Nar Shaddaa

[MSA]

X-Caliber Squadron arrived in the hangar bay with a subtle yet irritated thump as Captain Rose and the group powered down their engines and climbed out of their infamous X-Wings. Oden threw his helmet across the bay in disgust as Zac and Jax tried to console the angered Human as Mjan and Rose chuckled away, removing their gear and setting it aside. It seemed like the battle of Dark Sun Station had been months ago by the way the group seemed to click and its memory dissipated, but in truth, it had only been but a few days, Mjan fitting in perfectly.

 

"So Master Jedi..." Rose nested as she climbed upon a few crates near her ship, plopping down and laying her lekku back in the artificial wind. "You think you're enjoying your assignment to the crew of the X-Caliber?"

 

"I cant rightfully say..." Mjan jested back as he placed his palm over the eye patch and pressed against it to check the suction against his blinded eye. "Are you enjoying your rise in stature, Captain?"

 

After arriving at Nar Shadaa, Mjan had requested permanent placement in the X-Caliber squadron as well as a rise in Rose's rank due to her saving his life during the battle at Dark Sun with Fleet Command, and after two grueling days of waiting, recieved a welcoming agreement just a day prior. Mjan's gaze shifted toward Oden Sun and the Cathar twins, the previous having problems with his X-Wing and allowing his temper to gain the better of him. They were a rowdy bunch, but each of them had aided him during the battle in more ways than Mjan could count. And once more, they had taken him in willingly as one of their own, placing him in their former Captain's X-wing which now adorned his own name.

 

The battle had been a gruesome ordeal for the Jedi Knight. He went in with little experience outside his own fighter, felt the atrocities that transpired in waves through the Force as he fought both the enemy and his views as a Jedi during the engagement, and now he stood amongst the group as an equal even in skill. And there was even a part of him that pondered leaving the Order and becoming solely a member of the X-Caliber Squadron despite his original goal of joining the Order. But Rose had talked him out of it for the most part, reminding him that he was a Jedi first and foremost. He smiled and shifted his gaze again as he joined his Captain upon the crates.

 

But as he settled, something caught his eye in the distance and caused him to tap Rose on the shoulder and alert her of their presence just as Oden, Zac, and Jax walked up. At the other end of the hanger were two Jedi and what appeared to be another pilot (@Beth Andromina, @karyu128, @Nia Doarr) badly injured, but standing. He could feel Rose's palms digging into his shoulders through his robes as she shoved him to go socialize, which Mjan resisted at first until he felt himself fall forward once Jax aided her. He could tell the two Jedi were strong in the Force like himself, their level of aid flowing around them. But Mjan had never been one to make unwanted approaches, especially when other Jedi were busy attending, but Rose was a bit of a instigator.

 

"That's an order Lieutenant." Rose jested with a forced stern, Mjan looking back with his own forced chuckle. "Yes ma'am"

 

Grabbing his pike staff, Mjan began the trek over.

 

"Unfortunately, those of my kin have lost themselves to the darkness within their hearts before they were even born, a trait spanning our entire recorded history." Mjan spoke in return as he walked up, the Tsis Jedi Knight bowing with regal. "Forgive my manners. I am Jedi Knight, Lieutenant Mjan Sadow iv-Adas of X-Caliber Squadron." Though he was Sith, the very creatures they had fought in the previously mentioned battles that the Pilot mentioned, his yellow eyes shown with kindness unexpected as he met their shared gazes if they were but to look past the crimson of his skin and the tendrils and spurs that adorn the Kissai's face. "Can I offer any assistance? I'm not proficient in healing, but I do have some salve and herbs for burns."

[MSA]

"No. I don't mind..." Mjan said with a chuckle as his gaze met first with Nia, the young hopeful withdrawn but inquisitive. It was a good quality to possess, curiosity often led many out of their shell of shyness and presented topics for open discussion without realization. With a bow of his head in presentation, Mjan finished his sentence. "I am Kissai, of the Tsis... or Sith in basic... species."

 

As he spoke this, his gaze shot toward Beth with sorrow filled eyes as her realization, if she hadn't already, would likely rub suppressed memories in a horror filled manner. He was not proud of his heritage, especially the little known fact of his Adas bloodline, but he had long ago accepted who he was for better or worse. And as a former Sorcerer of Tund, the darkness that plagued his species had slowly been displaced over the generations since their exile. It existed, but they had long fought to suppress it, and with the aid of the lightside, Mjan had managed to nearly rid himself completely of it.

 

"Well met Kel Koon." Mjan spoke in return, quickly adjusting his gaze from the Lieutenant toward the other Jedi in an attempt to levy the tension he felt mentioning his species. Quickly searching his satchel, he pulled forth a few herbs for pain and a small container of salve made from roots he had gathered during his time on Borleias. "Its not much, but the healing properties are outstanding. I found that by increasing the natural flow of the Force through the roots, I was able to enhance not only the soothing capabilities, but increase its healing potency as well by mixing mud to act as a bonding agent."

