"I only exist as a Catalyst for unbinding Time and malforming it; I've no other purpose but to enact on the shortfalls that my life has scourged me with."
– Ren Ion
Ren Ion was a human male time traveler bent on changing history as a way to fulfill his vengeance for the catastrophes in his early life.
A young child ran around the yard of his family's home, built on the desert landscape of Korriban. The parents of the child watched him play, happily. They knew he was unique; and so did the Jedi Order. The mother and father knew that Jedi agents would indoctrinate their son into the Jedi Order in a few years, and so they were determined to fill their offspring's remaining life of normality with mirth. Evening was commencing and so the mother called for her son to come in. They went into the house and the father began to follow. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he spotted a figure in the distance. Turning abruptly, the father looked toward the figure's direction, but saw nothing. Thinking he was imagining it, the father walked into the house, and cautiously locked the door.
The day arrived. Now eight years old, Ren Ion sat in the living room of his family's abode. The father and mother were outside, speaking with the hooded individuals who came to collect. Through the holoplasmic window, Ren watched the soundless mouths of his parents move and wriggle as well as the hoodsmen's expressions in reply. Pounding was forming in young Ren's chest as he began to conjure a feeling of nausea -- indeed, he was nervous. Ren, with a higher incline of force sensitivity, felt something was amiss; due to his naivete and lack of training, he could not sense exactly what was obscure. The conversation between mother & father and the hoodsman collectors continued. Ren began to turn for something to sit on when he saw the abrupt ignition of ablaze red. The father fell to his knees and the mother began to run toward the door and out of the window's view. In awe, Ren could not react and was without comprehension of such a situation. The mother suddenly flew back toward the hoodsman collectors and a flow of the red incandescence left her meeting the ground. One hoodsman walked toward the door and out of view and the other stared at young Ren, through the window, in a much grimly way. The door vomited sparks as the red protrusion began to slowly trace the inner door's shape. Ren, now in control of his body and snapped out of dumbfound, screamed and immediately streamed the liquid of grief out of his eyes. The door fell and smoldered, filling the room with the acrid scent of burning metal. A hoodsman collector entered the room, the sabre of light in his hand. Ren, out of fear and out of reflex forwarded his hand and palm quickly and forcefully toward the hoodsman's way. Immediately, a burst of view-vacillating force roared toward the intruder and he flew back, smashing into the opposite wall. Ren then tried to run deeper into the house, but was suddenly grabbed by the other hoodsman whom had entered the abode. A needle pierced through Ren's arm and his vision began to subside into a haze of blur. As his vision drained, so did his struggle to escape. Blackness is all Ren Ion could see.
The eight-year-old awoke surrounded by crates and canisters. He heard the muffled hum of a starship's engine. Feeling the meek vibrations on the cold, metallic floor as well, Ren concluded he was on the hoodsman collectors' ship and they had already taken off. Trying to get up, he realized his hands were bound together by a luminous wire. Leaning on cargo behind him, Ren brought himself up and caught himself from stumbling back down. From beyond the door of what appeared to be a cargo hold, the prodigal child heard the suppressed murmurs of the hoodsmen. Ren, realizing he could never take on the figures who wielded lightsabres, fell on his knees and whimpered. Tears poured out of his eyes, down his face, and onto the metal. Grief and strife ran through the boy's body and mind. Remembering his parents would not help his situation, but he no longer cared. Emotion completely engulfed the captive and he screamed in fury and in agony and in vexation and in the purgatory that was his situation. The ship suddenly began to shake more prominently and small, coruscant dots and sparkles began to appear and drift around him. Bright, colourless flares ignited around the mourning child and suddenly the area around him began to fluctuate, as if the afterchain of heat encircled him. The door hissed open and the two hoodsmen collectors stepped in, sabres ignited. They stared at Ren's condition and swore in confusion. Ren looked at them, his eyes of not mortal substance, and began to levitate. The hoodsmen swung their sabres of light, but they did nothing to penetrate the wavering sphere that surrounded the boy. Tears that glimmered cascaded down his face and were swiped by the aura. The hoodsmen, now in fear, began to run. The eight-year-old boy and his aura rumbled greatly and suddenly imploded. Ren opened his eyes and saw red lights. The ship was still. Only the emergency system remained active. At the boy's feet were two dead bodies, singed. What covered them were the remnants of a robe-like cloth. He kneeled down and found a cylindrical piece of technology. His fingers fondled it and suddenly a beam of light shot out. It too, was red. The dead were the hoodsman collectors. Whatever Ren had caused, it had killed everyone aboard and left the ship in critical shape.
