Phu

[Luqen]

(That kills Ataru right there. I see it dying. See it? It's dying. Yeah. Dying. Right there. In front of your eyes. XD)

 

Pain lanced through Luqen's leg as his body dropped like a rock to the floor. He rolled over his left shoulder to right himself, but it took him several moments to hoist himself back onto his feet, by which time his Master could have easily defeated him. He'd already been lectured on aerial strikes before, and embarassment was the only emotion present in Luqen, though it faded as he brought his body up again to face Aryian.

 

Luqen went straight in, though at the last possible moment he feinted a strike to the left and then dead center. His right arm floated over the guard and went straight for Aryian's face as if to land there like a butterfly after the sweetest flower. It is the most appealing target, at least. Aryian was fast, his blocks and evasive maneuvers stealing any success Luqen might have found, but the Padawan did not lack stamina at all, nor, apparently, endurance, and a tolerance for pain.

[Ary the Grey]

((Not dying, just never leave yourself in an open attack in the air...you are WAAAAAY too open. I learned the hard way. Ataru is better used either defensively, or for closed movements only, but attack on the ground.))

 

The Master's head weaved right before his arms reacted, snapping into place with precise and accurate grace.

 

His right arm stopped inches from Luqen's face, his left arm straining under pressure centimeters in front of his own with the caught punch. In the end, it had been the bum shoulder that had saved his Padawan.

 

"That is known as the Boxer's blind. Echani are especially prone to such deliberate moves that might cause harm to the defender. Mandalorians have much less raw fear of their opponents, such that even if it yours had connected, mine would have been much more powerful."

 

Aryian twisted the arm, putting pressure on the elbow and maneuvering his Padawan into a submission hold, before releasing him and backing away again, rising to a standing guard, motioning for him to attack again.

 

"I can turn everything you use against you, Luqen. And as such you can also turn everything I use against me. In the end, it comes down to form and technique. These movements must be used in harmony with the saber and the Force, not alone from them. To stick to one thing is to allow your enemy an opportunity to see your pattern, and best you during your weaknesses...learn fluidity, learn harmony. But we will still stick to unarmed...there are many things you have yet to learn. Again."

[Luqen]

Yet another limb subjected to pain. It wasn't much once the hold was gone, though, and the only reason Luqen paused was to let his Master's words sink in. They were heavy words, criticism atop criticism. But this was critique that would transform Luqen into something more than he was. These were words to form a foundation, a new foundation, as a Jedi. He let them in and he closed the window behind them.

 

Luqen stayed quite still, his eyes glued on his Master, seeing him but seeing other things as well. He felt himself unhinge, as if a skin was being shed, a mask being torn off, but slowly, ever so slowly. The window was cracking and outside that window stood Aryian, ready and waiting to pounce on him, to tear him from the clutches of the birds he flew with and force him back into that room. Luqen was learning how to fly, and it was difficult.

 

He would know no fear. He would give up his identity to become something else. He would use what his identity gave him and let that which would deter him fall behind in that dead skin, to be looked upon, to be studied and to be improved upon. Learn fluidity, learn harmony. This was more than simply fighting. This was more than the attack, the defense, the transition between and the art of it, the state of mind. This was the state of being.

 

Luqen stepped forward, dodging the strike that came instantly with a flick of his head to the side. He pushed it aside, across Aryian's body, blocking a punch from his other arm. It was deft, quick, a good maneuver, and when Luqen struck out with an arm in snake-like ferocity, Aryian could only dodge. Luqen's grasp on his arm still held, and he kept that hold, using Aryian's reversed momentum to pull his own body along after the Master's. He struck again, parried again, struck and dodged and moved with grace in a surreal state, though for all he was in the moment, focused so intently that he even began to directly challenge his Master, to block and move, to use his Master's movements and flow with them.

[Ary the Grey]

The air began to reek of sweat. The two men exchanged blows as if it were something that came natural to humanoids, this strange bizarre sequence of movements designed to hurt each other. Minute afterminute passed as their bodies contorted, snapping out at each other as Aryian found fewer and fewer openings, and Luqen became slowly better at countering Aryian's moves. The Master was teaching the Padawan...