 

Mjan found himself intrigued by the two, Kel's presence nearly mimicking his own even as a mere Padawan, and Nia's presence though untapped, presenting grand skill in healing even as a Hopeful. Handing over the herbs and salve, Mjan laid his pike staff to the side and took a seat. "Forgive my intrusion. I have socialized much with other Jedi since I was taken on as Master Aira's Padawan and was thrust into combat at Dark Sun shortly after my Knighting. My Captain over there felt it would do me some good to introduce myself while we were stationed here."

[MSA]

"Templar Squadron eh?" Mjan spoke with a glimmer in his eye. "You guys have been making quite a name for yourselves. I heard of you guys before I even joined the Jedi Fleet during my tutelage under Master Aira. It's a honor Commander."

 

Grabbing his pikestave, Mjan presented it to her, letting the Force flow throw its contents as the two ends spun out of place and hovered, revealing the cylindrical outline of his lightsaber before he briefly activated the amber blades. "A Jedi is never without his or her weapon, but it gives the reasonable appearence of a unorthadox walking or combat staff for most." Mjan deactivated it and let the parts return. With that, he winked.

 

His gaze shifted toward Rose and the others and chuckled. "You'd be right in the assumption, my own X-Wing being the former Captain's who perished over Onderon. But I was only recently transferred into it during the battle at Dark Sun. I suppose they thought it sounded cool, but they're truly devoted to their mission, so you may hear of us more and more in the coming war."

 

Just then Nia spoke up, causing Mjan to shift his gaze back toward the young hopeful with a smile. "Please, Mjan." He requested as he placed his hand over his chest and bowed. "There's no need for apologies. When I first joined the Jedi, I was constantly nervous over my race. Still can be, though for different reasons. You will fall in when the right time comes, and will blossom in your own way."

 

His gaze shifting about, having noticed that the two were alone without their trainers, he poised a question in general concern. "Where are your Masters, Nia, Kel? Though these may be safe grounds, it's not wise to stray too far from them."

[MSA]

Mjan's hand reached up and began stroking the tendrils that hung from his chin, similar to a human stroking the hair of his beard, as Kel provided answers. He knew Nia's plight all too well, her reasons having turned to Kel becoming obvious, especially his mentioning her Father's lightsaber. He smiled most kindly to the young Nautolan.

 

"I see." He spoke to the two. "Following in your Father's footsteps and becoming a Jedi?" Mjan questioned inquisitively, his gaze fixated on Nia alone now. "If you have no objections, as a Knight within the Order, I can take you on as my Padawan. But that would require you to join X-Caliber Squadron as well."

 

As he waited for her answer, allowing the thought to truly be processed, Mjan turned to Beth.

 

"Onderon was before my time, but I appreciate the sentiment all the same and return it as well." Mjan spoke as he placed the sheathed stave back to his side with his hand upon the grip, noticing the sorrow that filled the pilot's own eyes. He may not have been there, but he could tell she had been, or atleast knew more about it than he did. Extending his hand and accepting her's. "I look forward to the day that we see who's Squadron is the better."

 

Mjan spoke in jest in his last statement, but as he did, Captain Rose made her approach and Mjan turned his head as her voice whispered in his ear, Beth talking to Kel about his Master as this transpired. He turned back, his gaze shifting straight to Beth. "Maybe sooner than we thought. Better check your Orders."

 

With that, Mjan turned back to Nia. It was time for his departure, and he hoped she would accompany him. But only she could choose this path. He only hoped she had reached a conclusion that was of her own volition and not one pressed upon her by him, her hopes, or time itself. "Have you reached a decision Nia?"

[MSA]

Mjan thought back to when he first arrived at Borleias, his nervousness upon first entering the Jedi Temple there, his ecstatically notion at what he could learn and behold from their vast collection of knowledge and wisdom. But as he talked, he kept a close and watchful eye upon young Nia. You could tell alot about a being by their first interactions, how they respond, hesitation, movements of their body language, etc. And that was what Mjan had been paying close attention to this entire conversation, her stature very close to his own when he first came to the Jedi. Though, back then he had just left the only thing he knew in life, a former apprenticed Sorcerer of Tund in search of understanding the lightside of the Force in order to learn to truth of the Unified Force his former Order stood to practice. He chuckled under his breath at the thought.

 

"Mjan, please. I'm not big on formalities." Mjan spoke in return, trying to calm her uneasiness and nerves with familiarity. "No need to worry about that at the moment. My X-Wing is of the Tandem variant if we are deployed. The former Captain of X-Caliber squadron liked to train his pilots the old fashioned way rather than in a simulator, and with me being a Jedi Knight, Captain Rose felt it would better suit me should I ever take on a Padawan."

