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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 Keenava’s 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, Keenava 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.” Keenava looked at the metal once more, feeling the 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,” Keenava said. She 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 Keenava 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.”

Asuka sat at the transport ship as she was holding a cup of some sort of “strange” green liquid. Some people would call it tea. As they dropped into the atmosphere the ship rumbled, small tea drops dropping to the floor as Asuka adjusted the cop “Hey!” She shouted out to the pilot, a pout across her face. “Careful there! You’re carrying precious cargo!” She shook her head as the pilot complained that Asuka wasn’t exactly a master to be honored to be carrying around (they had been arguing for quite a while). “Not me you fool!” She yelled back “The tea!” The pilot simply shook his head and returning to piloting, Asuka smiled as she continued drinking. Slowly they started to descending onto the landing pad. She had finally finished her basic training as a Youngling, studying, practicing. Getting ready for the new chapter in her life as a Padawan! The adventures she would have. The stories she would be able to tell. The people she would help. She wouldn’t have a boring moment! Heck, pranking her master with her new contraption sounded just as fun! With a smile on her face and the tea in her hands she stepped off the ship, looking around the place to try and find whoever was supposed to meet her. She was supposed to wait…. Right?

It's actually all from the Malleus Maleficarum. Copy pasted from the 1929 translation by Montague Summers. Yes I'm replying many, MANY years later than the OG post; but this stuff bugs me.

Kirlocca smiled as he deactivated his lightsaber and put the hilt upon his belt. The spar was very refreshing for him, as he had not done so since well before he was given the role of Grandmaster long ago. And how grateful I am to not hold such a title and role now. The thought of how much work he had to hold was not really him. He was a teacher, a duelist and a fighter. While he was a leader in many ways, he was not that type of leader. He allowed for space for Alcmene to teaching Keenava. The two seemed to have quickly formed a strong bond, to which he was very well pleased to see. And the fact that Keenava was well aware of her own instincts brought a smile to him. He turned upon the Twi'lek finishing her comments on the spar towards Alcmene and gave her a nod. << You have done well in training thus far. Spars like this are good every so often. It for sure helped me- both of you honor me with your time. >>

The inscription of sorcerous glyphs was a precise and taxing work, the cleaner and more correct the text, the more reliable and potent the outcomes. The natural order was a logical fallacy, the faith of the unquestioning that the world was not only as it was meant to be, but that altering it was some kind of sacrilege. Those people would still be living in mud huts if not for their betters. Nature was ungoverned happenstance, while sorcery was seizing unclaimed power from the heap of random outcomes and putting it to greater purpose. Idrija sculpted the spiritual presence of the flail’s chain and head to better fit the Sith warrior’s grasp, while also inscribing wards and curses to thwart the manipulations of enemies. The flail’s head boasted eight pointed flanges, each marked with curses that would amplify the physical potency of strikes through the hatred of the wielder, as was the ken of Sith warriors. She infused the weapon with the bombast and charisma of a leader, enhancing the weapon’s clamor to shout with the voice of cracking thunder. The peal of its impact would be a rallying cry and the assurance that the warrior still stood. The fire of the forge was suddenly joined by the artificial lights of the building flickering to life. Power seized for greater purpose. Some people called the Sith a religion, but the heart of their creed was to refuse faith in anything other than their own ambition, declaring war on complacency and unquestioning acceptance. The coals of what was would birth the galaxy that the Sith would place their thrones.

