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“Vampire, vampire. Two missile launch. Directing grid three three one. Five zero click and closing.” The inhuman voice of the early warning and control officer aboard the Warlord’s flagship crackled in his ears, undercut by a high core worlds accent. An accent that almost felt out of place in the far outer rim. It carried with it the superiority of the core worlds, and left his head spinning with a thousand distant memories. Memories that were far better left suppressed. But with a glance, his eye saw that the grid where the two Taim and Bak S23 anti fighter seeking concussion missiles were heading was in fact his. And the old model ARC-170 that he was piloting was not the most manoeuvrable fighterbomber in the arsenal of the Warlords of the Sith. “Tau one defending.” A press of his thumb on the mic key attached to the steering yoke told his squad, as well as the two other and much younger members of the ARC crew, what to expect next. He pressed a foot down on the right rudder pedal and increased the throttle, beginning a long loop towards the oncoming missile- The scene went black. The Sim being interrupted by admin command. “Darkwatch report to briefing room one.” Which could only mean one thing. A mission. After a hundred sim runs. It was time to get to war.

Darth Idrija curtsied and tilted her head forward in respect and gratitude. The chance to reclaim lost knowledge from Korriban was of exceptional interest to her, and an opportunity to cement her place in this new Sith order. Her mind immediately began planning for what such an expedition would require of her and what kit to bring. "The Crucible Sages stand ready to forge what the Dark Lord envisions."

Upon receiving the strike from Idrija, Darth Mavanger's first instinct was to retaliate. Many years on the battlefield, and among the Sith, had long taught him that it was better to retaliate than to do nothing. However, her words rang true. Crafting a weapon worthy of his goals and his ambitions required focus and willpower, and she was correct that for either to slip could ruin the work that she had put into preparations, if not risk losing them both to the throes of the forge. He would trust that his message had gotten through. Finishing the weapon was as simple as connecting the head and chain to the haft they had created, though simplicity did not necessarily mean ease in this case. Sith metals were known to be difficult to work with, and the finer points required to perfect the weapon were ones that required focus and intent. She had been right to draw him back in when she did, and so he could forgive what would have normally been a terrible transgression. By the time the weapon was finished, the sun had set over Ziost and risen once more. It was a large weapon, one that any normal person would require two hands to wield with any sort of effectiveness, but given his abilities as a warrior and his natural size and strength, he would be capable of wielding it either as a two handed monstrosity, or a more versatile one-handed bludgeon. His next course of action would be to restore his body to its full strength, but he could do that on the trip to Korriban. He turned to Darth Idrija, nodding in respect. "You have done well, Darth Idrija. I would offer you and your new project a place on my next expedition. We set forth for Korriban, to search whatever remains for anything that may aid us in the coming conflict. Should you remain here, however, I'm certain I can find you duties befitting a pyromancer of your abilities."

The aroma of incense filled her lungs, one of the few sensations she allowed to slip through minds barrier. The rolling purr of the sublight engines married with the throat song of her subjects wormed into her ears, it was distracting at times, but soothing in a way reminiscent of days meditating in the interceptor. In her mind's eye she scoured the desolate plains, the endless dunes laid out before her eyes. Somewhere, lost in the sands, the faintest beacon of darker energies laid in wait. As she pushed her mind to focus on the glimmer of energy the droning intrusion intensified its efforts, drawing more and more on her attention. Kahla’s engagement with the invaders had finally brought her blind to her target, fully entrancing her. Lost in the songs of her mind, the desert disappeared, before her eyes was the visage of a machine of commerce lost to the threads of time. The rusted orange hull corroded and decrepit, the nest of her beacon entombing the lost soul. The connection to the beacon was almost immediate, as she started to allow these new intrusions to ebb and flow, to let her dream progress. She honed her attention onto this savage Ember in its dead oasis, casting her thoughts like a hook to the sea of the sand. The visage of the buried nest disappeared, in her mind she saw only the Ember against emptiest blackness. “Prepare,” she spoke softly into the void. “Prepare,” her voice whispered to the still air of the room from her laberythmic circle at the center of its space. The monks held their note in harmony with the raspy hum of the engines ceremoniously. The embellished drone once again swept her back into her trance, and again she found herself lost in the deserts of Tatooine. As her mind scanned the horizons of the waves she spotted the glimmer of the ember, much closer now, they would arrive any moment. With a deep breath of spiced air she allowed consciousness to return to her. She woke from her dream, her feet firmly planted beneath her shoulders, her hands held out in acceptance of the energies of her circle. She opened her eyes slowly, recognising the intense warmth on her cheeks cast by the flames on her pauldrons. Her muscles steadied, relaxing them from their post. The monk’s song stopped, and gently the priest spoke. “We will prepare our currier.” The men bowed and drifted away. Kahla took a final moment to gather herself and refamiliarise herself with her surroundings. She hadn’t quite lost the feeling of dreaming, like she’d simply continued to glide through the currents of her mind. With another deep breath, the slight sting of the intense aroma woke caught her smoldering consciousness. She took nothing with her to the landing bay. Her faith in the mystery of her arrival was solely burdened with her safety. She felt so disarmed, so bare. Knowing she didn’t have a weapon brought only a brief skip in her heart's rhythm. She was a seasoned warrior, a righteous gladiator of the Sith empire. Her wisdom brought on from the theaters of war was rivaled only in the might of her physical might. She was prepared. The grumble of the engines roared over the husk in the desert and drifted off into the empty sky. Obscured in the mirage of the heat the luxurious chrome craft carefully cleared the dust from the exposed sandstone. With a gentle huff into the hot air the vessel kissed the surface with its landing gear. The ramp opened with civil modesty, and slowly three silhouettes flowed out from the ship.

