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  1. The Human Padawan had little difficulty in navigating the packed confines of his ship, always seeming to find the quickest way around or through scattered pieces of salvage or racks of parts. Were he a few feet shorter he likely could have passed off as a fairly competent Jawa, for all that the insides of the Plunder resembled those of a sand crawler's. He let the more experienced Jedi take the lead off the ship, stumbling a little in the dirt as his mag-boots found no purchase on the festering earth. It had been a while since he had set foot on solid ground, though he was quick to readjust and follow Leena into the foggy fungal jungles. Every now and then the distinct snap and a brief flash of dim rust, or perhaps bronze, revealed one of the things the derelict Jedi had been working on in his free time; honing his skills in specifically targeting twigs and the random stems of foliage with trakata, apparently. Every time he missed, it was an easy enough job to simply try again with the other side of his blade. "Don't think we're gonna be finding her again. Not right now, anyways. Little turbulent still." Jackson observed, voice modulator crackling slightly from the moisture inevitably collecting in its output holes. "Not very good with... people. Unfortunately. Much less the sick. Forte lies a little more with machines and circuits, if you hadn't guessed already." His admittance was quiet, not wishing to interrupt anything important anyone else mighty have to do or to say. The longer they trekked through the mud the dimmer the young Human Jedi became, in the force. He was still there, but gradually fading. Morphing into a piece of the background as he unconsciously used his sensitivity to hide, the darkness around him steadily disintegrating as it was harvested and incorporated to make his disguise more effective. In any other place it might have slid unnoticed, but the spot lamp of Light that Leena shone wherever she stepped was throwing him off. It took time for the transition to complete, but when it did the result was more of a stark grey than oily black, or radiant white. If anyone cared to watch, the same process kept going on repeat, each time with slightly different aspects and subtle changes to it as it began to adapt. It was particularly similar to the way that AI learned and evolved, with lots of trial and error. A brute force method of scrolling through every possible option before settling on the one that worked the best, and in this case it settled on a gradient. The side of Jackson facing the healer blended more with her light while the opposite did the opposite.
  2. The Jedi pilot leveled his ship out and sighed to himself, the noise coming across as a whisper of static through the speakers attached to his polarized helmet. He may have been cutting it a little close with that dive, not quite sure whether he'd be scooping the rooftop off a building or two on his way back up. It had been a mildly taxing exercise in remote-controlling his ship. The effort was familiar at least a familiar one however, even if it was a little draining. "Jackson. Knight Silan sent me, after picking me up out in the deep. Supposed to link up with one of you to finish training." He explained simply and shook her hand, though only after a few moments of hesitation. "You are... very bright." The newly re-integrated Padawan squinted at her through his helmet, himself not much of a beacon of anything. In fact, now that he had pulled out of his dive he was distinctly hard to pin down through the force at all, having withdrawn and dispersed his force presence back into its typical nebulous, fade-into-the-background form as it busily manipulated a handful of the ship's systems. "Should head over to the actual exit. Ought to be ready to land by the time we get there." The Jedi's words were simple and to the point, and he wasted no time making his way through the organized chaos of his ship's hangar module. "Mind your step. Few things in here that are slightly volatile to the touch. Haven't gotten around to pawning it all off yet, since Kadi picked me up in the middle of a run."
