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Arlan Vass

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  1. Quite some time had passed since Arlan last had contact with someone other than his R2 unit, so he knew he looked worse for wear. His hair was disheveled, his robes encrusted with dirt, and his eyes seemed out of focus. Yet, despite his outward appearance, the man displayed an air of concord. Confidence. He spoke in a strong, firm tone of voice, one that bordered on command but did not cross into callousness. When Dahar made his offer to join him, Arlan acquiesced, finding a suitable sprawl of grass to kneel on no more than three feet away from his fellow Jedi. "My name is Arlan Vass. Perhaps you have heard of my master, Armiena Draygo?" His chest was suddenly met with a sharp jab of pain, an unpleasant reminder of the grief he felt for his late mentor. In many ways, she had been like a mother to him, taking him under her wing when he was just a child to train him in the ways of the Force. Her dedication to the Order and its members had encouraged him to follow a similar path, which was part of the reason why he had chosen to visit the temple that afternoon. "She is dead. I am here seeking a conclusion to my apprenticeship."
  2. Lehon’s history was an interesting one in that it served as the grounds for several notable milestones throughout the course of known history. It was a tropical world, comprised mostly of large bodies of saltwater bespeckled by lush, green terrain. Its star, Abo, once served as the source of power for the Star Forge, an ancient, automated space-based factory that had been long since destroyed. Responsible for its creation were the Rakata, a humanoid species that, although extinct, carried their legacy through text and the minds of the ever-wondering. Though they were technologically advanced for their time, how they managed to successfully go about constructing such a paramount weapon – even with their natural affinity to the Force – was beyond comprehension. Times changed, though, and Lehon had ultimately been chosen as the site for the construction of a new Jedi Temple. Popping out of hyperspace above the gargantuan blue orb, Arlan Vass referred back to his navigation computer to give himself a better idea of how close he was to his destination. It was a basic interface and pleasingly self-sufficient despite not being an artificial intelligence. Unlike Armiena’s ship, however, his YT-2400 required some form of manual control, whether it involved plugging a set of coordinates into the system or raising a hatch to get from one room to the next. Given the appropriate amount of credits, he would have gladly invested in an AI to match the efficiency of the Ghost Breath, but he had barely enough to afford the docking fee on Dantooine. Much to his relief upon touching down in the temple’s hangar, no jumpsuit-clad workers hurried to haggle him out of another fifteen credits. He was allowed to lower the loading ramp and disembark without a hitch, leaving the responsibility of carrying out any post-flight checks to his R2 unit. The warm, humid air of Lehon’s surface was all the encouragement he needed to open his robe and begin making his way inside. It was not long before he came upon a courtyard and the peculiar nudge of another Force presence. The signature was surprisingly familiar, cuing him to seek out its source near the base of a large, old tree. ((Dahar.)) “It is not my intention to upset your meditation, Master, but I cannot help but wonder; do we know each other?”
  3. A small sense of relief washed over Arlan at the sight of Master Scorp Ession. Small, because even though the two Padawans had a Jedi master fighting on their side, there was still the issue of Vladimir Faust to deal with. Suffice to say, his warning was lost on the former Dark Lord, for he response consisted of little more than a laugh and an insult. The taunt ends, though, the moment Ession sends a pair of darts and a glob of some strange-looking goo his way. Faust evaded them, but was unable to evade them completely. Arlan listened to his threat with mild satisfaction, and allowed the faintest of smiles to crease his lips the moment the Togruta joined the battle. Despite how sheerly powerful Faust was, he was still outnumbered three to one. He said nothing in response to the bounty hunter's quip, choosing instead to open himself more fully to the Force and gather his bearings. They hadn't been attacked - yet -, but he wouldn't allow this cretin the chance to exploit any weaknesses in his defense. "You're a fool, child. If you learned anything from me, from your life story, there are no innocents! Victims always prey on those weaker ten themselves, and this universe cares nothing for our hopes and dreams, much less the Force itself. We choose to make do or make die by our will!" Lies. Much to the young man's anticipation, Faust launched a mental attack against his "apprentice". Arlan felt a sudden pang of sorrow for the Torguta as he pieced this puzzle together. She had been lied to. Mislead. Cheated. And for what reason? Was there a reason fathomable enough to explain why he'd tricked her? Or was the man so twisted, so corrupted, that he actually experienced joy in deceiving her? Whatever the reason was, it ended here. Arlan would help make sure of that. He would stay and fight - if not for the sake of extinguishing the inferno that was Vladimir Faust, then on the behalf of the young, orange-skinned girl whom he seemed so keen on destroying. He tightened his grip on his saber and dropped into a low combat-ready stance, preparing to launch into a flurry of offensive maneuvers. Maneuvers that would, hopefully, draw the Sith's attention away from his fellow Padawan. He inadvertently felt Armiena's presence there, but made no move to acknowledge her. Instead, he retained his position, kept one hand locked firmly around his hilt, and quickly calculated the distance between himself and the former Dark Lord. With fleetness guided only by the Force and his own true will, Arlan sprang forward, extended both hands, and released a mighty telekinetic push. He took quick note of the cannon blast rocketing towards Faust, but hoped that his move would land the man inside of the temple.