Even as focused as she was, Idrija could feel the warrior's focus drifting. Heavy was the crown, but this was a matter that required exceptional focus. She smacked the side of his helmet to bring him back to the immediacy of the moment and the confines of the forge. "The crafting of a weapon requires singular purpose and focus, my lord. The devotion that you give in its creation will define the devotion it gives to you on the field of battle. I make no such demands of your attention anywhere else, but in this Forge, this is a sacred place where ambition and vengeance are made manifest in steel and flame, and to be untrue in your convictions and desires here is to risk them entirely." The warrior's anger flared temporarily, before subsiding. There was a certain bombast inherent to the culture of Sith warriors, and how they affected it was an important measure of their ability to lead. Idrija finished the last of the inscriptions and began to carefully put away her tools and record notes regarding the process.

Once he had gathered himself appropriately did Vox ease his energy and regulate his body. Peace, strength, calm. He exhaled silently and regained his thoughts, deciding it was time to move on with other potential lessons. Originally the Jedi was supposed to join others like him into sparring sessions but upon realizing that partners had already been taken Vox decided it best to practice deep meditation. Obviously he still had work to do, but he was making progress at least. And one shouldn't take the Nudono Trandoshan's silence as rudeness either. Vox was still getting used to these technologies, star boats and laser guns, his lightsaber was an extension of himself thus it was easy to bind the tool as part of his form. When traveling to new worlds, he preferred to understand the nature and energy of the planet than go willy-nilly on some blind adventure. It was better to understand your environment and feel its presence than aimlessly stare at it, some of the Padawan-Apprentices didn't bother. But that was where their masters would come in. Approaching the group of Jedi gathered did Vox stop short about forty feet, he donned a closed, basic dark gray sleeveless robe made of natural leather and wool. His lower body consisted of a leather pants that were slightly baggy, and finally a pair of boots. His scales shared natural colors of greens and blues,abd his slitted pupils watched onward, not daring to intrude on the progress of which masters, apprentices, and fellow Jedi.

"Being raised in a rural community isn't quite the same as understanding how naturalism falls into the teachings of the Jedi. I'm sure your teachers before me have told you about our duty to protect the galaxy, about our responsibility to use the Force to help people, but considering that you feel slighted by the whole galaxy, I doubt that stuck in any meaningful way. That's not necessarily a bad thing- skepticism and cynicism have their places. Without skepticism, the Order wouldn't still be watching for the Sith. But if all we had was skepticism and cynicism, we would have no reason to make the Galaxy better. We'd be no different than the sith. If everything is terrible and there's no hope in making it better, why try?" She let her words hang for a moment, beckoning Asuka to follow her. She jumped up a crate, using it as leverage to climb a wall, and before long she had reached the roof of a large building- She wasn't sure what it was used for. Maybe a supply depot? But she motioned out to the scene in front of them, the thousands of refugees who now called Ylesia home, the expanse of wilderness so far untouched by war and misery. "But without us, these people would still be living under the heels of the Sith Empire. Thanks to our abilities, our duty, every person here has another chance to make a life of their own. Using the Force, making the decision of light over dark, it's not about you. It's not about me. It's not about the Jedi Council or about hunting the Sith. it's about these people. Real people who we can look at and say, 'I made a difference.'. All of these people will get a chance to live full, happy lives, because we had the ability and the will to do what was right, and it doesn't end there. How many do you think are force sensitive? How many do you think will be inspired to do the same for others because of our actions?". She face fell as she remembered her battle on Felucia. She could still see the villagers when she closed her eyes. She could still smell the charred flesh from their execution. The twisted glee of the Sith who caused their deaths. A bitter lesson in the importance of their roles as defenders of the people. She took a deep breath, centering herself. "I can wax poetic about this all day, but I'll spare you further lectures. Talk of defending means little if you don't have the abilities to back it up." She unhooked the lightsaber that Eisa had gifted her, making sure it was set to a training session before tossing it to Asuka. She readied her lightspear, taking an open stance. "It sounds like you've gotten a lot of practice, but let's see how you put it to use in a practical setting. Try to get through my guard- don't worry, they're both set to a training setting. Even if you get through it won't harm me."

The name of her old master echoed in Kahla’s mind, spinning in the whirling inferno of her emotions. In her trance she could see flashes, a planet, red and boiling with old hatred. Sand and temples of the ancient. She could taste the dirt as an overwhelming feeling of defeat filled her headspace. Then finally the deep rasp of his voice broke through with only a single word: Korriban. She shuddered as the word touched her mind. Like a child scorned by their parent Kahla felt the guilt build within herself beyond measure. As if kicked awake from a deep slumber Kahla was jolted from her transe by the intruding Quarren. “My Queen,” her attention focused onto him in an instant, her rage boiling in her eyes. With a deep breath she pulled tight on the harness of her anger, allowing the man to continue. “Your audience has been requested, a Mr. Miche has responded to your request for a vessel.” After a deep breath, Kahla stood. “Fetch my formal wear, and I will need an entourage.” He bowed to her wordlessly before slipping away. The Trandoshian was preparing for a meeting, the cultists that had appeared on Ryloth seemingly from nowhere had come into the city to secure transport off world. They had insisted that they had some prophetic Queen that needed to be taken halfway across the galaxy under the radar of the Sovereign. What he wasn’t ready for was the dark presence that washed over him as he walked into the meeting hall. Standing in front of him was a woman in a long black robe with deep orange accents. On each of her shoulders was a sconce of fire, the flames flickering no higher than her black crowned helmet. He froze for a moment, drinking in her appearance before stammering out. “Y-you’re here for the ship?” Kahla lifted her chin, looking down her nose at the Trandoshian through the visor of her diadem. “You will be transporting myself and my two followers.” He was taken aback, but after regaining his composure he leaned into bargaining. “Well, your highness, my ship doesn’t run on intimidating looks.” Kahla cocked her head, intrigued by the man's courage. “I’m certain the Sith Empire will be able to offer something for your... generosity.” His eyes widened. Though the Sith had fallen, he was well aware of their power. He could surely profit from getting in their good graces. “Then it’s settled. Find your way to port C-17, my barge is there. I think you’ll find it a fitting craft for your voyage.” A toothy grin grew across his muzzle. “We shall see.” Kahla turned away, her entourage following behind her. After searching the spaceport for what felt like days it became readily apparent that they’d found the correct bay, a beautiful Nubian J-Type diplomatic barge stood out against the dusty cargo haulers they’d become accustomed to. Kahla smiled, indeed it was a ship fit for a queen. They stepped up the loading ramp at the rear of the vessel, taking in the sleek curves of the chrome fuselage. Aboard the Trandoshian was waiting, eating sloppily at the table. “About time, guess her royal highness wasn’t in much of a rush.” he spoke through the mouthful of partially chewed ration. With clenched fists Kahla demanded “Take me to the communications center, then kindly get us off this planet.” He raised his hands and stood. “As you command, my lady” he retorted sarcastically. She had slipped into blind rages in the past, and knew that in her haste, her lust for blood, she’d made far too many mistakes. Lashing out would only make her current situation worse. She would have to suffer this oaf, if only until she could find her own ship. When he had finally left her alone to the communicator she started searching, and thankfully not for long before she’d secured a channel with a Sith acolyte serving out of Korriban. The news she received wasn’t as thrilling, however, as she was ordered to retrieve a prospect from Tatooine. It seemed fate hadn’t finished kicking sand in her face…