  3. The Transient Plunder's engines roared as it raced through the murky fog hanging about Felucia's surface. A distinctly Wayfarer-shaped tunnel trailed behind the ship as it went, hurrying along to the latest of its urgent destination. Its pilot hummed to himself as he rapidly zeroed in on the co-ordinates he was given, and then pushed his craft into a steep dive. It was somewhat of a risky maneuver, given that he was standing on the edge of his transport's newly opened hangar. His enviro-suit would help him take some of the Gs he would get once he pulled up, and with any luck so would the Force. He'd decided to go ahead and risk a little experimentation while he was in the presence of at least one practiced healer, to see if he could dampen some of the harsh deceleration. And if not, well... The mag boots built into his suit would make sure he didn't sink himself down into the mud. Meanwhile, down below, the sound of approaching engines was likely getting louder and louder as the transport screamed towards the center of the village. It came in from an angle, the ship being far too large to safely skim the rooftops, what with the surrounding vegetation, and barely even slowed it briefly dipped above the mob of children. Jackson held an arm out as he passed, reaching down as far below as he could to offer a helping hand to the lone Jedi beset by the corrupted kiddos. ------------ Leena threw her elbows about as she flailed in a less than idle Jedi-esque fashion. She was hesitant to draw her teal saber against these children, regardless of what power was compelling them. The force flowed within the Healer. It was all that kept the overwhelming fears that clawed at her heart from driving her to a catatonic state. She immersed herself within it’s current, trusting that somehow, there would be a way out. The force would show her the way. ........ It was then, over the din, that the throb of engines interrupted the silence of the jungle and the chaos of the clearing. Leena’s eyes darted upwards as she pushed against the slobbering lips of a gnashing, blackened face. Standing at the gapping maw of the craft was a man, a Jedi? Reaching out a hand, Leena bent her knees and jumped. She caught the extended hand offered her. With a run and skip along the exterior hull of the ship, Leena rolled to a landing inside the ship. Scurrying towards the edge, Leena looked back down at her apprentice and friend.
  4. The Transient Plunder dimmed and listed as it rocketed out of hyperspace above Felucia, her pilot's control over the vessel lapsing as he faced the sudden onslaught of dark influence. The ship's engines sputtered for another few moments out in the deep black. Flickering against the reinforced hull of the old Wayfarer. Then, as quickly as it had stopped, the Plunder lurched forward into motion. The old ship's engines burst into scintillating blue as they carried their payload forward, rapidly approaching high orbit. Shortly, the craft's coms flared to life on a series of nearly-forgotten frequencies. "This is the Transient Plunder to Republic and Jedi forces on Felucia. I've been sent to assist on behalf of Knight Silan." - Jackson flicked his comms unit off and waited for a return, flexing his fingers anxiously. It already didn't feel like things were going well down below, and he was no healer. Not by a longshot. His talents lied firmly entrenched within machines and their ilk, even despite his efforts thus far. The way his mind visualized and internalized things had always made it difficult to freely manipulate the force, something which he imagined was required when it came to the healing arts. More so when the last few times he'd tried, he ended up half starved and with a couple of odd tumors to show for the effort. Dealing with nebulous waves of dark side energy on the other hand, he was quite accustomed to. He had been doing it nearly constantly for the past three years, after all, and the oppressive flavor of iron that he could taste with his parietal lobe was almost comforting in its familiarity. The on-again Padawan knew that would probably be a point of contention for... whoever he was supposed to meet down below. Regardless, Jackson figured he might as well be productive while he waited. The Plunder's various sensors and scanners, the vast majority being salvaged and restored or aftermarket upgrades, hummed to life and focused on the jungles below. He had been to Felucia before, on a few occasions, and it was always interesting to see what was lurking just below the planet's surface. To get a glimpse under the topsoil and muck hiding evidence of battles-long-past. It was easy for the human to get lost in his own senses while exploring those sorts of areas, as he quickly demonstrated by pulling his ship up just in time to avoid turning into a wet crater in the hot mud. The Padawan would be taking a much closer look at the surface than he'd been planning, in the end.
  5. Moose