Real Name: Asuka Bakuchiku A.K.A: Firecracker Homeworld: Mindor Species: Human Physical Description Age: 13 Height: 5’1 Weight: Unknown Hair: Light Blue Eyes: Red Sex: Female Equipment Clothing or Armor: A black cloak with a simple utility belt. Light armor on the chest. Common Inventory: Simple every day toolkit, basic Jedi toolkit and a comm device. Faction Information Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: Force Sensitive Archetype: Guardian. Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Current Faction Affiliation: Jedi Order Current Faction Rank: Padawan History (Some of the following categories may not apply to you at all. All are optional, but sometimes appreciated. Detail all the following at your leisure. This is also a good place to add any categories you feel are important info about your character.) Force Side: Light Trained by: Not yet! Trained who: Not yet! Known Skills: Basic force abilities, pull, push, mind manipulation. It may go haywire though! Due to her “wild” flaw Asuka decided instead to train in the art of the lightsaber, being proficient in almost all the basic forms of combat. Concentrating more on an offensive stance rather than defensive Background: Asuka was born into a farmer family in the planet of Mindor. Even though they didn’t have enough it was quite enough for them. Her loving family taught her the ropes on how the world worked but she never found herself in her family’s world. She wanted more, she wanted to see the stars, travel the galaxy. Her first few years of her life were boring but happy times. Helping out in the vast grounds of her family’s farm, taking care of the animals, all the normal stuff farmers daughter did. That is, until she turned 3. A strange traveler had come into her home planet for some kind of research into culture, people were weary of him since he had a strange way about himself. But Asuka’s mother, who was a bit too much trustworthy, decided to take the man in. Make him work as his rent. That’s when Asuka met the man and they soon built some kind of relationship. Asuka talked to him about her planet, the man talked to him about his research. The man was researching the Sith. That’s when she found out about him. A figure clouded in mystery, a figure that had a HUGE impact in the past but was forgotten about for some reason. She got obsessed with what little she could get, although she never got a name it was enough for her too know what she wanted to do, but information didn’t come easy especially where she was from. That’s when she had the great idea of joining the Jedi Order. Thankfully Asuka was force sensitive, one Jedi had found her and took her to the order where she trained as hard as she could. Her mastery of the combat styles was outmatched, at one point she was called a prodigy. Unfortunately that was short lived once she figured out the cost of her awesome lightsaber skills, her force powers were “wild”. No matter what she did, it went haywire. If she wanted to use force push, anything could happen. She didn’t have any trouble learning the techniques, she had trouble controlling the intensity. If she targeted a chair, it could be sent flying by accident or not move at all . She knew the force, she had studied all the different techniques but nothing she did could outsource her one flaw. Instead, she turned to her lightsaber forms. Tutoring with different masters on all the different forms, she hasn’t mastered all of them but she has the basic understanding on all of them. Could be considered quite ferocious when wielding both her lightsabers, some would even say she is suicidal! Ship Registration Name: N/A Class: N/A Model: N/A Manufacturer: N/A Length: N/A Armaments: N/A Armor: N/A Anti-Personnel Defenses: N/A Modifications: N/A Appearance: N/A

Eisa walked through the ruined streets with purpose, her cloak hiding her armor and her saber. Kadi had asked her to pick up a new hopeful while she was on Duros finding a monk, and Eisa had obliged. She had just finished up a mission near Kuat to find a pirate craft that had stolen a few minor Jedi artifacts, and had been close enough to help Kadi out. And, as it turned out, it was a good thing she was. She had arrived on the planet to find the hopeful, a young man by the name of Arghalon, only to find him captured by a few of the Mandalorian Crusaders that still hid on Coruscant. They were on the edge of Ground Zero, the ridge of the crater from when Hesperides struck the planet, annihilating most of the ecumenopolis. Now, most of the city was under some form of reconstruction, but this area was still incredibly hostile. Law and order were a rarity rather than a given, between the scavengers, the Mandalorians, and the other such criminals, most who couldn't handle themselves stayed far away. She was more than capable of handling herself. The Mandalorian camp was unassuming- if she wasn't looking for it, it would have blended in well with the wreckage and upheaved ground. A pair of sentries stood guard, raising their weapons as she approached. She lowered her hood as one spoke. "Get lost, scav. We don't want whatever you're peddling." Part of her wanted to reveal her lightsaber- it would be the most direct option. They would know who she was and why she was here. It was also dangerous- The Mandalorian Crusaders enjoyed fighting Jedi, and a fight risked young Arghalon's life. If one did break out, she would have to hope he could handle himself until she could find him. "I'm not peddling anything. You've taken a captive. A young human male. I've been hired to bring him back. I'm not foolish enough to pick a fight with a camp of Mandalorians though- I'll pay ten thousand credits for his release." "No. Now leave before I decide that you'd look better dumped into the crater." Eisa sighed. It would be tricky to attack the camp, even for her. If Kadi were here it would be no problem- they were a great team, and both veterans of the Sith Empire's downfall. But Kadi was half a galaxy away on Duros, and time was limited. She shifted her cloak, revealing her lightsaber. She opened her mouth to rephrase, to issue a command that they release the boy, but they opened fire before she could. The shield on her arm flared to life as she lifted it to defend herself from the hail of bolts, using it as cover while she rushed forward, using the Force to augment her speed. A bolt glanced off her armor, and another whizzed past her head, but most impacted harmlessly on the shield. She ignited her lightsaber, the cerulean blade illuminating the area in a harsh glow. On of the Mandalorians realized her plan, and drew a vibroblade, but the other was too slow as she knocked his weapon aside with her shield. She drove her saber into the man's chest, throwing him quickly so the ground and pivoting, raising her shield against a downward slice from her second foe. She pushed against him, driving him backwards as his weapon slid off her shield. He lost his balance and hit the ground, his weapon skittering away as he hit his head on a chunk of metal hard enough to knock him out. She used the force to send his blaster flying into a pile of debris. She could only hope Arghalon took the fighting as a que to make his escape.

