TOPIC: Cosplay... Done.

Next part of the story... I'll prolly continue writing this in little segments such as this. It's pretty easy this way.

But first... thank you all for the kind words! =D

Yes it is. I decided to go all out for my first, make it a custom piece I really liked and enjoyed to put on.

If you're familiar with the old EU (now Legends) this is set shortly after the defeat of the Vony in the New Jedi Order series, before the Dark Nest Crisis.


Haha, possibly! This is actually the story of how he becomes the Dark Jedi. So he was a "good" Jedi for quite a while, but then there's this little... happening... and now he's not so good. And the lightsaber actually is changing for mine. He'll have two hilts when he's done here. One will be the blue he's always had (which will actually be the Destiny saber I just won in the lottery, yay!) and the other will be the red blade he takes at the end of this tale. Which will, in cosplay terms, be my Gladius. =D


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The commandos scattered along the rim of the ruins, checking and moving with tactical efficiency, scouting and calling to one another. Kieran and his apprentice moved purposefully towards the broken wall, spotting a section that looked like they could make their inside through. Kieran took his saber in hand, just in case, the sleek silver hilt fitting comfortably in his palm as he drew a deep breath though his mask and looked around, then drew the hood of his sleeveless robes up, stepped up on the edge of the stone.

Within, it appeared this had indeed once been a structure, of a sort. The ground was cut away in various layers, heading down into the center, where it was the deepest. He jumped down the three-foot drop to the first layer, and gave Tamira a hand down as she did as well.

“This place is eerie,” she said softly. Her voice seemed to echo through the cavernous interior.

Normally, he would have expected birds, insects, lizards, and other types of life to be scattered about the ruins. No such lifeforms were here. It was... completely, and utterly empty, the only sounds that of the slight breeze stirring the forest a few hundred meters away, and the commandos as they completed their circuit of the ruins, setting up a sensor line and perimeter. Others were busy deploying an automated defense turret on either side of the shuttle, just in case, while two groups were sweeping down into the interior ahead of the two Jedi.

Kieran frowned, and focused, sending his senses out far and wide. Buried within the twisting confined flows of the Force that twisted and rolled over the planet, he could hardly even distinguish the life essences of the commandos around them, much less anything else. He gripped his saber tighter as they went deeper, and noticed that Tamira also had hers in hand, her eyes darting nervously about as they went farther in.

The silence seemed to deepen and intensify around them, and the hair on the back of his neck began to rise with the uncanny sense that they were not, as it wholly appeared and felt to be, alone. He glanced around, and dropped to the bottom-most area. Two commando teams were perched just above as Tamira hopped down with him, sweeping the area with their scopes and scanners, trying to find anything.

“Nothing here, sir. No signs of... well. Anything.”

Kieran nodded slowly. “Alright...” he paused, and felt the sense that something was terribly, completely, and utterly wrong intensified.

“Master,” Tamira muttered, bringing her saber in front of her, looking all around them. There was nothing there... how could this sense be so strong?

Trust in the Force. Do not rely on your senses, reach out, feel. Don't think.

Master Skywalker's words, one of the first lessons he had taught them on Yavin. It echoed to his core, and he closed his eyes, letting the Force take him, and flow away. He spun into the Force currents like a leaf, twisted and pulled along. It was then, fully absorbed as he was in the energy that spun and twisted around the planet he could feel its source, deep beneath the surface, a focal point for the twisting and gathering. The Force was not being channeled around the planet... no. It was being sucked into it, devoured, absorbed into a single entity that radiated that power outwards with horrific strength. He fell headlong into the maelstrom, felt it pulling at the fibers of his very being, and then before him, a face appeared, grey and black, with red tattoos on the cheeks and pure black eyes. It grinned, its lips opening to reveal a row of finely filed, pointed teeth.

YOU. ARE. MINE!

He jerked back, physically and mentally, spinning away. The source of the maelstrom was directly beneath them. They had landed, unintentionally, in the very lap of this creature who was devouring the planet.

“Back to the shuttle!” he barked. “NOW!”

The commandos jumped at his command, moving quickly. He grabbed Tamira with the Force, lifting her, aiding her Force-leap as she leapt up four or more levels in a single bound, then gathered the Force within himself, aiding in his own leap.