    Jackson felt his ship and his soul lurch as the Plunder dropped out of hyperspace like a stone skipped across a pond. The sight that greeted him on arrival was hauntingly familiar in both form and feel, as his senses reached out to touch the wreckage. Even the light cast by the blood-red star, and gravity fluctuations were almost nostalgic. He knew how to navigate fields like these just by feel, though without the Force as a guide he knew it would be difficult. The cargo hold of his ship would have to be dumped as well, if he wanted to take on passengers from the surface, but perhaps the salvage could find some use as a screen of sorts. Like dust, used to follow wind currents. "They're always more dangerous than they seem, miss Silan. I should be able to guide us in if necessary, I've lived inside places like this for the past few years, after all. If you have any loose cargo, it may be worth considering tossing it. We'll really have to hurry to get everyone out." The Plunder's engines roared to life as her pilot kicked her into gear and began to dive. The old Wayfarer spiraled itself around Kadi's larger transport ship as it crept forward, doing its best to outline what Jackson sensed what was a safe path.
  6. Moose


    Jackson nodded and waved, partly to say goodbye and partly to usher her out of his ship. He himself was already getting to his feet by the time she had finished speaking, making way to his cockpit to begin plotting his course. "Not really set up for taking passengers, I'll probably ferry 'em up to any stations or ships for safekeeping. Good luck." Taking passengers wasn't exactly a new prospect for him: when he had first gotten his ship running he had tried getting into the transport business. It was only after his first full tour that he had remembered that he just didn't like dealing with people for so long at one time, leading him to quit and turn his efforts into much more comfortable, if a little less lucrative, business. Transporting cargo and scrapping, mainly. But that had been a long time ago. The young man sighed and plugged himself into the Plunder, snapping out of his reminiscing to enter the coordinates Kali sent him. He only vaguely remembered the system, recalling something about a stop there on his way to the next debris field. Something stood out about the hazy memories besides that it was beginning to go supernova, something important... he shrugged. Just not that important, surely, or he would have remembered it.
  7. Moose


    "I've kept up my studies for the most part. I've specialized primarily in Shien, as that is generally the most useful out here in the graveyards, and most of my force ability is at least tangentially relevant to pulling apart derelicts. Sensing, hiding my presence, ripping panels off of hull frames and the like. Occasionally crushing a reactivated security system. Barriers have been greatly useful as well of course, whether it be to stop something from venting atmo to covering myself from pirates or blaster fire. Bit of a far cry from my apprenticeship under Organa, back when I could barely hear." Jackson casually divulged the majority of his capabilities to his visitor, though he certainly still kept a few tricks under his hat, just in case. Well-seeming as she was he had long ago learned his lesson on being too trusting, not to mention that it was always difficult for him to throw lists together on the spot. Just how much practice he had gotten in staying hidden and ending fights quickly and brutally was one of those things that he chose to be decidedly careful about revealing, as well as how those tied in to the rest of his skillsets. "Always wanted to find a manuscript on Juyo or Vapaad, but those are understandably scarce around these parts. Although I would have to look into some body strengthening exercises for those, I believe. Those aren't exactly part of my repertoire of force abilities."
  8. Moose


    "Loose ends like me, huh?" Jackson drummed his fingers against his folded arms for a few moments, taking his sweet time thinking things over. Eventually he sighed and crossed a leg over his other knee, and shrugged. "Well. First off, to say that anything drove me away would be a little misleading. Nothing 'drove' me away. I left because I needed time to sort myself out. Because I could see my own weakness, and because I couldn't stomach the shame. My intentions were always to return, eventually, just after I had the time to settle and learn who I am." His answer was delivered frankly and evenly, uninterrupted even by the datapad that came spinning through the room and into an awaiting hand right at the end. He was apparently finished at that point as he turned his attention to his cargo manifest, making a few last minute additions for his recently claimed scrap. "Still working on that last part of course, but no one ever really knows who they are until the end anyways. If ever. In any case, those were and are my reasons. I am willing to reintegrate however. It's been about long enough, I'd say. Although I suppose the council will want me to run through training all over again, huh?""
  9. Moose


    "That's a slick way of completely dodging the question, kudos to you. I'll remember that. Anyways." The geared-up man turned on a heel and marched deeper into his cargo bay, tossing a wave to the emplacement containing his primary interior-security system. The quad laser didn't wave back or say anything, of course, despite having had mechanical arms and a digital readout grafted onto it at some point. "Don't mind the mess, but do mind your feet. Rather you not end up tripping over something expensive and getting the both of us in trouble." He added as he made his way over to a stable-enough looking nacelle, looking to be ripped right off the side of some luxury yacht. "Alright. So, the Council sent you all the way out here for lil' ol' me huh? Why? Why now, of all times? What has changed in the time that I have been away?" Jackson crossed his legs and reclined against the bulkhead his nacelle was resting against, looking for all intents and purposes like he was just as much part of the chaotic scenery as anything else was. The amalgam of parts and additions slapped onto his old jumpsuit made him look right at home amongst the sheer amount of junk, scrap, and other trash stacked high in the Plunder's cargo container.
  10. Moose