As the Duros man approached her with a bow, Kadi returned the gesture. She wasn't one who felt bowing to a Jedi was necessary, but she understood it was a sign of respect, not fear, and the least she could do was reciprocate the gesture. He was older than most hopefuls she'd met, but the Jedi order was still rebuilding after the Sith rule. They weren't exactly in a place to be picky about who they recruited. She gestured to her ship with a smile. "Roozemom I presume? Please, come aboard. We have much to discuss regarding the Jedi Order." She turned and walked towards the ship, feeling a pang of guilt. She had returned to Felucia, seen Eisa again, but their duties made those meeting incredibly rare. It was difficult keeping a close friendship and burgeoning relationship going in such conditions, and for the briefest of moments she felt resentment towards her position as a Jedi. What she would give to just settle down with Eisa on a planet like Kashyyyk and spend a few years uninterrupted by Sith attacks and hopeful recruits. But she quashed those feelings as fast as they arrived. It would be a pale immitation of peace, knowing that they both had the knowledge and ability to help the galaxy heal, but had chosen to run away. In a way, it would be even more miserable for them both. It was wishful thinking to believe they could drop everything and hide from the world together. She looked back towards the Duros, addressing him again. "Why choose the Jedi Order now, after so long living as a monk with the Force?"

The leaves follow the wind. They fly. And—without friction—they would do so freely. Keenava could still feel the force singing through her lower body. Her muscles were spongy and responsive. Her stance was an adaptive one. Instead of putting all her weight on her heel and toe, Keenava put her weight on the balls of her feet. Therefore, when Kirlocca’s wave of energy washed outward, Keenava launched into the air and flipped backward. She allowed her body to follow the flow of the blast and touched down twenty meters away on one of the large trees that lined the outskirts of the landing pad. Her maneuver mitigated most of the damage, but she could feel soreness in her calves when she found purchase with the callused soles of her feet. The exertion was not negligible, and she needed a moment to let the vertigo pass, but Keenava didn’t let it phase her. She felt alive. The skin of her upper arms rose from the exhilarant activity. The corners of her mouth were up, and you could see the ivory-white teeth of an open smile on her ebony face. Once her head cleared, Keenava put what energy she had left back into her legs and launched herself close to where the Wookiee and her new master stood. “What did you feel when combat began? How did you harness the force, and what did you find in the depths of yourself when you harnessed the force to strengthen blows?” Keenava heard the questions as her adrenaline subsided, attempting to let them wash over her mind as she came down from the spar. “I suppose, when the combat began, I felt some trepidation. My most recent fight was on the planet Falleen. It was intense and fraught with dark-side corruption, which tested my resolve. And before that, all I knew was my former master's strategy. Each fight had stakes. My teachers and environment taught me to anticipate lethal strikes and dangerous blows at all times. It was refreshing to start combat and not expect to get stabbed first thing; not to mention, it was refreshing to see you step up to defend me when I thought this was a one v. one v. one.” Keenava took a deeper breath and stretched her shins behind herself, feeling her quads engage. She wrung her wrists together, then held her arms behind her back to give her shoulders a nice flex. “I had to harness the force differently, which has been the hardest transition to deal with, if I’m honest. Before, I could rely on my passion to tap into the world around me. But passion is mercurial. It doesn’t flow with the energy around you and encourages you to fight against the grain. Instead, as Master Sandy and Master Leena instructed me, I just listened. I opened my mind to the world and let it flow through me. I let the flowing pools of energy filter through my readied muscles and embraced the force instead of trying to control or tear it apart. It was a part of me as much as my arms and legs.” Keenava replied, her amethyst eyes relaxed and open. “As far as what I felt when I used the force to strengthen my blows and what I found, I can't say I encountered anything. Before I struck, however, I felt several things. My Assassin training taught me to case buildings, assess danger, find weak points, and utilize those weak points to achieve an objective. Those tenets were a part of me. There were a couple of points in the fight when I acknowledged subtle urges to follow my previous training. But that is all they were—urges to be acknowledged and let go. Thanks to you, Master Leena, and Master Sandy, I am better equipped to empty my mind when performing force techniques. Thank you both for the spar!” Keenava bowed low in deference to the two masters before her.

