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Sandy Sarna

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  1. Sandy Sarna

    Salliche

    A sound. Soft as a breath. An inhale. A whispered curse. Danger. As she stepped onto the ground the ominous danger sense that had been growing in the back of her mind was brought to a pique. A screaming sense of terror and anger that flashed up her spine to bury itself in the nape of her neck. Almost by instinct her lightsaber came up in her hand and ignited, flooding the dark tarry earth with its pale grey light. Her eyes and the force searched for that source of danger until it could be pinned down to an object whipping towards the speeder at an incredible speed. Sandy took a step forward to cover the passenger compartment and brought her left hand up. She took a breath. Inhaling and filling herself with the force. Projecting it in a wave of defensive energy that would cover both her and Kerriwarr, her lightsaber coming up to intercept what could only be a primitive arrow. An arrow that changed its course and direction as fast as she brought the sabre up. It slipped to the side at a great speed, as fast as her movements could be guided by the force, so that her sabre only intercepted the feathered end of it. Cleaving through the ashen shaft while the arrow slammed into the force shield she had summoned. Much to her horror It did not stop. Blasting its way through the multiple layers and slamming its dark bodkin head right under her left arm. Its momentum carried Sandy into the sidewall of the speeder where the arrow embedded itself in the durasteel. Having carved itself through her lower ribcage, lung, and out of her back. She gasped. Her breath cut short by the boiling blood that began to fill her lower left lung. She had brought them into a trap. And now there was something else other than the pain. An ebbing numbness that was radiating from the wound. She gasped again and began to draw upon the force. "Run."
  2. Sandy Sarna

    Salliche

    What was this feeling? She had felt it before, a decade ago or more, when she had still been an apprentice. Something piqued at the edge of her mind but could not be formed. It was no nurglian plague as she had felt on Felucia. It was pitiful in its lashings, but filled with primordial hate. The smell of rotting vegetation began to overwhelm even the speeders air filters and a glance outside at the spinning ground was dismal. It was almost a black bog of rotten crops. Food that should have been bookmarked for the millions of refugees lay in the welter of decay, each hectare could have fed a hundred families, now even carrion would not land. Dark Side. What wasn’t Dark Side these days? Perhaps a local crew, or one of the many Sith that had gone to ground at the end of the Galactic War. And what was better to destabilise the Alliance than to leave the galaxies most vulnerable without food. But that was not her only concern. She, like her own master in times not worth remembering, had brought her apprentice into a potential conflict zone. Perhaps because he was so much older she had not considered…But that was an excuse. She turned her blonde head to the Wookiee and spoke softly, placing her hand upon his strong shoulder. Her eyes speaking an apology. “We may face great danger here, prepare, I will do my utmost to protect you, and if I fail. Run and hide, do not try and confront whatever this is alone. It reeks of the Sith.”
  3. Sandy Sarna

    Salliche

    Shadows swirled in her mind like the turbulent air kicked up by the repulsorlifts. She was glad of course that Kerriwarr had decided to accept the gift, but the heaviness of the thought had buried itself deep behind her eyes. Lost in a reflection upon a past chapter of life that had not been neatly tucked away, of love and triumph, of loss and despair. Not the thoughts expected of a Jedi master, or at least the ones that Sandy had grown up around. Stoicism had always resembled disinterest, or at the worst disdain in those Masters that had taught her and had guided the Jedi order of a generation before. Her mouth barely moved as she spoke in response to her apprentice. A creature six times her age and at least as many times as calm and stoic as those she had always compared herself to. “There is much to learn from a blade.” So soft were her words that they were almost lost among the whine of the Vengi-Tharrack branded repulsors. Her next words were more to herself than to her apprentice. “And much to unlearn.” The scenery in front of them began to change as the speeder moved north, the waving fronds of grain began to darken, and though the sun shone bright, the great fields looked cast in a shadow. The air itself seemed to putrefy with the smell of rotting and decomposing vegetation.
  4. Sandy Sarna

    Salliche

    Of course he wouldn't have thought of such a thing. It was far too early. Especially since the Sith had at least temporarily departed their realm. There was so much to teach, so much to learn from and as always so little time. But this was no true emergency of sword and blaster. There were no Sith shuttlecraft shattering through the atmosphere, no contrails of a hundred bombers flying overhead, no Sith lord screaming for their revenge like a little child denied their chocolates before bed. This was an environmental emergency with little indication of Sith involvement, save her own worry. She shrugged, and laid her hand on his arm to draw him out of his deep thought. “Something to consider for the future then. I am still in the combat mindset from so many years of warfare which is not something I should be striving to inflict on you.” She unclipped the long handled lightsaber from her belt and handed it to him. It carried with it the gravitas of a generation of jedi knights. Forged by one master during the troubles of decades ago, and handed from knight to knight until it had been given to Sandy by a master now long dead. One who had turned to evil, and had been slain by the pure white blade. It told the story in its essence of the rise and fall. Of pride, vanity, and the corruption of ideals until they carried only evil. Of suicide, of death, of joy and despair. Of a love hard won then even more harshly lost. “This carried the memories of my life in its crystal. And the lives of those who previously held the blade. Though it will not teach you directly on how to build a saber. You may take this one apart to learn its mechanical workings and keep it by your side during the mission ahead. If you so desire. If you do not think yourself ready or willing to carry a blade, then do not fret. It's a choice you must make for yourself. We pay a heavy price when we carry a weapon that kills and maims as its primary purpose.” Behind them the shuttlecraft’s engines began to wind up as the droid inside made his adjustments for the trip ahead.
  5. Sandy Sarna