 

And finally, it ended, Aryian holding Luqen's left arm in a lock, his face undefended to a punch that stopped inches in front of it. A smug grin was on the face of his student, as it was most definitely something to be proud of. Aryian, however, still wore a stoic look. He shifted his weight slightly, bringing his left knee up to come close to the young man's crotch, which he had completely forgotten about in the tousle.

 

"Better. Enough for now...and I need to clean myself up. Your next task, one I fear might be far too soon in your training, is to build your lightsaber. Only experienced students are granted the priviledge of making their own lghtsaber, but as our time is short here...certain things must be overlooked. You will find the instructions in the central computer, and more than enough materials in the nearby factory. You may begin when ready."

 

Aryian released the hold, giving Luqen a once over before a short approving nod, walking off past his wife to tend to his shoulder. It was bleeding, the physical activity causing the skin to rupure from the cauterized burn.

[ObliviousKnight]

”œForgetting something?”

[Ary the Grey]

He grunted. Not the nicest way he'd greeted his wife, but he wasn't exactly happy at the moment either. Not unhappy with her...but dissatisfied with himself.

 

"That shouldn't have happened...I deserve this. It's strange, you know...I feel emptier, like walking with a limp without a cane or crutches. It's ten times harder to resist my urges, to quell the passion within. I fought for you, Armiena...I fought a fight that hasn't come to past, and very nearly made someone else pay the price for my zeal."

 

He sighed, looking down, trying to avoid making eye contact. It was a mixed emotion he felt now...he loved her and cared for her, wanted to be with her, but at the same time was ashamed of his actions and wished she had not seen this side of him.

 

"I'm not who I was anymore. I'm not sure who or what I am now...but I can't help but wonder, due to my severance of the Force, if I give into my darker tendencies...will it really matter? You had your skeleton in the closet...well this is mine. It's my track record. And I live in constant fear that my demons will one day consume me, now more than ever."

 

He kept walking, allowing her to remain by his side as he quietly walked to the medical facilities. She didn't deserve to be shunned...not right now. That would only drive a wedge between them. Their open relationship was their strongest bond, and it would endure, he would be sure of it.

[ObliviousKnight]

”œAnd I'm not the woman I used to be, thank goodness for that.”

[Jarin Silocen]

((I have prior permission to come to Phu))

 

He groaned as he leaned against the tree. There was no telling how long he had been walking, days it seemed. He couldn't remember how many times the sun had set, but his feet told him it was too many. His mind drifted from his sore muscles has he tried to replay it all in his head. About three months ago he booked passage to Phu from Nar Shaddaa. He had gotten word that some of the colonies on Phu were having trouble with a particularly brutal group of raiders and the local authorities were powerless to stop them, while even the Empire and Alliance alike made no attempt to answer the cry of the forming colonies. He regretted leaving Nar Shaddaa. There was work enough for him there to last a thousand lifetimes, but everything there was bigger than him. Corruption and decadence evident in even the highest powers, there was little him and his sword could do. Phu's call was too much to be ignored.

 

After his time in hyperspace, he wasted little time throwing himself into the conflict. He had moved from town to town, rallying the peaceful settlers and aiding them in their fight for a free life. In an astoundingly short period, he had helped liberate countless little settlements from the waring gang until he arrived at the capitol city, Ophuchi. The gang had fallen back to Ophuchi, fortifying the city before he had even arrived. For days Azrael and his following band of settlers sieged the capitol. Their resolve to create a peaceful world drove them in their fight. Despite the gang's stubborn refusal at terms, he continued to strive for the lowest body count possible. On the sixth day of siege, the gang's leader revealed his trump, sending more than two hundred men in the night to flank Azrael's forces on both sides. The battle was quick, the villainous victorious. The surviving settlers were broken and beaten. In a dire attempt to their returned tyrant, they turned on Azrael, praying his head would be all that was required to appease their jailers.