 

Mjan winked, hoping his actions and words would ease the young Nautolan. His gaze shifted briefly to Captain Rose and the others as they began to head out of the hangar before turning his gaze back to both Nia and Beth, whom he hoped had read her datapad by now and would be joining him and Nia as well before he turned to Kel. "It was nice to meet you Kel, and I hope our paths cross again in the future. Unfortunately now I must report in for duty, which means you as well Nia. Commander Beth, I shall see you there?

 

Mjan awaited each response before he bowed, motioned for Nia to follow, and excused himself. Once upon the lift, Mjan turned to young Nia with a general curiosity. "Tell me a little more about yourself Nia. What are your views upon life and the Force?"

[MSA]

Mjan listened attentively to Nia as she spoke, hearing her words and noticing her forcable trouble with the Galactic Basic language. Mjan looked away for a moment as she finished speaking and thought back to his days as a child. As a youngling in the his former Order, he was taught Galactic Basic along side their native tongue of Tsis, to which their Species had derived their identity from when the exiles first laid claim to their former. He remembered his own struggle with it, the garbled sounds his tongue made as he struggled to learn it where his native tongue came so easily. He understood her own plight perhaps even more than she did. Turning back, he smiled.

 

"Indeed. But the Force is both more simplistic and complex than that in the same notion." Mjan and Nia exited the lift and turned toward their destination, his hands interlocked behind him as he walked, his saber stave now hung across his back and held together by a simple sash. "My own people, the Sorcerers of Tund whom believed in a unified Force often taught that the Force is neither light nor dark, that is the nature of the species wielding it that determines its alignment." Mjan stops briefly, his face showing simple signs of thought as he carefully chose his next words. "But I believe that the Force is both Nature and separate at the same time. It flows through all things, and yet, has a will of it's own, symbioticly speaking. Like a ivy growing upon a tree so to speak. The tree is nature, simply existing as life. But the ivy, although the same, has direction and purpose."

 

"My Master and I often held similar conversations during my tutelage under her..." Mjan spoke as he began to walk again and turned down the hall toward the briefing room where Captain Rose and the others stood in wait. "Especially what it meant to be a Jedi." He turned his gaze toward her and winked with a subtle chuckle. "I believe being a Jedi is simple to blades of grass in a shallow pond. The pond represents the ripples of chaos and darkness and the blades represent the Jedi who stand firm against the ripples, slowing them and even stopping them as needed while each protecting the others from being overcome by the ripple should it prove to be too powerful. And when the blades eventually wither and die as nature intended, the ones it protected are strong and sturdy to repeat the process just as a Master does for his or her pupil."

 

Reaching Captain Rose and the others, Mjan nodded his head as the twins opened the door leading inside. "But all the while, the blades of grass also have a separate purpose that stems to all of them and that is protecting the life that hides beneath the water and within the grass." Mjan finished as they stepped inside. Taking their seats, they watched the events unfold, a certain uneased posture taking hold of Mjan's face as they were briefed. He did not like the idea of espionage nor pretending to be something he was not. But Mjan had began to grasp the subtle concept of war and what it took to prevent casualties. He may not have liked it, but he understood the necessity. As the Officer concluded and questioned the group, Mjan simply nodded his head without saying a word, Captain Rose standing and speaking for her crew. "Understood. But be warned, my assumed identity better be cute." Jax and Oden could be heard chuckling under their breath as she spoke.

[MSA]

Mjan stood up from his chaired position, a chuckle erupting under his breath as he his grip lifted the brief's datapad from the table. Rose was known as a jokester, a memorable moment of a prank played upon Mjan crossing his mind. His gaze shifted toward Nia and his chuckle subsided as he noticed her still face. He knew the look of troublesome thoughts. Next chance alone, he would ask her about what bothered.

 

Feeling a slap across his back, Mjan winced predictably out of reaction as he turned to gaze Beth again, a smile across his face. She was definitely a well defined pilot, her actions reminding his alot of his own Captain. A feeling of ease washed over him knowing that so many veteran pilots would be a part of this project, his own infancy as one apparent. He knew he was lucky to have survived Dark Sun.

 

"I was considering an old 170 myself. Nia here has no training, so I'm hoping the Maelstrom has an on board simulator she could study with." Mjan spoke, looking past her toward a weeping Oden Sun as the oaf watched his X-Wing being stripped, an emotional sorrow filling up Mjan in response. "If not, the co-pilots chair is as best a place as any to learn. You're welcome to pilot if you want to join us and I'll take the rear guns."

 

It was more of a jest than seriousness, but Mjan wouldnt turn her down if she chose to create a crew with him and Nia. If not, he knew Captain Rose would, her favorite aspect of the ARC being the tail guns. It's how he had came to know the ship as well as he did, the Twilek obsessed with it and the Y-Wing. At that thought, he chuckled in silence.

