Savareen

[Skarr]

The small settlement drew extremely weary with time and the erratic abuse of sand storms that hounded them at every sunfall. He could feel the tension bleed from every tent, and the mouths of the stragglers all around him. Countrymen, refugees, and travelers all blended upon these shores of Savareen, combing their experiences together in order to survive. Aurion was no more than a fly on the wall, wrapped mysteriously in the bleached raiment of a merchant, with no more than the clothes on his back to offer. He was a survivor, with ties to no one in particular amidst the rubble, but an affinity for helping them all. 

It had been his third night enduring the wild winds, and the harsh thrashing of small stones, in order to operate in the chaos of the nightly tempests. Reports of theft had spread like wildfire, fueling the strain on the ungainly community, but he insisted. Under the mask of pandemonium, Aurion made his way by taking from the rich and lending to the poor. There were men and women who possessed more than what was necessary to continue forward, and hissed at the mention of splitting their hoards. These were the individuals he preyed on, indiscriminate of their reasons. Rationings of food and water appeared to be divided without bias, but as a fly on the wall, Aurion watched an undercurrent of corrupted power begin to slowly surge in the administration. Desperation would reveal the wolves in sheepskin, it was only a matter of time.

He suspected the refugee Ash knew nothing of his little excursions, even though proximity to his resting place essentially made them neighbors. For now, the comfort of his cot steadied him to sleep and worked to ease his subtle wounds. 
 

[Skarr]

These dreams never end

Aurion rolled over on his side, and brushed the sleep from the corner of his cursed eyes, aches and pains still riddled his calves from his hunt. Blinking curiously, he found at his surprise, a hand extended with a courteous offering. Aurion covered his mouth with his left before he could respond, only because the yearning of a hearty yawn could not wait to escape him. He stalled for a moment, wondering if there was purpose hidden behind the gesture, but the murmurs of his own belly persuaded him against better judgment. The appropriation of food had been his sole objective for the last several sunsets, feeding those left underfed. However, when it came to his own rations, he had starved himself beyond belief. 

 

“Thank you,”

 

The tradesmen twine that composed his sleeves hung loose as he reached out, and snatched the bread piece from the outsider. Without pause, Aurion shoved the small loaf into his mouth and savored the arid taste that came with it. It was in this moment, that Aurion had painted himself with a mark that would stick with him for the remainder of his time inside of this settlement. He broke bread with an outsider, one that fell from ships not of these sands. There were those that scorned those not of these lands, rejected the instruction to share equal in the plunder that was afforded the encampment. Aurion did not choose sides, for had traveled, and had witnessed a power unlike any that ordinary man could fathom. 

 

“I am born of Savareen, what brings you here, stranger?”
 

[Skarr]

".. The name is Aurion,"

 

Colorless pupils met cardinal ones, the differences between the two were quite noticeable. One from the sands, and one from the stars. Aurion watched for a moment to discern what Ash actually was, but distracted himself so he did not stare for too long. He was a creature he had not witnessed before this, but his physical characteristics closely resembled what was familiar to him. It mattered not, the two were interconnected as bread was broken within their encampment. Eyes were everywhere, and from here, they would have to walk with caution. Aurion shifted his weight closer to where the out-lander sat, brushing the prussian blue from his face, speaking in a quieter tone. 

 

"There are some inside the camp that would see the outsiders disappear, will the Alliance come back for you?"

[Skarr]

"Don't sweat it. Could just be my stubborn nature." 

 

Aurion chuckled lightly, masking the discomfort in learning what it was this individual was capable of. Perhaps his training was the reason Ash was unsuccessful, or an even more clouded reason he was unfamiliar with. Did Ash know what a Jedi was? This was no time to disclose such information, the universe was a much darker place now, and none could be trusted to hold their tongue. Besides, the last Aurion had heard, there was a bold bounty for all practitioners of the force, and he could be the last of his kind. Aurion pressed his palm against the warmth of the sand beneath him, seiving through with the loose terrain as if all the secrets of the land lay just below.

 

"Besides, if others know what you and your people can do, imagine the fear they have of you? These people are a territorial kind, living off of a land that offers scarcity. Be careful with your truths, Ash."

[Skarr]

The mention of a dream, one that hoarded blood and fire, such words arrested the attention of the wanderer. Aurion froze, the sound and interest of another relief vessel passed through his ears. He heard what was said, but blood and fire danced inside of his eyes now, as if he knew what Ash spoke of, better than anyone could ever understand. Even the lift of his chest stopped moving, and his breathing slowed to a desperate crawl, was he even breathing at all? There was a quiet between them now, an awkward tension that did not better itself the longer the silence lived. This is where the dead neutrality of color inside of his eyes really made sense, an unimpassioned gaze that saw more than what lips could tell. "How is this possible?" 

 

You see, Aurion knew this dream well. It came to him in his first sleep at this settlement. The first moonrise, and the first time he had found decent rest in well over a month. Exhaustion stole him, for the miles traveled and the worlds crossed, Aurion began to lose sight of things. So, when the heaviness of tire forced him asleep, that is where he saw it. The sand drank of blood, and became a tide of red death. The fire consumed whatever it could, from flesh to hope. Yes, Ash was correct, there were bodies everywhere. Men, women, and children burning whether alive or dead. The dream was not a dream, but perhaps a warning. For the man in the dark that held the torch to all of that chaos, standing and smiling in the dance of destruction, was Aurion himself. Did this Zeltron know?