 

And here he was, in the middle of no where, run off by those he tried so valiantly to protect. He didn't blame them, really. They were afraid, and who could blame them? They needed help, and no one was offering it. They had been thrust back into the life of fear and servitude they hated so much. Azrael slipped his wooden sandles back on his tired feet and continued walking. The woods on Phu were large. There was no telling how long he had to go before finding someone who didn't want his head.

[Ary the Grey]

He held her gaze a good moment before he again looked down at the ground, thinking hard.

 

"Maybe. But you also saw how I fought back there. I've never been able to do that fighting for something I didn't believe in...The Order has never given me positive purpose. We fight the Sith because they exist, and because they are malicious and aggressive. But there will always be people like that, just like there will always be Jedi. But when I think of you, when I think..."

 

Aryian brought his hand up, resting it on Armiena's stomach.

 

"When I think of her, I know there's no length I won't go to protect the both of you. To ensure that you live the life you deserve. I'm not saying it'll be perfect...life never is. But if I can stop the people from hunting us, then maybe we have a shot to give this child a normal upbringing, not in some quasipolitical spotlight that distorts reality and detracts from the basics of living. I don't want her to constantly be a target of people like Geki and Faust.

 

"And when I think about it like that, I can't help but wonder if walking that dark path, if accepting my demons instead of merely just tolerating them, to understand that sometimes one needs to rely on their fears and fury to find the serenity and passion needed to defeat the darkest of threats, is just another way of walking the path of light. Yes...it is still the darkness, but fire can sometimes be effectively fought with fire."

 

He sighed, looking back up at her with a sheepish half-grin.

 

"Don't worry about me, Amrenia...I'll be fine. They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, but I will not try. I will do. This, more than anything else, I promise you. I'm bound to you in more ways than I think either of us fully realize, and as long as that bond remains strong, I will always fight to protect you. And if that means dancing with the devil himself, despite my distaste for the path, then so be it. If you want me to exercise every other option before it comes down to that, then I will. But you should also know I won't hesitate to do what I must to help those that need it. That is the basic mandate of the Jedi...even though with each passing day away from the Force I feel like less and less of one."

 

He began walking again, a slow pace, linking his arm in hers.

 

"Besiedes, you don't have the luxury of worrying for me right now. You have to be concerned about the Order...I can handle myself."

 

He chuckled shortly, not alluding to the two words he thought silently as he trailed off, hoping to some semblance of a god that she had not sensed them.

 

I hope...

[ObliviousKnight]

How to explain this? It was selfish, perhaps, to feel this way, because this desire wasn't founded out of a sense of duty or willingness to sacrifice myself, but I didn't want to see Aryian sacrifice himself, or to survive him. I'd experienced enough of loneliness and grief before I met him, and I didn't want to be his widow. I was in no hurry for my life to come to a close, but when it reached its conclusion, I wanted him, alive and as well as could be, to be the last thing that my eyes saw.

 

I turned around in Aryian's arms, and gradually walking him back, I pushed him into the wall. I almost winced when I heard cranium impact against ”˜crete, but the unexpected pain was quickly compensated for when I returned to the embrace, pulled his head down, and kissed him.

 

Perhaps the wounded shoulder prevented him from holding my body to his, but I made up for it by pressing myself as closely to him as I could. Determination””or stubbornness””seemed to be a trait that I held in excess. Adversity and conditions that drove other mortals to despair only seemed to arouse my defiance and encourage me to fight all the more fiercely. Let some of that ironclad determination pass on to my husband, whether it was through the touch of my lips, or my smell, or the bond we shared.

 

I needed to have faith in my husband, and wished that he shared the same faith in himself, for all our sakes””especially the innocent life that was growing in my belly. He, she””I thought of the baby as a little girl, but I had no way of knowing for sure””deserved to have a safe home and the undeniable love of both her parents. She also deserved to grow up to admire her father as I had come to respect him.

 

I also couldn't help if but wonder if I had actually felt something about the way that our embrace felt, if my pregnancy had progressed far enough that it was now beginning to for a nearly invisible, but nonetheless perceptible bump on my front.