Asuka gave out a shaky laugh as she heard her new master speak. Faking cleaning a tear on her eye as she shook her head. "Look at that. You are funny." She simply said as she listened to her words. So, no one had told her. It didn't surprise her that details like that would be secluded. To be fair, she was grateful to her instructor Reiko for keeping it between them. It wasn't something that anyone else needed to know. Not that she didn't trust them. But rather something she needed to do herself. After her next words came out Asuka snapped her head at her with a laugh. "Oh, I'm quite connected to people. I like people. Everyone's different you learn a lot from them it's like... a never ending lesson on how people interpret life, love, sadness and regret. Anger and happiness. A never ending pool of untapped connections and memories." She giggled before continuing shaking her hand in disagreement. "Don't get me wrong. I know nature. I grew up in a planet where staying in the woods was just a normal hobby children did. Living amongst the ecosystem is what we did. I understand it. But, unfortunately, not a fan. Nature The world, galaxy, the force itself has screwed me over since the start so it's not that I'm interested. I just have quite the grudge." She explained as she started following Kadi. Keeping up with her, even skipping along as she mumbled happily. She thought for a bit, grabbing her chin before continuing. "Just how the training normally goes I guess." She said with a shrug. "What's the force, how it works, how we as force sensitives are able to harness it. How the Jedi channel their inner peace to do cool stuff. You know. I did a lot of robotic, engineering and programing to help around when needed. Which would help when I am able to build my own lightsaber. Also why I always carry these guys around!" She giggled as she continued talking. "I can talk to droids. They are always quite funny. As for the blade? I know the basic of all the forms. But I prefer Jar'kai. I'm starting to incorporate aspects of Shien and Djem So to keen out the faults in Jar'Kai but I haven't gone that far. Still working out some kinks."

Darth Mavanger was no stranger to the forge- In his throes of grief and rage, he had crafted blades and armor to avenge his loss. With them he had cut the tumor of Raven's influence from the heart of the rebellion, he had survived the battle for Nar Shaddaa, and still, the Sith had fallen, and the Sovereign Alliance rose in their place. His armor battered, his weapons lost, an empire fallen. His allies were dead or scattered, the remaining Sith grew complacent in the safety of Ziost, and the Alliance was given ample time to fill the vacuum that Raven's death had left. And he had lost the crystal. It was a failure on every level. Exodus had let the Empire rot, Nyrys had burnt it to the ground, Calypso had failed to rebuild it, and now, Darth Mavanger had failed to prevent their enemies from regaining their strength. These were no longer problems that could be neatly carved out. Killing a leader or influential speaker wouldn't save them anymore. In her work, Darth Idrija had recognized this, and given him the framework of a new weapon. One that would shatter the bastions of entire civilizations, one that he would use to bring the Galaxy to its knees. As Idrija worked her magicks into the metal, he shaped it into a weapon befitting his position. The haft was long, and sturdy. While few known forces could break Sith Steel, it had to be large enough to withstand the force of his blows, and the force that would be applied by the head of the weapon. The head was relatively massive- Sith steel was already dense, unnaturally so, and the size of the weapon did it no favors. No normal person could ever hope to wield this weapon, and even with his unnatural strength and the power he held through the force, the weapon would require effort to use. The benefit is that the force such blows would deliver would be all but unstoppable in their power. Engrossed in their work, Darth Mavanger felt something stir- he sensed a presence he thought lost. Far away, a phoenix erupted from it's cocoon of pain and sadism, and Darth Tyra was reborn. She reached out, calling into the void for any sign of what remained. In his trance, and across such long distances, there was but one word he could reply with. The center of his focus, the next step of the Sith's reclamation of the galaxy. They would return to where it all started, and seek places of power long faded from galactic memory. Korriban.

