Also Known As: Darth Marr

Species: Unknown (Human-passing)
Age: senior
Homeworld: unknown
Pronouns: [Imperial Strd. 3rd pronouns; Tsis alien pronouns; Republic Strd. he/him]
Skin: dark brown
Eyes: [?]
Weapons: lightsaber, the Force
Position: Senior member of the Dark Council
Likes: working for the good of the Empire
Dislikes: petty squabbling
Apprentices: Darth Lachris

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He hadn’t been an individual for… it had been a very long time.

Marr removed his mask. He was human (most likely – he’d always looked like one, anyway), with dark brown skin, bleached to almost dark-grey from use of the Dark Side, heavily spotted with black. His hair was grey, nearing silver, and bald on the top. His nose, eyes and mouth were all open, rotting wounds, dotted with pus. Vowrawn didn’t have to imagine or to squint to see the boy from the Academy who’d led a student uprising; it was the only thing he’d ever see on that face, unmasked. He was quite certain Marr knew that, and that it was partially why he’d never exposed his face to Vowrawn since he had first begun hiding it in daily life.
Now, though, with the decades weighing on them both, with his extensive use of the Force – and humans had always been ill-suited to using their passion to gain power in the Force; they hadn’t evolved for it – the mask had more purpose than to obscure the individual behind the guise of a symbol. After a few breaths with his face uncovered, he began to wheeze. He showed Vowrawn the inside of his mask, and its inbuilt rebreather. Then he replaced it, his hands sure and steady.

I taped a sword to my hand when I was younger. This is an argument about goals. —Richard Siken, War of the Foxes