 

Pulling back a slight distance, my lips moved to Aryian's left ear and whispered to him. ”œI'm always going to worry about you, my love. That's because I love you””I need you. I swore an oath to always be concerned for your wellbeing, I always live up to my promises.”

[Ary the Grey]

As he was let from the wall, only another thoughtful pause followed.

 

"Then...at the least, you needn't worry about anything else."

 

He smiled, grinning. Obviously he was wrong, they both knew it, but she understood the meaning clear enough. He was dedicated to her completely, heart and soul. There was little he wouldn't do for her. And as he stood there, he gave her a once over, up and down her body, undressing her with his eyes.

 

"Damn. I married a fine-looking woman."

 

His smile grew wider as he chuckled, scampering off down the hallway towards the med quarters before she could give chase...he wasn't sure if she would appreciate him being cheeky.

[Luqen]

Luqen watched his master depart with a smile on his face and an accomplished feeling in his heart. He had not expected to defeat his master, or even match him, and the end result of actually being able to stand against him, to whatever degree, for a length of time made him feel the results of his training already. He turned, held out his hand, and focused on the hilt of his master lightsaber. The thing floated up slowly, and then Luqen tugged it to him with his hand and watched as it flashed across the room. A bit shaky, he thought, but much better than before.

 

He held the thing aloft, gazing at it intently. Today he was to craft his own lightsaber. Surely it would not be as ornate as this one, but he had crafted weapons before”¦and he only hoped his affinity for devices paid off here. This was the ultimate test for him now, and he had to pass it. So, Luqen hailed a droid and requested directions to the central computer and the factory, and went on his way to begin.

 

The central computer dominated the day, and Luqen's mind wrapped around the information, retaining it with the willpower that came to him as he realized he would have to be perfect in this endeavor or he would fail. All he read and saw within the database floated within the encompassing balloon that was his mind, and he felt eerily aware of everything about him, as if he'd subconsciously enhanced his senses to cope with the potential for mental overload. He was intrigued by what he read, with information dating as far back as the Old Republic, carefully preserved text and examples. It spoke of rarities, of unique creations, and Luqen's mind experienced a flash of something golden, his eyes closing to keep the vision in.

 

It was three hours before Luqen arrived at the factory his master had informed him of. There were crates filled to the brim with materials, and to Luqen's momentary dismay, only a few of the dozens were labeled. No factory would keep to such methods of holding materials if there was not a simple way to find what one needed”¦and what did he need? Luqen knew, because he remembered everything he'd just seen. He closed his eyes, reaching out with the misty sight of the energy that filled him now. The sense of things guided him as no eyes could ever guide his hand, and after a few moments of silent, invisible search, he found the pieces he needed.

 

He passed by crates that seemed to hold masses of potentially usable material, but Luqen had a very real vision of what his construction would look like when completed after what had just happened. The one thing he did not know was, perhaps, the most important part. He did not know what crystal he would use. He had felt more than one in this place, known that they were there, but he did not know yet which one he would use. At various crates he stopped and dug decidedly through the masses of metals and fuses and emitters, finding selected items and setting them on a crafting table to one end of the hall.

 

What would have been several hours of searching, perhaps even days, became thirty minutes. He brought tools to the table and laid out his chosen materials across the top edge. Only then did he pause to take stock of what he had found. He was sure he had all of the necessary components save for one: the crystal. And so Luqen turned, closed his eyes again, and simply waited.

[ObliviousKnight]

”œNerf...!”

[Ary the Grey]

(("ARE YOU LADIES' MAN TWO-ONE-SEVEN??!? WHERE ARE THE GLASSES!!??!"))

 

He chuckled as he heard the retort, finally making it to the medlab, where he quickly broke open a medpack and started tending to himself. It had been quite some time since he had actually needed to use one of these...and the learning process was destined to be long, frustrating, and mildly painful.

[Luqen]

There were three crystals in this room, one of which would have to be singled out for Luqen's usage. He could not tell which was the strongest crystal, the most useful, the easiest to manipulate. He could see their auras, and he could feel how they affected him, and that was all. For him, it was enough.