Ren walked throughout the stagnant spacecraft. Girating and bumping against his legs were the cylindrical apparatuses that the cadaverous hoodsman collectors used and carried. After wandering about the corridors of the ship he was aboard for the last several minutes, Ren had concluded that the only part of the ship actually damaged by whatever he had mustered was the cargo hold. The oxygen in the ship, though, felt thin and made him feel lightheaded. Every hall he wandered, the slayer of hoodsmen was shedded upon by the flickering red lights of the ceiling and the walls. The boy eventually found the cockpit and sat down in the pilot's chair. He read over the flashing screens that seemed afflicted with static and a lack of frivolous power. Not once in his competent life had he been aboard a spaceship, and so his knowledge for the navigational controls were null. However, he strived to do something of substance. A sudden stinging in the back of his cranium signaled that he would lose consciousness soon, and with that omen came the blanketed sensation of physical fatigue and burnout. His fingers and his eyes raced, to find some sort of answer to his dilemma before his body gave out. Ren's head slowly tilted and swayed, as the thin air and his tiredness grew upon him. With several more actions by his fingers, and the noises from the console in response, Ren blacked out -- just as he felt the ship begin to budge.
Revelations Lie Onward
Blackness. Muffled noises. Human in their sound. All Ren could see and hear. Then a streak of white appeared and grew as his eyes opened slightly. He faced towards the floor, and his body slightly bounced and moved as if he were being carried by something. His eyes closed. Moments passed. Again, they slowly diverged to let in a view, less fuzzy but sitll barely profound. A leg and foot could slightly be made out, as it walked along the rather bright floor. The impalpable noises around him were sounded out as his eyes set curtain for another comatose state. Blackness. Time went by. Dreams were dreamt. The boy's eyes shot open and he sat upward. He was in a bed with white sheets. The blurriness and fuzziness of his vision dissipated and noise was classifiable. Ren looked around the room he was in and it was clear that he was surrounded with medical equipment. On the table adjacent to the bed he was in were the cylindrical devices. Getting up out of the bed met him with ignorant legs that dropped him to the floor. He found the strength to get up through his lethargy and elevated himself onto the legs that now understood his actions. Ren walked across the room and reattached the devices to his belt, and turned around to the tall figure of a strange humanoid. It stood taller than he, and clearly was older. "I see you are up and about." the humanoid said, looking down at the eight-year-old. "We found you in an old spaceship that was nearing Coruscant." He walked Ren over toward the table, and gestured for him to sit down at one of the two chairs. The humanoid, which seemed human except for several different facial and body features, sat down in the other chair and explained where he and how he had found Ren. "We tried to make contact with the ship you were on, but no one answered -- so we assumed it was empty and salvagable. We found some pretty nice cargo -- at least, nice cargo that wasn't damaged by whatever burned up the hold. The air was really, really anemic. I'm surprised you even survived. I know this is a tough question, but were those bodies -- in the cargo hold -- were they your parents?" Ren looked up at the man with widened eyes as his parents were brought up. He bowed his head and began to weep. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have aske-" Ren suddenly glanced upward at the humanoid's face, tears dripping down his face as his eyes reddened and formed haphazard lines toward his pupil.
"How long have I been asleep?" the boy asked, sniffling, but acting as if he were indifferent.
"We found you several days ago. How long you have been unconscious, though, we have no idea. We hope that when we finally decrypt the computer's console records, we can find out what happened." The humanoid gently smiled at the boy, trying to comfort and console him. Ren solemnly nodded his head. The two then arose from the chairs and walked out of the room, to where the console was being decrypted, answers awaiting them.