As he jumped clear, the ground beneath his feet where he had been standing crumpled, breaking apart as a beam of red energy shot out of it. A second later the entire place was rumbling, the walls coming apart as the ground shook harder and harder, stone crashing down all around them.

A commando screamed as a boulder the size of a speeder smashed into his side, sending him flying into the red light. His scream intensified, drawn out, as his armor liquified around his body, then he evaporated into a fine mist, carried away by the energy beam.

“Run!” Kieran barked at the troops, and they did, scrambling away from smashing stones, struggling to keep their footing as the ground shook harder, cracks racing through the ruins from the center pit. Another commando cried out as the ground cracked apart under his feet. Tamira grabbed his hand as he reached out, hauling him to her side. Kieran caught a stone inches away from smashing two more troopers with the Force long enough for them to scramble out of the way before it slammed into the ground, rolling down towards the center of the pit.

“Master!” Tamira screamed as the ground she was standing on lifted, splitting and cracking, heaving upwards. Around her, it began to crumble, falling away. Kieran lifted her again, tossing her forwards, ahead of himself, and prepared to leap away. The trooper she had saved moments before leapt for safety, and Tamira tried to lift him with the Force. He paused, helping her, levitating the man to solid ground... but the delay in his own action jeopardized himself. Two boulders came slamming down right in front of him, the shockwave tossing him backwards. He rolled on his shoulder, came up in a fighting stance, his saber igniting with a sharp snap-hiss before him, and he struck the one, cleaving it in two, so that it tumbled to either side, and sprinted upwards.

The red beam emitting from the ground came to a sudden halt, and the rumbling stopped, but the commandos and Jedi continued to scramble for the Jedi... when a dark wave of energy hit them all in the back, casting them all like dolls, flinging them in every which direction. Kieran smashed into a pile of rubble and collapsed. He couldn't see Tamira or any of the commandos, struggling to get his senses back and get back on his feet. A figure, alone, strode from the center of the pit, wrapped in darkness and trailing a long black cloak. Kieran had no idea who it was, but could feel the malice rolling off of the man as he looked up, and met Kieran's eyes directly. It was the face from his vision a moment before. Still curled in that same unsettling, pointy-tooth grin. He leapt upwards, landing a few meters from Kieran himself.

“So. The Jedi come at last...” he mused, and reached under his cloak, taking out two silver hilts. They both snapped to life with a deep hum, their blood red blades popping with energy. Kieran got to his feet, and reignited his own, the cool blue contrasting sharply with the red. “Are you so eager to die, Jedi?”

Kieran braced himself. He had fought countless Vong, flown in a hundred space battles, faced down numerous foes. This was but one more test, one more foe. One more. That was it. The two braced for battle, facing each other squarely in the midst of the ruins, all else fading away.

^^^ EPIC!!!! dam what a fun read, i want to read the end though! does Kieran defeat the dark foe?
hopefully see the end soon! again amazing job with the backstory!

Really like how the writing's going.

What do you mean by adjustments to the robe and tabbards?
Did you make the tunic, tabbards, and robe, or buy them?
If you made them, what pattern (if any) did you use? Did you need to customize/fix the pattern at all?

Sorry for all the sudden questions, just thinking of creating a costume myself.

I bought them, cause putting me in the same room as a sewing machine, or anything related to sewing, is really just asking for a whole bunch of trouble. lol

The only things I did from when I got everything was decide I wanted different tabards, so I contacted Khloe's Custom again, had her make some new tabards for me (white, and extra long), then had my grandmother actually hem up the bottom of the robe cause it was dragging on the ground a little bit when I first got it, so I hemmed it up around my ankles, and took the sleeves off of the robe, so the tabards peek out from under it on the shoulders and create a neat little design element, and so you can see the bracers and such that I have.

This story just keeps getting better and better!

Next segment:


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“Who are you?” Kieran asked, bringing his saber into a midguard before him, angling the point down, pointed towards the chest of his opponent. “What are you doing here?”

“You Jedi, so conceited. You refuse to look beyond the veils of light and dark, to sure the true potential of the Force. You bind yourselves with good and evil, make yourselves slave to public doctrine and the opinion of politicians. Jedi and Sith alike, you fail at reaching the ultimate goal, becoming what we were meant to be.”