    Salliche

    It was hard not to jump to conclusions with such an event as a monocultural blight. True the crops had gone untended for nearly half a decade, but if such a blight was to appear it would have done so then. Not now. Not when the Jedi were finally back, and the Sith defeated. A trap? A long dormant dead man's switch waiting for the time when the galaxy would be left hungriest? It made sense from the puzzle pieces she herself knew. The Sith had disappeared mysteriously, leaving a vast majority of planets unfought for and stripped of resources. Their armies and navy mysteriously vanishing as well. With the majority of their Sith lords unaccounted for. Even that red faced Sith she had briefly encountered but not fought at the Jedi outpost on Felucia. What was it that she said? That they would keep the blade of the Sith sharp until such a time that they could use it? Something along those lines. A sith lord that she had not seen again. Another one lost to history, lurking, waiting for her time to break the galaxy again into brutal war. And there was no better way to do it than to keep the Sovereign Alliance hungry and weak as they bode their time. Or perhaps that was her own paranoia, her yearning to find someone to cross blades with. It was easier afterall to dream of someone to kill then to go through the effort of fighting a pathogen that could have already blown to half the world by now. “My friend. First we must investigate and get there in person. I will reach out to the Alliance to get pathogen experts here but it could be some time until they arrive. In the possibility that it could be something more direct and Dark, we should prepare you for what might come to pass.” She looked at the Wookiee who towered over her. “Have you ever thought of constructing a lightsaber?”
  6. Sandy Sarna

    Salliche

    It was strange, almost foreign, how peaceful it was. Even with the hardness of the work, the dirt that was ever clinging to her clothes and under her fingernails, and the still healing wounds that stung under the suns bright light. But still there was peace. Even though her mind fought a battle against it, with every handful of dirt she could feel something in the back of her mind, or perhaps her heart, felt better. The hard, backbreaking work, most of it without any use of the force, had given her time to reflect upon herself. And with every handful of rich loamy dirt she found she had the wrong spirit for such a task of healing. Her mindset was one only built for battle. Even in planting fledgeling muja bushes was a mind of objective and control. Racing back and forth without peace or contemplation. She was a Jedi Master that had only ever seen horrifying war. She had been promoted from the rank of apprentice in the wake of a hundred Jedi deaths in the beginning of a brutal war. And ten thousand more friends lay in the dirt of countless worlds which had paved the way for her own promotion to masterhood. There was much to learn on the agricultural planet. Ding It was a dim sound, trying its best to be projected from the inner pocket of her travel bag. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the hem of her grey-green tunic and turned her head to the side. Before she pushed herself to her feet and walked the half dozen metres to the makeshift tent where she had been basing for the last several days. The message was not a good one. And a blight that affected the monocultural food supply was a nightmare that could be measured by the millions of deaths. She left the tent and the supplies there, climbing onto the old model swoop bike and after dialling the repulsors to their maximum height, sped towards where her apprentice was stationed.
  7. Sandy Sarna

    Salliche

    Three old model Toscan fighters of the inner rim defence forces left lazy lined contrails of condensed water in their wake in the upper atmosphere overhead. Adding to the thicker lines of the industrial haulers that crisscrossed the sky as they made their way between outposts and collection points. There was much work to do on the planet, and with the fields being left fallow for nearly half a decade there was even more to do than a regular planting season. But something felt vaguely off. Perhaps it was the air that smelled like fertilizers, or the tired looks of those who had begun to refuel the shuttle. Or perhaps it was the Jedi Apprentice in pale sunbleached robes that was waving furiously at them from the port of entry. Kayla… what was her last name? Thren-Tir? That sounded right in her head. And Sandy returned her wave with a grin. A grin that pulled at the scar tissue on her face quite painfully, but she kept the smile. A jedi master and she had never once taken part in a restoration like this. Not even during the great peace that had defined her late apprenticeship. Had they as an order neglected one of the core purposes of the Order? She herself had taken to the task of fighting and killing Sith as she had been asked to, as had nearly every other survivor of the Jedi order from before. Even the great naturalists of the Jedi order had either been mostly killed or in some way removed from the board. Even Roene that dear Cerealan Jedi Master was rarely seen. How long had it been since the Jedi Order was truly itself? There were so many question in her mind as they walked that sher had no doubt they were leaking from her like a sieve. Pouring into the force and bubbling around her in her wake. Her voice was soft as they approached the long line of entry. “My friend I am afraid that this venture here will be just as much an instruction for me as it may be for you.”
  8. Sandy Sarna