 

One felt hard, solid, unbending as he prodded its aura. It did not waver, and, in fact, seemed to grow more vibrant each time Luqen turned his attention to it. An unyielding thing, to say the least, but comparatively passive. Another of the three was exactly the opposite; smooth as water, but not submissive. It captured the attention, encompassed it within an orb of crashing waves and dominated the mind. And yet it would be the last one which found its way into Luqen's hands. Each time Luqen passed over it, it lashed out at him, as if it were sentient, a creature that did not wish to leave its lair, a beast protecting something important. He could get closer every time, but still couldn't reach it.

 

He opened his eyes, and they opened on the place he knew this thing to be. He stood up slowly, not daring even to move faster than a sneak, and walked with a controlled pace towards a very small bin across the way. He reached it without incident, gazing at it for some time before he finally opened the lid with a flick of his hand. Nothing...it was empty.

 

Luqen was about to turn when he noticed an oddity. The bin was a foot high, but the empty bottom of it appeared to be only half a foot down...he reached in with his hand and found an edge, pulling deftly. The second story of the bin fell away with a small clatter, and Luqen's eyes widened. When he raised his hand before his eyes, he saw there a crystal that seemed cast of gold...brilliant, viciously alluring, and altogether...fascinating. Luqen felt the distinctive sentience, as he had before, something more than the others. He tore his eyes away from it, and the feeling passed. A frown creased his lips.

 

I must be wary of this, he thought, taking the crystal back to the workbench.

[ObliviousKnight]

While Aryian struggled with the medkit and tried to work out a way of applying the dressings and other items to his own arm, I entered the medical bay and offered him an exasperated sigh.

 

”œAllow me.”

[Ary the Grey]

A bit of silence ensued as Aryian struggled to understand whether that wink had some hidden meaning behind it, or was merely a twitch before deciding to forget about it completely. This nanite thing she had suggested...it could work. He was aware of Geki's use of them, Geki had used them on him no less than twice before, once to help twist and corrupt him to mind-control him into attempting to assassinate Ara back when she was the Grandmaster.

 

But, Armiena had a point. They were a very useful thing...

 

"You're probably right...it's something I hadn't considered until now. I'm not sure if it can cure itcompletely, butat least it might combat the stuff enough to restore some of my connection to the Force...enough anyways...well, nevermind. I agree. I don't suppose you have any spare samples lying around? I could probably reprogram some right here in the medlab..."

[ObliviousKnight]

”œI have one or two on me.”

[Ary the Grey]

Aryian studied the readouts as they came, noting the thirty seven point four chance of success. Midichlorians were much smaller than normal particles, it was a much different and challenging job for the nanites who would need to cleanse something attacking such a small thing...Aryian had heard of it working before, but these results didn't look promising. Still, one percent chance of success was better than a hundred percent chance of failure for not trying, so it was worth at least trying. As it finished, he looked at his wife as the med droid loaded a syringe, injecting it into his left shoulder with all the grace of a toaster. He rubbed his right shoulder a bit, noting the pain was already gone, and it had already begun the process of building new flesh. In a few hours that would be done.

 

"I guess all we can do now is wait and see what happens. In the meantime...I have some tools to make. Armor to build. Lightsabers to construct...and a padawan to train up."

 

He grinned, kissing her on the forehead.

 

"Thanks."

 

He moved his right arm about a bit, testing his limits and finding it felt perfectly normal.

 

"It's as good as new."

 

He pulled her to him again in an embrace, feeling her warm body close to his, just basking in the moment. It was times like these, that thankfully were becoming more happenstance, that he enjoyed being married, having someone to look after and protect, love, and care for. But she also did the same for him...and that's what really mattered.

 

"I will never stop loving you, no matter what happens. I know it sounds mushy...but it's still true. I know it's nice to hear it every now and then, particularly after I've been a bit of a downer, eh? Well...whatever. I'm going to make all three of us armor. Yours...will be special. You can see it later."

 

He let go, holding onto her right hand as he drew back, kneeling slightly to plant one final smooch on the back of her hand before rising and leaving the medbay, working his way through the facility back to the lab he set up. The Force was again beginning to whisper to him...but as it stood, it was only whispers. Perhaps it would improve over time...perhaps it wouldn't. Nobody could say for sure.