  4. Mere seconds before the diamond boron missile struck the Jedi Temple, an unidentified YT-664 light freighter popped out of hyperspace. Arlan spent a few moments admiring the beautiful planet, sitting with his ankles crossed and peering through the viewport. It was here he was made an official member of the Jedi Order. It was here the Grand Master of the Jedi took him under her wing and sought to train him in the ways of the Force. Needless to say, he didn't know what to expect the moment he disembarked. Would he find Armiena here? Possibly. She had sent for him, hadn't she? Or perhaps the ship was sent by somebody else. He was certain he'd find out once they landed. As a Jedi Guardian, Arlan's skills and talents laid mostly in combat. However, there was no mistaking this sudden ripple in the Force for anything else. Something was happening. Whatever it was, it was intense and seemed to be emanating planet-side. He scanned the sensors, then opened a line of communication straight to the temple. Whatever was going on, surely, the Jedi would be called forth to investigate. But then he saw it. A thick plume of smoke rising up from the trees. Namely, the very area in which the Jedi Temple was located. "Sithspit." He looked closer. There seemed to be a skirmish taking place outside, but he was still too far away to see exactly what was going on. Reaching out with the Force one last time, he grazed upon the Force signature of one of the figures. There was at least one light-sider a part of the fray. The other person emitted neither a light nor a dark presence, which led Arlan to believe that they played a part - somehow - in this attack. He wasted no time issuing another set of orders to the two R2 units. Rising to his feet, he made his way to the exit ramp and prepared to disembark. ~ ~ ~ Vladimir Faust. Arlan didn't know the man on a personal level, but he would have recognized that tuft of blonde hair and white trenchcoat anywhere. He was an infamous bastard, and his record was enough to unsettle the Padawan. He knew he was no match for an individual of this caliber, but he'd be damned if he stood by while he unleashed his carnage on the Order. "Let her go, Faust!" The steeliness in Arlan's tone surprised even him. His hand tightened around the hilt of his lightsaber, which was ignited to reveal a bright cyan blade. He maintained a distance of about twenty feet between himself and the former Dark Lord, striving to buy time for the Torguta, himself, and every other Jedi who took it upon themselves to join the imminent battle.
  5. A lone YV-664 light freighter soars through the brilliant void of hyperspace, bound for the Jedi temple on the planet of Gala. At the helm is Arlan Vass, who is about to drift into a state of meditation. Without warning, he feels the tip of his R2 unit's manipulator arm graze against his leg. "Artoo? What-" The panel concealing his droid's internal cargo compartment is open. Inside rests a slender cylindrical-shaped object. He recognizes it immediately. With an enthusiastic smile, the young man rests his hand atop R2-R8's dome-shaped head to signify his gratitude. "Thanks, Artoo." He frees the lightsaber, clips it to his belt, and glances at the navigation computer. "We're almost there. Hang tight."
