, we are taught to see all side of a situation and treat every being with sacred respect. The give and take of any diplomatic function, the meeting of disparate people in common cause, were joys and wonders. Even years after leaving the Order, this desire, this need to find a peaceful solution remained. "We know." I had not been expecting the vizier to the right of the Autarch to speak. All of my research on the reptilian Hll'rss and their diplomatic protocols told me that vizier to the Autarch's left, his "Grand Counselor", would do most of the talking. According to the Trade Federation's contact records with this species the other adviser was an impotent functionary, some appointed representative from the spiritual caste. In all previous negotiations, including this one up until this moment, he had seemed barely awake. But, six decades of Jedi diplomacy gives one the ability to navigate the unexpected. Unperturbed, I continued. "Great and powerful Autarch, know that your support for the Confederacy will give you a seat among the galaxy's mighty. Your world will gain access to the wealth brought by Separatist hyperlanes and the security ensured by our grand fleet." The Hll'rss homeworld was resource rich, but Republic taxation had made exportation difficult. By joining the Confederacy, they would gain wide new markets. In return, of course, we would gain income from Hll'rss trade, a staging area for the next campaign, and thousands of new Hll'rss conscripts. It was a deal that was in everyone's best interests. "Traitor." The membranous gills on the right vizier's head were now a rosy pink and undulating slightly. His black eyes stared dead at me. I ignored him and pressed the Autarch. "Mighty and righteous one, you have seen the numbers. All of the details are before you." I nodded to the collection of datapads in front of the Grand Counselor, and hoped the Autarch would turn his attentions to his left. "Sign this alliance and give your people the greatness they deserve." "Murderer." Enough. A voice cackled in the back of my mind. Give in to your anger. The Force boiled within me. "I will not be spoken to in that manner." My words hissed out through clenched teeth. Six decades of Jedi diplomacy evaporated. I lashed out with the Force, striking the vizier in the throat. I dug into his mind and found an attunement with the Force. That was how he knew things about me. I tore his brain apart like wet paper and crumpled his body to the floor. The Autarch, Counselor, and the rest of the courtiers were stunned. Palace guards scrambled for their weapons. A slight flick of one hand brought my saber to the ready. A small motion with the other caused what the Hll'rss believed to be my droid attendant to rise to his full height. I heard the General's multiple arms engage and the hiss of his lightsabers. Within a few heartbeats the room was still: weapons and limbs scattered on the fine tile, the familiar smell an energy blade brings out of flesh in the air. I held the Autarch by the front of his ceremonial robes. "Do not presume to know me." I let the Autarch slump to the ground. All of those words of peace I once so respected were hollow ghosts. I will not be beholden to these games of posturing egos. I will take what I want. I turned and left, telling the "mighty and righteous" one last thing over my shoulder. "Welcome to the Confederacy." | | Tuesday, July 19th, 2005 | | 11:20 pm |
The first time I saw...
The first time I saw destiny it was in a musty viewer alcove. To be fair, nothing in the Jedi Archives is musty. Younglings and apprentices are regularly sent through on humility lessons with dusters and scrub brushes. It's more of a feeling you get being ensconced within that gargantuan collection of ancient knowledge. The weight of history like a neglected tumor. But, in my youth, the Archives were a place of wonder. On this day I was researching an Ithorian philosopher Yoda had casually mentioned in our last lesson. I was hoping to impress the Master and my classmates in the next session. As it happened in those days, my curiosity would bounce me from topic to the next, going off on the tangents my young mind would follow. I remember exchanging scowls with apprentice Jocasta Nu over the pile of datacards and holobooks on the alcove desk. The woman already was the "Little Dictator" of the Archives and was sure I would improperly re-shelve the titles. Returning to my studies was when I saw the first reference to it. The Prophecy of Balance. I was already the best student in all of my classes. My connection to the Force was beginning to surpass some of my teachers. There was no doubt I would become a great Jedi. But these words, etched on an ancient datacard, resonated with me. At that time apprentices had very little contact with the outside world, but I still had a sense of galactic affairs. Even then, I had inklings that something was very wrong with the Republic. The answer was here, in this prophecy. A Jedi, greater than any, would arise. He would set the galaxy right and bring balance to the Force. Reading this, I felt an echo in the Force; a rumbling tide in my mind and soul. I had a very deep connection to this prophecy. Who else could it be about? I would rise to the heights of greatness. I would shape the lives of billions and turn the course of galactic affairs. It was my destiny. That day was my first glimpse of it, my first step into a larger world. | | Monday, July 11th, 2005 | | 9:12 pm |
What do you look for in a romantic partner?