[ObliviousKnight]

Thrity-seven point something percent sounded like a very slim chance of success, but it was hardly something to give up hope for. It would take quite some time before the signs of success were seen, during which the nanites foraged for materials with which to replicate themselves. Aryian might notice a change in his appetite””he needed to replenish his drained stocks of nutrients until the nanites reached their preprogrammed population cap. The buggers also had a chemical ”œkillswitch”

[Jarin Silocen]

His muscles whined in protest as he stopped his stumbled walk, having grown accustomed to the rhythmic, painful stride he had forced himself into to maintain. The pain had kept him awake so far, but with each step he could feel his body wearing down. Not far in the distance, hidden slightly by the large trees. Why he hadn't noticed the glimmer of light reflecting off of the mechanical spider's grey standard shell was beyond him, but the booming voice was more than enough to make itself known. Given the words the spider chose, Azrael figured it was some sort of sentry, protecting something he was close to. It wouldn't have been out wandering without a designed reason. Now he had to figure how to talk his way out of the thing's grasp. In his current condition, combat was not a viable option.

 

I've been walking for days. I need a place to rest and eat.

 

He found the nearest patch of clean ground and took a seat. His breathing was heavy and his face flush.

 

May I...touch you? I promise I won't hurt you. First sign of aggressiveness and you have my permission to match my hostilities. I'll even put my weapons to the side. It's an innocent enough request, eh?

 

Even his words expressed his exhaustion as he moved his arm slow and steadily to remove his sword off of his back.

 

Please?

[ObliviousKnight]

This was wholly unexpected. Pickett had expected the young man to panic and either make a fruitless attempt at escape, or to simply freeze. Perhaps he was simply too tired to react strongly, or disciplined enough to recognize the uselessness of panicking.

 

The young man was either Human or Near-Human. There were several Near-Human species that possessed interesting abilities, but he was clearly not a Zeltron, or a Miraluka. Ultimately, the droid had little reason to believe that he possessed abilities that were outside the norm, though there was always the possibility of implants, even if they weren't visible. However, the teenager's appearance wasn't noted on any of the droid's databases for known Imperial or Sith agents””technically, there was a truce between the opposing powers of the galaxy, but that meant little to spies.

 

This was a situation that the droid was completely untrained for. Oh, for a straight battle against impossible odds, with the only objective to deal as many casualties to the enemy before they succeeded in inflicting a crippling blow. It was far easier to make decisions when the other party had some military training and was able to fight back intelligently.

 

Pickett eventually reached a conclusion, a course of action that satisfied his acute sense of paranoia and inability to decide what to do. If he detected any corruption in his core programming, he would simply activate his self-destruct sequence and let the detonation of his magazine of explosive shells relieve him of his duties. A messy end, but his personality and memories would eventually be transferred to a blank chassis, and the young man wouldn't be able to accomplish anything nefarious against the Wolf Spider's will.

 

”œVery well.”

[Jarin Silocen]

Azrael summoned his strength and stood, stumbling over to the large droid. He hesitated. Memories of prior uses of the technique resurfaced, reminding him of the terror men were capable of. First his fingertips brushed the cold metal exterior, the latest memories of the inanimate surfacing. When his palm flattened on the droid, vision delving all the way back to it's creation became his own until...

 

Can you...can you give me a moment.

 

He stepped back, his eyelids growing heavy. Prolonged use of such a technique was tiring, and in his exhausted state even this brief encounter was a little more than he wished to bare.

 

Take me...to your...lady.

 

With the utterance of the words, he passed out.

[ObliviousKnight]

And the situation became all the more unusual. Pickett knew exactly whom the young man was referring to, his Maker and leader. It was also his original orders to escort him to the Jedi Temple, but the droid had never expected that he was going to be carrying him unconscious the entire distance.