  6. Arlan Vass

    Phu

    Padawan Arlan Vass' mind flurried with worry, with unawareness, but more prominently, with fear. Dazzling blue eyes flicked open and surveyed the foreign environment, taking note of the empty cloning vat, as well as the bitter-smelling liquid that seemed to have pooled beneath his naked body. His eyes widened at that sudden realization. Where were his clothes? Where was Armiena? But more importantly, where was he? Wherever he was, he was cold. And numb. He may as well have been on Hoth, that's how frigid the temperature of the cloning laboratory was. Without warning, something stiff and freezing cold pressed into his right bicep. With a yelp, he drew himself into an upright position and wheeled rather hastily on the astromech. It began to warble in an annoying - yet very familiar - tone of Binary. One that he recognized, and could translate with minimal effort. Suspended in a brief juncture of disbelief, Arlan froze and stared at the droid. "Artoo?" With a series of enthusiastic whistles and blithesome beeps, R2-R8 began to delightfully jab the end of his manipulator arm against Arlan's shoulder again. Arlan laughed, gave in to astonishment, and rubbed his hand against the droid's body shell. Being reunited with his mechanical companion provided him with a momentary sense of contentment, but seeing the set of robes folded on the nearby cot brought him back to reality. He dressed quickly, only to be struck with another jolt of realization. His lightsabers - all three of them - were nowhere to be found. "Son of a bantha!" Unbeknownst to him, they were currently in Armiena's possession. He, however, was under the assumption that they were still stored away on the Y-Wing they'd used to escape from Nhagathul. The young man's outcry startled Artoo, who had taken it upon himself to lead the way out of the laboratory. Arlan followed him, murmuring a word of thanks to the medical droid that had been in charge of looking after his new body over the course of its development. "Where are we anyway?" He waited for the droid's response. "Phu. Okay. Does Armiena know I'm here?" He waited again. Negative. Wishful thinking. Artoo didn't know where she was, either. They entered the hangar a short while later, where Armiena's own Wolf Spiders stood on guard. Much to his surprise, there was a lone craft docked in the middle of the room. He recognized the design right off the bat - it was a YV-664. In more ways than one, it resembled the Corellian Engineering Corporation's famed YT-1300 model. The cockpit was notably similar, as was the configuration of the ship's sublight drive. Arlan had never been behind the controls of one himself, but he did have experience with piloting other models founded on the same product line. He embarked without hesitation. There was a second R2 unit on board, but this one seemed to be more passive and focused on what it was doing. Once they reached the cockpit, Arlan sat down in the pilot's chair and directed his gaze to the navigation computer. "Gala?" Oh. Now he understood - the droids must have been sent to Phu so he'd have a way of getting off the planet once his clone had been freed from the tank. He wondered if this was a routine procedure that every cloned Jedi underwent, or if Armiena had sent for him herself. He sent an encrypted comm to the Ghost Breath to inform her of his situation. Moments later, the ship exited the hangar. Moments after that, the starry void of space materialized through the viewport. With the coordinates set, it wasn't long before the ship entered hyperspace, bound for the Jedi Temple located on Gala. [ooc - OK, let me know if I should edit anything. I also need to talk to you the next time you're online, when you have the time.]
  7. No introductions were exchanged as the Jedi at the base of the ramp greeted Armiena with a gloomy fairing. The latter joined the man and the two led the way away from the ship, which gave Arlan a chance to catch a glimpse of the exterior damage dealt to the chassis. It wasn't good. The ship probably wouldn't get off the ground again, let alone survive another jump to hyperspace. If Scorp's words proved true, they would at best stumble across a base belonging to a number of Dark Jedi. There, perhaps they would find another means of transportation to use to depart from this planet once and for all. Of course, there was still the matter of finding out why they were there. This entire transpiration befuddled Arlan to no end. His fear of this hellhole was all but absent. At any moment, any one of their lives could be tossed in the way of peril. He was most concerned about Armiena, who still seemed to be having a difficult time adjusting to their bizarre environment. He didn't blame her. "So tell me friend, what made you want to become a Jedi?" It was Delta who had spoken, bringing Arlan free of his thoughts. He contemplated the question and a pending response, deactivating his lightsaber but keeping it secured tightly in his grasp. "It's a long story," he said, "but I'll keep it short. My parents were both Jedi Knights by the time they exiled themselves from the Order. They died when I was nine, so I supposed their deaths kind of made me want to lead the path I'm on now." He chuckled quietly. "And at the time, I thought that being a Jedi would be all fun and games." Needless to say, the rest was history. "Come on," he said, and stepped off the ramp to follow after Armiena.