    Salliche

    Tea. How many long years it had been since she had been spared the thought and small luxury of tea. Its aroma, though pleasant and not a bit overpowering, hit her like a landspeeder. Some of the scent was unfamiliar, having come from relatively obscure vegetation in the shadowlands of Kashyyyk, but the spice undertone was familiar. It brought a hundred memories up in her mind as if they were ripped from the grave. Memories of her middle childhood in a Jedi Order that was not at all like the one she was currently a leader in. A different galaxy, a place at peace. Much like the one they now inhabited. The spice she had smelled before as an apprentice in the gardens of the Jedi Enclave at Gala. And the flowers in the old archive at Tython. All abandoned now. Left to rot like some burned out homestead. The bodies of its defenders left to decay into the ground that they so diligently tended. Was it a nostalgia for a time not well remembered that now pulled at her mind? Or was it a deeper truth stirred up by the Tree Tender that now proffered her tea. She gratefully took the wooden carved mug of tea and took a sip as her thoughts continued to spin. Its taste was as comforting as its smell. And she could feel a sense of joy roil through her spirit. It brought in another firmer and less nostalgic thought pattern. A moment of reflection on herself. For how long had it been since she had a moment of non focused thought? Of meditation that was not a preparation for yet another battle? A half dozen years at least since the Sith had begun their affront on the outer rim. Her apprenticeship had ended at fifteen and she had jumped straight into the conflict with all the pride of a young woman who thought herself wholly in the right. Her own rebellion against a council too distant and prideful to concern themselves with the plights of those in the far outer rim. But now she was in their place. One of the few Jedi Masters left after the long war and she had to wonder how long had it been since the Jedi Order was truly itself? It was not an enriching thought. But it was a necessary one. She blinked and took another long sip of the tea and pulled herself out of the distraction of her mind to look at Kerriwarr. “Sorry I was in a deep and distressing thought.” She laughed softly and could feel some of the tension in the back of her neck slighten from the conversation. “I am glad that those were your dreams my friend, and I hope that I can glean at least as much from you.” A new scent was now filling their cabin as the Ship settled onto its landing gear and opened the recyc vents to let in fresh air to the compartments. She took another sip of the tea then gratefully handed the empty cup back to the Wookiee. There was much to do, much to think about, and much to discuss.
  9. Sandy Sarna

