Roene Givrah Posted November 11, 2016 Share Posted November 11, 2016 “Heh, Galen always thought my metaphors were a bit boorish after a time, but he isn’t here.” Roene said, half sarcastically and half ruefully. Truth be told, no matter their squabbles, he missed the small kushiban. They had gotten to be good friends during the Cerean’s training with Kitt. They even experienced some of the same traumas together; up to and including the destruction that cost Roene his left arm. As for Kyrie’s past, Roene had seen the pirates. He had seen the blood. He had even seen the Sith Lord that took advantage of her. All of them he saw through the vast mirror of her eyes due in no small part to the permission she granted him. Somehow the omission of the Sith Lord seemed significant, but just in case it was an even worse memory for her to recollect, Roene decided to keep that moment to himself. He didn’t want to undo any healing she had done on her own. Kyrie Eleison, I have heard that name before. The Cerean watched as Kyrie used her power in tandem with her… rosary? Interesting The power of the relic was indeed old, and from Roene’s initial probing, he derived that it was meant to find her. The energy that Kyrie used linked almost perfectly with the Rosary’s and they worked together to dive into old memories. Fascinating. Roene wondered how old the memories had to be and what memories could be accessed by simply having the Rosary in the right place at the right time. Questions and inquisitive diatribes rolled on and on like a river through the wood in his mind. He could sit and ask questions about the Rosary for days, but there was a time and place for everything and this was neither. “I appreciate you calling me master, but that honorific has yet to be appropriate. Continue if you wish. I will not hamper the behavior. Also, I do have more questions, but I must think for a moment on the things I have seen before I elaborate more.” Roene said, looking toward the sky and watching as it returned to its normal state. Roene thought deeply, letting the cool breeze of Tython play across his scalp and setting his hair to dance in the wind. And just when he thought he could feel the balance of his mind settle once more, he heard a sharp ‘BARK’ cut through the silence behind him. Even with all his forethought and awareness, the Cerean jumped a little at the sudden sound. His position didn’t change much, but tiny goose-bumps formed on his arms and legs and he hopped a good inch into the air. Roene was about to turn around with something resembling ire coloring his features, but found an overjoyed smile instead. His animal companion Tyue had come to join the two of them on the Hillock and Roene was glad for the added company. “Kyrie,” Roene said, while trying to fend off the ecstatic canine, “this is Tyue. He is a Garral pup that I befriended years ago. His mother resides on Tython and so do his brother and sisters.” Roene scratched Tyue behind his ears a little and gave him a nice scratch under his chin with his good hand. Then, while continuing to absently show his animal companion some much needed affection and scanning through his thoughts, he found it. “Aha!” Roene exclaimed. “I remember where I heard your name before. Xae-Lin. I was there or at least in the area when she took you on as an apprentice. But… That was a long time ago. You must be nearing your trials then, correct?” Roene remained sitting and looked inquisitively at the woman. His pale blue eyes met her Jade ones with kind openness, reading whatever answers he could through the articulation of her expression. He looked at: the grace of her eyes, the crest of her nose, the depth or warmth of her cheeks, the animation of her eyebrows and the positioning of her mouth. Warmth spread through him and he stood. Then he took a bow and smiled deeply. “I would be honored to give you your trials, if that is your wish.” Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Kyrie Eleison Posted November 12, 2016 Share Posted November 12, 2016 “I appreciate you calling me master, but that honorific has yet to be appropriate. Continue if you wish. I will not hamper the behavior. Also, I do have more questions, but I must think for a moment on the things I have seen before I elaborate more." The sound of an animal's yowling bark rolled through the troubled thoughts through which Kyrie was processing. It’s echos were not ones of evil intent, but as a greeting. The feelings of joy, a bond of loyalty reverberated through The Song, drawing her emerald eyes to the running form of a happy canine that came bounding to the Cerean. “Kyrie, this is Tyue. He is a Garral pup that I befriended years ago. His mother resides on Tython and so do his brother and sisters.” The young exorcist smiled broadly, rising from her reclined position in the swaying fronds of the sweet-smelling grass and extended a scarred hand to the Garral, changing her Song to one of greeting and kindness. She had often found much more comfort in the company of animals, then amongst sentient beings. Whispers of silver flame clung to the marked and pale skin of her hand, causing the Tyue’s eyes to glitter in its reflection. The Naturalist’s exclamation drew her eyes back to him “I remember where I heard your name before. Xae-Lin. I was there or at least in the area when she took you on as an apprentice. But… That was a long time ago. You must be nearing your trials then, correct?” Kyrie brushed a braid from her vision, placing it behind an ear and locked eyes with the Cerean, opening up her connection to him within the Force. The cross on her rosary twisted lazily in the gentle wind casting a shadow upon her wrist. To a watchful eye, the shadow began to drip, and echoes of sadness passed into the song, like ripples upon a placid lake. Kyrie spoke softly, her stutter slurring her words “M-master Xae-e fell int-to the darkness, h-her spirit is obscurred-d” With a twinge of frustration Kyrie abandoned physical speech. Basic tasted bitter upon her tongue. She opened the Song to the rush of joy she had felt when she had sensed her master’s presence upon Tython, and then the disappointing shadow of its disappearance. “I would be honored to give you your trials, if that is your wish.” Kyrie exhaled in a gentle sigh of relief, allowing a calmness to wash over her face, smoothing her expressions to tranquility. “Teach me what I must do to pass from apprentice to Knight, so i can bring hope to this Galaxy, so fraught with destruction and evil” As if beckoned by newfound hope, the voice of Il-Andon rose in her mind, clear for all connected to hear voice stern and dark, bearing the Corellian accent of his youth .::Beware the path laid to you of a naturalist, through their desires of healing they may try and quench the firebrand you carry. Crackling flame may burn a forest to embers, to the horror of those in tune of nature… But that is the blessing of The Exorcist. To burn away corruption, like an overgrown forest, to make a path for new and uncorrupted life::. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Roene Givrah Posted November 13, 2016 Share Posted November 13, 2016 Considering that both Kyrie and Il Andon preferred to speak through the force, Roene adjusted his speech until he was exclusively speaking to both through the power of his mind. He kept his tone open and welcoming, but Andon's last remark brooked an equally bold response. Don't underestimate my understanding Andon. I may not be an Exorcist, but as a Naturalist and a scribe, I have come to understand many things. The elements are a significant point of study for me... Roene paused for a moment and from his standing position, the Cerean made a steady circle with his hands and arms. Each limb was at a precise point in each articulation, forming as close to a perfect circle as possible. Roene’s feet moved only slightly with the articulation of his upper body, and the warmth in the flesh of his right hand intensified as he moved, slowly blooming into amber flame. Fire is not just destruction and desecration. Roene let the flame get larger and dance slowly around each of his fingers. It also creates new life. Roene let the flames rest in his palm. He looked at Kyrie and with a steady hand, passed the fire to his wooden hand. Like a starved fambaa, the fire accepted its new perch with glee. It consumed the hand with rabid fury and threatened to climb all the way up the Cerean's arm. But the coolness at the base of the wooden arm filtered through Roene's body and he used that sensation to calm the torrent. The flames fluttered for a few moments, struggling to maintain their intensity, but with time they began to subside. Once the flames were completely exhausted, Roene tilted his arm to completely reveal the scorched bark that climbed from the bottom of his fingertips to the bulk of wood closer to his chest. The Cerean held back a few winces as the pain played through his synapses, but it was clear that he had experience with this particular form of exhibition. In the ashes of death, new life is born. With effort, Roene’s mind centered and the bark that was blackened and charred began to renew. A green leaf pushed timidly through the black and as it climbed to the surface, the entire arm began to restore itself. The black slowly regained its healthy ruddy hue and the Cerean was even able to flex his fingers again without struggle. Now, I don’t claim to know everything about everything. In fact, the moment I did that, I would stop truly learning anything. Roene said as he resumed a seated position beside Kyrie. Tyue waited patiently for Roene to sit and then scampered over to him to kneel at his side. But I have read about Exorcists. Their skills are legend, but the burden they carry is heavy. The information on them is small, because the order is for the most part a secret, but I have read much on Il Andon. I have also read about Revan and Revan’s trials during the Mandalorian wars. Nonetheless, I believe I have the necessary skills to give Kyrie her trials. Roene thought a bit more about his own trials. The survival in the woods, the construction of the Jedi temple, befriending Tyue, and conquering his deepest-seated fears. The individual tasks were a mess and not necessarily worth recounting, but to truly be who he was now, he had to take every step. That said, Kyrie, you have already gone through much. You have faced your own demons; you have fought against a Sith in combat and preformed Exorcist acts on him. You have witnessed the fall of your own master and stood against the dark side when it mattered most. You have done and experienced almost every single point of what a padawan’s trials are supposed to be. Per the definition of what trials signify, Padawans must go through nine steps of trial: teamwork, isolation, fear, anger, betrayal, focus, instinct, forgiveness, protection. I feel you have done these in your past, but before I Knight you, I want to learn more of you. Roene nodded lightly. He took mental notes of his surroundings and then stood. His eyes were soft and he looked at Kyrie. Follow me into the chamber of memories and there we will complete your trials. Roene walked down the side of the hillock, prompting Kyrie to follow. Mentally, Roene asked for Tyue to remain behind, because this would be a private meeting. The Cerean continued through the shrouded sanctuary entrance and into the main cavern. He mentally instructed each Jedi nearby to leave the chamber of memories and he walked further inside, into the heart of the Sanctuary. It was there, deep in the dark, that Roene sat. Azure light cascaded around him, but there were no torches. There were no lamps. This place was so saturated by the force, that thoughts were made manifest. Memories became more than simple words. They seemed to take on a life of their own. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Kyrie Eleison Posted November 13, 2016 Share Posted November 13, 2016 .::Naturalist, if only your kind had understood in my day. Perhaps Malachor could have been avoided and most of my order not be lost forever to the plague of our hubris::. Kyrie closed her emerald eyes, letting the wind play over her skin as it wound across the hillock. She listened in silence to her master’s words to Il-Andon. Follow me into the chamber of memories and there we will complete your trials A small murmur of excitement rose within the young exorcist’s heart, the increase of her heart’s rate echoed in the increase of the rhythm of the song. The sweet smell of the grass gave way to the dank moss of the caverns as Kyrie followed her master into their depths, her black leather boots gripping to the cavern floor, moving through algae and guano, stirring insects about them like a cloud Each footstep brought her deeper into The Force, she had never been anywhere as powerful and rich in The Song. It reverberated with ancient voices, the teachings of a thousand masters, the despair of failure and the joy of victory. Within this sanctum countless knights had been born, and so many turned away broken-hearted. Cold air coated her throat as she breathed, chilling her to the core. She let her body sink into the rhythm of the song, allowing music to envelop her physical discomfort and carry it away like a strong wind. The footsteps of thousands echoed within her mind, and Kryie followed them to where her Master sat. Crossing her legs, she sat upon the chamber’s floor, feeling the leaching cold drawing the warmth from her legs. She felt a stammering cry within the Force, her past was trying to break its prison and it had the power of a starved rancor. She shuddered and settled her mind, tuning it to The Naturalist. Kryie pulled one of her blackened stiletto daggers from its sheath on her belt, holding it outstretched, gripped in her half-gloved hand. The blade’s edge gleamed in the dim azure of the cavern light and upon it a small figure of silver flame walked with careful balance. “The burden of an exorcist is like this figure. Slip but a millimeter to one side and you fall. From fighting off the darkness, to becoming its pawn. I am ready for my trials…” Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Roene Givrah Posted November 13, 2016 Share Posted November 13, 2016 ((I have been allowed to post simple actions for Kyrie, such as deep breathing and meditation stance correction.)) Good With silent, careful steps, Roene moved to the side of the chamber. He prompted Kyrie not to follow him and resumed a seated position at the edge of the room. He crossed his legs together and let his mind wander. He took deep breaths one after another. In and out… In and out… Hear my voice Kyrie. Roene’s calm voice suffused the cavern walls. His open will embraced the open space and he allowed his notes to fill the air. His song burned bright here, to show Kyrie she was safe, for the moment. We will be taking you into your mind. One step at a time we will delve further into your subconscious. If at any time you wish to stop. If at any time you don’t wish to continue, all you need to do is let me know. I will pull you out, but know that you will fail your trials if you leave early. I can’t promise this won’t be painful. Roene’s voice echoed and pulsed with the azure lights that flickered around the room. There are old memories here; memories that gathered here when the structure was made. This cavern was specially chosen and shaped in the ground to harness the pure force energy imbued in the ground. Caution should be exercised, but do not be afraid to let your mind wander. The force, as you know, is not inherently evil. It simply is. We are all a part of it and it is what we do and how we think that defines what shape the force takes. The exorcist is the warrior that stands on the edge of a knife, as you say. They know the truest form of the force and fight to preserve the harmony in the force more than any other Jedi in existence. This is not an arrogant stance, it simply is. Naturalists work to keep balance in nature, to embrace the natural world, but that is just another machination of the force. We all are. Guardians work to preserve order, Consulars use the power of the force to achieve their goals, the Jedi Ace works with machines and many other subsets do what they can do in their own way, to practice the force. But the Exorcist is the essential part that holds balance in place. They believe in the force, not in selfish mortal whims like wants or needs. The responsibilities you carry are heavy and we must look deep in your mind to see if you are ready to face them. Are you ready? Kyrie silently nods in acceptance. Good, then follow my instructions closely. You will feel tingling sensations in your arm throughout this journey, because I will be remotely drawing upon Il-Andon’s power. You will also not be able to hear him on your journey. But do not be alarmed, we will be here when you return. Here we go… Roene let his words drift into the stone for a moment or two before resuming. His voice came back in a slow whisper. Padawan, please kneel on the floor. Feel the stone breathe beneath your legs and let the cold sensations climb up through your skin. Let your heart open. Let your body relax and still. Let your mind clear and breathe deeply with the stone, in and out… In through your nose and out through your mouth… In and out… In and out… In… Out… With her mind, open, Kyrie was wrenched into a riot of color. Blue clarity ripped through red passion and mixed into a purple uncertainty. Roene’s voice ceased to be and the cavern melted away. She was left on her own, drifting through a chaotic river of unknown design. Everything seemed to warp and change around her. The world she knew was no longer certain and when the craziness seemed to halt, it only got more virulent. Spirals of painful recognition pounded into her brain. Golden streams of pleasant feeling seemed to billow around her, but they were out of reach. They danced away from her. If she focused, she could hear a small sound echoing off in the distance. It started off small, but then grew into a fever pitch and began hammering into the center of her forehead with amazing intensity. Then it was over… The feeling abrupt and sudden; darkness surrounded her. It was cold here, screams echoed off the walls and pain was ever present. The exhibition evinced a clear feeling of death. But not far away from Kyrie, stood a titan of shadow. The shadow loomed over everything and glared down at her with hungry red eyes. It was shrouded in a cloak of pure night and its teeth and face were obscured, except for crimson eyes. It grasped a glowing fiery saber in one hand and a terrible cudgel in the other. Inert forms were gathered at the shadow’s feet and like a giant, the shadow ignored them. It saw its new prey. It saw its new quarry. Fury, hunger, pain and gluttony rained down from the Shadow in equal amount and it closed the distance on her rapidly. There was no mercy in its gaze, only malice… Roene’s calm words were no longer present here. Kyrie was alone. Il Andon’s counsel was absent. Kyrie was alone. The red eyes closed in, threatening to snuff her out. The shadow lashed out and cast its cudgel straight at the Exorcist’s head. It would be quick, and he would have his fill. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Kyrie Eleison Posted November 17, 2016 Share Posted November 17, 2016 The grasping tendrils of cold climbed through her skin, burrowing into her muscles, spreading like ice in her veins as she meditated on the words of The Naturalist. The connection from which she had so often perceived The Song was no longer hers, the rosary was silent, and the voices with whom her heart sang had been silenced. Fear was weaving its way through her, following the path of the cold through her body. Her breaths came heavier, and more laboured. In Out In… Colour bloomed into her mind, shattering the ice and fear that obscured it. The young exorcist reeled back at the influx of colours, stumbling against the stone floor, her muscles stiff and cold. With the colours, overpowering voices and rhythms shook her body, scintillating scents never before smelled sent her mind tumbling. This was truly the power of the Song. Power beyond measure could be found within the Force. It dwarfed the power of her own fiery heart. Have you for so long only relied on you own strength? Shimmering golden flames enveloped her, just beyond the reach of her scarred hands I am only a conduit for these words never sung… So much power screaming to be let through me… And just as swiftly as it had begun, the visions had ended and Kyrie was left cold within the darkness. She felt void of her flame, her songs, her passions. Thud Thud Thud What is that… Drums in the deep… A flash of searing pain burrowed into her flesh, carried by echoing screams, ensnaring her like an arachnid’s web, pulling her eyes towards the sound’s genesis. Kyrie’s emerald eye’s flashed as she gazed upon an ancient evil. An ancient form of darkness, marked of the shadows, its eyes a pure crimson, blood on fire. Cold air drew through Kyrie’s pale lips in a hiss, her feet weak beneath her. It was a visage of all the deadly sins ..Aimênu Ñgwalaraukô… Fear sparked the flames anew in her heart as she watched the beast begin to move for her. The instincts for self preservation were a quick, yet tenuous connection to the living Force. Into this connection she threw her panicked mind, letting the whispering songs and laments give it hope, slowing heartbeats and steadying motion. She placed her hands together, fingers interwoven. She could feel small beads of perspiration rise through the scars on her hands. Kyrie did not rely on the physical weapons she might have, the daggers on her belt, The Force was a great enough ally. She let the music rise about her, spinning upon her fingers tendrils of silver flame. She steadied her feet upon the slick and unfamiliar surface, gathering The Force about her. She had witnessed its power moments ago, but its true strength still lay out of reach. When the cold of winter comes Starless night will cover day In the veiling of the sun We walk in bitter rain... As the beast made its approach, she leapt aside from its charge and the clumsy swing of its cudgel. She extended a flaming hand and let it touch the beast as she flew past. The shadows felt almost immaterial beneath her fingertips, but her fire would find its purchase. Upon the small flames she called the power of the Light, from the darkness of her past the redemption of sins. From the death of her family, life had been made anew. The Force reverberated bright, reflecting through her song But in dreams I can hear your name And in my dreams We will meet again... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Roene Givrah Posted November 19, 2016 Share Posted November 19, 2016 But in dreams I can hear your name And in my dreams We will meet again... We will meet again… Will meet… again… Again… The shadow took its move, but its move was a terrific folly. The silver flame answered Kyrie’s call like the pull of a piccolo, rising above a massive orchestra. It was as an echo in this place; an echo of her righteous symphony that before had built into a powerful movement; a movement that could fell the strongest of hearts. Her power, though muted, rang as clear as a bell. It struck with her will and her luminous spirit. It shone like a bright star in this dreary crimson existence, but the sound of her brilliant tones was distant. It was small, but her heart fought against its fear and joined the tune with a soulful soprano that pooled in the air against the monster’s trembling baritone. With a single master stroke, the young Jedi felled the shadowy Sith as it lorded over her. Its single, crude, malicious effort to rend the Jedi asunder with its cudgel was thwarted. The massive behemoth of shadow and sin gawked down at her with disbelief as her righteous power drove the corruption from its soul, but many feelings – many passions – remained in its stead. Shards of darkness broke from its body and a coruscating shower of remorse and sorrow accompanied them. The shadowy goliath that had once daunted Kyrie, trembled to its knees under the weight of every misdeed it had accomplished, but powerful crimson passion - fleeting echoes of its tyrannical gluttony - started to rain from the charcoal colored sky. Feelings reminiscent of strong bonds that the young Jedi had lost, streaked past her ghostly form with abandon and crashed to the floor with the grace of shattering brass cymbals. Each shard from the shadow's dark form resonated with memories of loss and despair. And each shard echoed off the billowing ambiguity of Kyrie’s surroundings. Among these shards, that glittered silently in the dark all around Kyrie, were large lumps. They were non-descript at first, but each one sang out with… Uncertainty. Moans in the dark, took varying parts, leaping out with discordant melodies. All the feelings that imbued this single moment, played at uncertainty around Kyrie’s mind and it remained unclear what the path forward would mean. The charcoal colored sky was replaced with the myriad of colors from before. The colors that followed as she transitioned to this world of shadow, but instead of shifting her environment, Kyrie remained in this place, rooted momentarily to the ground. Upon closer observation, liquid began to pool all around her. It was a dark liquid and had no smell, but the consistency was thick and murky. The body of the shadowy behemoth had faded away and fog started to creep in. It was here that a purple note stood out in the darkness. A long whole note that broke on the edge of sharp and flat, pulled at her mind and begged her to proceed. The fog that had crept, was now erupting from the liquid, obscuring the path. And after a while, the path seemed to disappear amidst the thick field of vapor. But, deep in the cloud, a small light punctured the obscurity. The forms on the ground took on an identity. And one of the forms, a man, that lay a great distance from where Kyrie stood, was decapitated and spread across the ground; long white hair stained crimson, decapitated and lifeless, lying in an ever-spreading pool of blood. A shrouded figure, all in black, stood at the end of her journey. The figure held a lantern and kept its hand outstretched, offering passage. Its face was obscure and its eyes were hollow. It was unclear what intentions this phantom promised. It was unclear where they would lead… _______________________________________________________________________ Outside, Roene felt Dahar’s message come into his mind like a bell sounding in the distance. Wanting to divert attention from his message, for the moment, Roene shielded Kyrie’s mind from receiving it. Roene would relay the message once the trial was over, whether Kyrie was to be knighted, or not. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Kyrie Eleison Posted November 22, 2016 Share Posted November 22, 2016 Kyrie’s emerald eyes shone with silver fire as she watched the beast fade back into the darkness from which it had spawned. She felt stronger than before, but she knew most of it was simply the swell of pride, filling her soul with corruption like a slick of oil spreading upon a virgin river. She consciously swallowed it back into her mind, letting the fires of The Force purify it from pride into self-assurance. She let the tension out of her shoulders, feeling the thrill of adrenaline slowly draining away as the visage of evil faded. Perhaps this nightmare is at an end? Kyrie’s relieved sigh caught in her throat, snarling into a hiss as dark water began to pool up around her blackened boots. Fog thick as smoke crept about her, but instead of the sickly tar of a bog, only the faint metallic scent of blood wound its way into her mind. Bitter and familiar, she could smell the reek of death, mixed with the tang of ozone. Above it all rose the smell of burning food and overused household chemicals. Within her mind it conjured a primal uncertainty, the fear of her past. Home? Through pale light she could make out the crumpled figures of bodies, too distant yet to be discerned except for one. Long unkempt white hair soaking into a pool of crimson blood. Father! All of Kyrie’s being screamed for her to run to his side, cradle him in her arms, breath life back into his being. To hear his laughs again. To smell him as he held her in the old cradleback mahogany chair, sharp spiced rum with a dark twinge of pipeweed... Mother’s tinkling laughter at another crude joke taken from the factory floor… Her pale, scarred fingers covered her mouth to keep within a primal scream, seeing him dead once again. Her hands felt cold and dead, and fear ran through her muscles, her flesh tightening about her. A dark and familiar figure rose from the dark water, like a ruler of a dreary coast, a sordid god with eyes like furnaces blazing into eternity. His ghostly hand outstretched offering a path through the roiling waves. When it spoke, it’s maw drawing in all light, it was her father’s voice You could save us Kyrie… Save us from the devourer… We could all be happy once more… Kyrie’s voice was faint, and it took every measure of her strength to work past the lump in her throat “No… I-I-I… I-I…" Tears burned in their warmth as they filled her eyes, overflowing their banks, running in rivulets down her face, leaving lines of burning fire upon her flesh. Her words were barely a whispering sob of stuttering words “I h-have… I have to let you g-go…” Reaching out with a shaking hand she channeled her emotions into flame, an inferno of sorrow to burn away the grasping hands that tied her to her past. ...There is no Death… There is The Force… Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Roene Givrah Posted November 22, 2016 Share Posted November 22, 2016 Breathe deep Roene… Breathe deep… Sweat poured viciously down the Cerean’s coned head. His thoughts wavered, but were pushed back into crystal clarity. He had to frequently wrestle with his own concentration, and was trying to guide several things at the same time. But their weaves were more complicated than he expected. It was a power struggle on a colossally intimate scale, but he promised Kyrie that he would help her. He promised her he would do something. He was here, he would do what he could. Where his strength faltered, he reached for the force all around him and fought to utilize the power that the cave granted him. He even pulled from the rosary that Kyrie held, to support his effort. It was rough, even with the enlightenment brought by his own experiences, but he would make it. He was trying to: suppress the influence of Il-Andon, for the moment, shield Kyrie’s mind from distraction, and heal her physical body as well. It was all proving to be quite taxing, but Roene was holding together. He used the energy in his own body to fight against his flagging concentration, and used the cave as well as the powers of the rosary to assist with the internal and exterior struggles pertaining to Kyrie. Gleaming sapphire light circled Kyrie’s body, diffusing the dark fire etched into her skin. Her wounds ran deep. Her wounds were those left by careless hands. They were left by hands that sought to do harm without regard to anything else. They were powerful marks, imbued with the hatred of the Sith that granted them. He may not have known the permanence of his impact on her, but with effort, the Cerean pulled away at her lasting physical scars. She would face the world anew. She would burn the scars internally and he would burn the scars externally. To be truly free, she would have to accept and let go of who she was. And in so doing, she would face the world as who she would become… _______________________________________________________ Specters reached out to her, but her purifying tears held them at bay. She released her emotional hold on them and the specters began to drift slowly into space… Like a long stretch after a day of labor, a feeling of release filled the abstract chamber. The fog slowly drifted from its place of rest and a moment of clarity started to take its place. The lumps that lay unceremoniously at her side, drifted away with the liquid surrounding her feet. And the stench that pervaded was no longer the acrid stench of death. It was replaced with evening unrest and dead grass. For a moment, Kyrie was simply floating in space. The fog was less oppressive here, but it still hung all around her. There was a strong gray ambiguity that played across the horizon. There was no backdrop. There were no actors. At least, no actors that were immediately present. She simply was, and for a moment, that was all that mattered… But the moment didn’t last. Color resumed, if muted, and Kyrie was launched back into her mind’s metaphorical reality. With a light but physical thump, she landed within the hollow of a tree. The pale grass, shallow in root and scattered around her in patches, blew steadily in the evening’s cold breeze. Upon the wind, songs of death filled with sorrow, echoed across the clearing. When the fog cleared, Kyrie could see the tree behind her and her vision opened to the clear, darkened gray sky of somewhere familiar, but distant. A large structure stood silent in the distance. Smoke billowed from its fragile corpse and many feelings rest in its walls. Someone important was nearby. Someone significant. But it didn’t matter. There were voices in the darkness. Figures emerged from her surroundings. Their forms were vague at first. But with time, they grew in specificity. The main figure, bigger than the rest, was unmistakably Barabel. His reptilian form looked slimy and unkempt in his red and black robes, but his eyes were filled with malice and his mind was bent on destruction. He looked at Kyrie like a wolf at a rabbit, and reveled in her vulnerability. “Such bold words to come from one so young.” The Barabal said. His words rang as if in a large cavern and the weight he placed on each ‘s’ signified his reptilian speech affectation. “Tell me Jedi… Have you ever fully witnessed the true power of the Dark Side of the Force? Because I have. And every time I have seen the Light clash against the Dark, the Light has fallen. What makes you think that you will have a chance of defeating me?” The Barabel finished and nine other figures became even clearer between the trees that surrounded Kyrie. They each held weapons in their arms. They each held one singular focus in their mind and in their actions. “And if you do, what will it matter? It will be a small victory for the Jedi, but they will surely fall before the power of the Sith. However, if you truly wish to fight me, let’s see what you’re made of.” The Barabel seethed. His mind was twisted and a familiar snap-hiss brought to light the crimson fire in his hand. Kyrie was surrounded. Her mind was her own, but she was up against the wall. The lightsaber was unquestionable… The Barabel stopped his men from intervening. But even with that promise, the Sith leapt with terrible force at the Exorcist, threatening to end her existence. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Kyrie Eleison Posted December 2, 2016 Share Posted December 2, 2016 Kyrie’s body felt heavy, the emotional pain of her past like weights bearing her to the ground. She wished for the sweet release of forgetting. To forget was easier than the pain of accepting and healing. To forget was the easy path, a path she wished for more than anything. The world about her was changing, washing away like the streaking of ink on paper. The colours swirled about her, highlighting her emotions. To choose an easy path is how many Jedi stray into darkness…. The young Exorcist felt her stomach rise into her throat as she suddenly fell through the painting of colours, ripping into a new reality as if waking from a dream. The new reality was grim, painted in death and war. Kyrie felt the roughness of knobbled bark rasp against her pale skin as she stumbled against an ancient tree, shattered and in flames. The wind blew the dark smoke into curls, carrying it away into the horizon to join the billows of smoke erupting from crumbling buildings. A scene all too familiar ...Gala’s Praxeum… So many died here under the Sith assault… A low hiss filtered through the wind, causing a cold shiver to crawl its way down her spine. Kyrie turned, focusing her body’s fear into strength, harnessing her body’s natural instincts to fight. Her emerald eyes reflected deep orange in the flickering firelight as she gazed upon the source of the sound. The Sith Barabel, Gonzo Lockjaw. ...Sith always had odd names. This one was Lorded by that Hutt… The Fallen Lord of Madness… Her fists clenched, and she could feel the bite of her nailbitten fingernails into the flesh of her palms. The pain let her keep focused. The Barabel’s voice invaded her ears, driving with it fear “Tell me Jedi… Have you ever fully witnessed the true power of the Dark Side of the Force? Because I have. And every time I have seen the Light clash against the Dark, the Light has fallen. What makes you think that you will have a chance of defeating me?” She was weaponless, but she knew only The Song would be her ally now. She had been separated from her fallen Master. The Song rang with death and anger. The peacefulness of Gala had disappeared, replaced by a black veil from which all matter of demons spewed forth. There was so little light left to harness. Kyrie observed the surrounding forces of Sith warriors, badly trained vagrants mostly, well armed but vulnerable to the influence of The Force. As the Barabel continued his stereotypical monologue, she began to weave The Force within her. The only light she needed was from within. From The Force came her power, and from her mind was her strength. She opened the pathway from the flame in her heart to her mind, letting the fire build and magnify around the good memories, from thoughts of love. Fear would be driven back into the void. Just as a crystal can focus the energy of a lightsaber into a weapon, so Kyrie beckoned the power of the Light into its physical manifestation. “And if you do, what will it matter? It will be a small victory for the Jedi, but they will surely fall before the power of the Sith. However, if you truly wish to fight me, let’s see what you’re made of.” The Exorcist smiled, letting her eyes be the only active gateway through which the power gathering could be witnessed. They shone bright and silver in the shadows, like heated steel within a forge. Her tongue was no longer twisted as she spoke, her words uninterrupted as the Barabel rushed forward “Only a candle is needed to keep the darkness at bay...” Twisting her arms, she let forth the stored power, leaping to the side. From her scarred hands extended a spear of pure light, its woven song screaming into the darkness the strength of the light. Setting her feet like an ancient Centurian, she let him come. There was no need to flee from the power of Darkness. Compared to the light, it would always lose. The Sith’s leap would carry him directly upon the beacon of light, where no darkness could survive Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Roene Givrah Posted December 3, 2016 Share Posted December 3, 2016 The world trembled around Kyrie at the inception of her move. The trees waxed and waned under her power, but the Sith soldiers – the ones that stood silent watch around them – didn’t move. The dark shadow of Gonzo Lockjaw met the spear of pure light and shattered into dust upon its mighty cleansing power; the expression of fury, etched into his reptilian face. His rage and anger, torrential in their abundance, fell into the air and dissipated into the cold evening fog. But, the moment did not shift as it had before. The poetic colors that had swirled around Kyrie at the conclusion of each moment, did not come. This challenge was not over… Silence filled the clearing. The Sith soldiers stood sentinel… Then, like a twig underfoot, a cackle interrupted the silence. And the shadowy dust that had been the Sith, began to stir. “You remember this place. You remember the feelings you felt here, the sights you saw and the terrible tragedies you experienced.” A hollow voice echoed throughout the clearing. The dark Sith soldiers stood silent, as the grave, while a swirling cloud of black wove its way through them. “You remember the Sith you fought, and how much you yearned to kill him. You wanted to strike him down. You wanted to rid the world of his darkness. You hated him and what his Sith were doing to the temple, just like you hated the Sith that took advantage of you and killed your family.” Each word built in volume and with every syllable uttered, the visage of black smoke began to increase in size and clarity. “You stood over his body, hesitant. You wanted to kill him, but you suppressed that and gave him a gift that he relinquished. He didn’t want your charity. The Sith aren’t merciful, they deserve the righteous hand of death and as such their fate deserves no contestation.” The final words broke on the bow of the tree, behind Kyrie. The words collided together in front of the young Jedi and the fog began to gather at the point where the Barabel fell. A form began to solidify from the congealing darkness: Black robes billowed out of the cloud, followed by a blackened belt with a dark green buckle. Its skin was dark and mottled grey. It stood eye-to-eye with Kyrie and smiled, menacingly. It had hair, which frayed about its head in loose braids and its eyes, were dark. It stared deeply into Kyrie’s jade eyes with pits of dark nightmare that had no irises or pupils. Its eyes were simply, black, with little else to describe. It held a long scabbard in both of its scarred hands and a silver blade began to illuminate the darkened clearing. “Your pain and anguish don’t deserve to be smothered. Give in, let the darkness become you and you will conquer your foes. Let the rage consume you and you will be lethal still. Fight me and become a warrior of rage, tearing the Sith down with their own weapon and destroying them all.” Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Kyrie Eleison Posted December 6, 2016 Share Posted December 6, 2016 Kyrie stood slowly from her stance, watching the visage of Gonzo dissolve into white ash, a whirlwind of pain and sorrow, fading into bitter anguish. The emotions stole into her mind, she had hoped to give the Sith a gift that day, to purify him of his evil. Was that her calling, or was it to tear down the evil around her by the sword. Lost souls to be purified, or cast into hell’s fire? Are my own actions evil? Should I have struck him down, banished him from this world? Kyrie’s mind whirled with the thoughts of the past, her eyes watching the shifting dust as if hoping from the dust would rise her own redemption. From the shadows clawed evil words, a mimicry of her own thoughts. It spoke of her past, its tragedies. Do I hate the Sith? She could feel the blood coursing through her veins, driven by adrenaline. The pounding of her heart and the hissing of blood in her ears drowned out The Song. A shape began to gather itself in ash. Hate… Warm tears welled within her eyes, threatening to spill over onto her scarred cheeks. Is my hate a powerful weapon to channel my righteousness? Through the blur of tear-filled eyes she watched the shadows coalesce, from it crawling the shape of a human, the darkness birthing it into the physical world before her. The blur cleared, and she looked upon herself, only with a smile and eyes that portrayed the evil within. No flame flickered within them, this was no reflection, it was soulless. It’s words mimicked her voice, but brought with it the sharpness of an evil tongue “Your pain and anguish don’t deserve to be smothered. Give in, let the darkness become you and you will conquer your foes. Let the rage consume you and you will be lethal still. Fight me and become a warrior of rage, tearing the Sith down with their own weapon and destroying them all.” Kyrie stepped back, letting the silver blade of the being’s lightsaber divide them. On one side, darkness, the other, the light. Hate had never served her and she would never be its serve When the true Kyrie spoke, her words were her own “Hate leads to suffering. And I’ve suffered long enough.” The young exorcist stretched out a hand, scarred and pale, and placed it on the cheek of her fallen self. The flesh was ice-cold, but Kyrie’s internal fire kept the cold at bay. If she was to be struck down, her own visage would die with her “I will not fight you, we are to find balance with each other. Your darkness will make my light all the brighter. I will not fall to your rage, we will walk this line together.” Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Roene Givrah Posted December 9, 2016 Share Posted December 9, 2016 A small warmth filled the clearing, and the Sith shadows that previously stood sentinel, whooshed away on the phantom wind that swirled around them. Silence followed closely after and, for a moment, there was peace in the clearing. The fires in the distance slowed. The smoke that filled the forest began to dissipate and the woodland creatures stilled their lively music to listen to the Exorcist as she spoke. Her words were true, and although passionate, they were strong and confident; unbidden by the chaos of her surroundings or emotions. The shadow grimaced at her response, but at her touch – and the fire that followed - the shadow melted. Its icy cold skin suffused the warmth of Kyrie’s own pale body. It climbed across the illusory garments that Kyrie’s visage was wearing and didn’t stop combing over the Padawan’s figure, until she was completely consumed in an inky blackness. The murky substance clawed at her mind and tried in vain to seduce the Exorcist, but Kyrie was resolved. The words she uttered echoed throughout the clearing and when declaration had faded, the inky black had changed into a radiant light, illuminating the dark clearing and lighting a path forward, through the battle field. Bodies littered the field, robed and grey. Their sacrifices lost in this ambiguous memory. Meaningful only to those who remembered. The temple lay off in the distance, destroyed in more ways than one. Pieces of its outer structure lay all over the field and from the blast, people lay crushed under rubble and various debris. But the setting was grey. The light was dim and the world felt distant. It was as if the event was distilled into one massive cloud of ice. Nothing moved, nothing stirred and nothing made a sound. Except… One light shone bright off in the distance, illuminating the body of a woman, fallen on the field. Her armaments and possessions – broken beyond repair – were splayed around her in a halo of destruction and despair. Her body was small and curled around her center of mass. Her hair was long and auburn, but matted with a dark, unmistakable substance. Her eyes were closed behind delicate eyelids. And in a field of gray, she was the only thing that had color. Whispers floated around the body. Significant points of history that culminated into a single moment ended at this point, bringing a strong light to bear for the Padawan to see, amongst the destruction wrought by the Sith. _______ Using an immense amount of mental focus and pushing his limits, Roene used Xae's last message to Kyrie and transferred it to Kyrie in a way that, hopefully, would keep the illusion alive. _______ If the Padawan chose to draw near, the body's whispers would become clearer... Kyrie...I fear that unless she is prepared to face and forgive the darkness and anger of her past, much as I did for my own trials, then she is not truly ready for Knighthood. She was chosen for a dangerous and unique path. As an Exorcist, we seek harmony with the Dark Side, but that doesn't mean we loose the Light or give into our own darkness to find that balance. We cleanse and heal the Darkness from the galaxy, but we do not become the monster ourselves no matter the temptations. To become a true Exorcist I had to cleanse the darkness from within myself and find peace. She must do the same. I have faith in her, for she is strong. Other words, foreign words, mingled in with those; words that sounded somewhat familiar in tone and consistency. Let go of the ties that bind. You are the blade upon which others are judged, but you are impartial. You can't let others hold your will, but you can't surrender it either. You are the balance that you wish to create in the world. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Kyrie Eleison Posted December 13, 2016 Share Posted December 13, 2016 Kyrie could feel the leaching frigidity of the demon as it crawled across her skin, her body’s heat seeping away, leaving behind only the fire of the Force. The young Exorcist felt the smothering cold begin to draw her in, clamping down on her lungs, making it difficult to breath. Physical strength began to fail, muscles drained of their energy. When all strength fails, all that remains is The Force… The fire within her heart, and within her mind began to pump warmth throughout her, driving away the darkness. Each heartbeat was a battle that through only the Force she could win. Kyrie’s emerald eyes flickered open, the demon’s black tendrils no longer clouding their vision. Before her the remains of battle lay strewn about, drained of colour, just as her muscles had been drained of their energy. Everything, either black or white, either light or darkness. No shades of grey… Within the her mind, a battle raged, war between her past and her future. Behind the flames within her eyes her mind had been opened. Each sealed little box within she had once stored each painful memory had been shattered. Her series of compartmentalization, through which she kept her mind her own, was now gone. A tightness seized her breath, tension rising in the muscles of her neck. Panic, like an arachnid, was weaving and drawing its web about her mind and body. She struggled for breath, for a taste of sweet refreshment, something to clear away the forming fog of fear. The Song was muted to her, filled instead with the hiss of her heartbeat growing louder in her ears. The heartbeats hammered into her chest, threatening to break through her ribcage with their intensity. About her swirled the fog of fear, filled with the phantoms of her past. All that drove her to fight the Sith was laid out before her in a path. The death of parents and of siblings. Their lifeless eyes, their faces contorted in their pain. A chill rose up her spine, sending bolts of ice through her shoulderblades. Her rape, her slavery. The filth which, no matter how hard she scrubbed would never leave her skin... The bitterness of bile rose in her mouth, and she tried desperately to swallow back her vomit, but it was to no avail. Her body wretched and heaved, and into the grey grass she had a release, crimson with blood Try to find the inbetween… A figure, bathed in light caught her eyes through the shimmering of the tears. Her master’s tattered armour, her body broken from battle, the only thing in the world holding its colour. The auburn hair was matted with the umber of dried blood. Even in death she was beautiful and elegant. Xae… Fighting through her weakness, the young exorcist stumbled to the side of her former master, clumps of grey sod catching onto each tread of her boots. Kyrie collapsed to her knees at the side of the shattered body, her knees impacting on wet, scarlet earth. The young Exorcist’s hands found her master’s, finding them cold and rigid to the touch as she brought it to her chest, so that her Master could feel the beating of her heart, but not even the fire within her could drive the cold from the body of Xae-Lin Ardel. Kyrie’s mouth opened in a wordless sob that shook her body to its core. For a moment she was still, frozen like the body she held. Words found themselves in time, and her song of grief was short. Holding the pain like you're holding your breath, I prayed you could sleep, sleep like a stone You're right next to me, But you're a long way from home Her words now spent, Kyrie picked a small white flower from beside her, imbuing it with her fire. She placed it into the hair of her dead master, letting the Auburn curls twist about the silver-flamed stem. She folded Xae’s hands on her chest, about the hilt of her lightsaber. It was a turning point, from the anger against injustice that drove her, to an embrace of The Force. A voice whispered into her mind, the voice of the body before her. Kyrie...I fear that unless she is prepared to face and forgive the darkness and anger of her past, much as I did for my own trials, then she is not truly ready for Knighthood. She was chosen for a dangerous and unique path. As an Exorcist, we seek harmony with the Dark Side, but that doesn't mean we lose the Light or give into our own darkness to find that balance. We cleanse and heal the Darkness from the galaxy, but we do not become the monster ourselves no matter the temptations. To become a true Exorcist I had to cleanse the darkness from within myself and find peace. The young Exorcist leaned forward and kissed the cold forehead of her master, and stood with legs no longer shaking. Through Holy Fire, all things are purified... She extended her hands, letting the Song’s rhythm flow into her and through her. She let the fire build and opened her mind. Into the flames she threw her entirety. What angered her was thrown to the fire like kindling. She would become a crucible for the Force, and from the fire the Light would shine. Kyrie let the silver flames jump from the etherial of her mind, into the physical realm, bridging the gap with her flesh. From her fingertips, Holy Flame rushed into the colourless turf, alighting bodies, consuming the stains of darkness left over from battle. Where a person had been slain, the wound in the Force was sealed and cauterized with an inferno. Last of all to be consumed, before the sky itself caught flame, was the body of Xae-Lin Ardel. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Roene Givrah Posted December 14, 2016 Share Posted December 14, 2016 Roene struggled for a moment, attempting to ease the vision out. He wanted to help her come out of the trance with ease, but Roene’s waning strength was not enough to sustain everything he was attempting to do. Between mending Kyrie’s scars, facilitating the dream-like vision Kyrie found herself in, communicating with outside Jedi and bringing their thoughts into the vision, Roene was flagging. His mind was working overtime to make sure everything was perfect, but his hands were falling. Sorry Kyrie, I… It is alright Roene, let me help you. Strange words emerged from Kyrie’s rosary. Roene knew of Il-Andon from his history books and had a passing knowledge of his role in the Mandalorian wars. But he had no idea that the ancient exorcist was actually in the rosary. It was a simple thing, but ghost hands helped Roene with the organization of his final movements. However, Il-Andon made a slight modification before the last words and motions were held. What are you doing? Roene asked Il-Andon, through the force. I want to show Kyrie one more thing before she leaves. She has done well, but I want her to see something. Be without fear, in the face of your enemies, be brave and upright, that the force would love thee, Speak the truth always, even in the face of your death, Save the helpless, and do no wrong… __________________________________________________ The vision faded into a glorious show of silver fire. Kyrie’s light, Kyrie’s love, and Kyrie’s loyalty pushed through the facsimile of the vision and the grey ether faded into blinding white. Purifying flames of white stood and consumed everything. Then, like the wink of a giant eye, the world was back. But Xae’s body, was gone. The remnants of her possessions were still scattered with very little regard, around the outline of a body that was no longer there. The green of the grass had returned to the fields and the rubble had been removed. The structure beyond was still lost, but it seemed that hope had returned to the glade. Little creatures took to the sky and played melodies of happiness to spite the rising tide of darkness that had been here only a moment before. It was surreal, but it was peaceful. The brightest light often followed the darkest storm... The clarity of the dream world faded, the darkness of the cavern that Kyrie had been in before was slowly returning. Yet, Kyrie’s body was pulled in a different direction. This direction was unfamiliar. It wasn’t part of Kyrie’s mind. This memory was foreign; distant. When Kyrie’s form stopped moving, she was inhabiting the form of another being. The building she was in was spacious and grand. There were colorful earthy tones of brown and tan all around; and metals that beautifully accented hard wood finishes. It was designed to have a very pleasant atmosphere, while not encouraging attachment. It was huge, but there was a warmth, deep in the heart of the building. The nearby window looked out to the broad expanse of the city planet Coruscant and Kyrie was outfitted in very different robes than before. A light saber hung at her hip and battle armor covered her chest and legs. People milled about, but paid her form very little attention. That is, until a young man approached her. The man looked to be in his mid-thirties. His hair was shoulder-length and brown. His eyes were a crystal blue color and his frame was large and imposing. He towered over Kyrie’s assumed form and his intensity was intoxicating. “Are you ready? The council is waiting for us.” Without waiting for a response, the young man burst his way through two big double doors, which swung into a very noisy room. The door stood a couple of feet away from Kyrie and the room expanded to a third the size of an athletic stadium. The spacious interior held a small area in the very middle of the room, with a series of chairs in a semicircular formation. Each chair was occupied by someone and all of the occupants looked old, experienced, and slightly annoyed. The young man from before strode into the room with confidence and held his head high; his fervor and passion showing in his bright blue eyes. His pride streamed through the expression on his face and in a manner of moments, he was vehemently defending himself to the people in the - now opened - room. After a few minutes had passed, another man joined the other, and continued with the discussion currently in progress. The newcomer was a little taller and lankier. He seemed like he had more to hide than the other one. “You can’t possibly think that! The Mandalorians pose a clear and present danger to the order. They need to be dealt with.” The first young man said, putting his hand to his heart. “This isn’t a time to stay silent. The Jedi need to get involved. Don’t you agree? Revan?” The name dropped like an anvil crashing to the ground, but it became clear very quickly that everyone in the room was staring at Kyrie. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Kyrie Eleison Posted December 29, 2016 Share Posted December 29, 2016 ...What would you choose? To watch the galaxy in flame, to watch our Republic fall? Kyrie’s emerald eyes watched the silver flames recede into the sky, pulled back like rolling stormclouds over a range of mountains. The fields of war were slowly lost focus, shimmering away into darkness, as if she was seeing through tear filled eyes. A buzzing filled her ears, twisting within the tympanic chambers, and the rhythm of the tinnitus began to equalize throughout her whole body. It was almost like what she had once heard in the moments after a fragmentation grenade had ripped her eardrums asunder during the invasion of Gala. Reaching out into the dark, Kyrie harnessed the sound, bringing its frequency into the same beat as her body, as if tuning a radio. Lining up the frequency her eyes snapped open, she had entered another vision, and the sights and smells came in a flood. The air tasted stale, the rotting tang of recycled and polluted air, distantly masked by burning of onycha incense. It was acrid within her nostrils, and seemed to be coming across a slight breeze. The boots on her feet felt strange, softened nerf-leather, worn in by ground stone and useage. She could almost feel the dust of a thousand worlds ground into the treads. Beneath the grit, she could feel the hardened plasteel decking, covered in a fine carpeting, with curling rings of some form of fabric. Strange voices surrounded her, the tone harsh and argumentative. ‘Are you ready? The Council is waiting for us!’ The darkness finally lifted, revealing a tall and handsome man bursting open a set of large doors before her. She felt more diminutive than she had since she was a young girl. Kyrie had always been tall for a human female, but now she felt two handbreadths shorter. Another man joined them as they entered into a large meeting room. From the two of them she felt the Force’s song moving dark and energetic. Voices came in waves from those who sat or stood within the room, and the Song crackled with arguments. The first man spoke, his voice oddly familiar “...The Jedi need to get involved! Don’t you agree,” He turned to her, his eyes filled with encouragement and strength “Revan?” The name filled her with dread and an odd power simmered within her mind. The man that spoke must be Alek, and her other companion Il-Andon. ...What will you choose? This was where the call for a counter to the Mandalorian Crusade had been born, a single action that had such galactic consequence. As a Piranha-beetle might flutter its wings, a hurricane might grow thousands of miles away. This was the birthplace of her person religion, Revanchism. She had been brought here to make a choice. She stretched out a gloved hand to the gathered Jedi Knights and Masters, and their voices quieted. She spun the song into ethereal visions cast into the center of the room. It chronicled the slaughter, rape and genocide of the Cathar at the hands of the Crusaders. She let the vision emphasise the deaths of children, to emphasise her point. Her voice was dark, and held none of the former haltering of impediment “Council… I witnessed the Genocide. Billions have died on just one planet. The Republic’s Fleet has been defeated… Leaving the outer rim hapless and indefensible in the wake of a great evil… The Mandalorians are a greater threat than any we have ever witnessed…” She indicated the whirling dance of Basilisks, ridden by thousands of armoured warriors “No greater threat have we seen since the Freedon Nadd uprising. Without some form of help, our Republic will fall and trillions will perish in fire.” Kyrie threw her palm out to the seated Council-members, who sat stone-faced in repose. Her voice filled with power “You would leave this galaxy to burn while you sit on Dantooine and Coruscant in your secret palaces… Your precious morality and your prime directive of galactic non-interference will mean nothing when our Republic dies.” She glanced about the chamber, knowing she was setting up the path for the destruction of the Jedi Order and the creation of the Revanchist Crusade. It would culminate in deaths innumerable, and the darkness of Malachor V. A smile alit her scarred face “Join Alek, Il-Andon and I in our Crusade.” Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Dashel Illioni Posted December 29, 2016 Share Posted December 29, 2016 Dashel looked over the members of his crew gathered in his quarters on Tython. His gaze lingered on the few gathered there before his thoughts drifted to the events that happened in the Palawar system and those they left behind. Master Erath had remained behind as the head of the new Jedi mission to the system, its mandate to develop closer ties between the Force Using communities and remove the last vestiges of Sith influence from the system. Along with Master Erath, newly Knighted Alyssa Green and Padawan Kharjo remained behind as his second in command and as the Master of Younglings, respectively. Dashel smiled at the thought of the two of them in their first real independent assignment. They had earned it. He felt Inaure slip her arm into his and bring his attention back to their guests. Delaney sat at the side of her sister Marta. After Palowar, Erath had passed her to the rank of full-fledged Padawan and assigned her to his wife. Delaney and Inaure were soon to leave on Delaney’s quest to find the things necessary for them to complete the ritual linking. He refuse to call her a Hand and had yet to find a name for what they were going to become. Marta, next to her sister, had begun a new phase of life. She had decided to to become a nanny to his and Inaure’s children. She served alongside a nanny/hunter droid called Vitae. Next to them sat Knight Maevis Luo, now serving as a Jedi healer on Tython. He had been surprised to find out that she and Kala were quietly helping a new Padawan who looked eerily like Kala. When he asked them about it, they simply replied that in time, he would learn everything. Burksed, his wife, and their children had decided to join them from his headquarters on Dac. His series of shops, now present on many of the GA’s worlds, had turned profitable enough to enable to buy ownership in full sized shipyards on Kuat and on Dac. His wife was now the mistress of Younglings at the temple. She had earned the title ‘Lady Sith’ among the older of her charges. Their oldest daughter, sitting next to her mother and quietly talking to Delaney, had begun courses in engineering and instructions in her one Force talent. Like her father, the Force aided her abilities in engineering. Unlike her father, she had Jedi around her to help her hone the talent. She was not strong enough in the Force to become a Jedi but was receiving training none the less. She and Burksed were currently refitting the GrassTiger II, its shuttle known as NameLess. They were all here to celebrate an ending and a beginning. Dashel smiled and rejoined the party in its entirety. He set aside concerns for the moment of the current GrandMaster’s summons and his own research just to celebrate being alive. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Roene Givrah Posted December 31, 2016 Share Posted December 31, 2016 “Join Alek, Il-Andon and I in our Crusade.” The words, once given, shifted in the silent reverence. They drifted for a moment and played in the open chamber, galvanizing the gathered assembly into quiet cacophony. The Courscant skyrise glistened in the amber fire of sunrise through the transparisteel, harkening the beginning of the day, and illuminating the Council members in their repressed stagnation. Expressions, hidden from view, were exchanged in heated silence. The Council erupted into whispers and everyone started to speculate. The chamber filled with fear, sorrow, uncertainty, and anger. It was anathema to the sanctity of their promises, but the powerful imagery shone to them brought passion to the fore of their minds, causing an abandonment of logic for a brief and glorious second. And yet, their expressions remained stony. Any outward display of their irrational feelings was banished and their resolve was granite. They looked at the three men arrayed before them and prepared to pass a final judgment as if it was their right. The council members in their arrogance would dictate the fate of the galaxy on a single judgment. And they would not only shape the future of the galaxy, but the future of the Jedi Order as well. Their inaction in the face of open aggression would lead to centuries of darkness. They placed their seminal words in their eyes and stared at the procession that came to mitigate the threat, like interlopers. As if those, who were simply trying to help, had already pushed fate to the brink. And just as they seemed to make their judgment known, the entire room slowed to a halt. The buildings once illuminated through the windows, were now shadows. And the room’s earthy glow, was replaced with an ashen grey. The smells ceased, the sights lessened and the sounds abruptly halted. There were no sensory cues to be taken. It was if the world had been robbed of its vitality. Everything stopped. Everything, except the large man standing next to Kyrie’s assumed form. Slowly he turned to face Kyrie, and slowly the form of Revan fell off the young Exorcist’s shoulders until she could meet the large man eye-to-eye. He smiled briefly, but his form was not the same as it had been. His face had aged. His skin started to wrinkle at the edges, but his hair was still brown. The length of his hair had increased and he wore it back in a ponytail. His robes were beaten, and his expression had hardened. His eyes were weary, but hidden deep in his face, was a hint of pride. “Thank you, Kyrie, for reliving that with me.” Il-Andon said after a moment of silence. He looked deep into the Exorcist’s eyes and sighed. “This was the last moment I remember trusting the Jedi and their foolishness. I can’t say that what Alek and Revan did in the years to come was beneficial to the Order. Nor can I say that their loss was the right choice. But I can say that these people. The creatures assembled before you right now, are the reason why the Mandalorian Wars happened. They are the reason why the Jedi Civil war that followed it, happened. Stagnation and inaction does nothing but breed conflict. And for this, and the moments that followed it, I wished for you to see my last words to the council.” His words reverberated in the silence like the booming of thunder clouds. His intensity was magnified in this place. And although he raised his voice, there was no anger. His eyes shone with a steely resilience and his posture suggested confidence, in the face of fatigue and exhaustion. He turned away briefly before turning back to face Kyrie, a note of adulation hidden in the creases of his battle-worn face. “You have learned everything I can teach you Kyrie. I have shone you all I wanted to show. From now on, it is your path. You will choose where you wish to go. You will be your own warrior for the light, fighting to preserve our legacy and purifying the darkness from the galaxy. Succeed where I have failed. Go help to heal the lasting wounds left in the galaxy from years of darkness. Go purge the Sith of their cancerous power mongering. It is your life, your choice, and your destiny.” Il-Andon said paternally, looking to Kyrie like a father to a daughter. A smile widened on his scarred face and he put his hands on Kyrie’s shoulders. “I will always be there to guide you if you need me. But you are the instrument of our future and only you can show the way.” Il-Andon’s voice faded slightly, and slowly the council chambers started to melt away. The rafters that hung overhead began to sag and wither. The room began to tremor and the entire manifestation began to crumble, replaced by the darkened rock of the cavern where Kyrie’s body and the rest of the physical word was waiting for her return… _______ Roene’s body was matted with sweat, but he was smiling ear to ear. His happiness was a balm in the cold that surrounded him. This was exactly what he wanted, and more. He had the privilege of exploring Kyrie’s past with her and watched as she overcame every obstacle with amazing tenacity and care. She showed perseverance in the face of her darkest hours and Roene was immensely proud for the distance she had come in the years following the start of her training with Xae. With his efforts concluded Roene's smile calmed. He started to construct the next moment in his mind, but took some time to gather his bearings. His head and arms were woozy, clammy and cold. He could feel his body creak with the slightest movement and groaned a little when he felt the discomfort in his back. But, when he examined the cave, it had been much the same as it was before. There was silence, devoid of any technical infiltration. He could smell the mildew and moss tickle his nose with sour pungent odors. But he