In these caves, time had little meaning. In her own time Kahla had started to piece together what had happened since- There’s a flash, a ship, an explosion- she shakes her head, trying to push past the memory. As she’d done before, she took a moment to digest her surroundings. Kahla was given a palace, the great hall was carved into the stone with greater care than the housing around it, intricate drawings and symbols coated the pillars that held the building together. The white paint had long since faded, cracked away from the crumbling stone the masons of this cult have worked diligently to restore. A great deal of effort had gone into making this place perfect, fit for a queen. From the very first words uttered to her she understood her position here. “My Queen,” the voice echoed in her mind tauntingly. The exact details of her failure were blurred in her mind by a fog of guilt. With a deep breath she returned to her studies. She knew of the Sovereign Alliance, that they had the upper hand, but as she read of ‘the fall of the Sith Empire’ a rage unlike any she’d felt before bubbled up inside her. Kahla focused, stoking the fire the had caught in her soul. How could an empire of their strength be overtaken, forced into recession? They had this alliance on the backfoot, she had taken part in storming their capitol vessel. She remembered the heat of the explosion, the flames never reaching her, her flesh melting, her blood boiling. She endured that pain for a hundred lifetimes. Her muscles tensed as she fueled the flame in her heart, and one thing was certain: she would inflict this wildfire upon their alliance a thousand times over, until their planets were turned to glass, their people reduced to ashes, their very ideals scorched! She meditated in this inferno, focusing on a single person, the only one she knew to have the strength to endure, and the unyielding hatred to exact revenge. Through the force she called out for the only ally she’d known to stand by her in failure, despite his disdain for such weakness. Through the force, she sought Darth Mavanger.

Away from anyone else, secluded to their own devices did the Trandoshan meditate in the middle of a grove. Jedi Knight Vox Bloodstorm was a recent addition to the Jedi Order in the past few months. He has had better luck and opportunities training under the likes of one Alcmène, and further on have a stronger bond to the Force, so much so that he was beginning to enter a deep meditation. Much like a sleep if one would, except his spirit and aura would be bound and contact with the life energies around him. To be one with nature and the natural balance was Vox so happily burdened, weightless, blissful burden, that had nothing but positive consequences. And the further he delved into the meditation, the further entranced he became, slowly losing himself as his mind drifted into a near infinite realm of light of life. That was, until he felt his heart start to slow. Forcing himself back into reality, Vox woke up breathing hard, forgetting that he needed to anchor himself into the world of the living to prevent certain accidents from happening. With the reptilian now being separated from the Force his energy lowered to a standard. Vox stood, steadying himself as his body came back to life, the meditation itself was a deep stated journey to a land beyond this one, however it was also training as it required a dual focus on one world and the other. It was a way to train the mind and body, a way to balance oneself and steel their connection to the Force and the living world at once. That was easier said than done.

The Gamorrean was in his traditional Archaic Battle Armor, and he was inside one of those ruined Jawa Sandcrawlers. The Rakatans had used these vehicles once, in much more ancient times. The Jawas inhabit them now, but not this one. This one was attacked several centuries earlier, whenever the Tusken Raiders breached the outer doors. The Jawa skeletons remained, and their wares had been stolen several decades earlier. The Gamorrean would never be found here. Not unless the Sith Remnants intended to reach out to him.

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"Your assignment has nothing to do with how the council feels about you specifically. I can guarantee that." Kadi spoke, maintaining her smile. The young woman had avoided her question, but that would be a subject for another time. It was no wonder they had assigned Asuka to her- A padawan without the connection to nature that most Jedi inherently shared would both be in need of guidance, and would be a fitting test for Kadi's ability to train newcomers to the order. Fortunately for everyone involved, Kadi had spent the last years involved with a skilled technician, and while she herself had no gift for the mechanical and technological minutia of creating and maintaining advanced equipment, she knew enough to hold conversation. "Our partnership is not a joke, and there wasn't any malice involved, I'm sure. The council wants to see rounded Jedi who, even though they may be specialized, are not ignorant to the other tenants and members of the Order. If I had to hazard a guess, I would say you were likely assigned to me to fill gaps in your training regarding your connection with the worlds we visit and the people we help." She stowed her notebook in her satchel and motioned for Asuka to follow. "So, Asuka, tell me about your training so far? What do you know of the Force? Have you been trained with a blade? What has been your experience with the Jedi so far?" They were mundane questions, but with how thin the order had been stretched, there was virtually no standardization for training. There were some who arrived as padawans from other force-aligned orders such as the Ben-do monks, who were ready for knighthood in all but the Jedi teachings, and some who's training had taken a backseat to the war against the Sith tyranny. Alexander was one such Jedi- With his master dead and the order stretched thin, none doubted his ability to fight, but there were those who belived he held too much anger in his heart for his poor fortune.

"Then just... don't be boring." She reasoned with the man giving him a shrug. "Life is to short to be anything but fun. I would suggest a healthy dose of jokes and sunshine otherwise that gloomy gloom might get stuck in your face and it is downhill from there." She gave the man a pout when rejecting her offer to dance and drink. "Age is just a number... for all you know I'm the best drinker in the galaxy!" Although her smiled returned when he accepted her offer about building him a new arm. Her excitement showing before she returned to a composed, kind of, demeanor. "I'll make you the best arm possible! I'll meet you later to get dimensions and specifications of what you want!" She gave a nod as she accepted the challenge. Asuka looked over at what who Alexander was pointing at. Her face immediately dropped as he introduced her. Her new master. The one who was in charge of her training, to make sure she grew into the person she could be. Fulfil her potential. This was the woman who would be her companion until she was ready to be a knight. Although her face didn't drop in happiness, but in disgust. Looking back at Alexander with quite the frown. "My new master is a hippie." She spoke with a dead pan look on her face. "This is a joke, right?" She gave a short nervous laugh. "See, I knew you weren't that boring! A hippie with an engineer. Someone who likes machines and technology with someone who likes gardening and trees. OH my that IS hilarious." She continued laughing as she looked over to Alexander again. Seeing he was serious. "Someone in the council generally hates me. Like. I get it. Glitter bombing the chambers is not a fun cleanup, but come on. It was a joke. I even got punished for it by having ME clean it up. But this is a terrible matchup." She quickly turned to Kadi, giving a courteous bow. "No offense to your lifestyle choices, I respect them." She turned back and forth between the two. "Come on, I can't be the only one who sees this as a cruel joke."