    Salliche

    She awoke with a start, her right hand reaching towards the lightsaber clipped onto her belt as the starship emerged from hyperspace in the core worlds. The jerking motion of the ship slipping out of hyperspace was enough to break her from the last vestiges of a very bad dream. Sleep had not been plentiful, and even with a myriad of strange and twisted dreams, she still felt almost human after the long assignment on Falleen. She shook her head and looked towards the viewport where the golden planet of Salliche was slowly growing in size as the starship approached. She took a deep breath and then looked to her apprentice and gave him a smile. A smile that hoped he did not see her twitch or cry out in her sleep. “I hope you slept as well my friend.” Though this was not a combat mission, there would be much to do ahead and it was better to start a day off rested than not. And knowing her luck, some Sith lord would walk out of the wheat fields and challenge her to a duel before the mission was over. She slowly stood, pulling her satchel straps over one shoulder. “Did you dream at all?”
  10. She held up a friendly hand and a smile flashed across her lips. “There is no apology necessary my friend.” She sat back and let her back lean against the hard thermoplast seat. It was by no means comfortable, but it did relieve some of the tension that had crept into the base of her neck from the last few days of stress. She let out a long sigh before rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands. She was tired, and there was little she could do to avoid that. “As a tree herder your expertise in the natural is invaluable. Though I have trained some in agricultural purposes and applications of the force any assistance you may be able to give is more than welcome. Not to mention maybe you can learn a bit about how the Jedi Knights access the living force in times of peace. If you would like.”
  11. She brought her hand up to her brow acknowledging her error in jumping so quickly to the idea of apprenticeship. She really hadn't even discussed it with him, simply connecting the dots in her own mind. Perhaps a result of tiredness from her fight with the Sith, or perhaps simply a touch of the airheadedness that had plagued her in her own early apprenticeship. She had paid the price for that one too many times to let it rear its head again. “Forgive my inadequacies dear Kerriwarr, the Jedi order has been filled with disorder since our order’s leadership was shattered several years ago. The formalities of generations past have yet to return as they should.” She looked off into the disorder of the ship, watching for a second as a young family shared a prayer of thanks for the meal they had prepared underneath the closed landing ramp. She looked back down to her hands then back to Kerriwarr. “The Jedi order as you may know is one of the oldest force wielding orders in the Galaxy. We focus on the path to the light, defending the citizens of the galaxy from the Sith. We were mostly wiped out by this war. The eighteen thousand or so Jedi Knights that we had in our ranks has now been reduced by at least half. Casualties of this bitter war. All of us that remain have been asked to step up to assist in rebuilding of the galaxy. Which leads us to our destination.” She leaned down for a moment to reach into her warn out travel bag to pull out an imperial era disposable datapad. With a press of a few buttons and a password, its small holoprojection screen showed a yellow green planet. A planet that was not immediately recognizable from the constantly seen press releases such as Tatooine, Coruscant, or even Naboo. “Salliche. Agriworld. Grows most of the core worlds grains. Given to the Jedi order to steward some decades ago. Now it needs the love and care required to feed the core and it needs much restoration from the many years of occupation.”
  12. She thought for a moment as they walked towards the large array of Sovereign Alliance vessels that were queuing up to take the many injured and exhausted soldiers back to the core worlds. She gestured vaguely to one of the mixed transports, likely one for injured refugees, and turned towards it. It would take them to the Agricultural world of Salliche, which the order had been given to steward. The ramp was crowded so she chose to wait in the long line. “I pose a question to you my friend.” She ran her finger across the scab that had developed along her jawline before continuing. “There are several planets that seem to be a consistent target for the Sith in their ongoing brutalism every so many decades. Why have your people not turned to rampant militarism as the once peaceable Naboo?” ((to space))
  13. She spared a glance over her shoulder to where sunlight was illuminating the street that she had fought the ruler of Falleen. Not a trace of him or his men, consumed by the world as it turned flesh to bone in its depths. Someday there would be flowers here, and children would again play along the avenues. That small vision was the hope of the galaxy. But what was on the horizon for her? She was not old, she had not even reached a quarter century, but she had never known peace. Even the days of her youth during the noontide of the Galactic Alliance’s power were filled with training, then tragedy, heartache and death. When she had achieved some semblance of stability and a knighthood, the galaxy had been thrown into bitter turmoil. First there were whispers at the edges of the galactic rim. Rumours of the unnamed terror, lurking there as it spread its web through the hearts of the Galactic Alliance. Political fracture happened next, the Remnant with all its good intentions carrying its sword into the outer rim to fight the resurgent Sith Lords. Shouting in the halls of the Jedi temple. Bitter words traded between master and knight, apprentice and master. A Council that stood idly by and let the Jedi Order itself fracture into a revanchist crusade while it sat in high towers or white stone. Ignoring the cries of a people oppressed. How many of those she had grown up with had left for the Remnant? They had slipped away in the night, leaving their lightsabers piled in front of the doors to the council chamber. Trading the white robes for the crimson armour of the Imperial Knights. Leaving the Galactic Alliance without those in the Jedi Order willing to defend it. Though the council had tried in the end. And many of their bodies had not yet been recovered in the orbits of Duxn and Onderon, or obliterated at Coruscant. The great order reduced now to a pale shadow of what it once was, a victim of its own hubris. A lesson, or many lessons, there were to learn from the past decade. And a hundred faces that she would never see again. Even those of her apprentices, Frond and Kel whom she dearly missed, and a love long quested for which had been lost forever. All those bitter memories passed like a wave over her and she paused in her steps. Letting the emotion roll up and over her but not bury her. She took a breath. For a life without suffering was a life that had not been lived. She was grateful for those sufferings, those losses. Those great changes. Even those painful nights in the hands of slavers so many years before. Though each was a tragedy, each had given her insight and the ability to help others. To serve even as the galaxy fell apart. And now it was time for the wheel to turn again. For her to take an apprentice, teach him and to learn from him. To sow the seeds of peace and growth in whatever time they had before the Sith returned. But could she, a Jedi moulded only by suffering and war, really be an instrument of peace? Time would tell. She beckoned the Tree Carer to follow her as she walked towards one of the Sovereign Knight’s shuttles. There would be a path from Chandrilla to a Jedi holding in the core worlds, but for now… “Tell me how the forests of Kashyyyk fair. It has been many years since I last walked under their shade.”