 

"If you'll have me."

 

Aurion smiled, and reached out to shake his hand.

[Skarr]

"Psst."

 

Aurion crept low, and rounded the same corner. A hint of distress covered his expressions, perhaps it was panic, but the uneasiness was hard to address. He did not have much to collect for this, but loose ends needed tying, and through his farewells he could sense the commotion that awakened in the settlement. Slowly, his fresh presence here had become welcomed mostly, for he became a beacon of candour in the midst of those in the settlement that were low on the priority list. The low-hanging fruit had a savoir in him, but there was a danger in him that many began to question. "Ash, there is unrest everywhere, I saw a gathering on the way here. They seem to be rallying, but it is nothing festive." Aurion looked over both of his shoulders as he spoke in a hushed tone, his face and features now covered by a kaleidoscopic desert shawl. His darker skin tone was harder to discern while dusk ruled over the land, but his monochromatic optics somehow shed light where no source could be found.  "Our window is closing, you sure about this?"

[Skarr]

The scene unraveled at a pace that was too fast, and the actions of men and monsters drew nearer as the seconds ticked. Ash was speaking, words exchanged between people who were both uncertain and fearful. Aurion could sense it, he could feel the dread that crawled all about them. The ship roared loud however, and the flickers of fire in the distance were muted in contrast to the thunderous vessel. Panic was a fascinating feeling, it could be felt in the stomach, it could be felt in the throat, and there was nothing one could do to wash it away once it came over you. Wandering alone, far from the places he had called home, dulled him to these sensations he could now feel in the air. 

 

"It's the natives! They've gone crazy! They're rioting and heading this way! We need to get out of here, now!" The man shouted.

Before he could chime in with the ebb and flow of power at his tips, the crew barreled up the ramp, while Ash turned back to shoot Aurion a look of confirmation. “This was it.” Aurion played at the shawl that covered his features, readjusting the edges to make sure it hid enough while the gusts of the cargo ship intensified. Ash turned and entered the vessel, but Aurion froze for a moment more, all he could manage was to stare down the swarm headed his way. His extraordinary eyes, searching the faces of the mob. The dissection of their features was important, a guilty plea of the orchestrators of unrest, a confession of those that would continue to seed turmoil in the lands of Savareen— his home. Before the ramp could close, Aurion hissed and neatly pitched himself inside the hold. The bells and alarms of the craft were louder here, and as he stood to recover balance, he noticed the mess of supplies strewn across the floors. Perhaps he could turn back and cut down those that would arrive with fire, and hand out provisions to those that sorely needed them. This was not how he would have done it, but he could not bend time to his will as he could command the Force around him. "No one can know what I am." 

 

The thought just left his mind, and he could feel the transport lift weight from the gear linked to the landing pad. Weightlessness hushed over the passengers, and would feel like freedom, narrowly escaping tragic bloodshed. If he stayed, was that what the dreams warned against? Carnage without prejudice. "Ash! We——". Aurion yelled out-loud, but the alerts sounded off even louder than before. The force of a locomotive punched into the ship mid-flight and blacked the power completely, Aurion hadn't managed to grab hold of anything to brace himself and whipped across the cargo hold into the opposite wall. Red lights, fueled by a secondary source, wheeled ceaselessly while the pandemonium of emergency sounds remained deafening. One of the crew was dead, Aurion could feel when the pressure of impact blew the life from his eyes. He was too shaken to see if he had lost his new friend, with his eyes squinted, the world spun just enough for nausea to take hold of him. The ship was still flying, but for how long was the question. Aurion was slipping from consciousness..

[Skarr]

The provisions dropship recoiled with failures and careened treacherously close to the hills of sand and mountains of rock. The distance traveled was far, throttled at unmanageable speeds, with a blemished cockpit. There were wanderers abroad that looked to the skies and witnessed the strain of the aircraft, pointing upward to the black smoke that fumed from the engines. Aurion blacked on impact, but his senses were needled from the constant blare of alarms. He winced, and remembered his experience whenever he was thrown under duress. His hands searched, a quick inspection of his own body turned up no evidence of mortal wounds. He could hear the deepness of his own breath over the racket, the exasperation buried deep in his chest. Rolling onto his side, and pressing his hands against the cold of the steel beneath him, Aurion leveraged his weight against the speed at which their airship moved at. If he moved too fast, a miasma of distress threatened to black his mind once more, which meant a measured canter was the only option.

 

“Ash! Get up! Brace yourself!”

 

Aurion barked loud, and somehow, the words did not just echo off of the walls, but roared inside the mind of the companion he had schemed with. The sound of a powerful draft thundered as their conveyance spiralled downward, the metal that bounded the structure of it began to peel viciously away. Time was nearly out, Aurion had no choice. He reached outwards and towards Ash, ignoring the other individuals that ragdolled to and fro. There was a strange force that clutched at him, dragging him towards a support beam to steel himself against impact. If they died, then this is where the Force would end their stories. If the two lived, perhaps the Force was not finished with him after all.