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| Mks Ehn
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Alpheridies
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16ABY (23)
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Miraluka
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Male
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1.8m
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79kg
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Grey-brown
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N/A
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(see below)
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White Spectrum
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Shii-Cho
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Throwing knives
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Dulon
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Shadow Gate Member
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Strategos Thanatos Entar Arconae
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N/A
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10566
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History
Moulded from Clay
Unnervingly, only fragments of data have been recovered in regards to the creation of Mks, but it remains a fact that his original identity was of an Arconan Miraluka, Maaks Erinos. Towards the end of his DB career, Maaks had a tendency to wander, without any indication of where he would go or how long. It seemed to others that he was slowly distancing himself from the Clan, until he didn’t come back for a whole year. There were no leads to follow and he was presumed dead.
But he did return, just not as he was.
A small security detail discovered him by a door in the inner sanctum of the Arcona Citadel. When they tried to take him into custody he killed them all, his white lightsaber cutting through them for the security cameras to pick up. Subsequently, one of the Arconae was made known and Strategos Thanatos Entar Arconae soon assessed the situation. It didn’t look good. Mks was unable to perceive anyone through the Force and seemed to have lost the sense of touch. Regardless of what they threw at him, he wouldn’t react unless touched. The hallway was littered with sliced bodies and once they had been cleared carefully away (Strategos refused to traverse the corridor otherwise) his future Master moved closer. As soon as he was a meter away, the attack began with lightsabers clashing immediately. His weakness was obvious however, and the ease with which Strategos defended himself was shameful. They lured him into an empty container and when he was confused enough to pause once Strategos concealed his connection to the Force. It took a few minutes of knock-out gas to put the confused Equite to sleep.
Crime Scene Body
Mks was handed over to a team of medical and cybernetic experts that worked to fix whatever they could. After their initial assessment of 48 hours, the head supervisor of the team called for an immediate meeting with the Arconae. The person that arrived was not who the supervisor expected. Timeros Caesus Entar Arconae stood before the smaller man and waited. He was told that it was a lost cause and that the costs outweighed the benefits. He produced report and report of the issues that stuck out.
From top to bottom he had been heavily tortured, as the little skin that was left on him was heavily scarred and rehealed. The only real skin that remained on him were on his hands, feet, face, neck and lower chest, the rest of it having been replaced with a messily connected exoskeleton. A lot of it had cut deeply into his muscle tissue, causing a continual unimaginable pain. His joints and limbs were stiff and constructed from a mixture of droid parts, again causing a continual aching pain. The entire team was baffled how he had managed to stay alive, until they had discovered the scars on his head. They had implanted him with neural chips to bypass his limits for pain, also limiting his personality to something barely enough to sustain someone. His lungs had been replaced by inefficient and very basic machinery and his tongue and voice box had been removed. The technology to replace it all was accessible but it was too risky. Either way, he had little chance of survival. Timeros took this information calmly and asked to be led to the team. They met inside the workspace and Timeros immediately killed the supervisor in front of the team, fear falling from him like a wind, only visible to those it touched.
The team was doubled and with an additional group of supervisors, they worked to normalise him as best they could. His flesh was covered in a synthetic skin, his cybernetic limbs updated and his tongue and voice box replaced. They performed a new endless amount of bacta therapies to renew the flesh and reduce the scarring. And finally, they removed the neurochips and awaited the Arconan to awake.
A Fated Return
He awoke at square one, a child. It wasn’t terribly surprising given that the chips had kept his personality at bay over a long period of time. Over weeks, it became apparent that his potential intellect was there, he just needed to remind himself. He learnt to read and write Basic at a phenomenal rate, but had to get used to speaking with a cybernetic tongue. His physicality improved in leaps and bounds, alongside many mistakes and moments of extreme mental tiredness but after months of hard work, he regained most of his senses. It was a joyful moment - but also a sad one. Maaks had gone forever, the person that existed as Mks was someone completely different.