  14. It felt like a thousand pounds of weight had lifted from her shoulders. Almost as if the next breath of air that she took was in the meadows of Gala that she had spent so many youthful springtimes in. She could almost smell the distant tiny blue flowers. Feel the warmth of the sun on her face as the rays dried the tears of winter. The darkness was fading and all around them the world rejoiced. Even in the ruins of the capital, amongst the burning and the rubble and the death, there was peace. But she was tired. Exhaustion from the last many hours was now flooding back into her system that had been relatively restored from her use of the force and the Tree Carer’s help. She leaned heavily against the wall for a moment then took another breath before pushing herself to her feet. She swayed for a moment then steadied herself and looked at her two companions. “There is much to be done and a galaxy that needs more healing than I can possibly imagine.” She made a half grin then friend at the pain from her cut face. She looked to Kerriwarr. Her voice recovering a bit of its cheery tones. “It would do me much honour to have you by my side in this if you would come with me.”
  15. Sandy reached out and picked up the berry from the palm of the Tree Carer. It was large and a distinct grey yellow, but she did not hesitate to place it in her mouth and its taste was refreshing. She smiled and looked back at the two wookiees. She had something decidedly clever to say, but it was lost with the crackle of Kirlocca’s comm link. She leaned back against the wall and let her eyes flutter closed. Her voice was soft as she spoke to Kerriwarr, she wanted to learn more about him and his people, but for now there was something she needed to do. “The Grandmaster calls for our aid to banish this darkness. Though I do not wish to ask you for more of your help, if you can but observe us both, there may be much to learn.” The silent offer was there, if he wished he could delve further into the force as he knew it, or sit and observe the two Jedi Masters, such as they were after their fight, and attempt to aid the grandmaster from afar. Her voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper as she spoke. “First we must find our centre amongst the turbulence.” Death, destruction, violence. All of it sang out in the force in a horrendous cacophony of sound and feeling. The Darkside spoke through such violence, and she could sense its familiar voice amongst the whirlwind of the planet. It spoke through the actions of many sentients on this planet, though it spoke mainly temple and the fountains of blood that had been spilled upon its alters. It would take many years she knew before the last vestiges of that darkness were washed away. But that was a mission for another time, and she breathed in a breath of fresh air. Darkness would not hold to her, she had confronted it many years before, and joy, love, and peace would displace the malevolence that clung to this planet. “Find your cornerstone.” Those long nights now turned to day. She found her assurance. She found the source of her joy, that justice that would be poured out on this world like perfume from a bottle. “And push back against the dark” Like wax would shrivel and melt before a wall of flame, so would the creatures of darkness. She had buried their leader, and this world would be free. She could feel the bright hot presence of Kirlocca and Kerriwarr, of Leena her friend, and the new bright light of dear Keenava. Also shone forth the bright presences of the Sovereign Knights, and beside them her old and dear friend Kyrie Eleison. Her presence brushed against theirs and together she knew that they would overcome the darkness that infested this place.
  16. Sandy returned the smile with one of her own if slightly lopsided smile from the cut on her face. There would need to be an extensive conversation, likely with the whole council about this crystal that Kirlocca now possessed. It brought with it a thousand questions of which she was not quite prepared to think about. Bringing Raven back would cause an immediate divide in the current galactic government, a divide that could only lead to needless death. But she could sense Raven,and though she had never held a long conversation with the ‘empress’ she did not think she was some evil force like some of the old Jedi council had. But this was Kirlocca’s decision, it was his prize, and his love. And who was she to deny life? A numbness in her arm seized her from her thoughts and she looked down at her arm with surprise. The poltice mixed with the chants of the Wookiee was fascinating. The peace that rolled off of him even moreso. Untrained force healing. A blessing from nature and from the forest world itself. He was tapping into an ancient form of naturalism and Sandy could not help but keep a smile plastered across her bloody face. She looked up to Kirlocca then back at Kerriwarr “Amazing, thank you Kerriwarr, is this something you learned amongst the Tree Carers?”
  17. Sandy smiled as widely as the bleeding cut would allow her, sitting gingerly upon the flat piece of rubble and letting her back relax against the ruins of the wall. She took a steadying breath and let the force ease the pain that was coursing from her arm, shoulder, and face. She looked up for a moment to catch the eye of Kirlocca as he rounded the corner and her heart was glad to see him. They had both fought a bitter battle against the Lords of the Sith and from a look at him he was just as beat up as she felt. But the words he spoke made her feel like the likely concussion she had carried from the blow of Trodais had really rattled her brain. He carried Raven’s soul? That meant she had been killed by the Sith arts that had only been whispered about in the temples of her youth. A horrid thing to do to someone, a pure evil that was expected from the Sith that had ruled this planet. She held out hands that still trembled. Taking the lightsaber that she had loaned him with her right hand, leaving the other arm up for Kerriwar’s inspection. She could tell that the blade of the Sith had cut deep into her arm, into bone itself. As her hand grasped the lightsaber hilt her eyes widened in a moment of shock. And she looked back to the Jedi Master, puzzlement on her freckled face. “I do not sense death on this saber. You can smell it on my hands, they buried the master of this world and are covered in his death. We have both been much battered in this fight.” It had been an unavoidable death. A neccessary one. Her eyes looked over his wounds as she spoke. They were not words of criticism but surprise. It was not likely that the Sith Lord had given up his prize of the empress without one hell of a fight. She smiled again, surrounded as she was by the two massive Wookiees would have in any other instance been intimidating, but Sandy felt their presence a comfort after the hellscape that had been the last hour. “Kerriwar here was just looking to my wounds , though I feel like I must introduce you teo. Kirlocca this is Kerriwar the Tree keeper, and Kerriwar this is Master Kirlocca, of whom you may have heard quite a lot. He is a member of our Jedi Council and a great friend of mine.”