 

Mjan's reddened face turned a briefly deeper shade when Beth poised the opportunity to bunk together with her, his mind to have yet even consider that aspect, his gaze shifting to Nia and realizing that it would be unbecoming if she and he had even bunked together. His four fingered hand reached up and scratched at the back of his head through his blackened hair in slight embarrassment. "You ladies are more than welcome to if you wish. But I'm afraid I'll have to bunk with the guys." Mjan's gaze shifted toward Rose, the woman's gears already turning at the overheard conversation. "Captain Rose has a tendency to let her active imagination run wild."

 

Mjan chuckled as Rose's face pouted at her overhearing his response. "I do not!" Rose yelled as Mjan turned back to the two, Jax and Oden nearly choking on their shared laughter beside her.

[MSA]

Sitting atop the cockpit of the Bleached Mynock, Scorpio gazed toward the rising sun coming around Nal Hutta as he chewed upon the Maraffa twig that sat upon his lips. It didn't feel so long ago that he was last here with members of the Luka Sene and Armiena's Mother and Padawan in tow. And yet, even if it hadn't been as long as it was, so many things had changed. Alpheridies was a distant memory, the loss of Railyn's mother still an echo within his heart. And thanks to Anakin, his soul was whole again, no longer a puppet of the Spider's web. Shifting his gaze through the glass below, he spied Railyn shifting in the seat next to the controls as he watched her attentively to see if she was waking, but saw no affirmation. So he continued chewing upon the supple sap from within the twig.

 

Sleep was a luxury he rarely experienced lately, too many memories that prayed upon his mind. He remembered his death at Onderon, he knew the vile things he had partook in as a shambled corpse under the Spider, and then there was the memories of Anakin that played their part. His darker half searching for a way to bind them back together, his life without his ability to touch the Force, the love he had developed for Delilah and the pain of losing her and the pride he felt as a father. But as Scorpio, being whole again, there was awkward moments where even the slightest of feelings felt so false. Even as he checked his daughter out of love, it sometimes felt that it was not his own. He even thought of leaving the girl on Alpheridies with her kind, but could not bare to part with her. It was a strange feeling to say the least.

 

And then there was they're departure from Alpheridies and the Luka Sene, as bittersweet as it was. Scorpio had always been a Jedi, had always faced Wars and Struggles for the sake of others. And Anakin, though worked well in groups and could lay roots, had always been a Sith at heart. Even as he sought to restore him and Scorpio, deep down he also sought to usurp the Miralukians of Alpheridies through the Luka Sene. Scorpio could not, in good conscious, remain after. So he instead chose to travel a pilgrim's path across the Galaxy, to understand what Damon had actually created in them and what it meant within the Force. 

 

And here he was at Nar Shadaa, the once vibrant hive of villainy and scum, a place where for millenia, Jedi often sought to disappear and understand their purpose behind it and how they managed to achieve such a goal. Opening his mind completely to the Flow of the Force, he traveled upon its natural course across the cityscape and beneath, feeling the overbearing noise of life packed so tightly within it's atmosphere. And as he did, familiar and new presences surrounded his own as he traveled the globe telepathically. He opened his eyes as Railyn began to cry. Tossing the Maraffa Twig aside, he slide down the face of the cockpit with a sturdy landing, before he ran up the ramp inside. Finding her still asleep, he smirked. Night terrors were a commonplace for someone of her age, and despite his inability to connect with this child, he was quick to rush to her side.

 

Walking back outside, he gazed toward the east where he felt the familiar presences within the confines of the Imperial Headquarters. Just perhaps, he may pop in his head, if only to see old faces and some new.

[MSA]

Away from the Imperial Headquarters, Scorpio continued his path of self reflectance. For someone who wielded the Force but was neither Jedi nor Sith, there was little option or fold to consider. Even more so for one who was plagued with the personalities of both. Anakin and Scorpio, Scorpio and Anakin. Yin and Yang, Yang and Yin. The Light and the Darkness, the Darkness and the Light. Where one soul should exist, two halves made a singular imitation of a whole. That was the curse he carried, and the burden that was forced upon him. One without the other could never exist long.

 

So where did they belong? Where did one such as Scorpio call home? Amongst the Jedi, he was corrupted, tainted. Among the Imperial Knights, he was an abomination. And amongst the Sith, he was weakness. To all, he was foul. Beginning to hear Railyn stir, he shuffled the carrier forward and placed it upon the ground, her gaze shifting up forward to him with a smile as his gazeet hers with distance and coldness. She may have been of his loins, but she was still Anakin's creation, forged from his mingling with the Luka Sene while he searched for a way to bring Scorpio back from the realm of Chaos after his death at Onderon. As much as he wanted to care, it felt unnatural.

 

"Dada" She spoke, her word jumbled by the inability to coherently concentrate on words, more mimicry than thought process. And yet, it still stung, it's tug at his heart. Grabbing one of her toys from the carrier, he gave it to her before placing the carrier to his front. Pulling a nutritional bar from his own satchel, he continued his journey as she knawed and nibbled on the bar during their trek, a constant giggle or laughter intermediately.