    "You hope I intend to speak with you, wow, now that's one I haven't heard before. Mmno, no, see, you're the one who bothered wandering all the way out here. If anyone should have any intents on speaking with anyone, it should be you. So what is it? Why have you bothered digging me up, and, if you would be so kind, how exactly did you actually manage it? I've been very careful to keep a real low profile, y'see." Jackson, from the way he greeted Kadi almost right at the end of the pressurized tube and with his own saber in hand, was clearly not so trusting as she. He was always a somewhat paranoid human being, but that particular set of traits had only grown stronger in his time alone out in deep space. Medium freighters and transports often made for appetizing targets, and he'd had to fend off more than his fair share of boarders and slavers before. Even a few with their own smattering of force sensitives. "I mean I have a few guesses of my own obviously, given that you really are who you say you are, but I'd rather hear it from you first." The acrid scent of ionized gases and space clung to the man like an old friend. Even if he hadn't just stepped back aboard from the void, it was entirely likely that he carried it on his shoulders wherever he went. At least, if the state of his jumpsuit and still-equipped exo-gear were any indicator.
  11. Moose


    Silence was the only answer this time around, for a while at least. One by one Jackson's ship, the Transient Plunder, activated its systems and gradually came to life. A somewhat surreal sight perhaps, considering that the old Wayfarer class looked like it belonged in the graveyard just as much as most of the other wreckage and debris. Like a corpse being brought back to life, reanimated. The radar-like sweeping of the former apprentice's senses ceased and pulled back in on itself rather abruptly as his ship's engines roared to life. Pinpricks of light popped into view as the hidden thrusters installed in the Plunder's hull flared. The maneuvering thrusters were quick to begin their guidance, swiftly and deftly pulling their ship free of the debris field and guiding it along to an open patch of space not too far away. "You should tell your pilot to back it up out of there. We can figure something out in open space, but I am not getting on board with... whatever that thing is. I have an umbellical I can toss your way if it comes down to it."
  12. Moose


    The spotlamps blazing through the darkness was a change, and not a particularly welcome one at that. He had come here because it was empty, and the only sounds aside from his were the anguished cries of the long dead battering against his psyche. Occasionally some other scrapped would try their hand working the same field as him, but without a specialized rig there was little hope for other solos. That someone was here, now, staring at and hailing him, was... concerning. He had little to offer anyone outside of the deliveries he ran on occasion, and nothing of his was particularly valuable outside of a similarly equipped scrapper or down-on-their-luck pirate, so the list of people who would want to find him was slim. A list that, upon reading the transmission transcript, Jackson was quickly able to narrow it down to an exact set of people. He wasn't quite sure how but the Order had managed to finally dig him up, like a worm squirming in a freshly upturned mound of dirt. Naturally his first instinct was to chuck his scavenged fuel cells at the other ship and make a run for it. A response that was quickly sized around the neck and throttled like a game-fowl in the hours before a great feast, of course. He could only presume that this Kadi, should she really be with the Order, was here to bring him back. Presumably to answer for his dereliction and any number of his other crimes, of which there was, admittedly, a fairly sized list. Still. Perhaps this was for the best. Jackson drug his scavenged prizes to his cargo bay before sealing the ship behind him, and opening a secure communications channel to the other craft. "You're a long way from home, Kadi Silan." Came the eventual reply, alongside a sweeping wave as the scrapper expanded his senses and began dispersing his awareness back throughout his ship and its surroundings. "Not particularly willing to abandon my ship out here in the graveyard, but there is ample room in the Plunder for a quick meeting."
  13. Moose