  18. There was a peace in the words he spoke, a lasting calm that could only have come from many years of meditation that shone through the more guttural language of his species. And when he spoke of his titles she smiled in return though the gesture browns some deel of fresh blood seeping from the deep cut along her chin. A mark made by the fury of defeated darkside. “Well met friend, I am Sandy Sarna, Jedi Master of Gala.” A backwater world that had once housed an entire division of the Jedi Order, a decade before the Sith had destroyed everything and everyone she had grown up with. It was now a ruin, with only skeletons and ruined machinery to mark what had once been the pinnacle of the reforged order. An order of which only her and Kirlocca, the presence she felt now very close, remained. On a second's reflection perhaps it was odd for her to be a Jedi Master. And though she did not carry the awkwardness she had felt several years before on the title, she had never desired the appointment, and her youth did not do her any favours. But still, she smiled and gave him a half bow. “Thank you for taking care of this child, you do us honour with your presence.” She reached out with the force and touched Kirlocca’s mind. Feeling his exhaustion and inviting him to approach and take a moment’s respite. She herself took the moment to lean against the wall of the alley, breathing deeply as the force worked on her exhausted muscles.
  19. Deep exhaustion clung to her skin like a vac suit. Where on her body there was not a wound, there was the deep ache of strained muscles. The streets were mostly deserted now, dark and filled with stark shadows from the few fires in buildings that had been struck by errant missiles and ammunition from the battle in the north. She took a strengthening breath, letting the force fill her, letting it touch where she was wounded. The long carved lines on her chin, shoulder, and arm glowing with the healing power of the force. The battle was won. Such as it was. The Sith were defeated again only a week or so since their last great defeat. And when Sandy breathed in again she could feel the presence of many Jedi and their Sov Knight equivalents. And one light presence only a few meters away from where she had paused. An alien but honourable mind and the mind of a scared child. Hiding for protection. She took a few steps and looked into the alleyway where she could see a large wookiee and a wounded child. Not exactly the Wookiee Jedi she had been trying to find, but she smiled best she could despite the blood that still seeped from the deep wound on her face. Her Gala accent only slightly showing itself. Alongside the tattered jedi tunic that she wore. “Well met stranger, what brings you from the shade of wroshyr to these desolate streets?”
  20. A rain of boulders cascaded upon her shield, pushing her back step by step as her bleeding and burned arm shook against the pressure. Her other hand held steady, bringing the threads of the force together until they met. The earth beneath her feet trembled mightily, the planet giving its last vestiges of strength to defeat the sith lord that had held it under its sway for the last few years. The song exploded in her ears, voices singing for a moment in rejoicing as the bright spot of hate and anger before her shield vanished. Consumed in anger, rage, and death. Crushed beneath a thousand tonnes of earth and rubble. Buried alongside his men in the world he had long crushed under heel. A tomb that heralded the end of the Sith on Falleen. A tomb that would grow a field of wildflowers while the earth beneath reclaimed the flesh of its people and what remained of its conqueror. Rest now Trodai. Her voice was soft, exhausted, and sorrowful. Perhaps in another life the Sith Lord could find the redemption she so wished for him. In another life he could carry a silver crown and not one of fangs and blood. In another life they could share drinks instead of crossing sabers. She took another breath and turned away, walking towards where she could feel the presence of Kirlocca and another being. She could sense also her missing apprentice, who had grown in strength and power in the force. A blessing.
  21. The monster had been injured but not destroyed, but as with all great works, nothing was instant. A great work of symphony could take any minutes, hours even, to get to the crescendo. And the Force moved heavily as Sandy and the pitiable monster began their last chords. A clash of bright light and utter darkness. Threads of Redemption against bitter anger and brutalism. A planet and people long scarred by an oppression that had stolen everything from them. Trodai in his blind passion had destroyed the identity of an entire species, kidnapped their youth, and had led them to a slaughter. And for what? A crown that had already slipped from his brow? He was no Dark Lord. Others had seized that title and had dispensed of their entire galactic might leaving Trodai without the power he had sought so hard to find. Even in revenge there would be no relief. There was no final satisfaction in such an act, for a life consumed with rage and passion could never be truly fulfilled. There must always be an objective, a center of the rage, or passion or lust. For if there was none of those it would turn upon itself. It was a pitiable lifestyle. A snake eating the world until it had eaten all but itself. Turning to eat its own tail. A story, a song, as old as humanity itself. And somewhere beneath the song and the movement of the force Sandy felt her heart weep for Trodai. Even as he bounded towards her, his lightsaber reaching for her soul. For though there was a righteousness in the defeat of such an evil, he had still been at one point a man. Before bitterness and rage had filled every ounce of him and burned him beyond recognition. He had gotten close, and the song filled her ears as she began to move in concert with the Sith Lord. She could not defeat him blade to blade, that was not her battle. So the Jedi Master began to move as the song