Before the DJB
Origins
File:Krma'at.jpgMune's home world and its three moons.
Mune was born in approximately 3 ABY, on a remote planet in yet another remote system. He was born into a rather more docile culture, or what one could only really ever describe as boring. A human culture of farmers, with no ambitions past their own planet’s governing. Only a small spattering of sects were anything out of the ordinary. It was into this culture that he was born, and his differences immediately noted, and he abandoned to one of these sects in the darker fringes of the planet.
He was titled a “mahõtsukai”, translated roughly to “sorcerer”. Abandoned to the stigma of his strange marks of birth, the monastery readily took him in, as they did other “marked” children; rare as they were.
He would not know until sometime, even, who his parents were.
It was not unusual, in his culture, for those “marked”, to be taken in by the priestesses and priests of monasteries in the darker realms of his birth world. They were educated mystics, seers, of a rather questionable sort. Mune was no exception upon his delivery onto them. When he came to an age that he could learn, he was thrust deep into a grueling learning plan. He was taught to read by the age of three. Theories were recited him nightly, while chores were given him daily. The mysticism and theorems, superstitions and a belief in something ‘more’, became his world.
The question that nagged at his young mind even then, at the age of seven… What was this ‘more’? This something that hid beyond the scope of his understanding. The priests and priestesses, nor his fellow younglings could shed light on this shadow that dwelled just beyond his reach.
This so being, he continued to thrive however. Thrive in such a way that made him the target of some of the more jealous and quarrelsome children of the monastery in which they all lived. His thirst for knowledge, his energetic advances that found him beyond them only enraged even some of the older children. It was more than once, or even a dozen times that heads butted and blood was spilled, and an injured student disciplined.
The Knife
He was the special plaything of the monastery… the wicked knife with which they would eventually thrust into the heart of a bigoted government.
It was at the age of ten, the year 13 ABY, when the woman had come in the company of a government official. If his marks had been strange upon his release into the monastery, he only stood out further from the other humans now… he was beyond a doubt a hybrid. Whether through some experimentation, he was no pure human like the man and woman who regarded him that day… the man with eyes beholden of nothing but rage and disgust.
Mune had no doubts, in that moment. He knew them intimately. He understood what the man would be pressed to do.
Three nights passed, on that third night a storm raged in the sky above. A great battle of forces of nature that sent tendrils of lightning ripping the very night asunder. Rain pelted the chilled cobbles, slickening them with a deluge that seemed to wish but to flood the monastery grounds. Mune left the grounds through the large main gates, closing the great doors upon his passage and stood regarding shadows with disdain.
“Father.”
There he stood, in company of two personal guards. The shadows shifted and from them came his attackers. Would be assassins, paid coin they felt more than enough to slay a ten year old boy. Time itself seemed to slow, a mind sharpened by an understanding beyond these small, piteous, close minded fools; needn’t worry. A cold rage, coiled about his heart. A hand, absently drew a mask down over his own face to hide his eerie eyes from sight. The sound of the deluge fell away. Thunder made dull by an awareness beyond what he had ever experienced.
Then he moved.
Darkness
It was as if time itself broke before the Force. Rent, torn asunder, time ceased for a split second, and Mune stood above the man he never knew. Assassins behind left in blood and gore behind him, dispatched without even an afterthought to who they had been. They were corpses now, no more, no less. The man’s personal guards lay sprawled, long, delicate needles that caught the flashes of lightning, protruding from various kill points.
He stood over the man, his jian-sword levelled with the man’s throat.
“You would kill your maker?”
“Yes,” was all needed be said.
The point of the sword plunged inwards. Flesh gave way, blood flowed to run with the rain over the cobbles. It was done, and he stood over the man he called father, for the first and last time. Laughter gripping his chest, given voice for a moment before he freed his weapon and retreated back to his sanctuary.
He left soon after, at the age of eleven.
Mune did not leave alone however. Cipher, his adoptive sister, whom took to him during a turbulent time of bullying at a younger age, took to his side again in his decision to take his leave of the monastery and its bothersome mystics. They understood nothing, so far as he was concerned. He knew truly what it was that burned within him. They knew not what they toyed with, only he truly grasped that which fueled the flames his passion.
He refused to share that knowledge with them.
It was by following Cipher’s dreams; that he found himself before Jonaleth Isradia, Consul of Exar Kun.
WIP
DJB Facts
Positions held in the past:
- Tetrarch of Exar's Shadow of Clan Exar Kun
- Clan Envoy of Clan Exar Kun
- Eclectic Pedagog of the Shadow Academy
- Aedile of House Acclivis Draco of Scholae Palatinae
- Quaestor of House Acclivis Draco of Scholae Palatinae