As a Jedi, I have no place for romance. The life requires an utmost devotion to the Force. Any such distractions damages a Jedi's focus, clouds the unity of mind the Force grants. We are told time and again at the Temple that the powers we wield are far too dangerous to lose control. The loss of "romance" is a small price to pay. As Count of Serenno, romance is illusory. It is the appropriate window-dressing of courtly society, a thing for both aristocrats and the masses to gossip over and fill their days. A potential Countess would need to be a woman of fine breeding, pleasant to look at and skilled in the art of conversation. A woman that knows her place waving at the crowd from the manor balcony. Her most important facet would be her family; no Count would marry without exceptional political gain. As a Sith, romance is even more of a lie. Sweet words and niceties to gain another's confidence are one thing, but true romance, the poets say, involves seeing a person's value as a person. The Sith view others as commodities; to be used or destroyed in service to self and cause. As an eighty-three years old human, my prospect for romance is slender. My powers in the Force have granted me skill and strength beyond my years, but even I feel my limits. Wooing a female...my energies are best spent elsewhere. Still, old is not dead. While all of the above are true, there are moments... A companion; a woman of nobility and fierceness. A keen intellect and strength of will to match my own. Someone to share the dark wonders of the true Force. Asajj Ventress is all of these... No. Any dalliance with that dagger of a woman would be madness. We are useful to each other, nothing more. The hunger in her eyes is desire, but for my secrets, not my heart. She would gleefully step over my dismembered corpse to become Sith. In return, I use her; teaching her the lesser arts of the Force while launching her as a weapon against the Jedi. This is our dance, back and forth. In a way, she means more to me than anyone has in a very long time. It will end in one of our destruction. | | Tuesday, June 28th, 2005 | | 8:09 pm |
Blue
The hand welder spat electric blue, bright even through the protective goggles. "At such an hour, late to be working, hmm?" I slipped the goggles off my forehead, still hunched over the temporary worktable. "I had an idea. A slight adjustment to the power coupling will give me a .08 increase in blade integrity." I had felt Master Yoda as soon as he had entered the cavern's tunnel. The echo in the Force when the old Jedi passed could only be ignored by the dim. "Imperceptible is a .08 variance would be." " I'll know it's there." Our eyes locked and Master Yoda raised an eyebrow at my haughtiness. I maintained a facade of pure, cool self-assuredness. This lasted a full five seconds before we both broke into grins. I gave a slight bow. "It is good to see you, Master." "For my favorite student, hmm? Such a day I would not miss." He twitched his fingers and the hilt casing I had constructed drifted to his hand. "Unusual design you have chosen, Dooku. Very old." His stubby green fingers traced the saber's curved handle. "I found it in the archives. I believe it will give me greater deftness of control in dueling." "Yes, to fight other saber wielders this style used. To fight Sith." "Well, we won't have to worry about that." Suddenly uncomfortable, I changed the subject. "Where is Master Cerulian? I'm sure he'll be glad to have you observe my ceremony. " "On a mission for the Republic, Master Cerulian called away. Come to Ilum I have to guide you in this moment." I should not have been surprised. In my years as padawan to Thame Cerulian his absences had become infamous. Yoda, however...from my first day in the Jedi Temple, Yoda had been a constant. He tapped his cane on the cave floor. "Begin, shall we?" I stretched out my hands. The casing, the power coupling, the energy cell and the beam emitter floated up around me. In the center, between Yoda and myself, sat a flawless, diamond-shaped crystal. I had spent days in a repulsar harness crawling across every surface of the Crystal Cave Temple searching for the perfect focusing crystal. Hours were then spent in intense mediation, imbuing the crystal with the Force, preparing it for my lightsaber, for my final ceremony to become a full Jedi Knight. The crystal before me shone blue, bluer than any sky or sea on all the planets I had ever traveled. "The heart of the blade, the crystal is." The air around me hummed as I snapped the parts together with the Force, maneuvering them around the crystal. Yoda continued the ceremony's litany, reciting the ancient words in his own peculiar way. He told how the crystal, the blade, the Jedi; all were intertwined in the Force. The crystal shone one last time with azure brilliance before all the pieces of the saber were joined. I called the weapon to my hand and brought it to life. The blue blade rose with hum and hiss: I was Jedi. Current Mood: peaceful | | Tuesday, June 21st, 2005 | | 11:59 pm |
When in your life did you feel the most alone?
