 Dark Voice Editor-in-Chief Derev Niroth Dark Voice Senior Correspondent Dismal Visutor The Dark Jedi Brotherhood is home to us all. Each of us, at one point or another, started out simply as another entry in a database, a new prospect given little chance of surviving this weird and wonderful world we all now call home. Many of us begin life long relationships in this club, I myself have built friendships in real life that started within the bounds of the Dark Brotherhood. As with all things in real life, sometimes tragedy strikes. By the very nature of our club, it's almost impossible to know what happens to each and every member of our club. No one knows how many members we may have lost over time, of which news never reached the Brotherhood. However, as this world would have it, occasionally we do learn the fate of our members, and on July 23rd, the Brotherhood learned of the tragic, untimely loss of Krath Priest Baron Zarco. It is a sharp reminder that even in our beloved online world, the fell touch of death and tragedy can not be wholly escaped. I never had the privilege to get to know Baron Zarco, in fact I had very little interaction with him at all. It is at times like this that we are reminded about how short life can be, and perhaps this event will change how I interact with other members of the Brotherhood. On May 29th, Baron Zarco sent in an article to the Dark Voice. Somehow, this article was missed, and only came to light by sheer chance as I was preparing this tribute. When searching through my inbox for the information I needed for my introduction, I found a story written by Baron Zarco. It is now my distinct pleasure to publish this, the final work of Baron Zarco to be shared with the Dark Jedi Brotherhood. Below his work is a gathering of tributes, thoughts, and memories from those who served with Baron Zarco in his career in the Dark Brotherhood, now forever bound to the history of the Dark Brotherhood via the Dark Voice. (Located at the bottom of this article) Baron, if you are looking down upon us now, we the Brethren of the Dark Jedi Brotherhood honor you, you will be missed, and your contributions shall be forever cherished by all those who follow. SBM Derev Niroth Editor's Note: With the exception of correcting typographical errors, the following statements have been directly copied, with no editing whatsoever. Baron Zarco…what can I say about him? He was a great guy, put frankly. He always brought a smile to my face when I logged on to IRC and found him telling jokes and having an overall positive aura about him. I didn’t get to see his leadership first-hand, as he was in House Satal Keto, but from what I’ve heard, he was an excellent Rollmaster and Envoy for HSK. He always wanted to work on something, completing the two Clan Plagueis ACC venues rather quickly after he and Al’Meda joined the clan. He was one of the best writers I’ve seen, as well. He was the first to challenge me after I was qualified in the Antei Combat Centre, and we fought…I regret now letting our fight time out. Hopefully we can have a little bout in that great ACC in the sky. Baron Zarco, you will be sorely missed, in both real life and in the Dark Jedi Brotherhood. It is with great pleasure that I dedicate an article in the Dark Voice to your memory – rest in peace, my friend. SW Dismal Visutor Members of the Dark Brotherhood, Several months ago I had the opportunity to travel to a small town an hour away from my house and meet my M:GM, Baron Zarco. Baron owned and operated a gaming store next to his law office and invited me over so that we could talk and share a few laughs. I was impressed by Baron, his wife, and their zest for life and the easy manner in which they welcomed me into their lives. After a short hour of talking and bullshitting about life, I bid Baron farewell and headed home. Because of our meeting and my short acquaintance with Baron, I am deeply saddened to announce that he has passed away. I would like to give my condolences to his family and in particular to his wife, Dark Jedi Knight Al'Meda Zarco. In honor of Baron, we have placed him upon our Memorial Website at: http://memorial.darkjedibrotherhood.com/ The validity of this tragedy is not to be questioned as I have confirmed it with Baron's local newspaper and with his wife. If you have questions, you may come to me; however, the details of the accident will not be released to anyone. GM Sarin I didn't get to talk with Baron as much as I would have liked to, but then that's usually how it works, I suppose. When I think about him, and his wife for that matter, I think pure dedication and willingness to help. They joined Plagueis in June, and immediately wanted to help out with projects. I enjoyed talking with him, loved watching his dedication, and smiled at his wittiness and joking behavior on IRC. An overall great guy, what has happened just sucks, but what can one do? It saddens me that I was only able to know him for a month, and that I didn't get to see him in action longer, especially in the Great Jedi War, but that's just life for you. It is my honor, however, to announce that with the new income of ships into Clan Plagueis, it has already been agreed that one of the grandest of them will be christened: The Baron. In peace, Aabsdu di Plagia Dupar Consul of Clan Plagueis In this tribute members have written poems or have said a few words to remember Baron Zarco for the great person he was. Je hebt iemand nodig, stil en oprecht die als het er op aan komt, voor je bid en voor je vecht als je iemand hebt die met je lacht en met je grient dan kun je zeggen; ik heb een vriend. *Dutch friendship poem* Respect to Baron Zarco and his wife... GRD