“And what do you think we were meant to be?” Kieran demanded in a growl. “What are you?”

The commandos behind had spread out along the rim of the ruins, and were set up in defensive positions. Temira was standing midday up, her lightsaber lit in her hand, the canary yellow bright against the dim hues of the background.

“So concerned with labels. Do you wish to label me, as well? Sith, or Jedi?”

“I wish to know who you are. What you've done here.”

“So it is knowledge you seek. That, I bestow on you gladly.” He threw up his hand, and the very air seemed to warp around it, twisting and rolling, then a telekinetic Force blast slammed into him, hurling him backwards. He reached out to brace himself with the Force, to soften his impact, but the moment he actively reached out, pain blasted through his entire body, and he screamed.

Rivers of fire lanced through his veins, poured across his nerves, burned through his organs and flayed his skin until pain was all there was, radiating out from every nerve in his body, but yet his mind refused to go blank and surrender to the darkness of unconsciousness. He longed for it, wished for it with the small portion of his mind that was not overridden with pure pain. Then, all at once... it was gone. The pain, everything. He was laying sprawled out on the stone, his lightsaber nearby where it had rolled from his hand. He groaned, and sat up. The man was before him, smiling that same eerie smile, and when Kieran sat up, he hooked his finger, in a “come here” motion, and Kieran saw the world around him dissolve as the Force swept through him in a rush.

Once again, he could feel the twisting maelstrom that was the Force energy of this planet, concentrated and focused, being pushed and pulled into rapid streams, circling the planet's surface before being sucked into the figure before him. But as he centered his vision on that figure, he did not see the dark face, the red marks, the eerie grin, but a figure made out of energy and light, radiating power like wings from its back, tendrils with thin, arching energy between them stretching high over its head. The figure was that of a powerfully build man, physically imposing in every way, but he was white; pure. Golden, even.

Perception is the weakness that the Jedi bind themselves with. You see things only in shades of black, and white. There is good, or there is evil. There is no middle ground. The ends never justify the means. The ability to use the Force is not this way. There is grey, there is justification in your end goals. You use a lightsaber, a tool of destruction, but state it is for salvation. Hypocritical. Jedi are the height of denial. They deny their emotions, they deny their feelings, the very things that make them alive, the very things which bring attunement with the Force. Sith deny peace, embrace only passion. They drive themselves endlessly with reckless abandon, and fall to their primal instincts. They lose that which makes them civilized. You wanted to know who I am, what I am? I am you. I am your future. I am the embodiment of the Will of the Force. I am your DESTINY.

Reality snapped back into place, and Kieran rose to his feet. He held out his hand, and his lightsaber slammed into his palm. He returned to his guard stance, and ignited the cool blue blade before him. “You are nothing to me.”

And the figure roared as it attacked. Kieran let go, letting the Force flow through him freely, and parried his attack smoothly, spinning around his other strike, ducking so that the swing passed a few inches above his head, bringing his lightsaber around to catch another strike, guiding it up and harmlessly overhead before twisting the blade in his grip, dropping it to a low guard to catch his other strike and pushed it back, adding a subtle Force push to the parry to strengthen it even as he slashed out with the blade, forcing his opponent backwards, spinning his blade in his hand as he advanced with a two-handed overhead strike. The figure caught the strike by raising his blades in an X and pushed it back, slashing downwards, but Kieran was already spinning to the side, smashing one of the two sabers aside, a smooth and clean parry that left them a few feet apart.

“You have some skill,” the figure growled. “But not enough.”

He attacked in a flurry of motion, his strikes coming hard and fast, driving Kieran back rapidly. He dropped down to a lower level, and continued his fighting retreat, parrying and blocking strikes, spinning away from others, jumping and twisting to avoid thrusts, keeping his saber moving before him in a valiant, fierce defense...

That was being worn down. They fought for an extended period of time, moving across the ruins, and back, in circles, the figure ceaseless and tireless, his attacks gaining strength and power as they moved. Kieran smashed another strike to the side, and felt his muscles screaming in protest. Sweat covered his face, dripped down his neck. His robes and tunic had several dark, smoldering patches where he had just barely kept his opponent's sabers from meeting flesh, and his legs were tired, wearing down, his feet skidding on the stone as he slid backwards again.