  8. Arlan remained silent as the three of them conferred, still feeling a bit shaken from the impact. His back was bruised and his knees felt like rubber, but he hadn't suffered any more serious injuries. Tapping into the Force to relieve himself of the occasional pulse of pain, he listened to what Armiena had to say about Nhagathul. From her explanation, he was able to conclude that they had basically stepped foot into Hell itself. Tectonic activity didn't bother him so much, but aggressive wildlife and soul-eating planets did. Obviously. "Arlan?" "I'm here," he said, breaking away from their group to join his master at the hem of the ramp. One look at the landscape of this Godforsaken hellhole, and it was obvious why Armiena seemed so perturbed. "Sithspit..."
  9. He found Armiena a few moments later, the brilliant blade of her saber springing to life. The sound of a discharged blaster echoed throughout the corridor, drawing his attention to yet another corridor shrouded in darkness. He narrowed his eyes, recalling the hallucination that he had experienced shortly after takeoff. Was this another one? ”
  10. The moment the Padawan and trooper rounded the corner and met with their group, he felt as if the cruiser had hit something. It shook so violently, so bone-jarringly, that he lost his balance and fell to the floor. His saber dropped and deactivated, rolling into the corner but still in plain sight. Alarmed, having landed mere inches away from a quarter of a deceased sentinent, Arlan scrambled to his feet and made haste to pick up his hilt. No sooner had he clipped it back onto his belt when a second and more violent shudder sent him to the floor. They had landed, but less benevolently than he originally anticipated. The cruiser, if he were to have guessed, seemed to be skidding along the planet's surface. He grabbed the lip of the bulkhead he'd slammed into and held on tightly. He was unable to see anybody else in the darkness, but hoped nonetheless that they were managing better than he. He closed his eyes and opened himself to the Force, feeling for Armiena's presence amidst the chaos”¦ Without warning, the cruiser came to an rousing standstill. He tentatively released the bulkhead and opened his eyes, still unable to see a thing. He summoned his saber and ignited it, only to cry out and immediately wish he hadn't. Standing in front of him was the corpse of a halved Twi'lek. A female. Her eyes weren't trained on his, but rather, inexplicably, on him as a whole. He stared at her, suddenly overcome with a sense of nausea. He was unable to keep his eyes off of the molding gouge in her stomach, which glistened with crimson blood. Her corpse reeked of a smell similar to that of month-old bantha steak and charred caf combined. He felt sick. She was pointing at the exit - the ramp he and his group had ascended upon back on Onderon. ”œI-Is this”¦ Nhagathul?”
  11. In a matter of minutes, what Arlan could access of the ship's Aeronautics' Log had been uploaded to his data chip. He slid it into his datapad, mindful of the plan to give it Armiena once they were in rendezvous with the rest of their group. She hadn't responded to his missive about Nhagathul, so indubitably, he was eager to get back to her. ”œShe's fine,”
  12. Arlan slid the commlink back into his pocket. ”œI don't hear anything,”
  13. Delta's sudden -- and second -- outburst caught the Padawan off guard. The moment Armeina's lightsaber sprang to life, his own was out and readily ignited. He spun around, every sense and ounce of alertness trained on the clone trooper. However, he wasn't shooting at them. Quite the contrary, actually. He was shooting at nothing. "There's nothing there..." Arlan began to say, but he trailed off. Were they under the influence of different hallucinations? Him with his vision of a blood-sodden Armiena, and Delta with recurring memories of the Clone Wars? He wouldn't deny it; he was timid. The bodies and various fleshy extremities strewn along the corridor didn't help any. "We need to make our way to the bridge. That's our best chance of finding out what's going on." "I'm with you," he said. He followed her, wincing every time he stepped on or trudged across a fallen body or organ. Blood, crimson and fresh coated the floor, walls, and even the ceiling. What hellish incident had taken place to mar the vessel's preceding occupants was as heart-wrenching as it was nauseating. Arlan tapped into the Force to calm his nerves, and did his best to ignore the stench that fought to overwhelm him. Without warning, Armiena stopped. Her emerald orbs were trained on the stairwell on the other side of the corridor. Was somebody there? He hadn't heard anything. He waited in silence, making not a sound. After a long moment of watching and listening, Arlan approached his master and set his hand on her arm. "Come on, let's get to the bridge."