Lokasena Corvinus. Baron was a great member of this house for many years, and inspired heavy activity from those around him and friendship from those that would accept it. His devotion to the organization, the club, and his Battle team were unsurpassed, and his absence will be missed. Baron, I wish I had been a better friend to you. You will be missed! ~Vodo Baron was a friend of mine; he helped me with some trials, and was a great guy to talk to. Al'Meda I'm sorry this happened. I respect and admire you both for everything you've done for me. I will miss you BZ you have my respect. This is for you man. [Editor's Note: Daar Created The Image At the Top of this Article] Daar Kareth Baron and I joined Taldryan around the same time we grew in the DB together going through the trials in record time. He then became leader of Battleteam “Horsemen of the Apocalypse” and brought them from near death to fully active. I was in that team while he was in command and the participation level was higher than any other in the DB was. He also saw through many members to the rank of JH and he himself earned his saber. When Zarco and I were called up to be Aedile and Rollmaster respectively for the newly opened house Archanis we could not refuse. He would be one of the reasons that Archanis flourishes today. His work as an ACC judge went practically unnoticed but he was a master in the ACC he would even rival Dalthid in combat and writing in my mind. He won the 6th GJW with us doing a great job but would soon move on to another clan. In this time I appointed him on my Fiction staff as head of the writers corner. He did a fantastic job for me and participated in every Monthly Topic. I have the utmost respect for Baron Zarco and I wish Al’Meda the best of luck in the future I know you are strong Al. My thoughts and memories are with you and the great times we had in Taldryan. I hope this Tribute to him from Taldryan and others shows you how much he was loved Al. KP Ricco Vao BZ, Man…. I can’t believe it. One day you and I are just talking about some completely random stuff having a good ‘ol time and now you’re gone. When I heard the news it was like someone had cut a piece out of me and hid it where I couldn’t find it. You sir were an amazing person, fun, smart, great to talk to and an all around great guy, we should all be so lucky to have known a guy like you. I know that everyone shares my sentiment when I say that you will be missed, by some more than others but the entire brotherhood is suffering the pain of your passing. Though you aren’t with us any more you memory lives on. May the road rise to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face. And rains fall soft upon your fields. And until we meet again, May God hold you in the hollow of His hand. ~CBO May the road rise to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sunshine warm upon your face. And rains fall soft upon your fields. And until we meet again, May God hold you in the hollow of His hand Irish Blessing SWL Phoenix Baron Zarco joined House Ektrosis on 28th November 2005. I was his Envoy and have rarely receive such an active and enthusiastic new member before or since. In just over a month, he had reached the rank of Guardian. Becoming Tetrarch of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse Battleteam in March 2006 he demonstrated the qualities of a future leader of the DB. He seemed to inspire the confidence and trust of those in his care, and brought an almost entirely inactive Battleteam back to life to become some of the brightest members of House Ektrosis. The Baron was always striving for promotion, determined to demonstrate his abilities and his worth as an Equite. Finally, on 11th July he was awarded his sabre for dedication to his Battleteam, his house and the ACC. At this time, my contact with Zarco decreased as he was called to help lead the newly created House Archanis and would later leave Taldryan to join a new clan. Nevertheless, I counted him as a close friend. It was with great sadness that I heard the news of his death. Our thoughts are with Al'Meda and her family. DJM Alanna Taldrya I can remember not always speaking a lot with Baron at first, I didn't know him well and thought him a bit strange, turns out the thought the same of me. I found that our opinions on many things were similar, stemming from a discussion about women actually. We talked for quite sometime that day. Despite the fact we never really got a chance to speak at length again I know that I always enjoyed when he was around after that. I wish I had taken the time to speak more at length and gotten to know Baron better, I think we would have become good friends and I feel pained that I did not take the opportunity that sat before me. He didn't seem to have any enemies so to speak and his sense of humor definitely grew on you pretty quick. I will miss him, and I wish his wife and family the best of luck, and that they recover from this tragedy. GRD Aalos Fier Editor's Note: This entry is published, unedited in it's entirety, as it was submitted from Krath Priest Baron Zarco KP Baron Zarco (#6763) June Dark Voice Competition Fear Leads To Anger! The day was yet to dawn on Trandosha. It was young Vlad Jon Zarco’s first day at yet another new school. He was scared as always. No matter how many times his family moved throughout the galaxy due to a combination of his father’s restlessness and his chosen occupation as a mercenary young Vlad never got used to having to establish himself yet again in a new place. Vlad’s tender human skin tingled with the excitement born of fear and anxiety. As he passed an eatery in Grossk Enclave he was already teetering on the brink of