    Jackson laid quietly in the void of space, eyes closed, limbs limp, and surrounded on all sides by wreckage and debris. He immersed himself in the destruction, letting the chaos wash over and around him like water over a stone. Normally one might find meditation in the center of a graveyard to be somewhat disconcerting, but such exercises had tempered him over the past few years. The dead silence of deep space let you hide from nothing, most of all from yourself. He could hear everything right down to the beating of his own heart, feel his synapses firing and his muscles twitching as he fought against the weight of his sins. Then, with a great heave and a quiet sigh, the metaphysical weight lifted and Jackson opened his eyes. The derelict apprentice had been working on ripping apart a cruiser for the better part of three days now, and he had finally managed to expose enough of its guts that he could pull out what he wanted. A handful of fuel cells and a hyperdrive weren't exactly lucrative in such a place but they would get him to his next destination and secure enough credits for a resupply, which was all he really needed. After that it would be back to the debris fields, to continue his introspection and training. Even after all these years, all this time trying to work through it, he could hardly stomach the thought of going back. The shame of it all, the guilt of leaving at such an important turning point, had only grown in his time away. Perhaps some day he would find it in himself to return, but for the time being Jackson resigned himself to his usual habits: settling in and searching for the next viable target he could pull apart for scrap.
  14. Having taken a few-year-long journey to develop his skills and see the galaxy, Jackson finally returns to the fold a changed man. For better or worse remains to be seen, but a few things can be immediately presumed when analyzing him in comparison to his old self. His confidence has risen, first and foremost. Where he once stood nervously, anxious and unsure, he now rests poised and ready for what may come; relaxed, yet primed. Jackson's body has filled out under his clothing in a testament to a hard-lived life out in the rim, and a litany of new scars and faded wounds tell stories and tales of battle and hard-won victory. Even his saber has changed, given that he had one prior to his walkabout. A simple hilt with a wreath of stun-baton contacts around the emitter has undergone a dramatic transformation into an elegantly rugged pole, perhaps two feet long, with a simple set of controls and two emitters. A modified double-blade, from the looks of it, and oddly-placed features that whisper of field-modifications and hastily-made corrections. His form with it has advanced by leaps and bounds as well, apparently by mixing different forms of Form Six together with Tràkata and whatever else happens to be most convenient at any given moment. Not standard or conventional, but highly aggressive and geared towards ending fights quickly. More significantly, however, was the man himself. His uncertainty and inexperience had all but left, replaced by some amount of wisdom and hardened by a wealth of new experiences, both good and bad. No longer the trusting boy who crawled his way out of the Coruscant undercity, but.. something else. Not quite predatory exactly, or at least not traditionally, but similar enough to pass for it at first glance. His insatiable lust for knowledge and improvement being some of the few things that remain unchanged. At some point he has also procured his own ship. It is a Wayfarer-class medium transport with a surprisingly cherry setup, though he has installed an additional pair of security measures inside of the cargo module. Namely, a quad laser cannon and tractor beam mounted behind some clearly repurposed barricades. Likely rigged together and slapped in place by Jackson himself. >Sheet & Stat updates Age: 26 Weight: Approximately 200 pounds Trained by: Partially Skye Organa Known Skills: Moderate-Advanced slicing, a variety of engineering fields primarily related to scrapping and ship systems, Decent-enough Mostly-self-taught Form 5/Shien, Force Grip, Force Barrier. Ship Registration Name: Transient Plunder Class: Medium Transport/Medium Freighter Model: Wayfarer Manufacturer: Kuat Systems Engineering Length: 82 Meters Armaments: 2 quad laser cannons, 1 laser cannon Armor: Hardened medium-class armor Anti-Personnel Defenses: 1 quad laser cannon, 1 particularly angry Jedi Appearance: Sorta like it just got pulled out of a junkyard. It would fit right at home amongst the debris-fields of any given space battle. Modifications: 1 extra semi-concealed quad-laser cannon (normally the Wayfarer only comes with one, rather than two,) Hardened armor plates (primarily to make it look more like junk, and to give it some extra room for error when navigating treacherous space,) and a full suite of concealed maneuvering thrusters. Additionally, the Plunder has an internally mounted tractor beam in the cargo pod, for pulling scrap aboard.
  15. Moose


    Jackson rubbed his hands over his face and licked his lips in thought. "Water, please." He whispered, only then realizing just how dry his mouth had become. His legs carried him listlessly to the nearest seat shortly after, only stumbling over himself a few times on the way. "I will... say, here." The Padawan mumbled, more to himself than anything else. It was still difficult to parse through the information being passed along through his senses; the background numbness blurring sights and sounds, and muddling his hearing. It would pass, surely. Instead of dwelling on it any longer, Bloome resolved to do something more productive with his time. His eyes closed and his attention turned inwards, only to be greeted by an only vaguely familiar place. The threaded core that he once recognized as his internal plane, of sorts, was gone. In its place hovered a disconnected mass of energy; a dense construct of defensive layers and jagged edges, blasted and fragmented apart before being slapped crudely back together in some poor facsimile of what used to be. What was worse, he could hardly access it at all. Some small manipulation was all that he was able to manage before either the ache became too intense, or the entire thing shrunk back in on itself far tighter than it had been when he had first tried meditating. That was going to be a problem. But, he would be able to manage with it, right? It would heal. And if it didn't, then... he would have to figure something out. For now, though, he'd follow Skye's instructions. If she believed that they should bide their time and rest, then he wouldn't argue with it.
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