Identity Real Name: Jerc Verasx A.K.A: Enforcer Verasx Homeworld: Gamorr Species: Gamorrean Physical Description Age: 22 Years Height: 1.7018 Meters Weight: 67.1317 Kilograms Hair: Black Colored Eyes: Brown Colored Sex: Male Equipment Clothing or Armor: Archaic Battle Armor Weapon: Vibro-Axe Common Inventory: Comlink Faction Information Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: Force Sensitive Archetype: Sith Warrior Alignment: Chaotic Evil Current Faction Affiliation: Sith Remnants Current Faction Rank: Hopeful History Force Side: Dark Side Trained by: Hutt Cartel Enforcers Trained who: No One Known Skills: Melee Combat Background: Jerc Verasx was born on Gamorr to parents who both worked for the Hutt Cartel. He was considered to be one of the best Gamorreans in terms of genetics to have ever been born in the world. These talents were cultivated well. He was better educated and far better trained than all of his comrades. Whenever his education was finished, he moved onto enforcer work. He intimidated, and he butchered. He hunted, and he killed. He soon realized that he was Force Sensitive whenever he survived an ambush due to an unnatural intuition. Whenever he realized that he was Force Sensitive he decided to send out an encoded recruitment message to the Sith Remnants. He also knew that the Hutt Cartel would never allow their best Gamorrean enforcer to leave their criminal institution. In order to secure his future in the Sith Order, he made sure to fake his death. He falsified shuttle records to make it look like he was killed in an accident before he took another shuttle to the world named Tatooine. There, he awaits the answer to his recruitment message.

The Wookiee retained a defensive posture following his blow, stepping back to make for more space between the two of them and lowering the blade to the neck of his opponent as the Dathomiri fell to her knees. She was defeated, and in the same breath, he had committed his first act of violence. Such a thing brought him solace and despair in equal measure - having successfully come to the aid of his master, yet having done such great harm to another individual, fallen or otherwise, was a tragedy. He looked to the crestfallen, rage-filled girl who knelt before him in defeat, his eyes devoid of malice and, if anything, full of sympathy for the young woman and what was clearly her despair, let alone anguish at what he had taken from her. He had protected his Master and himself with conviction, but he truly wished no harm upon her. Looking upon this woman was as looking upon the juvenile Katarn that roamed the forests of Kashyyyk. Their instinct was to kill, and it was not their fault that they did what they had to do to survive. He did not blame them for their lot in life, but regardless did not permit them success in attacking him or the fauna under his care. This was no different. He spoke, his voice as comforting a tone as his native tongue could muster, though his posture remained reserved. He didn't know what to make of the young girl that had attacked them, but he knew enough about the world to know that it was very likely that she could still very much harm him. Consequentially, his blade remained at her neck as he spoke, a contrast to the comfort and peace he attempted to extend her way, "Yield, young one. Your fight is over," he said softly, attempting to dissuade and diffuse the angered witch to the best of his ability. His thoughts then, finally, returned to his Master. He spoke again, louder this time so that Sarna might hear him from where she remained aboard the hovercraft, "Master, it is done. You should call for reinforcements. You both will need medical care."