 

"You're a pain in my arse, you know that?" He caught himself saying to her as the bar began to become slug as it rolled down and across his fingers. "I have half a mind to leave you at a local orphanage."

 

Her gaze shifted up toward his own, an almost knowingly look in her eyes and the audacity he held for saying such a thing as her lip began to pucker up. "Pain in my arse, no, Dada."

 

Scorpio had to force himself both from holding back a fit of laughter and the shame he held that she had repeated him. She was beginning to reach that age where children began to repeat what was heard and their concept of understanding. So much so, that he failed to react properly as a speeder clipped his side as it whizzed by with two Imperial speeder bikes in hot persuit. Before he knew it, both he and Railyn were over the railing and falling into the depths of Nar Shadaa rather fast. His presence and moment of being caught off guard sent out a powerful presence of fear that vibrated violently across the area. @Frond

 

Collecting himself and making sure that Railyn was still within his embrace, Scorpio pulled upon the Force to correct his trajectory. Nar Shadaa, like Coruscant, was a planet wide metropolis that had been built atop others over the millenia of it's existence and it was said one could fall for hours and still not see it's surface. That was something he'd rather avoid. With Railyn close to his chest, he reached around her and grasped his blade, unlocking it, and bringing it forth as their momentum began to hasten. There wasn't a moment to lose and most had already been lost. It was now or never.

 

Forcing his Cyan blade active, he drove it into the siding of the older spires. He could feel his shoulder disconnect from it's socket, but held onto the blade without mercy. Sparks and molten metal flew from it's slice as Scorpio used their momentum to drive the active blade in further and slow their descent as best he could, until there in a moment of luck, a ledge was found a few meters below them. Or rather, the remnants of a landing pad to be precise. Swinging his legs forward as he fought back the pain, Scorpio deactivated his blade, placing his form into a spin towards the ledge, and in a last ditch effort, reactivating it and plunging it back into the spire in attempt to direct them toward it.

 

Moments later, Scorpio laid in pain that was only outvoiced by the wailing of a fearful Railyn as she laid across his chest, Scorpio still holding tight his saber as he laid both in exhaustion and in pain as he forced himself upright and pulled himself away from the ledge's edge and against the blast doors. Checking on Railyn, Scorpio could only sush the girl as he fought against his own pain and feel the rage of his inadequacy for not having paid more attention to his surroundings in the first place.

[MSA]

In the underbelly of an older Nar Shadaa where life rarely wondered, Scorpio sat in a brief moment of humbled silence upon a ledge that had seen better days, perhaps eras. Railyn wailed like a spirit of millenia past from below and only her cries could be heard by the spirits that still lingered as her father sat in place with a bite in his mouth before he rotated his arm back into place despite the pain and anguish of his torn ligaments that threatened to usher in an unconscious darkness.

 

A large scream erupted from below as it drowned out against the life of above before silence once again set in and Scorpio grabbed at Railyn to comfort the fear filled child and let her see that everything was okay. He may have been a distant father, but he wasn't a cruel one. Shifting his gaze about, he noticed a lower level where life once flourished as it did meters above, a hymn reverberating from his lips as he rocked back and forth with thoughts of potential escape routes dancing across his mind.

 

Thirty feet was not that far down, but with Railyn in hysterics, he would not test her mentality. Nor was he sure the grates could even still support the weight of life after such a time. So, for the moment, all either could do would be to sit in the silence of the dead and take in the calming serenity. At least, until either a safer way was found, or Railyn calmed down. He had questioned the blast door behind him, but the welds spoke otherwise, sealing away whatever memories it once held.

 

Then a flash and a voice presented an opportunity, one Scorpio hadn't counted nor imagined. A Neti alive and well, in the flesh so to speak, upon the Smuggler's Moon. And Scorpio wouldn't look a gift kath in the mouth. As a Padawan, he had came across their description in the holovids of the Eternal Vigilance, and knew most of the ilk were of a pacifist nature, in tune with the Flow and Life and nature as they were born from it. But he never guessed he'd ever get to meet one, let alone be saved by one.

 

Climbing aboard the tree's branches, he felt himself being lowered to the walkways below and onto a somewhat more sturdy footing. With a bow, he spoke to the creature and offered it his thanks.

 

"I thank you Neti." His voice still echoed his pain, but there was grace in it as well as Railyn played with the dancing leaves of it willowed vines. "Deeply."

[MSA]

Scorpio listened attentively as the Neti spoke, coddling young Railyn against his chest with his good arm and he rocked her in a hushing motion. It's pattern of speech was odd to the former Knight, but it came across clear as cryptic as it was, Scorpio turning his gaze almost shamefully as the creature spoke of balance within the Force. Looking down to the settling Railyn as she began to suckle on her thumb, He kissed her forehead in an effort to let her know that it was okay.