Argahlon's CHARACTER SHEET Identity (Basic Info) Real Name: Argahlon Vexius A.K.A: Arg Homeworld: Coruscant Species: Human Physical Description Age: 16 Height: 5’4 Weight: 110 Hair: Dirty Blonde, Medium length. Eyes: Ice Blue Sex: Male Equipment Clothing or Armor: Typical Jedi Tunic (Dark Brown) Weapon: Broken Lightsaber, durasteel Bo-staff. Common Inventory: Comm Link, Grapple Extension, Smoke Grenade. Faction Information Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: Force Sensitive Archetype: Sentinel. Alignment: Neutral. Current Faction Affiliation: None Current Faction Rank: None History Force Side: Light Trained by: N|A (yet) Trained who: N|A (yet) Known Skills: Knows how to assemble droids and build small ships, as well as basic skills with a Bo-staff and Lightsaber. Also knows the first stages of Alter Environment. (Learned from mother) Background: Born and raised on Coruscant, Argahlon found himself bound to the beauty of the city lights, mass traffic, and the history of the planet itself. His father was a security guard at one of the local cantinas, while his mother stayed at home to make sure Argahlon was prepared for the journey of life. He did not know that he was special, but Arg’s mother knew all too well what he was, because she herself was once a Jedi as well. Only now the older woman found herself more in exile, as she still feared the Sith would come back to hunt them all. Because of her knowing that Argahlon was force sensitive she would take the time out of their day to train in secret. Arg always wondered why they would do such things, but in the end it would help him grow as a man for what was to come. Still very young and full of questions, Argahlon would go on their way at the age of 16, in search of more in life. Training, love, and power. It would all come together in the end.. Ship Registration Name: Ember Class: Interceptor Model: ETA-2 Manufacturer: Custom built (Junk) Length: 5.47 meters Armaments: Laser Cannons and Secondary Ion Cannons. (Don’t work yet) Armor: Light plating. Anti-Personnel Defenses: Close Ranged Sensors Modifications: Painted white and blue. No other modifications yet. Appearance: https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/starwars/images/f/f8/JediGeneral-SWZ.png

The force moved among the three of them, first as a whisper, a glimmer of song caught at the edges of her hearing. But now it moved in fierce melody pounding through its rhythms as they each began to focus on the force and draw from its miraculous powers. How wondrous it was to feel how each of them tapped into that song. Keenava’s approach was foreign, a tactical thing, guiding her movements as she attacked the Jedi Master. Using the force to quicken and to strengthen as her blows found purchase, speeding each strike as she wailed upon the Wookiee’s arm. Numbing and disrupting. Kirlocca reacted in kind, summoning the force to him in a blast of force fed energy that would surely send the woman flying. The exercise had served its purpose, and though deep within herself she wanted to continue on. To bring her lightsaber up and strike Kirlocca in the back, she depressed the switch on her sabre’s hilt. Watching as the silver blade disappeared with a ‘snap-hiss’, she next let the energy shield deactivate before she held up her hands to both of them. “Enough my friends. Keenava you did very well, and Master Kirlocca I cannot tell you the pleasure it is to cross blades with you. Thank you for holding back.” She gave a wry smile. “What did you feel when combat began? How did you harness the force and what did you find in the depths of yourself when you harnessed the force to strengthen blows?” This question was asked generally, to cause reflection from her apprentice and allow a teaching space if Kirlocca wished.

The Duros Monk heard the Force Beacon call out to him as he meditated inside of his room. There was no mistaking the Beacon's meaning, which was that his calls to the Jedi Order had not gone unanswered, and that meant that he needed to move out immediately. He then grabbed his Durasteel Quarterstaff and began to walk towards the intended meeting location, and as he walked he thought about what his new life would be like in the Jedi Order. He understood that it would be somewhat familiar due to his monk background. He then turned the corner and found himself inside the room of the meeting location. The room was crowded and it even had an interesting smell. He then looked around the crowd and singled out the woman that he was supposed to meet with. Roozemom Ramzenssor walked down to the woman named Kadi Silan and then he bowed his head in honor. He continued to think about his future within the Jedi Order as he waited to be addressed. While he understood that the situation would be somewhat familiar, he also knew that the Jedi Order was much different than most Monastic Orders were due to their specialization in the Force.