Muggy Ylesian wind whipped across her ankles, clinging to the exposed skin of her shins, and was followed by the heavy metallic thunk of landing struts. A large transport touched down on the tarmac a few meters away—a newcomer. And judging from the way she acted and spoke, she was very young. The Twi’lek knew it was helpful to train when you were young. Cynicism was almost unavoidable as you got older. It made it more difficult to teach anyone after a certain age. But youth was a minefield. Keenava could hear bits of what the girl was saying to the crew that met with her. She seemed willful, if a little arrogant. Whoever took responsibility for her would have their hands full. A soft light stretched across her ebony forehead. The elevation and angle indicated it was a little past midday. She felt the sweaty remains of their spar beading upon her brow. And, although her master had asked a heavy question, she couldn’t bring herself to focus. Everything else stood out with remarkable clarity. It was tempting to continue looking, seeing, smelling, and hearing without thinking about the heavy topic she needed to consider. But she couldn’t avoid it forever. She needed to come clean. She needed to tell them. The temptation to continue stalling poked at her, but she knew it was coming. She needed to share the load. Someone else needed to know. Keenava nodded solemnly to her teacher and took a deep breath, mentally composing herself for what would come next. The Twi’lek politely asked that the group retire to her ship. It sat close by and would give them some privacy. Kirlocca didn’t have to follow, but she indicated he was welcome. With little additional commentary, she shouldered her bag with her old hilt pulsing inside it and grabbed her boots before ascending the landing platform and making it to the ship’s galley. It was a modest space. It had a small island that separated the main room from the kitchenette and a large, sunken seating area in the center. The seating area was a circle of couches broken at two ends to allow people to filter in and out. In the center was a circular table that, when she entered, was devoid of any decoration or frill. Keenava carefully set her boots by the island and plopped her bag on the center table. She put a kettle on the stove and selected a temperature that wouldn’t scorch the leaves. She removed a small sachet of calming herbs and placed them in the pot before walking to a couch and settling into the cushions. She withdrew her former lightsaber hilt, hissing as it stung her skin, and set it standing up in the center of the table, removing her bag and placing it on the floor. When everyone settled, the Twi'lek shifted until she sat cross-legged on a couch opposite Alcmene. She stared at the hilt, feeling the cold whispers of her past echoing off the corroded steel. She took a deep breath and centered herself, allowing her mind to touch the hilt. The steel glowed with a slight orange hue when it came into contact with her mind, but nothing else happened. She opened herself to the room and the others, allowing them to follow her into her mind. “This is my old hilt. It is the only lightsaber I made. Born of the first shackles that used to contain me, they are a foundational part of my identity and something that I don’t want to brush away.” She looked at the metal once more, feeling the familiar bite of shackles on her wrists. “It stood for what the Sith considered freedom, but that isn’t real. The Dark Side is a noose. The Sith pursue power and strength to break from a perceived shackle or barrier as per their infamous code. But they don’t stop at breaking the shackle. More than earning their freedom, they create a new binding. They find a new master as they try to leave their old one. I was like that. I was delusional, and I wanted my saber to stand for the strength it took to achieve freedom.” “But I wasn’t free.” Keenava’s voice was soft. She bowed her head ever so slightly. “Revisiting your question, Master, to say that I am unafraid would be false. A more accurate statement is that I am open to fear. Did I feel fear when I held the force? No. But my past is something I will carry with me always.” The Twi'lek breathed in, and a small wave of calming energy radiated from her center. “A common misunderstanding regarding fear is that fearing something is harmful. The Sith use fear to empower or break people down, and Jedi talk of fear like it is something to be ashamed of. The root of the problem is that fear is an innate survival instinct. We fear something that will or can cause us harm. It isn’t something that we can always control. But if we let our fear control and rule us, we become a creature of fear. “I’m uncomfortable sharing my past, and I think—void of my usual walls—I overshared with Sandy and Leena to the point where they either dismissed me or discarded what I said, so I shut myself off again. I didn’t want to chase people away with my baggage. But my journey of self-actualization that led me from the sands of Tatooine to sitting here with you taught me that my baggage is important, even if not everyone wants to listen to it.” Keenava swallowed gingerly, feeling as the ball of her throat rose and fell, letting each sensation linger a second longer than it would. In her open mindscape, she showed visions of her history and began to speak as the ethereal slideshow played around them, channeled through the Twi'lek and the faintly glowing lightsaber hilt. “I was born on Ryloth to two very different people. My father was physically and verbally abusive, and he took his marital frustrations out on everyone around him. He did things to me that no parent should ever do to their child. And then, a series of misadventures led him to sell me, my mother, and my sister into slavery. I was sold into slavery when I was six years old. They did terrible things to me. For brevity and to avoid oversharing, I won’t get into the nitty-gritty of it. But, suffice it to say, I experienced horrors that no child should ever experience. They used, abused, and discarded me like I meant nothing. I saw my mother die and other atrocities besides. My owners shifted between the Hutts and the Black Sun. It was so bad that I lost all connection to my previous life. I was numb. There was nothing for me to hold on to. I managed to escape due to dumb luck and forge a new identity. I went by Lallunia Kallemi for a while. You might recognize the name, but you might not. “I spent time in and out of slavery for the next few years. When I was old enough to be classified as a ‘young adult,’ predators noticed my potential. Jzora Scorpio, Julio Furion, and Exodus gave me strength. They taught me to survive. They taught me how to build myself and sustain my independence. And yet, the years broke me. I soaked up knowledge as much as possible and tried to learn what I could. But my head was like a speeder bike screaming through Mos Espa. My conscious mind wasn’t riding on the bike. My Alters relegated it to trailing behind the out-of-control vehicle, attempting to regain control. They took the driver's seat, and I had no say in my life. Keenava paused, wondering whether Alcmene or Kirlocca knew what ‘Alters’ were. “If you don’t know anything about DID, it is an identity disorder. When you experience a break from trauma or severe stress, your mind creates another identity suited to compensate for its lack of ability to handle the load. That isn’t a perfect explanation, but I’m paraphrasing an entry I read on the Holonet. Unfortunately, I didn’t know it was happening. I made so many Alters that I had a community of identities that vied for control. And, when my path brought me to the Dark Side and the power it promised, it empowered my identities further, giving them so much influence that any rational thought was impossible to squeeze through the cracks. That is context as to what I mean when I say Alter. “Anyway, my training sharpened my skills, body, and mind. But the mynock nest that was my brain made it impossible to exert conscious control. Every attempt to regain control was futile. Alters held me at bay and took advantage of my weakness. “When Exodus shaped me on Arachnakorr, giving me new life in a way I’d never experienced, it was like he gave me new flesh. That phrase sounds odd, but it was like a breath of air. It was a chance to see myself again and dig deeper into who I was. However, the Alters weren’t quiet for long. And when they returned, they were stronger. Every step I took to try and explore myself and my history seemed to break my brain even more. My Alters became so strong that they almost split off completely, forming entirely different people. People who had such dark and unspeakable thoughts that repeating them isn’t something I would willingly do. Thus, I had a new chapter in my life and my history. I remembered the tragedy of my origin. I reclaimed my name and committed patricide in the name of reclaiming my independence.” Keenava was half speaking out loud and half through her mind, projecting each event the best she could without revealing too many grizzly details. The aura around the hilt briefly flared but slowly subsided, sliding from an angry orange to a gentle yellow. “Then I made an even bigger fool of myself and fought against a Sith named Ailbasi Zirtani. She may go by a different name now because I haven’t seen her name anywhere, but I went up against her for no reason and arrogantly assumed I had any right to infringe upon her time or skills. She killed me, and I floated in a void between living and dying, or—more appropriately—my consciousness did. The Hutts had found a copy of my DNA and made a clone of me without tattoos and scars to use for their enjoyment. But because my mind or personality was void of its host, the body was empty. It was a placeholder with nothing in it. “An unknown time later, after the fall of Coruscant and the wars that led to this new present, I felt this bright white-hot energy scalding me. It was brilliant and cold, but burning hot at the same time. It was hard to quantify because I didn’t have a body. Despite my incorporeal nature, it hit me down to my core. Moments later, I woke up within the body that the Hutts made. I could tell what they did to me and acknowledge it, but what was exceptionally surreal was that I could hear myself think. I was so used to hearing dark voices in my head taking my control away that having any control was odd. Some entity reduced the voices to whispers. And another voice—my mother’s—replaced them, guiding me. I broke out, using a mass prison break as a diversion to leave and wander the desert. “In my newfound control, I was void of the familiar corruption of the Dark Side. I had unequivocal control of the driver’s seat and could navigate wherever I wished. Yet, I still had all my memories. I remembered everyone I killed. I saw the blood on my hands. Now, instead of the manic glee that my sadistic Alters felt, I felt shame and guilt. I was falling to pieces and sobbing on the sand, contemplating ending my monstrous life to avoid more pain. I thought it was everything I was and everything I could be. I thought I would never be anything else. I refused to touch the force for fear that I would run right back to where my psychosis started. “But then I saw Leena and Ruin. I met Roene, Will, Sandy, Kirlocca, and you. I’ve learned to accept what happened. I’ve integrated my Alters and done some healing meditation to allow my heart to open itself again. My fear doesn’t consume me anymore. And, given my experience, it likely won’t consume me again. But I do feel fear. I take each action with a healthy dose of caution to preserve my stability and build on the new foundation I’ve created. “And yet, I’ve carried this hilt since I found it in a scrap vendor’s pile. He is probably long gone by now. And while getting rid of this piece of my past seems like the responsible thing. I feel like it could stand for something more. Much like myself, I feel like it could represent my liberation from the Dark Side. I feel like it could come to represent actual freedom. But I don’t understand how to purify something. I have tried to purify it, but I always run into a block. Can you help me?”