From Past to Future
The Summit had watched Mks’ recovery and decided to put him to good use. The Miraluka proceeded with basic training and was soon competent in his previous talents and more. Overseen by Strategos, he was pushed to his limits constantly but it still wasn’t enough for the Elder. Mks’ connection to the Force had been suppressed brutally alongside his other punishments, and it had made him oblivious to the Force in his reborn state. It was explained and shown to him, but he had yet to utilise anything other than his Miralukan sight. The training began to become more difficult and much more dangerous until finally - he broke. His aura became thick with the dark side as telekinetic energy bounced about him in a medium-sizeed training arena. The destruction to the room was a monument to his progression and pleased Strategos more than he let on, a trace of a smile upon his lips.
The Force had returned to Mks like a geyser, and the following instruction in it was slight, if unnecessary. His strengthened connection welcomed him like an old friend and he explored it with ease in intense meditation, stretching his will into his potential like a well-worn glove. When he had fully embraced his influence of the Force, he sought out his new Master and took his place as an Equite of Shadow Gate.
Torture Tech
Upon observation, it was seen that Mks had been built as a monument to pain. His joints and limbs, from his thighs to feet and his shoulders to wrists had been replaced with old droid parts fashioned into cybernetics and were beginning to break down. There was evidence of heavy drug usage to keep his body from rejecting the bad tech too much, but when he had been found there was too little in his system to maintain stability. His skin had been removed and a rough exoskeleton sown about his flesh so haphazardly that the pain was constant and should have killed him. His torturer had kept him alive by the use of neurochips, extending his ability to cope with pain as well to reduce his personality to something akin to his droid body parts. He was not even given the right to express the pain, as his tongue and vocal cords were removed entirely.
Cybernetics
Once the old was replaced with the new, Mks recovered into his new implants with speed. His speed and strength settings were matched to his body to alleviate any stressors the technology would place on his already strained organics.
Physical Description
Upon his final bacta transplants, he almost passed for healthy. The synthetic skin looked almost real except for the light grooves where the material attached around the cybernetic muscles. His face was clear and his skin bright, the only technology obvious on his face being his eyes. The Pearls that Maaks once had had been surgically affixed to his sockets, the tops of which sanded down to a flat surface. His grey-brown hair now touched the bottom of his waist as it fascinated him to watch and touch. His shape had changed little, but the lack of nutrients he had experienced on his way to the Citadel left him bony at best.
As for clothes, he preferred things that hid his form. although the technology was passable as near-organic, he felt self conscious, seeing his differences in everyone he met. He stuck with a skin tight flight suit that covered him from neck to hands and his ankles and some light combat boots. A long, dark robe lay atop the suit and kept the hood up so that no one could see his face.
Psychological Profile
Mks matured quickly and under instruction from his Master minimalised his behaviour and expressions when in the company of others. He appears professional and removed at all times. He learned to be comfortable with distrusting others, having a distant take on problems so as to overcome them with ease.
Personal relationships were supposed to be kept within certain limits, though there were times when his innate curiosity took over and he would forget to placate his emotions and where others found it endearing, his Master did not.
The Force
When Mks draws in the force, he never feels more alive. His ability within the Force exploded into realisation after an extended period of carefully assessed danger and training, thus strengthening his love for its power.
He found that he excelled in long range uses of the force, manipulating friends and foes alike with Battle Meditation, providing support from afar with Barrier and calling forth bursts of telekinetic energy. When the Force is required for battle, he almost certainly falls into the medium to long range category
Combat
Long range combat is dominated by Mks’ Force useage entirely but his Master sought to round him out as a flexible combatant. Strategos forced constant lightsaber drills, improving it above and beyond Maaks’ old capabilities. It changed him the moment his lightsaber sprang into its full glory, his heart rate high and a permanent grin on his face. He was a virtuoso of excited aggression, every clash a memory of the distance between his own skills and those of his Master’s. It brought out the animal in him, fighting as if he were battling himself.