Kadi stepped aboard one of the many orbital stations around Duros, looking out at the planet through the observation deck. The planet suffered under the whims of absolute industry, the Duros shipyards and manufactories choking out most living beings. She couldn't imagine what would drive a species to do such a thing to their own home. It was a type of pollution utterly alien to what she was used to- More complex, more complicated. When she had to cleanse a world of the effects of the Dark Side, it was as simple as righting the natural order, and removing whatever was causing a disruption in the Force. To cleam a planet of the smog that covered Duros would take trillion of credits, and probably close to a hundred years. Even still, such a restoration could never be perfect. She wondered what species would never see the galaxy again, what plants were forever lost to industry. She was glad she didn't need to approach the planet itself. The hopeful she was to collect and assess was on one of the many orbital stations, the one that she had just boarded. She had left her lightspear aboard her shuttle, opting to bring an more traditional saber that had been gifted to her. She wore her traditional Jedi robes- she knew who she was here to find was a Duros, and expecting her, and hoped that without a way to contact him he would be able to spot her in the crowd. She closed her eyes, reaching out in the Force like a beacon, telling the Jedi hopeful her location.

Duro (also known as Duros) was the heavily polluted and depopulated homeworld of the Duros species. Located on the Corellian Trade Spine in the Core, the planet itself was mostly abandoned, mainly housing food processing plants. Most of the population lived in one of the twenty orbiting cities. Duro was also home to a large number of orbital shipyards.

Identity Real Name: Roozemom Ramzenssor A.K.A: Master Ramzenssor Homeworld: Duro Species: Duros Physical Description Age: 35 Years Height: 01.8288 Meters Weight: 72.5747 Kilograms Hair: Not Applicable Eyes: Red Colored Sex: Male Equipment Clothing or Armor: Monk Robes Weapon: Durasteel Quarterstaff Common Inventory: Comlink Faction Information Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: Force Sensitive Archetype: Jedi Guardian Alignment: Lawful Good Current Faction Affiliation: Jedi Order Current Faction Rank: Hopeful History Force Side: Light Side Trained by: Monastery Trained who: No One Known Skills: Martial Arts Background: Roozemom Ramzenssor was born on the world named Duro. He had never known his parents that well. His mother and father were both murdered whenever he was five and as a result he was taken into the local monastery to become one of their monks. Eventually he was promoted from Junior Monk to Senior Monk due to several years of hard work and engagement within his studies. Whenever he had become even more aged and matured he was promoted once more but this time to the rank of Master. He eventually noticed some subtle signs that alluded to his Force potential. That was whenever he decided to test himself. He soon realized that he was indeed Force Sensitive based on his Midi-Chlorian count. He then contacted those who worked with the Jedi Order to spread the message that he was willing to join. Ship Registration Name: The Durasteel Sword Class: Starfighter Model: Z-95 Headhunter Manufacturer: Incom Corporation Length: 11.8 Meters Armaments: Two Linked Triple-Blasters Armor: 14 RU 20 SBD Anti-Personnel Defenses: None Modifications: Two Concussion Missile Launchers

An impossibility. He moved with such speed and strength that his huge form was a blur before her eyes. She had not even a moment to fully process what would then befall her. The last Dathomiri priestess. The last of her bloodline, cursed to die and live again until the Dark Lord freed her of her bondage. A dark lord that had long since left her far behind. What was she in the end? Another young mind corrupted by the addiction of power, lusting for its promises while the promise stayed ever a finger length out of reach? How was that her fate since she had been born? A flash of incomprehensible rage passed through her mind in a flash as she felt the lightsaber burn its way through her arms. It was unfair. It was an outrage. How could she loose to this? How could the heir of the great Ar-Pharazon and Qaela the Darkmother, loose to a wookiee apprentice fresh off the teat of its master? How with all she had sacrificed on the alter of power could she be left bereft of it when she needed it the most? As superheated plasma cut through bone and sinew she screamed in her anger. A roar of guttural rage. A roar that became a wail of despair as she fell to the ground at the feet of the Jedi Apprentice. Her eyes leaking forbidden tears as she confused in the desiccated grass. In the end they all had abandoned her. Her masters, her mother, her power. Gone like the tears that leaked down her dirty face into the dirt she had made barren as her heart.