retching from the nausea of fear. The smell of raw Braaklaadot (the raw intestines of a dangerous shoreline scavenger popular on the main continent of Trandosha) sent him over the edge. He began to heave, the smell of bile penetrating his sinuses. With nothing in his belly the digestive juices were particularly harsh and his eyes began to weep. Intent on wiping his eyes of these unwelcome signs of weakness he reared his head and furiously dried his eyes with his shirt. In the process, his new shirt, purchased in the hopes of making a good impression on the first day, became stained with vomit. His father, walking behind him became furious and berated Vlad publicly. Though the streets were still relatively vacant due to the early hour several Dosh were drawn to the spectacle and began to snort in laughter and disdain. Vlad’s father became more furious in embarrassment of his son in front of the Trandoshans he so desperately wanted to impress. As his father bellowed at him Vlad fought to hold back emotion. The trapped sobs gurgled in his throat as the pungent smell of vomit wafted up from his new shirt. Unsatisfied with Vlad’s efforts and in a futile attempt to demonstrate his own toughness, Vlad’s father struck Vlad in the face with the back of his hand. Vlad’s tender lips burst upon impact. Blood now joined tears and vomit as the adornment of his new shirt, special for his new day. Vlad’s father stormed away, back to their hovel, leaving Vlad to find the school on his own. Vlad was a mere eight years old. He had fended for himself on many a new world but this was Trandosha, home of the fierce race of reptiles with a penchant for conflict. Nonetheless, Vlad would have to find his way alone. Everywhere he stopped he was mocked. Though he could comprehend little of the slang hurled at him he trudged on with the walk of one resigned to be forever alone. He had accepted fully his socialization that being alone was to be feared. Thus, he was full of fear. He was also full of anger. Though still afraid to show it for lack of any skill to impose his will on his surroundings and constantly off balance due to constantly being uprooted, Vlad was angry. The anger burned in him without purpose. In this way anger only perpetuated his fear. Anger was in most cases, he had come to observe, merely a defense against fear. Anger with nothing more, no vessel to contain and nurture it, was just a fancy version of fear. He had seen that from birth with his father. Vlad found his new school. He knew he was to be a minority among the Trandoshan students. Few from off-world would willingly submit themselves to the savagery of Dosh culture, much less the cauldron of Dosh juvenile culture. Most mercenaries operating out of Trandosha brought with them droids to school their children, those that had children and cared to bring them along. It was going to be a challenging day. As young Vlad finally entered the room where he was already supposed to be the guttural chuckling and hissing of the Dosh younglings signaled his arrival. His presence, adorned in his raiment of fear, stained with blood and bile, was deemed to be such a distraction that he was sent to what passed for a library. There he found the most isolated nook available and sat on the floor in front of one of many racks of data disks. Desperately trying to look like a being with purpose so as not to attract further unwanted attention his trembling hand took a disk from the rack and inserted it into his datapad. The datapad sprang to life and whirred with the effort of opening the information encoded on the disk and, for his convenience, translating any text over to standard galactic. His fear was instantly replaced with fascination as he watched Dosh warriors and warriors from other races engage in combat training with their natural gifts as well as melee weapons. The text spoke of the study of combat theory and practice as a way as well as a technique. Vlad reflected that he was no stranger to violence and brutality, but this was different. These beings claimed to train for conflict as a way of life, for its own sake. Yes, they would use their skills as mercenaries as did his father. Yes, their skills had use. However, these beings seemed more in control of their violent impulses. Perhaps their violence was not an impulse or expression of fear at all. Could spark, drive, anger, whatever one wanted to call it, really be channeled so that violence was more than the pitiful, desperate offspring of fear? Vlad began to feel his energy well up inside him. He felt strong. He had felt anger before but he always knew no matter how angry he was he was still just a scared little slug. This anger was different. It washed over him like the warm breeze carried on the gusts of wind that herald the coming day on Tatooine. Yes, his sun was rising. With his newfound, though perhaps at this point misplaced, confidence he felt a gentle cackle right behind his heart and in front of his spine. This feeling was manifested by what he felt to be a low, dark laughter of epiphany urging him on. He would find someone on this violent, competitive planet to teach him these methods. He would forge himself into what his father had always wanted to be but for lack of will could never accomplish. He would raise himself, forged in the crucible of conflict, but never scared or embarrassed again. He was at last in possession of at least an image of who he wanted to be. Yes, fear had led to anger but anger would now have a proper vessel! | ||