Kadi looked up as the pair approached, closing her notebook and stashing her pen. She had taken to sketching in the long periods where she couldn't go out into the wilds of a planet and meditate, when her heart yearned for the solitude and the connection with the Force that such travels gave her. It wasn't her idea to start, actually. Eisa had suggested it- Sketching out blueprints and potential tinkering methods for her equipment clamed her nerves when she didn't have time to disassemble and reassemble her gear. Kadi's sketches weren't nearly as good- she didn't have the practice that Eisa had, and they weren't nearly as practical, but they did help. "It's good to see you, Alexander. I trust you've been taking care of yourself?" She knew his story- He had lost his hand, his friends, and his master in the same miserable campaign, and then had to live through internment as the Sith wiped out any trace of Jedi on the planet. She had only borne witness to a fraction of such a a massacre on Felucia, and it had left a mark on her psyche that she still struggled with at times. She could only imagine what such events would do to someone's mind. She glanced at the young woman he had in tow as he introduced her. "And it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Asuka. He makes me sound more impressive than I am- I'm no more skilled with a blade than any other Guardian, and with the galaxy just beginning to recover from the war few Jedi have had the luxury of immersing themselves in nature and naturalism that I have. Training on Felucia offered unique opportunities, both for training, and when the Sith attacked, for experience. The Council has assigned me as your master, so please, tell me about yourself. I'm afraid they only told me your name and where you're from"

Real Name: Rennar Yesak A.K.A: Guardian Homeworld: Onderon Species: Human Physical Description Due to wearing a helmet most of the time, Rennar has a shaven head with scars showcasing the consequeses for enjoying combat to much, his build is tall but very sturdy with worn and torn clothing. Rennar does prefer to wear his armor, which was a mismatched collection of armor, resembling the Phase 2 armor of the Clone Wars albeit heavily modified and very mismatched shades of black, grey and red. Age: 26 Height: 198cm Weight: without armor or equipment 91.3 kg with armor and equipment 140kg Hair: Dark blond Eyes: Almond Sex: Male Equipment Clothing or Armor: out of armor Rennar wears a worn and torn shirt, jacket and jeans. In armor Renner heavily modified Phase 2 armor with mismatched pieces, on the upper left part of his chest-piece is a crudely painted symbol resembling a walled off pyramid with a crown over it. On his left wristcomm a built-in wrist rocket launcher, his right a directional shield generator. A customized helmet with a curved slit visor which has rounded corners and the lower part turned into a removable re-breather, it hanging off his belt whenever not in use. Weapon: DC-17M, several thermal detonators, wrist rocket launcher built into the left wrist comm (with 2 reloads) and a directional shield generator built into his right. Common Inventory: Re-breather module, encoded private communicator and an old amulet. Ship Registration Name: Freedom Class: Attack shuttle Model: Nu-class Manufacturer: Cygnus Spaceworks Length: 18.9 Meters Armaments: Medium Laser cannon turrets x2, Light Laser cannons x2, Medium cannons x2. Armor: Medium and shields Anti-Personnel Defenses: internal ray shield emitter, drop down anti-personal blaster turret. Modifications: Rennar enhanced the Freedom's shields, fine tuned the engines, turned the troop compartment into a living space/additional cargohold sacrificing personnel capacity, turning the impressive 30 passenger capacity to a meager 6 but allowing for the replacement of 2 of the Freedom's Light Laser cannons for Medium Laser cannons and added some minor Anti-personnel defenses while automating the gunner's position, allow him to fly and fight alone or with someone if needed. Faction Information Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: Non-Force User. Archetype: Mercenary, former clone-wars war vet. Alignment: Neutral. Current Faction Affiliation: Black Sun. Current Faction Rank: Gun for hire/mercenary. History Force Side: Neutral. Trained by: Onderon Royal Guard, Onderon revolutionary group (During the clone wars uprising) and several minor mercs and hunters Rennar fought alongside with during operations. Trained who: None. Known Skills: Investigation, hunting/tracking, assault combat, jungle warfare, urban warfare and security. Background: Born on Onderon Rennar naturally grew up as a tough survivor, his father who was a relatively wealthy officer within the Onderon royal guard/planetary defense force would take Rennar hunting into the jungle from time to time targeting it's naturally deadly beasts even some from Dxun. This would eventually lead him into joining the guard. When the Separtists came to Onderon and removed king Dendup, Rennar (who was just a private) served the newly crowned king Rash, albeit somewhat hesitantly so. After the army turned on Rash Rennar joined the revolutionaries and trained with them during his relatively short time with them. Once Onderon was liberated from Separtist occupation, Rennar became a gun for hire/mercenary, doing odd jobs for some minor regeants and even a couple jobs for the GAR here there until he caught the eye of the Black-Sun, his work for the Black-Sun would lead him to working for the Pikes and eventually the Hutts as well, learning from his cohorts up to and during the age of the Empire. Where Rennar would add the fledling Rebel Alliance to his list of regular and very illegal employers. Gaining access to high power weapons and armor a lot of it either being from or resembling equipment used in the Clone Wars through the Black Market, albeit heavily modified.