Numbers and letters scrolled and flashed on the screen in front of Ren's face. The humanoid he had met sat near him, and two others fidgeted and utilized the machine that was decrypting the ship's information. The humanoids communicated with each other in a language that was foreign to Ren. The equipment began to beep as the characters on the screen crawled more apace. The boy then began to feel uneasy and anxious, though he did not know why; he was as curious as the three humanoids in the room. The scrolling numbers and letters came to an abrupt halt, just as the screen began to glow more potently. Two of the humanoids then looked at the screen too, as the third continued to work on the device. The randomized characters then began to depixelate and a singular phrase appeared onscreen: Access granted. Nodding at one another, the aliens went into the file and came to the hub of the console. Ren watched as they went through several subsections until they came across activation logs. The first in the list was dated in the year 3614 ATC. A humanoid near Ren told him that the date was about a week and a half ago. The second log in the list was dated in the year 3255 ATC. All other logs stayed in the range of that year and ten prior. Shocked or bewildered faces are all the humanoids wore. Ren, himself, was confused. Then the humanoids all faced eachother, and discussed something in a low tone. They turned back to the screen and continued to explore the files. A folder in particular captivated them, and so they opened it. Footage. A specific file, one being from 3255 ATC, is what the humanoids chose. They culled the cargo hold's footage. The screen lit up with the familiar scene of a pre-singed room. All four watched it, in silence. Onscreen, the room's door hissed open and an unconscious boy was carried in by one of the hoodsman collectors. The hoodsman bound the boy's wrists with a wire that, soon after being tied, shone rather bright due to the screen's light distortion. One of the humanoids sped the tape up by several hours, and slowed it down just as the boy began to move. Ren felt knots silently and autonomously tie themselves in his stomach, as he began to connect dots in his mind. The boy seemed to start weeping on the screen. As the boy continued to fidget around and seemingly cry, the door hissed open and the robed men lumbered in, blades of distorted colour pointing out of their hands. Ren's heart began to beat faster, as connections kept finding the next articulation. Minute dots speckled the screen and soon the boy erupted into a sphere of violent light. The hoodsman collectors' body languages showed their dread and their disquietude. The light then expanded almost instantly, blinding the camera's view. Shortly after, the footage became erroneous and surceased. All three humanoids looked at Ren Ion, studying him and his physical shape and features. Uneasiness and angst stained their faces. They slowly faced the screen again, and looked at the most recent recording. It showed a low quality recording of the cockpit, with frequent static fizzling the screen's perception. The same boy walked in, staggering. He sat down and began to quickly type on the console but soon fell unconscious. They fastforwarded and the camera surceased soon afterward. "That's where we found you." an alien voice stated, in a perplexed, almost fearful voice. The humanoids then looked at Ren again, and slowly stood up, backing away. The boy's chest was now slightly fatigued by how hard his heart pounded and pulsated. He shook. "I am sorry, but you have to stay in there." the front humanoid said, fear engulfing him. They all darted to the door, and promptly shut and locked it. Ren ran to the door and beat on it, but it would not open. Tears flowed again.
Avowal and Token
Time seemed to be in no hurry to pass as Ren waited, sitting against the door he was encaged by. Though Time appeared to be loitering in equilibrium, nearly a day had passed. Ren came to this conclusion after locating a clock on the computer that the humanoids and he had viewed earlier. He had no idea what was going to happen to him, and he was leaning towards just letting it come at him -- in a masquerade of giving up. Young Ren snapped out of the growing suicidal thoughts when he felt a sudden surge of aura flood the space around him. A force user was nearby. Ren could feel the user -- he was somewhere beyond the door; was it another hoodsman collector? A crescendo of mumbles arose from behind the door and Ren panicked. There was nothing he could do -- no where he could retreat. The door hissed open. A man in a hood and robe of brown stood before him. One of the cylindrical devices was at his side, slowly swaying from the momentum of his previous movements. Ren backed up into a wall, as a hoodsman was before him. "I am Jedi Knight Gog Migug. I was requested to investigate into specified phenomena on this station. They told me a child was involved." Ren stared at him, emotions conjuring a violent maelstrom in his mind. The Jedi were suppose to come for him on that fateful day that was now hundreds of years ago. The Jedi. The hoodsman collectors. Ren's heart raced and his frustration and anger seeped into his body language. The Jedi Knight took notice and began to walk forward in a calm manner. Ren thrusted his hands and palms forward, generating a burst of kinetic energy. It collided with the Jedi, throwing him back and into the air; he, however, landed on his feet, catching himself with his agility and his own force abilities. "Whoa!" the Jedi exclaimed, already walking toward Ren again, this time in a defensive position. Ren evaded the Jedi's approach by sliding under the Knight's legs and quickly running through the door. As he flashed out, the young child punched the door console, causing it to lock -- with the Jedi still within. He ran through the station's hallways, dodging and avoiding workers, objects, and droids. He made it to the docking zone and found a small starfighter. Ren, now crying strained, dried tears, pulsated another burst of the forceful kinetics towards a pilot about to hop into his cockpit. He was thrown out, his leg colliding with the side of the ship -- creating a loud metallic ping sound. A scream came from his position, but Ren was too frantic to realize what he was doing or what had just happened. He hopped into the shuttle and hit multiple switches and buttons, causing it to quickly aviate and glide out of the hangar. The station began to grow smaller as well as the aura of the hoodsman. He headed towards the planet nearby, which had a strange geographical terrain to it, making it appear to be littered with circles and streaks. He was safe, at least. He had escaped the Knight and those who had forcibly locked him away. Ren was free.