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Dark Voice Correspondant Ricco Vao Editor's Note: Each issue of the Dark Voice, the Fiction Tribune will select the best poem and best fiction entry submitted to the Writer's Corner since the last issue. Each of these entries will be showcased here in the Dark Voice, and the authors awarded a Dark Side Scroll in addition to any recognition given in the Writer's Corner. Below you will find the Fiction Tribune's comments about these pieces in ittalics. Poem by GRD Lokasena 7384 I tried... I tried to warn them. But they would not listen. Instead they threw me in this forsaken place. A place of madd dreams and feavered thauts. Damn them. They are blind. But I can see... them... I know I know their devices. I can smell them, you see. And fire, fire is the key to purge their wretched souls for our reality. Hear me, we must fight them. They are comming to bring forth the worlds ending. You must help me; you're the only one who believes me...! You believe me, don't you? Don't you...? Fiction Tribune: I very much like the psychological aspect of this poem. Sena conveyed what the speaker is thinking and feeling, and the reader feels pulled into it, part of it. He did a great job of capturing the desperation and confusion of the speaker. Sena did a great job of jumping around and showing incoherent thought. Also the spelling mistakes make it seem like the speaker is confused and not thinking straight. In all a very good poem and Sena has been a good show in the Writers Corner for a while now and thoroughly deserves this. Fiction by GRD Draco Maligo 8521 I am Draco Maligo. Like most beings across the galaxy, I had a family. But they are no more, and I no longer have anyone to stand in my way with their pathetic moral principles as their weapon and judgement. I was born on the planet Almania, on the outer rim. It was an unaligned planet and technologically backward, with limited galactic trade. As for the social structure, there were only four castes you could belong to – aristocracy, industrialist, factory worker and farmer. The former two had all the political power and wealth, and were, of course, the two smallest castes. If you were a worker or a farmer all you could hope for was a life full of toil. My father’s family owned a lemon fruit farm. The work was hard, and the only ones who made money on our toil were the distributors who took the fruit, packaged it and sold it. It left us with little money to spend on luxuries or even education for my brothers, sister, and me. Unless of course we had an attack of the tufi flies. Then the crop would be ruined and we would face a season of near-starvation. I was young when I discovered I had a gift. Something to separate me from the others. Something to make me feel special. Something I could use! I had an ability to distract others using the power of my mind. If I concentrated really hard I could plant suggestions in their heads. My parents were horrified. They ordered me never to use my gift, never to talk about it. People would say I was a sorcerer. It would put a black mark on my whole family. We would be driven from the pathetic little town we lived in and forced to fend for ourselves in the dirty cities that housed the factory workers. Like we had so much to lose. I felt like I had been robbed. I had something special and my parents banned me from using it. They didn’t appreciate it, or me. I lived in drudgery every day, dreaming of a time in my life when I could do what I want, live how I wanted, and make credits, real credits, without the dirty work of farm living. Most beings would say it was a terrible tragedy that my family was murdered. I suppose it was, from a certain point of view. But for me it was a spectacular liberation. I remember vividly the morning the alarms went off. It was a sunny spring day. The trees were in full blossom, and the smell of the nectar drew the pollinating insects to do their work. The winter’s work of pruning and fertilising was done, and most of my time was spent pursuing what studies I could. As much as the elite cared nothing for our well being, they still needed the poor to do their work, grow their food, and produce the wealth they enjoyed. So when the Mandelorians attacked we were herded to the nearest shelters. Almania had in place a planetary communications system, which could transmit alarms anywhere, trouble threatened and a system of shelters for the poor. The rich had well-appointed, guarded bunkers. The poor had to defend themselves with obsolete blasters. Since we couldn’t afford a speeder we ran. We weren’t even close to making it. We encountered a pair of raiders looking for loot. They might’ve shot us all even if we had credits to give them, but since my family was destitute it only made them mad. I saw them shoot my father and mother, then my oldest brother. They stopped for a moment to argue about what to do to my sister, and that gave me the time I needed to decide what to do. I was too small to fight them. I had no weapon to use on them. I had no credits to barter for my life. The only thing I had was my gift, the ability my parents forbade me ever to use. But then, I had not heeded their command. I had practised. Often. To get what I wanted from other children. To get what I wanted from girls. To get what I wanted from teachers. I had gotten good at planting suggestions in other beings’ minds. I looked at the pair of Mandelorian raiders. Then I made them think there was an explosion behind them. They turned, separated and crouched low to the ground. I raced in the opposite direction while trying to keep them concentrating away from me. I spotted an irrigation ditch and dove in. I lay there in the muddy water, only my face above the surface, keeping still and listening for the footfalls of the booted soldiers. I cleared my mind while trying to sense