I suppose I should start with some bluster about each Sith soul being an empire unto itself, that loneliness is a failing of lesser souls. But...I have no strength for such posturing. I'm thinking of the beach after Vjun. It was in the aftermath of one of Sidious's overly complicated schemes. Playing on our old relationship, I had arranged a message to be sent to Master Yoda. A peace offering. Whether he considered the gesture genuine or seized on an opportunity to capture me, it worked. He was lured to Vjun, a planet steeped in the Dark Side; his jedi escorts killed en route. It ended as I knew it would, a sequel to our duel on Geonosis. Only the ill-timed interference of Kenobi and Skywalker ( again, Skywalker) broke the battle and sent us both fleeing the world. I regrouped my forces on a Confederacy-friendly planet to resume the business of war. But before surrendering my time and patience to sycophants and soldiers, I stood on the beach. Before the lightsabers were drawn and the violence began, we spoke. I told him all of the terrible things I had done, how I was planning to kill him now, how the Dark Side was an unstoppable power. He told me he was there to bring me home. All I had to do was make a choice. In retrospect the notion is ridiculous. The Dark Side is all-consuming. It is the true embodiment of the Force and cannot be denied. I will not be made lesser. But, there on the beach, in reflection, I did see the choice. I chose the dark. The ties to my past that had been suffocating over the years were finally choked. It was irrevocable. From there my destiny was set, and I would face it alone. Current Mood: cold | | Tuesday, June 14th, 2005 | | 10:56 pm |
Heart's Desire
I found it in an ornate keepsake chest, deep in the storage vault's cobwebs. It was only a few weeks after my return to Serenno and my time was being spent putting the manor in order. A thin datacard of a style unused for decades. Curiosity got the better of me and I placed it in the reader. A grainy holo image lit the air in front of me. A young man, fit and in the prime of his life, wore a finely tailored suit. Richly dressed, he looked perfectly at ease. A cape of state draped over his shoulder as he reached for a young woman. She was delicate with fierce beauty, her hair shining golden even in the ancient holo. A newborn was cradled in her arms, entranced by a hovering toy. All three of them had a look of such joy on their faces. I only have the dimmest memories of my parents. My mother would descend like a thunder storm, scattering the nannies to deliver some lesson on proper behavior for Serenno nobility. My father barely existed; a cold, stern figure that existed more like a haunting than a parent. They were both so peripheral, swirling around my small world, stinging and buzzing like Srullner wasps, offering me no comfort. When I arrived at the Jedi Temple I was initially overwhelmed by the wonders of my new home and life. Then, once the months of routine set in and the banality of some of my fellow students became apparent, a grim loneliness gripped me. I would clutch myself on my pallet and daydream of a happy home, loving parents. A delusion, to be sure, but one that gave some respite. The truth would always raise its grim face eventually. I would never have the warmth of that life, that family. The holo was something new. What if I had been raised by the people in that image? If my parents had embraced that part of themselves the holo captured, if they had refused to let the Jedi take me, what would have happened? Raised among the love those two shared, would I even miss the Force? I would still be Count of Serenno, a nobleman and respected leader. Would I be happy? No. A smaller man on a smaller stage would not do. My destiny, not to sound overblown, was to be a giant, striding across the galaxy. Now, in hindsight, I see clearly. The holo was another lie. A staged publicity scene to appease the commoners, surely. I know the truth of my heart. | | Friday, June 3rd, 2005 | | 12:03 am |
At what moment in your life did you feel most proud?
The Jedi say pride is a sin. For a Sith, there is no pride. There is only confidence in one's own power. To be assured in the rightness of one's actions, that is our way. All other "pride" is self-deluded folly. But, I will tell of the day when I felt this confidence in full. It was the day I left. I had taken enough. Another Republic politician exposed as corrupt, bribed by criminals to betray the people he represented. Another mission for the Senate with needless loss of life. I had long known the Jedi's situation was unsalvagable. Now, the time had come to take action. Without ceremony I barged through the Council chamber doors. Ki-Adi-Mundi was proposing the sending of more Jedi to hunt anti-Republic insurgents in the Outer Rim. I strode in, interrupting, "Masters, your attention." "This Council does not recognize you at this time, Dooku. We have procedures." Windu glared at me with a look that would become all too familiar. "This goes beyond the rules of this Council, Master Windu. It strikes at the heart of what it means to be Jedi. We must no longer be beholden to a government that has lost its way. We should be above such pettiness." "The Jedi are the defenders of peace and justice in the Republic. That is our heart." It was now Ki-Adi-Mundi's turn to lecture me. "And if the Republic is no longer worthy of our defense? Should we not find a new way?" "What is best for the Jedi, know you now, Dooku?" At last, the old master himself payed me heed. The wizened goblin tapped his cane on the chamber floor. "To serve our place is, hmm, not to rule. The Republic's citizens decide their leader's fate will. Above such matters the Jedi are. The way of things it is, the way of the Force." At that point I was sure he was going to launch into his "luminous beings are we" speech. I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to hear any of it. Once Yoda had spoken the rest of the Council disappeared to me. This was between us. It always had been. It was a fool's hope he would listen to reason. "Then I am no longer Jedi." I turned and walked out of the chamber. I was off Coruscant that night. The closest I ever had to a family and home I left forever, all because I knew I was right. Count Dooku