There had to be a study somewhere done by some holo newsagency, or some core worlds based university that talked about how young teenagers could cause instant migraines. So much chatter, so little direct knowledge. A couple of years ago, and he would’ve glared her into silence. But even the annoying endless prattling brought some comfort. It reminded him of the early days. Of a temple filled with fellow apprentices, talking nonstop about the little dramas of their lives. All of that have been wiped away by war. And who knows what had happened to those many apprentices? How many lay in the dirt of 100 planets? So, though it went against his nature, he smiled. It was no great grin, but it was a rare enough emotion in him that he almost laughed. “To answer your many questions, Miss Asuka.” He continued to walk beside her as they made their way to the prefab barracks of the Jedi outpost. “I am quite boring. It’s who I am and very few people can shake me from that mood. This is a refugee center still so unless we have a good amount of credits I doubt we can find a dance hall. Not to mention you are hardly old enough for a stiff drink.” This time he did let out a laugh of sorts. “And sure if you can whip up a new arm for me out of juice cans and the workings of a hydrospanner I’m sure I’d be grateful.” He ducked inside the first door which entered the courtyard of the small compound. And came to a halt, his arm outstretched to the form of a Jedi Knight, a Zabrak female in her early to mid twenties. “But first let me introduce you to your master, Kadi Silan. One of our premier fighting knights and naturalists.”

Asuka looked over as her name was called. Looking over the man, squinting her eyes as she looked over to the person that spoke her name. The man called Alexander was taking above her, not really tower ing but what she expected from someone of her size. Although she did look at his bionic arm. Quite the piece of tech, although she already could see some improvements. The girl slowly walked over to the man taking a sip from her lukewarm tea. Inspecting him, trying to figure the man out. She sighed as she walked a circle around the man. She could tell that the man had seen some stuff. Hopefully she could learn more from him. More importantly, avoid the question about her. But at the moment she gave him a wide smirk. “Man, aren’t you stiff.” She gave chuckle as she started to walk the dry, snaked path. “Miss Asuka…. Always with the titles. It’s like you want to be boring. I thought Jedi were supposed to be more lively outside the temple. Or at least, that’s what I hoped.” She took another sip from her tea as she looked around. “Just call me Asuka. Besides, why don’t we have some fun? Go to a bar or a dancing place. My master is not even assigned yet so it’s not like I got something to do.” Asuka gave a wide smile as she stretched her arms. “Live a little! It’s not everyday you meet someone new and talk like….” She looked around at him trying to find a subject to talk about. “What’s up with that piece of junk you have for an arm. Exposed battery, exposed hydraulic muscles. It’s like a disaster waiting to happen. I could build you something twice as durable and three times as flexible with just junk lying around.” Asuka looked at it closely as she continued. “Heck, I could make it electromagnetic for freedom of movement, or even add a lightsaber feature for ease of combat. I’ve always wanted to do something similar. If you let me tinker with it you won’t regret it.” She laughed maliciously, as if a little kid had just found some new toy she wanted to try out.

"I Thank you master for your assistance." She would be grateful in his help going forwards. For her apprentice had only one final test. She listened with rapt attention to the Twi’lek and her description of prior training. There was much she had been through of course, and there would be much to haunt her steps, but Alcemene could only perceive a desire for improvement, to carry the banner of the light going forwards, but there was still so much more to know. So as she bowed to Master Kirlocca she asked another question of Keenava. A serious question. A question better asked in isolation. But the path of a jedi was never ideal. “When you harnessed the force, did you find in its gaze a glimpse of what you fear? Of your past?” For she could at least surmise that there was fear. For Alcmene say what she feared almost constantly while she let the force fill her every breath. Keenava was not far from knighthood, and there was only a single last test. Once that they would both have to face.

With the fall of the last Sith Empire, a life usually full of adventure had come to a screeching halt. Where once had been mission after mission or deepcover infiltration alongside his master, now came tedium and harbor watch. How many more refugee shuttles could there be? It had slowed to a trickle, and so Alexander, once apprentice to Exorcist Valantin, watched the sensor reports from his datapad, Beamed down via encrypted hyperlink from orbiting Golan Defense platforms. He himself had not yet been assigned a new master, and looking at the bionic hand that held the datapad at his side, he knew why. Death. Especially the death of someone he knew so well, and the rest of the infiltration team alongside, had earned him some very long R and R. But how long would it last? And would it end in reassignment to the Agri Corps? A disgr- The datapad beeped annoyingly and the young man brought it up from his side to stare at its greyscale display. Inbound craft. Carrying an apprenticeship candidate. He sighed and tucked the datapad into the pocket of his grey-red robes and walked towards where the ship was to be landing. By the time he slowly walked over, the occupant had already disembarked. He waved the metallic arm of his and gave a stiff but friendly bow. She was young but friendly looking. “Miss Asuka Bakuchiku?” He straightened his bow. “I am Alexander Vasiliyevich, here to assign you quarters and get you accustomed before your master is assigned. Are you ready to depart?” He gestured to the dry walking path that snaked towards the Jedi Dormitories. “Tell me of yourself as we walk.”