the presence of any hostiles, prepared to use my ability to save my life. I heard several blaster shots after my escape, that I suppose spelled doom for the rest of my siblings. I lay there in the muck all day, thinking. Since my family was dead I would inherit the farm. It wasn’t worth much, but it would be enough to buy passage off-planet. But when I presented myself to the civic council the magistrate told me I was too young to own property, and the courts upheld that judgement. The land was auctioned off to one of the wealthy families on the planet who rented it out to tenant farmers, and the government kept the money. That’s when I turned to stealing. It was much easier than either working the farm or slaving away in a hot, dirty, noisy factory. For the first time in my life I was clean. I wore nice clothes. I could walk down the street without the shame of poverty clinging to me like the mud from my family’s farm. I got lazy. I no longer dreamed of flying away from Almania. I stole for several years, had a nice apartment in a part of the city reserved for middle managers and my neighbours thought I was somebody. I had developed a network to sell the stolen goods through, so I no longer had to steal money for rent and food to eat. I could take any items of value and have my confederates sell them on the black market and use the credits from my share of the take to actually walk into a store and buy what I wanted. For the first time, my life was good. Then I ran into that Jedi. He never told me his name. He had a Coruscant accent, which immediately identified him as a member of the privileged elite. I was doing some recon work for a caper I was working on to steal verbo-brains. They were intended for one of the factories on the planet, and it would have been my biggest haul. The padawan was so smug and arrogant. He was on the planet with his master to settle a dispute between the factory owners and some inter-galactic shipping concern. In other words, to decided if either the rich or the richer would get a bigger slice of the pie. No one cared that the majority of the beings on the planet were living in abject poverty, working for sub-standard wages. The Jedi knew what I was up to. He could tell that I had potential with something he called the ‘Force.’ He told me to stop using it for selfish personal reasons. He said it would be better for me to have honest work and live in penury than to risk going to the dark side. I said, “Yeah, sure,” and left for the day. Two days later I was set to make my theft. And he was there again. He said he wouldn’t allow me to steal from the rich, even though it was the best way I had of making a living. It reminded me of my parents telling me not to use my gift, of their wanting me to be stuck as an uneducated peasant farmer for the rest of my life. I was tired of people trying to make me deny who I was, of taking things away from me. I had never known rage like I felt that day, that minute. The Jedi was so self-righteous. I hated him. I am still not sure exactly what I did. I felt the rage build in me. Time slowed. I reached out for his mind and poured all my rage, all my resentment, and all my bitterness into him. He was surprised. He didn’t expect me to resist him, or assault him. I felt him calling upon the Force to resist me. It worked, at first, but I was in too much of a temper to give up. Then he weakened. I could see the pain on his face. His eyes closed. His hands went up to his temples, holding tight his head as if he thought it would explode. Then he let out this most blood-curdling scream and collapsed into a heap on the ground. It was surreal. I stared at him for a time, I don’t know how long. He didn’t move. Then I panicked. I thought I was in trouble for sure. I couldn’t stand up to a Jedi, not a real one. When my mind cleared I took the padawan’s lightsaber and the bag of credits hanging from his belt. I thought about going back to my apartment to fetch my belongings, but thought I should blast off from Almania as soon as I could, before the fool’s master came after me. It wasn’t like I couldn’t earn more. I sat on the transport, the first one to leave after I reached the spaceport, heading for Ord Mantell. I thought about where I should go. Then I wondered what would happen if the Jedi tracked me down. I needed to understand my abilities, to hone them, to be able to defend myself. There is a famous research university on Garos IV, well known to all of us in the outer rim. The first transport leaving Almania was headed in that general direction, which I took as a sign for me to go there. I figured I’d look up some information on the Force and train myself to use it. I wasn’t sure if I’d use it for protection or to make myself a better thief, but it felt right for me to pursue the knowledge. I was sitting on that light transport heading toward a planet in the mid-rim, a place I’d never been. Despair gripped me as I pondered my future. My life careened from one disaster to another, and there I sat, a few credits in my pocket and nothing else but the shirt on my back to call my own. I was alone and afraid, no family, no friends, and an exile from my home planet. Perhaps a common enough situation across the galaxy, but not for this seventeen year old boy. So I sat there wondering if real Jedi would come looking for me. I left everything I owned, but feared going back for it. The padawan had told me a little about the Force and the Jedi, and said I had natural ability. But he also said I was walking down the dark side, whatever that meant. He wouldn’t help me to find my potential. It was pretty naïve of me to think that any useful knowledge would be in the data files for