directed her. A thousand opportunities and a thousand more possible directions, most ending in almost instantaneous death. All required a sacrifice of pain. She took another steadying breath and let the force guide her, there was little time and the song was coming to its crescendo. She took a step back and pushed off with her right leg, letting the force flow through her to amplify her push away. The Sith would not find the easy delight of her death. The first and second blows found purchase, cutting through the light cloth and scoring a wicked burn across her midriff. The flesh burned painfully and the second blow caught her outstretched left arm as she pushed away. Burned to the very bone, a sudden stiffness catching at her tendons. Another wound that would take a very long time to heal. Just like the world that she was trying to save. Distance was what she needed and the threads of the force now lay arced to where she once had been. Where the Sith Lord glowered in malice. A malice that had led him into a deathly trap. The force moved heavily in anticipation. And the Jedi master let it guide her. Sandy flexed her uninjured hand, gathering the threads that the force had connected to her, and with a pull the song did the rest. The names were too numerous now, thousands and thousands. Those countless sons and daughters of Falleen that had been led to their doom above Nar Shaddaa. Whose bones would never settle in the earth of their home world. An unnumbered loss, which the planet cried out for justice. Tens of thousands of memories, of childhoods, of lives lost for useless wrath and useless rage. Justice the song sang in ten thousand voices. And the buildings all around where she had been echoed the song. How many joyful days the great stone buildings had seen. When avenues were full of smiles and laughter. Now long gone and the streets full of rot. Full of the one who had brought damnation to the world and its peaceful inhabitants. The buildings themselves fractured, their edifices already torn and their foundations shattered. The tall buildings came down as fast as the force could pull them onto the pitiable Trodai. The planets song reaching to smite him for his evil with every brick and stone. With effort Sandy lifted her injured arm and let the force flow through it. Letting it form a bubble of protection that expanded out before and above her. A shield of the bright white light of Justice. The Fanged God would be defeated even if it’s twisted minion threw himself upon her shield. For Justice had called his name and Falleen would be redeemed. ((3)) ((Great Duel my friend))
  22. The Jedi Master took another breath as she felt the force move. A violent and evil movement from the Sith warrior that split rock and stone with explosive vigor. His laughter echoed above the sharp reports of the shattering stone and moving earth. Dangersense pawed at the back of her neck and alongside the half heard laughter came also stones, sharp and propelled by the vicious nature of the dark side. Trodai was only a mass of fury and malice. A bright beacon of anger in the force, standing in stark contrast to the song which called in chorus for a turning to redemption. A song that the Massassi would never hear. Her body moved almost of its own accord, following the rhythms in the force and pushing off with her booted feet. She moved quickly, the force guiding her steps and letting the majority of the shards pass her by as they wasted their hated energy against the air and fell harmless to the broken street. But two found purchase, one cutting a furrow along her jawline and the other skipping off her left arm. Both drew blood, and Sandy could feel its warm wetness oozing down her neck. Mixing with the dirt and sweat to stain her tunic a ruddy crimson. There would be time for pain and recovery later. Her own pain could wait until the Sith had been laid low and Falleen redeemed. Laughter died in her ears as she let the force flood her senses. The chorus sang again names of those that had had their fate cut short by the childish rage of Trodai and his men. So many names that reverberated in bass undertones. A song of mourning that would raise to a hopeful conclusion. Jin-har, the last of her family who died only minutes before. Kaelin who had held a blaster for the first and last time in her life For little Fenra who did not live to see ten summers and had been cut down in crossfire. Bodies that would sit open eyed under the turning of the stars as their people were ravaged by the Sith. A people enslaved that cried for justice with every voice. Sandy raised her hand. Her fingers running across the threads of the force that tied the world to its foundations. She let the song direct her hand and the force flowed in a joyous chorus. For Trodai had named himself Wrath and Anger. He had named himself Monster and the very planet raised itself in rebellion to his yoke of slavery. It only took a nudge of the force and a casm split and opened under his feet, to break and falter his spiteful advance. Falleen could not bear such malice to tread upon its streets save to open him a grave. She gestured with her hand and the crumbling stone facade of the buildings next to him tremoured in the force. What great buildings they may have been before the occupation of the sith, when all business and leisure were driven from its tall shadow. Abandoned now and rotting under the beating rain. Great chunks of load bearing hewn stone and blast molded durasteel reinforcement split from the abandoned great structures and sped at Troidai with the awesome power of the force. A deluge to bury a pitiful monster in his grave. ((2))
  23. The Jedi master took a centering breath. Listening for the song. Though the breath stank of copper blood and fading fear. The force moved along the street, tracing to the foundations of a planet that sang out in a mighty cry for Justice. The song sang for redemption though the Sith lord spat and prattled against it. Sandy’s bright green eyes flickered across the street, across the brainwashed Linnorms who stood in rapt silence, and across the stains of death. Death itself was no unnatural thing, countless generations who had lived and died in peace were buried in the soil of this planet. Princely bones lay in their great tombs. Their family names and crypts wearing away under the thunderstorms that beat down upon the industrial city. But the Sith had brought the unnatural stain of mass murder. Cutting threads of fate like a farmer with his scythe. He had brought slavery and wickedness, a brutality that cut to the heart of every person that had walked upon the streets of Falleen. But still its people had maintained hope. Its earth carried that great hope though soaked in martyrs blood. The very planet cried out in the name of justice. For where blood had spilled its crimson tide, the rocks wept the names of the dead. She could hear its song, a chant, a plea. A lament for justice against the heavy yoke of slavery. For its people had been stripped of their identity, they had been enslaved, and now they were murdered and