 

Taking care to use an absolute minimum of his prodigious power, the droid laid his frontal limbs to the ground and gingerly held the young man's fallen body between the clawed feet of the legs. As Pickett rushed off through the tropical forest to the mountains, he hoped that the teenager wouldn't wake up until after they reached the lift that took them to the primary hangar of the Jedi Temple. Being securely held by a machine that could turn him into grease through innocent negligence was bound to make anyone panic.

 

Fortune happened to be on his side.

 

__

 

After taking a nap once I had finished cleaning my weapons and armor, I woke up to one of the less glamorous aspects of early pregnancy: the infamous nausea of the first trimester. Grimacing while I rolled out of bed in the quarters of the Ghost Breath, I simply closed my eyes and took deep breaths to stave it off. Although the willpower to avoid succumbing to the urge to retire to the refresher was something I possessed, it was far from pleasant.

 

Just breathe. Just focus on your surroundings.

 

I took a few minutes to recover, then got up from the side of the small bed with a sigh, noting that one of the Wolf Spiders had sent a message on my datapad while I slept. Pickett had retrieved the young intruder””after he'd fallen deeply unconscious””and was returning to the Temple, signaling for one of his brothers to relieve him of his patrol duties. In fact”¦ judging from the time the message had been sent, Pickett was probably almost at the Temple.

 

By the time I'd fully recovered and appeared at the bottom of the Ghost Breath's boarding ramp, I saw that the armored doors of the hangar's lift to the bottommost level of the Temple was opened. Clearly, the Wolf Spider was arriving. Once the lift ended its journey, I saw the huge droid standing over the unconscious body of the young man. As I approached, my emerald gaze fixed on him, I quickly realized that he was Force-Sensitive. Judging from his level of development, he almost certainly knew of his status.

 

After giving Pickett[i/] a reassuring pat on its front leg, I picked up the kid's body to move it off the lift, only a few feet into the center of the hangar. The lad was probably going to find his way to awareness soon, and I sat patiently next to him, waiting for him.

[Jarin Silocen]

His eyes shot open, turning from black to blue as his pupils came into focus. In a second, he flipped to his feet. A natural panic came to him while he looked around the hanger. It wasn't until he remembered her face from the droid's past. He quickly calmed himself, removing his hand from where his sword should have been.

 

I don't wish to be a burden, but some water would be much appreciated, Miss....

 

He waited to see how hospitable his new host would be before he released his own name. Thus far, Phu's citizens hadn't been the kindest he had ever met.

[ObliviousKnight]

In the few seconds before the young man came to full awareness, I could see his wariness written all over his face. He was undoubtedly disoriented and had no idea where he was, and had no idea who he could trust. ”œCall me Armiena. I'll be right back””don't go anywhere, or the Wolf Spiders might think you're up to something. Paranoia comes naturally to them.”

[Jarin Silocen]

He eyed the massive droid as it's master walked off, hopefully to get some water. Armiena came back in little time holding a clear glass of water. It was curious as to why she felt the need to prove the water was clean of poisons. If she wanted him captured or dead she would have done it at any moment during his incapacitation. Never the less, this woman was going to some effort to prove her good nature. As the cool liquid slid down his throat he wondered if he would have questioned her motives if she hadn't made the effort and appeared merely indifferent toward their meeting. Sated, he stretched his muscles, feeling the life giving fluid already making it's way through him.

 

Much obliged, Artiema. Know where a guy could get some work to get off this rock?

[ObliviousKnight]

Artiema? People had a tendency to mispronounce my name from time to time, most ironically my husband””sometimes I wondered if he did it to try to provoke a reaction””but the teenager's attempt was best described as botched. Still, I refused to react. The error would be corrected later.

 

”œHonest work?”

[Luqen]

Time.

 

It meant nothing to him. Well, at the most, it meant only enough to buy itself a second within his mind as he wondered how long he'd been standing in one place. His hands worked with the skill of a practiced mechanic (or at least, the deftness of a practiced thief), and he let his mind slide along the edges of the pieces he was fitting together. It was the most tranquil situation he had ever had the pleasure of finding himself in. It would also have been the most stressful, had he not given into his incredible delight in pursuing such a task as this.