Star Wars
413 words Current Mood: moody | | Wednesday, June 1st, 2005 | | 1:21 am |
Person to be hit with trout
A trout? How... uncivilized. Personal combat should be an exercise in skill and grace, overcoming your opponent with superior knowledge of form. The brutal flailing these youngsters call "dueling" is a mockery of the word. First, Ventress is swinging around two lightsabers and now there's Grievous spinning sabers on four arms like some sort of gardening device. Taking the situation to striking a foe with a fish is inelegant, to say the least. Still, there would be a significant amount of degradation to the person being struck. It would be an humiliating experience for this person, to be clubbed with such a base and ignoble creature. Ah, I can see it, scales and river-slime dripping off his face. I certainly know of someone that deserves such a fate. Anakin Skywalker. The "Chosen One" indeed. This whiny, headstrong, slave-born child to be considered the fulfillment of the Prophecy of Balance is ludicrous. He lacks the discipline, the focus, the experience to bring balance to himself, let alone the Force. He is strong, to be sure, but that strength lacks the will to support it. I am confounded as to why the Jedi Council puts so much stock in him and , it pains me to think this, I thought I had done a better job at shaping Qui-Gon's judgement. What confuses me even further is Palpatine's interest. He keeps lauding the annoying stripling in public: the Republic's "Golden Boy". Yes, one, fine strike to head with a large fish. Preferably one with parasitic encrustation on the scales. I took his arm last time, I look forward to taking more the next. Hmm.. I'm feeling a bit numb around the wrists and neck. I'm sure it's just drafty atmospherics on the command ship and poor circulation at my age. Nothing to be concerned. Current Mood: irritated | | Monday, May 23rd, 2005 | | 11:36 pm |
If you could carry one memory with you into the afterlife, which would you choose?
One memory to carry with me... It is sometimes the small things. The planet Askurda was emerging from years of civil war and had asked the Jedi Council to send observers for the final negotiations;I was selected to lead the small team sent onworld. The peace talks went predictably; petty bickering and power plays, egos to be fed and soothed. Eventually, under my guidance, a suitable agreement was achieved. It was a bright afternoon in their capitol city. The talks' closing ceremony had concluded and Qui-Gon Jinn and I were relaxing in an outdoor cafe. For all of their troubles, the locals did have fine caf plantations and I found their dark, bitter brew quite refreshing. Qui-Gon was sipping a gupa juice and telling me stories of the Askurdans' plight. His eyes were wide reflecting the concern he felt for them. He was young enough then that I would, at times, still see some of that emotion directed towards myself. But, instead of staying by my side at the negotiation table he had spend far too much time out among the people. I was about to, again, remind him of the dangers of becoming too attached when the boy glanced up and smiled. Turning, I saw Mace Windu and his padawan, Depa Billaba, approaching. "Master Dooku, congratulations. I hear the talks went well." Windu had also been part of the team sent to Askurda. My team, I remembered thinking often, taking some joy that such a prominent Jedi was under my command. He and his padawan had spent their time onworld performing military inspections, making sure all sides were staying true to their disarmament agreements. "Master Windu, Padawan Billaba, please sit. Join us." My face fell into the standard inviting grin I had used all throughout the peace talks. Qui-Gon immediately chirped up, telling Depa all about some war orphans he had befriended. I leaned back in my chair and let the steaming stimcaf's aroma waft up to me. Qui-Gon became more animated; the pain and joy of the Askurdans had become his own. He was so connected to them. Depa provided the perfect balance to him. The girl's serenity was a lightning rod to his excitement, grounding his passions. Between them, Windu was ever the teacher. Even this consummate man-of-action could spin parables nearly as well as Yoda, picking out the lessons in the padawans tales. Firmly guiding the conversation but never strong-arming it. Then it happened. The three of them burst out laughing; eyes gleaming and teeth flashing in the afternoon sun. In my slight reverie I must have missed some joke. I smiled and let out a slight chuckle to cover myself. I had no idea what was happening. I was out of step and lost from the moment. It was only later that I understood the depth of it. That day I had been observing my fellow Jedi the same way I had watched the negotiators. They were just cogs in a machine and I was studying how they worked. While I was doing this, something organic had bubbled up between them, some natural expression of their humanity, their connection. I had missed it completely. Years later I would fully understand this moment. I had nothing in common with these people. The division, the gulf, was too fundamental. I did not belong. This is a memory I would take with me. I will need it to explain all the choices that came later. |
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