was convinced that the world was more vivid than this. Everything had seemed so lively just seconds ago, and it was at that point that Roene realized, it was his exertion that clouded his mind. While the trials were in process, Roene could feel everything in the cave as if it were in his own mind. He had to push against the winds, the damp, the cold, the occasional outside interruption, which sometimes consisted of random avian creatures, but Roene barely noticed it now. It was all just background noise again. Putting his hands on the cold stone and taking time to leverage himself, he did his best to stand; then promptly fell over. His body met the cold stone with a thud. And he could feel a sharp pain stinging one of his kneecaps. It wasn't broken, Roene knew that. But it still hurt. Due to Roene’s light-headedness and fatigue, it seemed he was not in the best of shape. He sat and exerted himself so much that the blood rushing quickly from the rest of his body to his head, was a little too much for his legs. But he had to be ready, so he pulled through the inconvenience of standing and kept himself stable with the cavern wall as a support. When Kyrie roused, he slowly crossed the distance to her and gently put a hand on one of her shoulders. He looked her in the eyes and smiled warmly. “I understand you have been through much. If you would like to take time to process it, that is certainly welcome and appreciated. We have a couple of small rooms with cots if you need to lie down for a moment or two.” Roene said, letting his hand fall from Kyrie’s shoulder, and moving away from her toward the mouth of the small cavern. “If you have questions about your scars, then I will let you know that I tried to heal them. As a symbol for you both pushing forward and accepting your path, I helped guide your body to heal itself of the scars of your past. But some scars, could not be healed. Not due to lack of trying, but due to their persistence. They are a part of you, and as such, they have some stock in how you will be in the future. They want to remind you of your past and help you grow. Even though some aren't as mundane as they seem. But with a blank canvas, you can create wonderful masterpieces. Now you can make new scars; scars that will tell the story of your journey like the strokes of paint on a tapestry.” Roene paused, and looked back at Kyrie. “When you are ready, come to the large main cavern at the base of the hillock. I will be waiting for you there.” ________ In the main cavern were set a handful of Jedi padawan and knights in a semi-circle. They positioned themselves so that the opening of their semi-circle, was pointing at the opening to the hallway that led down into the memory chamber. The Knights were in the center of the configuration while the padawan tapered out on the ends. All of them wore brown robes with their hoods down, looking at the center of the cavern. Their expressions were solemn. The Knights held their sabers in the center of their chests, activated and shining brilliant greens and blues in the darkness. Leading to the arrangement of Jedi, were small bioluminescent plants, shining a line in the hard stone. In the very center of the cavern, stood Roene. His saber was not activated. And he looked forward, waiting for Kyrie to emerge. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Kyrie Eleison Posted January 11, 2017 Share Posted January 11, 2017 A small breeze passed over her skin, a breath of cold that stirred across her flesh taking with it the form of Revan, shedding the disguise that Il-Andon had forged for her. About her the room took on a pale light, almost like that of an ancient hologram, from the days when the image was projected onto a screen. It was as if she had awoken within a dream, the world falling into an imitation of reality and her mind could no longer see her surroundings as anything but a hoax. She was tired of these endless worlds that were nothing more then another layer of test. Another revelation of her past, another lecture on her mindset. Kyrie could feel the flesh of her palms tighten against her nail-bitten fingertips as her body worked out her irritation. ...Dreams have become my reality… Will I be able to recognize the corporeality of my life when I finally return? Her musings on reality were interrupted by the turning of Il-Andon towards her, his face fading from a youthful glow. Before her eyes, he aged decades, his skin losing its radiance, fading to furrowed wrinkles, a grizzled, unshaven man with skin of rough leather. Within his smouldering eyes Kyrie could see the recounting of the millions of deaths he had witnessed and bore responsibility for. He was nothing like he had appeared in her previous visions. Weather beaten, stooped and haggard. He was a much smaller man than his Rosary had shown. ...Is this what you were like after Dxun? Before your died at Malachor V? Within her heart she pitied him. His grand crusade had saved the galaxy, but at the cost of the best and brightest of the Order. It had spelled the doom for the Exorcists, with the greatest of its membership destroyed. Ren-Kavar, the Magister of the Exorcist Order had died on Dxun, along with his three apprentices. The Chronicler, Anders Hadrik, had perished on the Xoxin plains of Eris III, taking with him thirty Knights. The leader of the more peaceful branch of the Exorcists, The Confessing Order, Michelse Falken, along with her council, numbering twelve Knights and Masters, had laid down their lives freeing the Lianna system. The rest had died at Serreco, Taris, Stenos, Onderon and Malachor V. The traditions had been left to the teaching of lesser men, and its fire had left the galaxy far before her own birth. Il-Andon carried those scars, and perhaps with the revival of the Exorcists under her and Xae, they could rebuild its traditions and its former strength. Kyrie listened to his reflections, uncurling her fists, letting her irritation pass from her body, through the tips of her fingers into the gentle wind that moved about her. His hands were rough on her shoulders, and she could feel the callouses through the thin black cotton of her tunic. “I will always be there to guide you if you need me. But you are the instrument of our future and only you can show the way.” The council room, in its technicolour frame, shook for a moment, as if a groundquake had caught it in its grasp, causing the young Exorcist to stumble and lose her footing. She closed her eyes as she saw the ground rise to meet her, but an impact never came. Kryie started awake, cold air flooding her lungs in a gasp, pulling the chill through clenched teeth and across her dry tongue. She could feel her clothes clinging to her, drenched in sweat, tight around her skin. Her joints were stiff, and her muscles were weak. Her limbs felt as though they were made from wrought plasteel, and barely moved to her commands. She felt as if she was fighting through a layer of spun carbonite to sit up, and when she did, she had to lay back once more, her mind spinning too much to keep balance. The cavern spun about her, bringing to mind a carnival ride she had been on in her youth. It had made her sick then too. Her voice came out in a gravelly croak, tumbling out through her thirst addled mouth “M-M-Mas-ster?” His words came through to her mind muffled and contorted, as if spoken through the crashing waves of an ocean. She couldn’t comprehend through the static in her head whether the Cerean was speaking basic, or chanting incantations in some native language. Kyrie placed both of her hands over her ears, feeling an uncomfortable bead of sweat trace trace its way across her scalp beneath her mess of inky braids. She dug her fingertips into the auricles of her ears, feeling the coolness of the several silver bands and studs that decorated the cartilage. The slight change of temperature helped to sooth her mind from its nauseating vertigo. “When you are ready, come to the large main cavern at the base of the hillock. I will be waiting for you there.” Kyrie waited for the Cerean to leave, giving her mind enough time to stop its incessant spinning completely, and her stomach its churning. Calming her racing heart, the young Exorcist sat up slowly, letting her hands fall forward, placing her palms onto the stone floor of the cavern. With one fluid motion she pressed with her hands and her legs and rose to a standing position. She widened her stance and let the room settle about her before she began to work her way from the meditative chamber. The ground was slick with the humidity, and was not easy for her weak footing, even with sturdy treading on her boots. Within the cavern of the hillock, the Jedi stood before her brandishing their sabres, in a glowing line of green and blue. Their formation reminded her of the ancient burial sites of the Dark Lords of old, formations of clay soldiers arranged about their sarcophagus, to be their eternal slaves within the afterlife. Kyrie made a slow approach, suddenly self-conscious about her disheveled appearance in front of so many of her peers. Seeing Roene, she bowed low and pulsed out a greeting in the force “Greetings, Master…” Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Roene Givrah Posted January 16, 2017 Share Posted January 16, 2017 Roene paused to take a deep labored breath. Hesitation was evident in the gooseflesh that stood out on the back of his clammy hands, but his nerves would not deter him. He acknowledged Kyrie’s approach with a slight nod, indicating that she drop to a kneeling position in front of him. Sweat still beaded on the Cerean’s head, but he endured; his mental finesse was one skill that his race excelled at. His body was wracked with weary effort, but his smile denied the evidence. Pride swelled deep in his heart and he looked upon his padawan with admiration. This was a moment of joy. This was the moment that Roene could say that he successfully helped someone. Roene could stop calling himself a teacher, and instead, be a teacher. It was surreal. But he was getting ahead of himself. This ceremony was for Kyrie. This was her passage from Padawan to Knight. This was her first step to a brighter tomorrow. However, speaking like that, Roene admitted he sounded more like propaganda than a teacher. But in the passing day, Roene felt that he had shared her journey. He felt like he had taken part in her struggles and witnessed her choice. He felt that she had seen and done enough in her life to warrant taking the next step in her future. This was the moment and this was the time. Roene was here to help her see that and to help her pass onward. When Kyrie stopped at Roene’s feet, the Cerean’s face turned a little solemn. He looked to the gathered assembly and his tone shifted. He chanted under his breath and waved his arms in smooth methodical motions. He took a deep breath and allowed the energy of the cavern to suffuse his body. He allowed the ethereal nature to join his weave and form around him. Like a shepherd, he guided the flow of energy around him and through the rest of the cavern. It was a river in motion; an azure stream of power that flew around the gathered assembly and lit them all in a dim glow. It illuminated the faces of each Jedi under their hood, and when their identities were revealed, they deactivated their lightsabers and knelt in a circle around Kyrie and Roene. It was one fluid momentum and Roene stood at the head of the stream, guiding its flow. When the moves were finished, he put his arms at his side and looked down at Kyrie with gentle eyes. He spoke with power and authority, something he only reserved for significant occasions. “We are all assembled here to witness the ascension of a Jedi. We have gathered here for different reasons, but we are all joined together now to witness what all Padawans aspire to be; what we all aspire to be. We are a group that stands here in support of each other. We are the Jedi. We stand together. We lift each other up and praise those that perform above and beyond what is asked of them. We are the binding force. We are the balance. We are the sentinels of peace. We are the breath of light in the severity of darkness. We are the stem of peace from the tree of discord. With all of that, we gather here to honor one of our own. And although we all know the code, I feel it bears repeating in this most venerable of circumstances. There is no emotion; even in the face of deepest darkness. There is peace. There is no ignorance; even when all else seems lost. There is knowledge. There is no passion; even if our impulse or instinct draws us. There is serenity. There is no chaos; even in darkness, there is light. There is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force…" With the last words uttered, a horde of blue silhouettes manifested in the cavern around them. Familiar faces and old mythical figures stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder, witnessing the ceremony. Like a lake of sapphire flame, they stood in silence. They stood peacefully watching as a ceremony that was as old as the Jedi Order itself, was committed. It was an ancient coming of age ritual that signified independence and strength. Roene didn’t know how to react but refused to let surprise show on his face. He would not let the sudden appearance of ancient Jedi deter him. “Thus, with the power that I possess – power given by my master and his master before him – I now grant thee, Kyrie Eleison, the title and rank of Jedi Knight. Please rise.” Roene ignited Nature’s Fury and raised it to the sky. With joy and adulation, he added, “Rise! Jedi Knight Kyrie!” Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Kyrie Eleison Posted January 19, 2017 Share Posted January 19, 2017 A breath of sea-fresh air wound its way around the young exorcist as she knelt before her master, feeling the damp grass beneath her knees through her already water-logged tunic. A few droplets of dew mixed with the post-dream perspiration on her forehead. Several of the droplets condensed into a singular drop within one of the furrowed scars and it traced its way into her eye, causing her vision to blur as she blinked through the sting of saline. The words of the naturalist rang in her ears, his voice strong and bearing the weight of the Force. She spoke with him in the recitation of the Jedi Code, while her mind spoke out her troubles There is no emotion… Ridding ourselves of emotion is what stagnated the council and muted the Mando’a threat to them… There is peace. Peace is for the healers, the Exorcists have not the luxury to live in peace. The only peace we find is in death… There is no ignorance… Cloistered on this hidden world all we gain is ignorance… There is Knowledge. We have lost our knowledge, our advantage, our strength… There is no passion… Without passion there is no care for life. Passion in Righteousness gives us life… There is Serenity. Serenity is only found in isolation, and we have been isolated long enough… There is no Chaos... The only thing guarding this galaxy from falling to chaos is the Order… There is Harmony. Harmony can only be found when the darkness is cleansed with light... There is no Death... Death is all we reap when we sow nothing… There is the Force. May it never abandon us, like we have abandoned the galaxy… Kyrie raised her emerald eyes to look into the Cerean’s, passing between them a connection of trust and understanding. They were from separate sides of the order, almost diametrically opposed in theology, but each had value. Tears welled up in her eyes uncalled, and the Song about her called out in joy, even in the sorrow of her past. She was finishing what she had begun under Xae “Rise! Jedi Knight Kyrie!” The young Exorcist rose slowly, her joints stiffening in the morning’s frost. Passing under the Cerean’s blade she embraced him, feeling the roughness of his tunic against her hands. Her voice was a stuttering whisper, “T-thank you-u, M-master R-R-roene” She stepped back, wiping away a stray tear with the back of her half-gloved hand, while brushing aside a braid from her vision with the other. She bowed to all the assembled Jedi, and she spoke once, weaving the Force about her words, strengthening her tongue “I shall report to the grandmaster, Dahar, offworld. I head towards the Galactic Core. Roene, if you need me, you have but to reach out through our connection in the Song.” With no more use of words, she left the assembled Jedi with a smile, heading towards the docking bay where Sanctis Cogitatione lay awaiting her. She boarded the silvered green freighter, allowing it to warm up its engines while she calculated a flight path out of Tython. Pushing aside her apprehension, she brewed a cup of stimcaf as the autopilot brought the ship out of the gravity well of the emerald planet. As the stars extended to the lines of hyperspace, she began to meditate as Roene had shown her, breaking only to consume the bitter caf. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Roene Givrah Posted January 28, 2017 Share Posted January 28, 2017 Roene watched Kyrie take off. His heart was sad, but his eyes were glinting. He would miss teaching her. Like a bud, she grew and blossomed. The flower -- whatever species or origin -- would go on to live, hardened and shaped by the harshness of the universe. It was the way. It always was. But now, he felt… empty? No He felt somehow, elated. He could teach another; he could learn something knew; he could travel the galaxy and heal lasting wounds; he could meditate. The whole of existence was something to find, explore, traverse, and enjoy. The Jedi were so concerned with order, procedure, tactic, purging the dark side, and preserving the light side of the force, that they hardly enjoyed what their work wrought. It was the ultimate conflict that Roene would never understand. That is how Sith were made. Deny your feelings. Don’t let yourself feel anything. Feelings are dangerous. Are they? Anger, rage, and love… Those can be considered dangerous at times. But that’s merely speculation on their unpredictable nature. But joy? Is joy, dangerous? Over-indulgence could seem excessive. But not allowing yourself to feel at all seemed ridiculous. We are born with feelings. Plants, animals… everything is born with feeling. Even plants screamed when you picked them from the ground. Roene knew this, which is why he asked them if he had the intent to pick them. He excused his intrusion and apologized to the environment around him. The grass was receptive to everything. Your footsteps were permitted and tolerated. Even if you never asked. People took that for granted. But Roene asked. The Cerean stepped out of the cave, bowing his head to the grass as he left and felt the leafy strands embrace his bare feet. They guided him past rocks and holes. They helped him avoid upsetting the ground dwelling creatures. They even helped push him to drive his feet faster through the brush. Roene felt accepted. Contented. When he looked at the rising sun, warmth filled him. He spotted birds flying through the sky and heading toward the birth of a new day. It seemed a grand idea. Roene felt like giving it a try. Roene turned his back to the sun and opened his arms as the early morning Tython air whipped at his brown robe. Noticing the obstacle, Roene unclasped his robe and let it fall. Then let his arms open again. He could feel the wind tickling his skin. He could feel the light touch of its wave as it blew over him. He let his physical weight drift away. He thought of a feather and the silky fronds that fluttered at the faintest touch. The stem was so light that it could be taken and pushed. He thought of his own body: his legs and body were the stem; his arms, head, and hair were the fronds. He loosened his muscles. He loosened his spirit. He loosened his expectations and let the force, the wind, and Tython embrace him. For a moment, nothing happened. But, as time drifted by, the Cerean could feel the faint echo of sensation leave. His feet drifted from the ground. Like a leaf, he started to roll and spin in the air. A grin spread on his face like an eager child. Elation and joy were so bright in his mind. He was flying, truly flying. Like the birds that shared the sky, he could feel his mind wander the clouds. He watched as the world swirled around him in the air and continued to revel in his mirthful discovery. That was until he hit a tree. CRACK- CRUNCH- Ouch. I should really work on that landing. The branches shielded the Cerean as he came tumbling into the bark. His body was loose, so it didn’t break on the mass of wood. But it still hurt. Whuff… The Cerean apologized to the tree for hurting its branches and did what he could to regain balance. He grabbed a branch or two that stood above him to stabilize himself. He fished around with his feet and stood on a lower weight-bearing branch. When he was ready, he took a deep breath and climbed down one branch at a time, making sure to care for any broken or sore spots on his body as he went. He could feel the heartwood respond to his action. He could feel the tree accept his apology and warm at the touch of his hand. The denizens of the tree were not as happy with his intrusion, however, but their discontent was reserved to throwing Tythonian acorns and seeds. They thunked harmlessly off Roene’s side. He apologized to them too, bowing, and offering their nuts and seeds back to them. They were a little skeptical. One of them even scored a hit right between Roene’s eyes. But the Cerean laughed it away. His smile was warm. His heart was sincere. He reached out to the small creature and offered a hand. The creature was a little intimidated. It backed away impulsively. But, after a second or two of sniffing. After a few circular paces were made to insure its safety, the small animal put its paw in Roene’s hand and chittered. Good. The animals retreated to their homes and Roene hopped to the ground. His knee was still a little sore from contacting the tree, so it buckled a little under pressure. But it was ancillary. Roene’s mind was higher than the clouds. His heart was lighter than the birds. He was happy. Nothing could rob him of his happiness. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Dashel Illioni Posted February 1, 2017 Share Posted February 1, 2017 Dashel arrived at Burksed’s shop moments after being summoned to the Temple’s control room. There, he‘d been briefed on the attack in the Upper levels of Coruscant. He soon found himself gathering those few things he hadn’t prepared for his trip to Yavin and Ilum and ordering his ship loaded with emergency supplies for disaster relief. Burksed said nothing, merely handed him a P.A.D.D. with the details of the modification needed for deep diving into Yavin IV’s atmosphere after Corusca gems. The gems he found listed as a necessary ingredient for his research into crystal harmonics when applied to the interactions between two holocrons when used to communicate through the Force and developing the Kharjo method of parsing, assimilating and retaining large amounts of data. He checked the manifest on the P.A.D.D. and saw that cold weather gear for a trip to Ilum had also been loaded and stored. Somehow, the temple managed to squeeze in several tons more emergency supplies than he thought possible into as compact a ship as the GrassTiger II. Kala met him at the boarding ramp and smiled at him as she headed to the pilot’s seat. “Just the 4 of us this time, eh Dash?” “Yeah,” he said after fastening into the co-pilot’s seat,”My family sets out with a construction battalion too Palowar tomorrow to join the temple there. Lucky I had a few moments with my family before this mess hit.” After that, conversation ended as the Tiger lifted rapidly through Tython’s atmosphere and began an entire series of thoroughly complicated hyper jumps and real time travel to avoid giving away the Tython Sanctuary’s location. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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