 

Thoughts were irrelevant. He knew they were flashing through his mind, like he had his own mental lightspeed simulator, but he simply did not register them. It was as if his consciousness had seperated from his subconscious, holding up a firm hand and saying, "No," to all those distracting thoughts. His focus, his willpower, all of his everything, all that he was...focused on this. He did not think of how, perhaps, twenty years from this day, if he were still alive, he might look back and wonder at how he put so much effort into a weapon that would become so simple compared to something he might be able to create at that point...he had no such delusions of grandeur, no ambition, no ego stretching that far. His one ambition was to fix what his brother had torn, and to do that, he had to do this.

 

It was the power field conductor that almost put his ambition to an abrupt end. He was magnificent with cables, having hacked anything necessary in his early life to ensure his survival, what with security in most places being moronically overdone. But a power field conductor was something he'd never worked with before...and he found himself puzzled for a great deal of time, sinking ever deeper into the darkness, into the feeling of being alone except for this great thing before him. When he finally figured out the proper material to insulate and channel the conductor towards the area holding that very obstinate crystal he had uncovered, he almost found himself fallen short again. Leaping with joy, he barely recalled that he had the pieces in hand as they almost fell to the floor...and, being half-constructed, this would have been quite the worst that could happen.

 

It seemed as if hours had passed by the time Luqen was to the point where all the work he had left to do was attach certain stabilizers and activation mechanisms to the outer framework. The grip was firmly set in place, and the hilt was of a slightly thinner quality than what he'd seen previously, but he had a supreme feeling that it was at least as durable. It was an ideally suited hilt for use with either one or both hands, with a slight curvature to the grip that would allow for more flexible usage in combat.

 

The very last piece of the hilt to be attached was the belt clip, which seemed like an oddly proud moment for Luqen, who had risen up from the depths rather suddenly. His head spun as if he'd just gone from a room pitch black to the brightest day possible, and he felt somehow empty, and somehow fulfilled, all at once. Mostly he was confused...except, all the same, he was very sure that this had been a positive experience...and this redundancy only confused him more. So it was that when he finally pressed his thumb against the pressure-sensitive activation nob, he was full of disorienting confusion.

 

And then a blade of golden sunlight filled his eyes with something divine, and all he knew was happiness...

[Ary the Grey]

((I figure by RL standards, it's been more than long enough...hehe...))

 

Hours of sweat and work had yielded four masterpieces to Aryian. He had only intended to make three, but there were enough materials for the fourth suit of armor, so he built it anyways. He had time, after all, he could vaguely sense his padawan still working on his lightsaber. The upcoming battle would be an incredible test of his skill and determination. Should he survive it by Aryian's side, he would be more than ready to begin his final tests, his natural skill already impressed Aryian once.

 

The thing about the armor that disappointed him, though, was he had not enough phrik to cover his wife's suit of armor completely, leftover from the scraps of the stuff from the original Wolf Spiders. The most important areas were well taken care of, her torso, arms and legs had a decently thick layer, but all Aryian could do for the joints was apply a chainmail mesh of cortosis alloy over durasteel. The mix repelled most stuff, but would not hold as solidly as the phrik. The other suits were merely a triple layer of metal, the bottom most being durasteel, with a layer of cortosis alloy inbetween coated on top with a fine blaster reflective layer. They were not imbued with the Force, as Aryian had no power to do so, but they were still a formidable defense. Each had a few microrepulsors installed with the help of a droid at key places, allowing the suit to not be as bulky or heavy when one wore it, as well as other effects like adding thrust power to physical blows.

 

The second part to the system was the inner body glove that one wore, an almost 'intelligent' foam material that greatly reduced the blows from impacts, as well as making the thing watertight, resistant to temperature extremes, and rendering the wearer impervious to electricity coursing over the armor. Of course, this specific layer was also a bit thicker in places for his wife's suit, to account for her beginning to show slightly. Luckily, she still hadn't shown too much or armor would not have been proper for her. As such, hers looked far more ceremonial than the other suits.

 

Grunting in satisfaction as he puton the final touches, Aryian looked over his work, then made his way back to the upper Temple area, waiting for Luqen.