 

"I am one half of two souls, of light and of dark." Scorpio began when the Neti had finished, the echo of his burdened belief apparent in his speech. "We exist within this form, but are not complete, separate, cut in two by the curse of a Sith's blade. I wouldn't say that we are balanced by fate, only by need."

 

Neti we're know to live very long lives, some could live nearly indefinitely with the right training under the right circumstances. He once heard of one who lived well past venerability by hibernating in a trance upon a world strong in the Force. And as he gazed back into the eyes of the Neti before him, he couldn't help but feel a wisdom that was well beyond his own years, perhaps even a kinship as he noticed the sabers which it held as it's dark taint pulled upon the flow of Nar Shadaa's life stream.

 

"Perhaps I was called here." Scorpio replied in response to the Neti's questioning as his gaze shifted from the sabers back to the Neti before him. "There are no coincidences in life, only fate and destiny, whether we can discern the reasons or not. Nar Shadaa has beckoned me quite alot since Coruscant fell to the turmoil of Power, the war of the Sith and Mandalorians that followed the stagnation of the Republic, and I have beckoned it's call numerous times since it's destruction."

 

There was truth in his words as he spoke them, unbridled by hesitation and restraint. After all, the Neti had saved his life and the life of his child, and despite his feelings toward Railyn and the distance at which he held her, her life was still precious to him. So he answered wholeheartedly and honest, giving the creature what many would call the whole truth. For Nar Shadaa had become a Haven for those like himself, if only for a time. And as of lately, he had many reasons to come to Nar Shadaa, the last of which being the Jedi Padawan, now Knight, Genesis Stormhelm. And now here he stood again amidst it's city wide metropolis as a renegade, an abomination, unwanted by all because of his broken soul.

 

But now, with the Neti before him, his attention grew toward the call of the Force. Perhaps this is why he came here, not for salvation like attempted to find within the Rebellion, but for this moment, here.

 

"Forgive my manners." He spoke, Railyn's head buried into his chin as she grew quiet and allowed her dreams to dance in the silence of her wails. "I am Scorpio Armegedon, Exiled Jedi Knight."

[MSA]

Scorpio bowed his head in response to the Neti's naming himself, a symbolistic ritual of mutual respect and acknowledgement for those whom have walked the path of Jedi as he watched the Neti within their interactions. There were indeed hints of wisdom and knowledge within the beings movements, as well as his speech and his presence within the Force. But what truly pulled at Scorpio was the kinship of light and dark, the duality of the Living Force, only one other ever having presented the same understanding. And he watched the Jedi die at Onderon just before his own.

 

"I can feel the approaching storm as well, it's grasp tugging at me and threatening to tear my souls apart." Scorpio replied to Frond, the chaos of the ensuing war echoing ripples through the currents that breath life into the Galaxy. "Unnecessary lives will be lost and Nar Shadaa will become a wound upon the Force. It cannot be stopped."

 

There was sorrow in Scorpio's eyes when he spoke this to Frond and it lingered even after amidst the silence of the moment. The Force echoed of many recent wounds that had grew infected and festered, and in its ripples, Nar Shadaa had became a beacon of their intersection. He felt this when he first stepped upon Nar Shadaa upon his return and it left him feeling hopeless, even as he sought refuge for both he and Railyn from it's plight.

 

Only now, before the Neti he gazed upon, had he felt a semblance of hope upon the walkways of Nar Shadaa. And amongst that very feeling, peace. This left an unspoken question with Scorpio's mind.

 

"Do you plan to fight what cannot be stopped?"

[MSA]

Scorpio gazed from beneath the conical hat toward the gathering crowd and then upward toward the towering Neti. He could feel the intent and the warmth of the moment, but all Scorpio could offer in return was a shake of the head. Nar Shadaa wasn't to be his fight. There were others, more present beings within the Force that had been chosen for this fight. But he had not been one of those. Fate had chosen a different path for him, and the Force echoed this intent as it swirled around and through them.

 

"The Force didn't call me here to... fight." Scorpio replied with reluctance as his gaze met that of the Neti's. "It called me here for aid, to rescue the innocent caught within the path of the Sith War Machine. If my blade is called to action, it will be in defense of them."

 

Scorpio pointed toward those who had gathered, the potential victims and casualties of the razing darkness that swept across the Galaxy from the Core. It was not his place to fight a war he held no stakes in, nor was it in him to raise his blade in combat. For even as he stood there, the Force contained within it's crystal held malice. It was a mimicry of his days before, when he walked paths of war and rebellion. It was corrupt and tainted, it's cry for blood and death echoing within it's sheath. It had been his blade since his Knighting and carried on into his Lordship. Now it was an instrument of contradiction, an aggressive blade forged from war only to be used to defend.