The swirling emotions that any form of battle or duel always stirred up the need for control. It was something he found to be true even within spars with padawans, that emotions rose and it was within those emotions that, while more strength and sense of purpose could lend a person, rarely if ever allowed for one to see the entire field at play. Alcmene deployed her shield in a strong array of a defensive maneuver that protected against the kinetic energy that blasted off his lightsaber. A true defensive form, one that kept her pinned to defend. It would break up the rhythm temporarily of a one on one on one and change the field to two on one. Not entirely surprising though, as he would expect for a master to protect their padawan, if Keenava was the padawan. The move for a new or younger padawan would be slow to come around to make a counter. But Keenava was neither of the two, so he narrowed his focus onto the energy that could surround her, which he had to assume whom he was feeling out behind the shield deployment of Alcmene. The Twi’lek sprang almost immediately upon the wave blast finished, making use of the saved Force energy not extended to protect herself. He quickly positioned himself against the charge, only to pick up that such defense was wasted and predicted. The quick strikes to his left arm sent tingles and waves of sensations through, having him quickly change to his right hand as the one to hold his lightsaber- a move that only worked through the fact that he was holding the hilt with both paws. Had he not, it would have dropped his lightsaber. It was a very good move by Keenava, and even better by her quick movement to accelerate out from him, moving well past any defensive saber move. She was good, and there was a small sense of pride in the fact she was as good as she was. His turn to follow her was very much wasted through his inability to keep her close with a saber swing. But she was not out of reach from being tossed even further away from a Force push- to which the Jedi Master used so easily. Not with great force, not enough to hurt her, but enough to either expend Force energy to resist and stop, or to let it aid in her already movement away from him and take her out of any counter strike position. A move though that he almost regretted as he realized his sense slightly dropped to make the move and he had turned fully away from Alcmene.

Rising from her tumble, Keenava felt a shrill peck at the base of her neck. Several small but intense sensations rang on the periphery of her senses, though she could not decipher the source. As she collected her thoughts, she realized—too late—that it was the Force telling her of the Wookiee’s imminent kinetic blast. Waves of tarmac gravel blasted into the air, throwing rocks the size of small pebbles everywhere. Keenava braced herself, tensing the muscles in her legs to prepare to catch herself if the blast sent her flying. However, the blast’s severity was cut short by her new master’s artful adaption. Her shield cut through the blast like a fan blade through a typhoon, sending the gravel and excess force outwards on either side of the pair. Keenava could hear the subtle dings of rocks as they hit the hull of the Bloated Tortur nearby and even more as they struck surrounding objects. One stray piece of sediment successfully grazed the Twi’lek’s cheek, but other than that, she remained unharmed. Keenava was confused. At the start of combat, she assumed they would all be fighting each other. But this tactic left her new master open. Alcmene exposed her back. Her only form of defense was currently protecting them both. It was a gesture of goodwill, and not something the Twi’lek was used to. Some darker parts of her whispered to take advantage of the opening. But they were easy to discard. That isn’t something Jedi do. That isn’t something good people do. While the blast played out, Keenava held fast and tapped into the force around her. She kept inside her mind and relaxed, pulling energy from their surroundings into her ready muscles. Any excess energy that blew past her new master’s shield, she let wash over her, conserving the blast and fueling her maneuver. Then, after the last rock fell, Keenava shot out like a bullet. The force of her feet on the ground but the barest whisper as she torpedoed out and toward the Wookiee. The Twi’lek aimed her assault straight on, bluffing a full charge at force-propelled speed. Instead, she came in low and used her momentum to aim several precise knuckle blows at key pressure points in Kirlocca’s dominant arm, her fists formed with the index knuckle protruding a little further than the rest. The precision was crucial. The calculations needed to be immaculate. Too much force could cause semi-permanent damage, and too little would not achieve the effect she was looking for. Then add that he’s a Wookiee, and a tricky situation gets even trickier. The force needed to disable a Wookiee’s arm is considerably larger than a human’s. Therefore, Keenava guessed less force than she thought for the blows. Worst came to worst, Kirlocca would be agitated by the attack and distracted, allowing Alcmene to counter, or she'd miss, and her maneuver would've been a waste. But, if Keenava's assault worked, the Wookiee would drop his weapon and temporarily lose feeling in his arm. Afterward, because the Twi’lek was neither stupid nor cocky (not anymore, anyway), she continued her accelerated gait out past Kirlocca’s defenses and retreated to a safe distance. ((2))