The grin never once wavered on the figure's face, his duel sabers flashing harder and faster. He seemed to have a boundless reserve of energy, the Force rolling through him in a storm. There was nothing Kieran could do to break the flow of his offensive strike, no openings or opportunities. It became clear to him that this... person, whoever it was, was toying with him, drawing this out because it amused him. Making a point. Kieran was a fairly well-known Jedi within the Galactic Alliance, had won recognition on several battlefields where he had pushed attacks against the Vong and lead several successful strikes... and he, with all of that behind him, all of that skill...

Was nothing to this enemy.

He fell back again, gathering the Force within him, stronger than before, and let it guide his motions. But it was weakening, his blocks coming slower, just in time, his parries sloppy, lacking strength and fluidity.

He twisted to the side as his opponent thrust at his chest, and tripped over a crack in the stone, and landed hard on his shoulder. He rolled quickly, hearing the hiss of the sabers slicing through the stone where he had been, and got his feet back under him, backing away several steps, breathing hard.

“Your time has come. The game ends. You refuse to see, refuse to be my vessel... I will end you.”

“Master!” Tamira cried, and he turned, seeing her racing down, leaping over the last lip, dropping to his level, coming towards him.

Fear, dread and anger poured through him. “Tamira, no!” he shouted, moving to intercept. There was too far, too long of a gap to go...

The figure smirked as it glanced at her, then flicked his wrist. A massive Force push plucked her off her feet, smashing her into the stone wall with a sickening crunch. Her lightsaber fell from numb fingers and bounced away, the yellow blade vanishing instantly. “TAMIRA!”

He reached her side, and crouched. She coughed as he gently turned her over. Blood was bubbling on her lips, pink and frothy. Her side seemed oddly soft as he ran his hand over her ribs. He closed his eyes, knowing she was doomed. Her ribs had shattered, been driven through her lungs, perhaps even penetrated her diaphragm, judging by the way her chest barely moved. Lacerated her liver, even. The damage was extreme. Her shoulder and arm were surely broken, discoloring already, her arm hanging limp and unmoving even as her other hand gripped weakly at his robes.

“M...m...mast...” she struggled to speak.

“Shh, shh... don't speak,” he said softly, brushing her hair out of her face, kissing her forehead, cradling her in his lap. “It's alright. I'm here. It's okay.” the empty promises rolled out of him, even as he felt his grief and anguish building inside, threatening to overwhelm him.

“S-s-sor... sorry...” she stammered... looking up at him with desperation in her eyes. “I... failed...”

“No, no. No, no no,” he said, clutching her tightly. “You never failed me. You were so good. So good.”

She coughed, weakly, and more blood bubbled across her lips, and she drew in a faint, shallow, shuddering breath, then.... went limp, her entire body relaxing as her life left it. He cradled her body for a moment, then gently set her down. The figure stood a few feet away, both of his sabers ignited in both hands, that same innane, frustrating, INFURIATING smile on his face. Kieran stood as anger, hatred, and grief rolled through him, crushing everything else.

In the back of his mind, he knew what he was doing. In the rest of it, he just didn't give a damn. He held out his hands, and his and her lightsabers slammed into his palm as the Forcestorm within himself intensified, escalating as he drew it in, hotter and faster, embracing the chaos, letting it consume him. The wind stirred around him, whipped into motion by the Force itself, the pebbles and debris at his feet vibrating as his robe lifted and whipped in the wind, snapping behind his back as he stared at his most hated foe.

“Now, I will destroy YOU,” Kieran snarled.

The wind died immediately as Kieran launched himself forward, swinging both sabers together.

And for the first time, that smile slipped.

Darth Floyd, I couldn't have said it better myself.
Still doing really well, though I saw myself getting trapped in the pronoun game a few times during this (trying to find out if "he" was referring to Kieran or his opponent).

I believe his power level has increased exponentially. It might almost be 9000 already

Darth Floyd wrote:
This sums up my reaction to this so well! I love how this has been put together! You clearly have allot of passion for your character! I can't help myself but keep applauding your efforts!