 

"If you choose to fight for the Matriarch of the Rebellion, I can help to the best of my ability," Scorpio spoke as he turned back to Frond. "But I cannot. I am an outlaw, unwanted. I understand their needs, but they will never accept my existence, let alone my blade."

 

He shifted his gaze back to the fearful and despaired.

 

"But it doesn't mean that I can't help those who need it. I have a ship large enough to handle refugees, and I have skills that could be of use." 

 

Scorpio gazed at the Neti and felt the call of the Sith sabers.

 

"Especially when it comes to the Darkside."

[MSA]

Scorpio stood there in an encombered silence, the weight heavy in what Frond was asking of him. Even as he placed his hand upon the hilt of his saber, his hand shook with reluctance. And it echoed, the malice intent of the Saber, the crystal within calling for blood, death, destruction, all things unholy. It screamed within the ripples of the Force, visions of days gone by remembered by it at the mere touch of his hand. War was it all it ever knew, and it was forged in its flames, as was it's Master.

 

Sabers forged during training are connected to their wielders. Through time and use, the bonds grow between warrior and weapon. For users of the Force, it's intensified ten fold through the crystal and application of the Force. And even though Scorpio and Anakin were once separate beings, the Saber followed both. It had been influenced by boths sides of the Force and retained it's own memory along with the memories of both. In essence, the Blade held a certain sentience to it within the Force. And Scorpio feared unleashing it.

 

And it was this that he held a reluctance to fight. To wield it meant to allow it's self a brief moment of freedom, and in that moment, influence over him. Activation was to release the warrior within himself as much as the blade. 

 

"Long have the Rebellion and their allies faced the war marches of the Sith Imperium," Scorpio began as his gaze met Frond's. "And long have their actions held consequences for the Force and those attuned. Children are drafted to replenish numbers, families are torn apart, lives and homes destroyed, and wounds are left both upon body and spirit, echoes in the Force. Action breeds reaction, and reaction breeds action. Nothing changes, and the Force suffers. Only in inaction have I found peace and tranquility after walking the path you are asking me to return to." Scorpio's gaze turned to his daughter, the consequences Frond was asking him to inflict upon her weighing upon his mind. He sighed and turned back to Frond. "I am a living testament to such wounds, as will she become if I walk this path again. Are you sure you know what you are asking to be sacrificed?"

 

Scorpio's gaze looked past Frond toward those who looked on in desperation and fear, his own clouding his judgement. He knew this. He knew he held his own reasons to hang onto peace for as long as he could. And he could still save as many as he could without the use of his blade or to march back to war. But what Frond was asking held deeper consequences. If he was to pick up his saber and take a life, hate would take root in the families of those he slay, just as it would if he chose inaction for those he could have saved. But those wouldn't be on his conscience. What Frond was asking was to place others on his conscience and for him to carry the burden of death, the burden of War.

 

And War was a tricky and slippery slope. To take a life meant you became an object of hate. To lift a blade meant you became an object of defense. To open yourself to the emotions of the moment meant you opened yourself to the unnatural. And if you saved a life, you became an object of dependence. This was why he walked away from War. This is why he chose to walk a different path. The Force is perfect within it's own path if you followed it correctly. But to use the Force in either attack or defense meant to change it's course. And in that, meant wounds that would echo for decades. This was the truth he found at Onderon.

 

If you are sure, then you will have me and my blade at your side. I will sacrifice all and carry the burden of war, but only in the name of the Force."

[MSA]

Scorpio stood before Frond as he held the Holocron within his hand, knowledge of whom it belonged to as his presence rolled from within. With saddened eyes, he shited his arm forward and offered the device back. He was not worthy, left wanting, when it came to knowledge once held by Darkfire. For he was there when Aryian was called back to the Force and although Scorpio died, he could not follow.

 

With his free hand, it shifted down to the hilt of his blade, and with a twist, unlocked it from it's sheath. As the Force flowed through it, it's cyan blade sprung to life and hummed chaotically. It was active, it's humming reminiscent of ghostly screams. It called to the sabers that Frond held opposite of him, it's cravings for battle almost too much to restrain. This was evident in Scorpio's browed face as he scorned to outweigh it's desires. This is what Frond desired of him, and it was time to show the Mind Walker what it was he truly asked of him.

 

With Aryian's Holocron in one hand, and his blade in the other, he was off balance both visually and metaphorically as the scales of power tilted.

 

"A blade is just a weapon, nothing more, nothing less." Scorpio spoke as he divined Frond's intentions through the Force. "But a blade forged of the Force becomes sentient, aware of its self."

 

As Scorpio speaks to Frond, the weight of the blade becomes evident in his stature. A lightsaber, though significantly weightless, draws upon the will of it's user. This brings the weight of one's soul into the blade and binds the two as one. The weaker the mind, the heavier the blade becomes. Scorpio gives this demonstration by allowing the blade to prey upon his will, it's color beginning to become redder as he allows its will to overcome his own gradually, and in doing so, the scream of it's humm grows louder.