all to see. After several frustrating days of searching for a few grains of truth I was ready to give up. To entertain myself I tested the limits of my abilities to plant various thoughts into the minds of others. I had some success and a few laughs, but I grew bored and ready to leave. Then I felt it. An unsettling icy darkness. I couldn’t pinpoint it, and couldn’t define it but it seemed to be coming for me. I froze in terror. I’d never experience feelings like that in my life. Not even staring down the barrels of Mandelorian rippers chilled me like that. My mind was telling me to get up and run, but my muscles wouldn’t obey. I stared at the door waiting for the doom I felt to approach. Then he walked in. He looked like a corpse, tall, lank, and pale. I’d never seen a Nagai before, and it made me think of the un-dead in cheap holonet stories. He wore all black. He stopped in the doorway and his piercing eyes stared right at me. I swallowed hard. I had no idea what to do. He began to walk toward me. I concentrated, closed my eyes, and tried to make myself invisible. I reached out to his mind and tried planting the idea that my seat was empty, that no one was here. Focusing as hard as I could I put forth the illusion of emptiness. But I heard his footsteps as he stopped a meter from me. I looked up to see a flicker of a smile on his face. “Not bad for an untrained being. I am Drodik Va’lence al’Tor,” he said in a low-pitched voice. He spoke Galactic basic with an accent I’d never heard before. “I know what you are seeking, and I can give it to you.” I stared at him in shock. How could he know? I thought back on the last several days, wondering if I hit my head somewhere. “How do you know me?” I stammered out in a squeaky voice. He laughed, a low rumbling chuckle. “I had a vision in the Force.” “The Force?” My heart pounded in my chest. Maybe this is why I came to Garos IV. “I work with a group of beings who use the Force. We can train you, in exchange for your loyalty and obedience. The Force guided both of us here, I am sure of it. If you want to reach your full potential, follow me.” He turned and strode to the exit. I hesitated only a second before I pushed myself up from my seat and hurried after him. From the Garos system we travelled to Antei, and thus began my life with the Dark Jedi Brotherhood. Fiction Tribune: This was a very well written fiction; I really enjoyed reading it. The first person viewpoint was interesting and a good way to tell the story giving it a more personal tone that set it apart from other stories. Good attention to detail and it drew the reader in. A fine piece of work that fully deserves a reward for the effort and hard work alone never mind the writing ability. | ||
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Former Dark Voice Senior Correspondent, Odin Vaaj THE EXPERT SAID ... About Becoming Good Players ... An interview with Obelisk Prelate Beowulf In the Dark Jedi Brotherhood War games, the name of Beowulf or Hev, is notable to hear, especially about his lightsaber play-style : artistic, invincible and always imposing the rules of combat. People also know him as a first-class teacher in lightsaber combat, utilizing the platform of Jedi Knight combat series (JA or JO), although he is quite selective in choosing his students. As he has the impatience of a Shistasvanen, he dislikes the people who do not want to listen. "Without listening, you will learn nothing," one of his philosophical assertions, for learners to think. A valuable moment happened when he gave his commendation of publishing his remark about becoming good players, explicating things to make some people good and some not so good in playing. "Their way of playing," Beowulf pointed out the core, "There are offensive people... defensive ways of playing. You have the case that you might beat someone easily... that somebody else breaks his hand over; while this person beats someone else easily that you have awful trouble with. There are people who just play their routine, their way and then there are people who adapt mainly. The latter are usually the more successful ones." He clarified further his note about someone who could not be beaten because he was "too good", with the foundation of adaptation." I tried to describe the phenomenon that some people virtually can't touch someone while others seem to have no problem with this particular player. Think of it this way - gross simplification, actually - : one player is stone, one is rock, one is scissor and those who can adapt can change from stone to scissor maybe... or maybe to all three, depending on what they face." In the purpose of correct comprehension, he emphasized the meaning of adaptation as pure playing techniques and tactic. However, regarding the some personal attitude subjects, Beowulf cited about "self-fulfilling prophecy", as it was more like the impact of pessimism. "If you keep telling yourself "I can't beat him" you can't beat him". Being asked further to give some examples about adaptation, Beowulf directed the explanation in a combat, with saber-staff against single lightsaber as weapons. He described the Staffer was using Butterfly katas mostly, spamming them left and right, and noted that the Single Player had to use definitely good timing to hit the end portions of the katas or when the Staffer retreated. "There you would use Red style, in this instance... since Red allows good firepower at a certain moment that you can time". He then set a condition that suddenly, the Staffer decided to simply maul the red user over. “The Single player has to adapt... Red is not the best against an onslaught of yellow swings, " as he designated that the Single