Fire engulfed his view. The cockpit's frontal window was barraged in flame and fire by the precipitous entry into the planet's atmosphere. Despite the violent jittering and shuddering of the ship, Ren's mind and eyes were focused on the oncoming surface. Metallic spires erected vertically faded into view, just beyond the flame trying to rip the vessel into ruin. A sudden explosion outside the ship snapped the child back unto reality and he desparately interposed on the controls, but to no avail did the ship yield. Another discharge, this time opposite of the last sprung Ren's heart into a fit of pulsation. His craft convulsed and then entered a haywaire spiral, down towards the bedazzled towers of man. Panic once again grasped young Ren's mind and heart and he closed his eyes. This time, however, Ren felt a spark of power deep within him. To him, it seemed at reach -- easy for the taking. The eight-year-old unfurled the hands of his mind and meticulously unlocked the potency that shone within him. Sudden enlightenment overtook the consciousness and the exact sense of temporal calibration filled his cranium. Ren was in control. The ship suddenly scraped its underbelly on a structure which caused the child's stomach to momentarily feel aerial. It was now or never -- the ship's now clear glasspane, besides several singe marks, was drastically being filled up with the encroaching artificial ground. Energy and exhilaration filled Ren's body through and through and he felt a sense of Freedom. The cockpit suddenly filled with the small, glimmering specks of energy as light began to generate, as it did previous. The boy closed his eyes and felt out of Time and out of Place. He had taken his first steps towards his Destiny.
Moirai's Solecism of the Riven Heart
A hard landing. Ren dropped onto the cold ground as a ping sounded off. His eyes opened as he lay at the feet of a pedestrian. He slowly panned his head upward and their face was composed of a fine concoction between fear and awe. The ship Ren had been in moments before was no longer here -- nor its inevitable destruction of the area of contact. The phenomena had occured, once again. The boy then began to lift his body from the cool, metallic loam. Cadent drumbeats of pain pounded on his ribs and adomen in retaliation, and he overturned to fall on his unharmed back. None of the passers-by seemed to concern themselves with a child in duress, as they casually sauntered past young Ren's subtly writhing body. As the minutes went by, however, the consistent throbbing of agony seemed to subside in intesnity. The boy had managed to achieve stance and slowly stammered away, weakly gazing at his surroundings. The boy had no idea what to do now -- where to go. He was in a world foreign and alien to him; he was forlorn and in grief. Ren was out of place and out of time. All the boy was certain of was that hoodsman collectors relinquished the lives of his parents. They had kidnapped him and they had come for him, again -- even in the future. Suddenly a pathway was clear in the eight-year-old's mind: the hoodsman collectors were his enemy. Ren's heart locked on avenging himself and his parents.
Stalk of the Athirst
Twelve years had passed since Ren's observance of his parents' executions. Twelve years had passed since Ren had discovered his unnatural gift. Twelve years had passed since Ren's heart locked on a path of destiny. The matured Ren Ion solemnly strolled down an old, rusty corridor. Facial hair encircled his mouth as a goatee, and his bangs subtly suspended against his forehead. The man came to an old door, loosely hanging on one operational hinge. Ren reached out to the door, with a gloved hand, and opened it. The weathered door screeched in accordance and he passed through its threshold. The 22-year-old entered a dark room with the acrid scent of rust. He effortlessly traversed the shadows of the room and sat down into a rickety old chair, and pulled out a holopad. The holopad illuminated the man's face as well as the walls and the flooring of the oxidized chamber. A human-like figure appeared, transparent and litely flickering. Under the boots of the being read in Galactic Standard Basic: Anakin Skywalker. Ren's eyes came to slivers as he looked upon the facade in disgust. "I have you now, Chosen One. Years of perfecting my art -- and it will lead to undoing the threads of the Hoodsmen's kismet," The man suddenly said, grimacing, "Felucia is where you reside, to fight your petty battles." Ren then laughed and deactivated the holopad, tossing it aside. He slowly stood out of the chair, buttoned the grey caudillo-esque coat that adorned him and looked down at his belt. The cylinder he retrieved from the dead hoodsman years prior slowly swayed, and beside it a new cylindrical device also swayed. Ren strided out of the dark room with newly found confidence, as he exited, the old, decaying door slowly shrieked closed.