 

"Jedi nor Sith ponder upon this." Scorpio continues, allowing his arms to remain straight to visually show his meaning as the balance of the blade lowers his arm over that of the Holocron. "Conviction allows for blindness where the blade is concerned, no more than a tool to be used until it's weight becomes unbearable and too heavy, its call to battle divining one's fate."

 

But as Scorpio shifts his presence in the Force and begins pouring his will into the Force and into the blade, the arm with the blade grows lighter and begins to rise into balance. As it does, the cyan begins to return and it's humm grows quieter as it's hunger for death is silenced. 

 

"Will controls the blade and it's intent." Scorpio speaks, this time his gaze stern and prepared. With a snap and a hiss, Scorpio lowers the blade with the Force and resheaths it into it's lock as he gives back Darkfire's Holocron completely. "Either forged by Jedi, or by Sith, the hunger is always insatiable. It calls for reaping and it longs for souls. This is the curse of one's blade, just as any other weapon. And once drawn, it must have it's fill or it will consume it's wielder."

 

"To weild those blades will take more than simple will." Scorpio spoke. He had faced another with blades similar before during his time as Anakin, so he held the knowledge of what Frond requested. "It will take dominance, and unwavering conviction. Falter in any way, and it will consume your presence in the Force and leave you lacking."

 

And that was simply to cleanse them of it's previous user's own dominance over time.

[MSA]

Standing there, Scorpio watched as the Neti pierced the veil of the Force with his thoughts, his questions answered upon the currents of time as the Force flowed infinitely in all directions. And for one of his blood, of Miralukian heritage, sight pierced all. There was no forward, no back, no left, right, up nor down. It was simply everywhere at all times. It was existence, whether it existed in the past, future, this plane or another. It still existed. So as Frond's words creaked out, as cryptic as they may have seemed to onlookers and eavesdroppers, Scorpio understood. Their philosophy may differ, but not their realized truth. The truth will always remain the same.

 

Without a word, Scorpio followed Frond in his endeavor. Briefly he stopped down and handed his daughter to an elderly woman, her soft eyes and fearless gaze spoke of the hardships she had faced and the lessons she had learnt. His child would be safe with her and her kin. Handing over a homing beacon with directions to his ship, he stared at the departing Neti and sighed. Upon his hip, the blade called for blood and for life, forcing the Former Jedi to focus and control his breath. This was his calling. War would never leave him in peace.

 

With that done, Scorpio departed in a flash, his form dissipating like the fog as he caught up with the slower moving Neti. As he matched his pace with the being, he shifted his gaze toward the foliage. War was approaching and they may be the only ones who could truly stand against it's tyranny. And it didn't settle on his mind very well. But the Force wills what the Force wills, and Frond would not be rid of him so easily. They were now bound, at least for the remainder of Nar Shadaa.

[MSA]

The echos and screams of chaos screeched within Scorpio's mind as the transport left behind the jewel's moon into open space, the formation of a squadron of Rebellion fighters on each wingspan in escort service. He had been here many times before, so many that the counting had long been lost. And it never changed. Manaan, Haruun Kal, Gala... the list never seemed to end as he shrugged off the infecting wound festering around Nar Shadaa with memories of the past, focusing himself for the moment that would come. War, it's self, was but a plague and blight upon the Galaxy. And he was simply a pawn upon its Dejarik Board, here, to play his part.

 

All around him, he could feel the snuffing of life in the Force, the return of the sacrifices, to its origins. And from beneath his feet, he could feel the explosions around him tremble the void of space. But within the pressurized cabin of the transport, it was silent and still, the calm before the storm settling in deafness as only the heartbeat of breaths managed to make a sound in the foreground of recycled air. And briefly, he pondered upon the fate of his daughter, feeling her presence upon the distance. 

 

As the transport darted toward the Misercordia with haste, the squadron of fighters upon its flank engaged the enemy without prejudice, their sole mission to ensure the arrival of the transport in one piece. And with Scorpio in tow, they felt revitalized and rejuvenated, their spirits risen and their minds in near tandem. Despite the losses they would likely suffer, their confidence and resolve had never felt more enforced. And with gusto, they chose to face the day with courage.

 

"Misercordia,  this is Shuttle Echo Niner Bravo Dash Six with an approach vector of seven three four. One VIP on board by orders of Admiral Beck." Scorpio heard the pilot annouce as they drew near, the silver haired exile cross legged in the transport's hold. "We're coming in hot."

 

Rising from his position, Scorpio walked to the cockpit of the shuttle and it began landing procedures, the esort of fighters turning away from the Misercordia and back to open space where more enemies laid in wait. Grabbing the communicator, Scorpio spoke briefly as the transport sat down with a thud.

 

"Misercordia, this is Scorpio Armegedon. Where do you need me?"