Vader: The Edges of Anger
Published on March 26, 2017 by Paul Ciano
Ferus felt the dark side of the Force surge in a sickening wave, so powerful he inadvertently shrank back. He knew what it meant. The Sith Lord had arrived.
- Last Of The Jedi: Underworld
The Force was powerful in Vader; even the dim wattage of Nick’s connection could feel that. It was far more powerful than it had been in Kar Vastor. It had pulsed from Vastor in waves of fury, blasted like an open furnace. In Vader, it was-contained. Pent.
- Coruscant Nights I: Jedi Twilight
The lightsaber hadn’t been there, and then it was, and the lightsaber was a blur. Vader moved without seeming to move, and the lightsaber sliced into Roan, straight into his chest. Straight into his heart.
- Last Of The Jedi: Secret Weapon
Anakin felt everything.
He felt each cold metal blade that sliced into his hideously scarred flesh to allow more tools to probe and stabilize his damaged internal organs. He squirmed as shattered bones were replaced by plastoid, and cringed as lasers grafted the new limbs into place. At some point, he overheard a surgical droid explaining to Palpatine that he would require a special helmet and backpack to cycle air in and out of his damaged lungs.
Despite this damage, throughout the entire procedure, he never stopped screaming.
- The Rise And Fall Of Darth Vader
Of all the monsters I have created, I still regard Darth Vader as something of a minor masterpiece. No, he was not an entirely alchemical creation, but he was my monster nevertheless. Even though he failed to live up to his full potential, there was much pleasure in transforming Anakin Skywalker from a bright-eyed, tousle-headed youth into the greatest Jedi killer of all time. Yes, he ultimately turned against his Master, as monsters sometimes do, but that was my fault, not his. Given the opportunity to create Vader again, I would, and with zeal.
- Jedi Vs. Sith: The Essential Guide To The Force
Vader completed his meditation and opened his eyes. His pale, flame-savaged face stared back at him from out of the reflective black surface of his pressurized meditation chamber. Without the neural connection to his armor, he was conscious of the stumps of his legs, the ruin of his arm, the perpetual pain in his flesh. He welcomed it. Pain fed his hate, and hate fed his strength. Once, as a Jedi, he had meditated to find peace. Now he meditated to sharpen the edges of his anger.
He stared at his reflection a long time. His injuries had deformed his body, left it a ruin, but they’d perfected his spirit, strengthening his connection to the Force. Suffering had birthed insight.
- Lords Of The Sith