discarded in the name of power. But still they hoped. Trodai had claimed his wrath and rage, he had striven in shadow, to beat the brows of all around him. Wrapping himself in the short stinted glories of terror. While the very earth below his feet screamed a song of rebellion. It called the names of its martyrs. Khalen. The mechanic who lay in the gutter by his work. Preseni who had been cut down before the gates of her father’s house. Old and feeble Thrandria who had dared lift her eyes and spit in the face of the Masters of the Sith. Names sang in the Jedi Master’s ears, joining a chorus that echoed from street to street, to the glens and hills, and into the untamed valleys of Falleen. There would be justice, there would be hope, there would be Redemption for this Land. For Trodai had made his pitiable choice and marked it with a thousand meaningless words. There was a finality in him. A complete surrender to the darkness. He would be brought to face the planet's song of justice and answer for its slaughtered children. Sandy reached to the force and it flocked joyfully to her call. It gathered around her, spreading out along the street as the force moved. With every breath the world cried for her to act, a deep voice keening in joyous thunder for the end of Sith perversion. Its joy and hope touched her heart and the Jedi Master would gladly join its song. With a twitch of her booted foot, the street split in its foundations and the very rocks and earth moved like a mighty wave, to dash the massassi upon the stone facade of the streetfront. The earth would subsume him and all his perversion. ((1))
  24. There. She could feel him before she could see him. A man, such as he was, a head above and standing in the centre of a sea of the perverse ‘Linnorm’ breed of Falleen. Outside his ring of men lay the corpses of the resistance. Crumpled, lifeless, and cut down before they could see their summer of freedom. More names to carve on the memorial to those who had fallen in the face of Sith tyranny. Names of simple folk beside the names of empresses and princes. Equal in courage and in death. The Massassi had grown since they had last met. Both in stature and in power, a power driven by the sharp burning of rage which echoed off of him like waves in the force strong enough that she could almost feel the heat of his anger on her face. An anger quickly explained as he opened his mouth to speak. She slowed to a stop, standing a distance in front of the Sith Lord as he spoke. In her experience with the Sith, save for cat-eyed Nryrys, there was always the desire to monologue. To build themselves up in cloaks of words befitting kings before they set to their bladework. To justify their evil deeds and to mock those they had destroyed. Trodai was no different. He spent his breath in a blusterous outrage about his desire for revenge and gratification for his destruction of all that may have been good about Falleen. “You may call me what you wish Trodaí, but I will not call you the name which you have claimed. It is a name of suffering, of agony and angst that does not deserve the breath it takes to utter its foulness. I only wish that you had taken the chance of redemption all those years ago for you have wrought only destruction in your pursuit of me. Show me what you have learned in the darkness.” It was time. She took another breath, her bright green eyes glancing across the ruined street then back to the Sith Lord. She shook her head. Bright golden hair bouncing past her shoulders. It’s platinum locks catching distant light of fires that lit the horizon. Her hand fell to the lightsaber shoto that hung from a ring at her hip. Her other hand outstretched to the civilians and militia that lay in the gutters, their bright red blood mixing with dust and fallen ashes. “This planet cries out for Justice against you Troidai, and I will see it done.” The same thread of justice that had brought them together on Nal Hutta. The same justice that had shaken the galaxy to its roots. She pulled upon that thread, and prepared to fight.
  25. A death echoed through the force. It barely registered among the claustrophobic press of the darkside, and the mass of death from the Alliance invasion on the northern stretches of the city. Close. Blocks away. A close moment of terror that spiked through the muck and quickly cut off in a spasm of death. But there was something beside that death in the force. A rage and malice that could only be attributed to… The Sith Lords. This was not the ancient slumbering evil that permeated the planet like a fog, this was the same vigorous malice that had been supposedly ‘defeated’ in the months before. She could have thought herself mistaken, but then the evil presence declared itself openly in the force like a beacon. An avarice and lust that broke through any pretence. Calling, begging, for her to confront it. A familiar feeling. A familiar evil that harkened like a memory across the years to the first cracks in the Galactic Alliance, a Jedi Council that had sat in silent judgement, and a daring mission to Nal Hutta. The memories came flickering across her mind strong enough that she could almost smell the sweat and burned duraplast armour. She had been in her teens, when she had last seen that Massassi warrior. A man carved from the shadows of time. A man that had not taken a hand offered in redemption. A voice, a name, brimming with anger, whispered in her ear as the layers of memory echoed through her mind. "I am Trodai Narat iv-Adas. Descendant of Adas himself" A name that fit the evil that he had brought to this planet. She took a steadying breath and squeezed Kirlocca’s arm. She smiled in reaction to his force presence and let her own fully manifest itself. With a breath, fear melted away and she opened herself fully to the force. They were no longer alone indeed. Presences filled her mind as she reached into the force for guidance. Stern and loving Kirlocca appeared at the forefront of her mind. A creature of virtue and steadfast in the storm, whose sadness stuck to his fur like oil tar. She hugged him tightly, not knowing if they would see each other again until after the battle was long over. There would be victory over that pain. There would be victory over despair and revenge. In that instant she could also feel the presence of dear Leena and Lallu facing their own battle for survival. Brave Leena. A leader now among the Jedi Order. Strong Lallu, a woman undefeated by her demons. They would win their fight. And easily too. Her mind touched theirs, giving reassurance. The next second she could sense the Sovereign Knights, their grim determination and battlemeld feeling like a shield in the force. They were fighting like the heroes of their ancient houses. She said a quick prayer for their safety as she let the grey blue cloak fall from her shoulders. She ran towards that beacon of darkness. Her own rpresence a bright ray of light. It was time to face the Sith again without fear. It was time to put to rest forever their terror.
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