lightsaber player had to use a lot of backward jumping while starting swings in air to catch the Staffer as he charged, or on the other way the Single player had to switch to yellow, to fence the Staffer down, and Beowulf noted the difficulty of those actions. ”If the Single user manages that, the Staffer has to think of something new and so on and on,” Beowulf explained, “who runs out of cards in his sleeve, usually loses.” Beowulf restated that he called a good player as someone who was able to adapt, even if in the situation when the opponent was playing laming tactics, since these tactics could be countered too, except at a really professional level. The Prelate added only few people ever learned how to overcome these tactics, because they lacked the way to adapt. He said the circumstance was pretty hard to apply due to the difficulty of timing and he showed his happiness of not having to use it in the DB. "Most "lames" that happen, do happen by accident or out of not knowing better," Beowulf depicted the laming incidents," Then there are a few who actually try it.. but they're not good at it." He then explained about swaying and poking, which had been declared to be against the rules of combat. "There are generally sways - which include the spins - and pokes. Sway is adding momentum to your swings by quick mouse-movement. In JA, it increases damage and the chance to hit, since you increase the swing arc. If you drive this to absurd extremes, you get spins." Although sways could happen by accident, he stressed that the difference between accident and abuse could be seen. "Then there's the poke. Pokes are somewhat equal to sway, but instead of turning into one direction, you rock your mouse left and right... so your saber goes crisscross over your opponent. Easily stacking 200+ damage with one swing, sounds easier than it is, but I'm not gonna explain in detail how to do it," he smiled when seeing the eagerness to know further. Elucidating the difference between pokes and scissors, Beowulf noted that pokes were only done with red style, which could not scissor, and underlined the scissors' availability in yellow or blue and those scissors were composed by multiple particular swings. He concluded that sways and pokes simply were not considered as good playing. "Don't play for medals or competitions only," he answered to the question of how to create a good playing environment. "That's how you get better actually. If you constantly burden yourself with this artificial "loss" of a not earned medal, you'll never be willing to experiment". "Without comps or medals, there is no losing in JA/JO.” Beowulf presented his statement. He urged the need to stop thinking about JA/JO as a “one-dimensional chickenladder ".It's not a thing where a guy three steps above me can automatically beat the guy two steps above," the Obelisk Prelate explained about the respective ladder term," It's not that way for the sole reason I depicted earlier. Even a player you beat could be a better player than you because he's capable of adapting to way more situations. He's got better understanding, just couldn't figure how to get you." Beowulf gave a precaution about his way of teaching as he would actively break up routines which messed people's way of playing. "That's the price for getting better," he commented on the consequences, "People should check themselves for these more often and try not to always use them for their improvement." | ||
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Fomer Dark Voice Senior Correspondent Odin Vaaj The Novel Paradigm of the Fiction Tribune As everyone knows, fiction is an integral part of the Dark Brotherhood and it is the very base of existence of this esteemed newsletter. Thus, when a new fiction Tribune ascends to his chair, a number of questions pop up. Outlining his goals with clarity, Krath Priest Ricco Vao seems to be headed straight towards the expansion of the system of Fiction. His primary goal is to change the way members look at fiction. A lot of Dark Jedi thought of fiction-writing as a chore; something they had to do in a big competition. He believes that fiction should be an enjoyable affair – both to the reader as well as the writer. Stringent rules also hinder the writer, which the Tribune wants to change by giving MT's which are free to write. The intention to alter the mindset and paradigm of the old view towards the job is a spirit for the Krath Priest that will effectuate the entire scope of his office. He wants to revolutionize the frame of mind of seeing the Fiction Tribune job as a boring and frustrating one into an energizing liberty, since the job entails a lot of different areas of work. "I also wish to get members wanting to be T:F once my reign is over," his statement will be also a freshening hope and expectation to keep on the members' minds. The first beat he will do straight away is to set up the enjoyment of fiction. The competitions will reflect on less restrictions and more pleasurable to do. Giving a short topic and releasing the autonomy of interpretation to the Dark Jedi will be the way forward at the present time for fiction, although in some occasions, specific boundaries like in the RoS also being presented. One of his other bigger goals is the Writers Corner's reactivation. He deplores the requirement of seeing the editor first for the submitter to get a Dark Side Scroll (DSS). As he emphasizes, the members shall have the freedom of choice for going to the editor or not regarding their works enhancement. The Tribune encourages the Dark Jedi to post some of their works on the Corner, with the assurance of a relaxing and calm place to have, along with the readiness