  14. Arlan struggled, trying to raise Armiena's sleeve. Blood persisted to flow from some unseen wound. His eyes were still ablaze with fear. Fear for his Master, their companions, and himself. He hated this damned ship. Hated everything about it. He wanted to leave, but knew he couldn't. He - they - were trapped. Trapped and going to Nhagathul. There was no turning back now. WIthout warning, Armiena grabbed him and shoved him against the bulkhead in the corridor. "Arlan, stop. I'm not wounded. I'm not hurt - anywhere." "B-but... you're b-bleeding..." He blinked, and the hallucination faded. No more blood. No wound. Only gauntleted flesh. Arlan stared at her arm, then looked at her mouth. She hadn't been bleeding at all. "How...?" he trailed off, utterly confused. He glanced at Delta, who appeared to be taking up a defensive stance to protect them. His cheeks were glistening. Tears? "Are you all right?" he asked, alarmed by the trooper's sudden emotional swing.
  15. Discomfort filtered among the souls on the turbolift. Armiena was the only other person in the small compartment whom Arlan knew, and even she seemed to be feeling the same way. The afflictive atmosphere didn't lighten the matter. He shifted uncomfortably, unable to shake that feeling of dread that had surfaced the moment they entered the lift. He shuddered. This was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. The now-deceased Darth Quietus's cruiser didn't even compare to this one. Unlike it, the ship they was aboard now was riddled with perilous evil and calamity. The damned turbolift possessed that same inkling. It was incorrigible; no matter what he did or thought of to avert his mind to a more light-hearted subject, he couldn't. It was as if somebody was controlling his mind for him. Again he trembled, unable to help himself. His grip around his saber tightened. The turbolift rose even higher, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered if it would ever”“ Without warning, Delta tugged off his helmet and flung it away. He had fallen to his knees, and now, he looked around, as if he hadn't just made a spectacle of himself. The Padawan stared at him in subtle awe. Silence. The lift came to smooth stop. The doors slid open, and Armiena activated the emergency cut-off. She spoke, then. To Arlan. He peeled his gaze away from the trooper and snapped to attention. ”œArlan”¦ you”¦ go, go on ahead with the Miraluka. We'll catch up in a second.”
  16. They were joined by a Miraluka, but before any proper introductions could be exchanged, the cruiser came to life. The floor jolted and started to shake, nearly making him lose his balance. They were off. The fact settled in uncomfortably. If what Armiena had told him about Nhagathul was true, he could only pray that they made it out in one piece. He glanced at her, and for a brief moment, he saw a flicker of alarm in her eyes. He felt an icy lump in the pit of his stomach at that. If she, Armiena Darkfire, Grandmaster of the Jedi was at all nervous about doing this... ”
  17. By the time the Ghost Breath dropped out of hyperspace, Arlan was awestruck - and, he'd admit, the slightest bit nervous. What she'd told him made little sense, but he was positive that as they progressed, he'd be able to assess a firmer grasp on the situation at hand. He swiveled around in the co-pilot's chair, watching as the planet came into view. Onderon, in all its tempetate glory loomed before them, increasing in size as the Breath drew closer. In minutes, Master and Padawan would arrive at their intended destination... ((I'll leave the actual arrival to you, OK.))
  18. Arlan had managed to ”˜convince' Dev to lend Vega one of his speeder bikes, which would get the Vultan back to her ship. Force Persuasion certainly did have its uses. Some time passed, and eventually, he left Dev's shop to meet with Armiena back on the Ghost Breath. Before he took his leave, though, he pulled his companion aside as the Rodian went on to inspect the rest of his stock. ”œArmiena and I are going somewhere,”
  19. Vega was, without a doubt, much like Arlan's father. A gearhead through and through, though the kindest person one could ever hope to meet. He respected her for that; not because she reminded him of Jon Vass, but because she was a unique individual whom he had come to respect and like very much thus far. When she mentioned spending the following couple of days at Dev's shop to acquire the parts she was after, he nodded. ”œI understand,”
  20. ”œWould you be all right with that?”
  21. He laughed. ”œMy father was the same way. He'd spend hours in here, going through all the oddments. He was a gearhead himself.”
  22. Dev tapped his chin. He held up a finger as if to indicate that he'd be right back, then ducked out the back door of his shop. Seconds later, he walked back in and motioned for the two of them to follow him. ”œI guess he does have something for you,”
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