of the Tribune and his staff to help. He expects to see amazing fictions being written that will mark on the history of the DB streamline for the long term achievement. The topic of the Seven and the Exodus was chosen in order to have some spectacular pieces of fiction, although he considered it was a bit too soon for the actual history. For the next step, there will be a huge competition named "Prophecy" for after the Great Jedi War, an epic competition and worth to participate. In such various goals, several staff will assist Tribune Vao in the fiction management. Battlemaster Draken-Korin 'Ylith' Elariël Atema as the Chief of the writer's corner and editor will help him on the writer's corner , chosen by his amazing record on the same place when the Battlemaster worked with Headmaster Anshar Kahn Tarentae. Battlemaster Rasilvenaira StormRaven will be positioned as the Archive maintainer and editor as she has proven her writing ability in the ACC and is fantastic when creating websites whereas Battlelord Taku "Crix" Matsuki Taldrya will be the main editor for all the writer's corner stories as this is his only job on the staff. Finally, Epis RevengeX Palpatine will help the Tribune as editor and competitions planner, due to his vast fiction understanding and inspirations. Tribune Vao's enthusiasm of leading the Fiction Tribune, of giving his best to revolutionize fiction also comes from his great mentor- Grand Master Jac Cotelin 's encouragement and the past Krath High Priestess – Lady Alanna's support. The Tribune's faith on delivering the fun environment of fiction will be an optimism for all Dark Jedi to witness the fiction improvement in the Dark Jedi Brotherhood. | ||
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Dark Voice Correspondent Mononoke "Macron" Keibatsu Sadow  “A most unusual thing occurred to this researcher recently... The results were staggering… This was not a human at all, but rather an extragalactic humanoid alien… Although the data currently existing on the Yuuzhan Vong is sparse, victim number 776 appeared to be an actual Vong.” I had recently developed a new set of biosensors for my line of IT-3 Interrogator droids, and had stationed several clandestinely in random crowded areas on Sepros in order to collect data in a blind trial run. One of the droids detected a remarkable set of pheromonal and biochemical signatures that did not correlate with any known alien species. A quick consultation with other sources via holonet revealed little, although one Bothan contact on the planet of Rhommamool indicated some similar signatures. Intrigued, I followed the human-appearing being (hereby tagged as #776) personally. In order to begin collecting data, I shadowed it for some time with the assistance of a Dark Eye droid. The droid had been charged with a variety of drugs and poisons, as is my usual policy. I then infiltrated the test subject with nanite plastid-type tracking droids remotely via an inhaled aerosol. The vectored agent was dispersed by my Sith droid covertly. I then elected to test the Violator Gas against the creature’s system. The low dosage level proved to be effective against the life form, but statistically this means very little. The being lived, albeit suffering from the usual bone deformities and dermal slumping that resulted from the inoculation. The pacified specimen was forcibly collected and removed it to a secure private lab facility on Gamuslag for further investigation. The results were staggering. This was not a human at all, but rather an extragalactic humanoid alien. Although the data currently existing on the Yuuzhan Vong is sparse, victim number 776 appeared to be an actual Vong. Once we removed the “Ooglith Masquer” from it’s visage, the disgusting features of an actual Vong greeted us. These creatures apparently use living technology. They can appear as most humanoid species, given the abilities of the “Masquer” that was recovered. Rumors of exaggerated body modification and bizarre biotechnology used by the beings proved to be true. The filthy abomination had an unusual ability to resist pain and seemed to have little presence in the Force. I must embarrassingly admit that it took all of my humble skills to bring it to a high level of tension, and even then the vile creature actually seemed to relish the agony. Fortunately, torture of the body is only one technique in the ancient and vast Sith repertoire. There are many others… Predictably, the most effective techniques for debriefing this subject proved to be psychological in nature. Apparently, these beings have a warrior culture that thrives on suffering and honor via personal combat. They seem to view droids with horror and disgust, referring to them as “unclean”. Insinuating that this individual operative had failed in it’s mission, and was thereby dishonored by being rendered helpless worked well. Application of droid interrogators in the form of several eager modified IT-3 units was even more effective. This effectively broke the subject’s mental defenses, and allowed for collection of some pertinent intelligence. The subject proved to be a most fascinating study. In the end, there will be more to be learned from this subject. I have turned number 776 over to the Grand Master, Deputy Grand Master and Dark Council for further examination. The images shown above were collected from a surveillance data chip found in the possession of the infiltrator. Note the unpleasant looking parasite on the right side, middle. Test subject #776 is on the left side, middle. | ||
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Dark Voice Puzzle Creator Ood Bnar Sythe'rae  Click here for the solution (pop-up) | ||