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Ary the Grey

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The EE-104 Fisheye Asha’ajak slipped from hyperspace in the wake of the larger hulking dungeonship Valkyrie. Repurposed from a desecrated Mandalorian scrapheap, the Valkyrie did not need much work to repurpose it as a supposed pirate vessel. It’s war torn battle-ravaged hull testified to a more violent time in the universe. It made a perfect holding ship for any ill-gotten gain, protected from even the most withering fire an enemy could level at it.

 

Alongside the Valkyrie, the Interdictor Cruiser  Tiberius, an Imperial Immobilizer 418 and it’s flanking trio of CC-7700s emerged. Out of the entire fleet, these ships had undergone the most reworking. Names and IDs had been stripped from the physical as well as the electrical profiles of the vessels. Warpaint had been haphazardly painted in whirling primitive war tides across the hulls. While they still bore the silhouettes of Imperial war machines, they now looked like any of the other numerous vessels stolen during the chaos of the Imperial defensive.

 

It was imperative that the ships did not tie back to the Rebels. Days of retrofitting and outfitting had gone into insuring that the Jensaarai commanded fleet were as plain, generic, and traced back to countless backworld shipyards, pirating groups, and junkyards.

 

Standing aboard the bridge of the Asha’ajak staring out the digitized viewscreen, The Sarlacc sighed deeply. The void of space stood empty over the backdrop of countless stars. The Duros pondered deeply what they were about to undertake. It was a not a task for Jedi. It was not a task for Imperials. It was a task for an outsider, someone who could  take the blame and be brushed off if things went sideways. There was not much honor to be had in piracy. It was why the Jensaarai abstained from it. This, however, was not piracy. Under the guise of piracy, the Jensaarai warriors were bleeding the veins of the Sith war machine. Every ship they stopped here was the potential for a life saved elsewhere. The money, supplies, and weapons would fund the Jedi and their defenses that preserved the freedoms of countless peoples across the galaxy. The Jensaarai could not defend them all. 

 

Nodding to the stealth ship’s commander in a predetermined prediscussed plan of action, The Sarlacc began to set about a plan that could not be stopped. A radio signal echoed across the fleet and within 2 minutes the empty void of space was enveloped in a bulbous nearly imperceptible gray haze centered on the Interdictor fleet. The net had been spread.

 

 “Now all we have to do is wait.” 
 

The hyperlanes that connected Kuat and Coruscant lay deep in enemy territory. It was only a matter of time.

 

Turning to Svata, The Sarlacc placed a reassuring hand on the elder’s shoulder. “Are you prepared to board the vessels of oppression and take from them to save lives? We kill only when we must. Let us hope that our show of force will be enough for the downtrodden trudging under the yoke of the Sith. We will offer them freedom. Perhaps that will be enough.”

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The Duros Jensaarai could not help but raise his eyebrows in wrinkled amusement at his comrade’s comment. “I trust that your saber is functional brother? Perhaps it is best we keep both our weapons and allegiances hidden for the duration? When we have some time I will begin to show you the basics of lightsaber combat. Until then, I am confident your pst experiences will guide you as the need arises. Just let the force guide you and remember who you are fighting for; n the Jedi; not the Rebellion; but for our people, for justice, for peace. Remember the code. Remember your commitment.”

 

At that moment, a buzzing alarm alerted the bridge to a new arrival. Two new arrivals to be more specific. Two hulking Action VI transports fell out of hyperspace, drawn into real space by the fields of the Interdictor fleet. Aboard the ships, out of sight and sound, chaos reigned as the meager crews scrambled to find out what was going on.

 

Looking at the viewscreen, The Sarlacc reached down and grabbed a transceiver radio. Handing it to Svata, he inclined his head with an uptick of entertainment in his voice, “Time to see if these are the bullies you’re looking for.” The ships had come from the direction of Kuat, undoubtedly en route to Coruscant to help in the rebuilding of the devestated, and more importantly, Sith-controlled world.

 

Picking up his helmet, The Sarlacc set it atop his head with a click and a hiss. “I will ensure that our troops are prepared should you order boarding. Just get us in close.”

 

The stealth ship lurked a distance away from the rest of the fleet, but closer to where the two transports had fallen out of hyperspace.

 

Making his way through the ship, The Sarlacc found a band of varying beings garbed in a mix of Jensaarai armor and ragtag outfits of flight suits to robes. They were armed with an even more diverse set of weaponry; a band of potential-pirates if there ever was one, and each a seasoned member of the Jensaarai order. “Brethren, the trap has been sprung!” A chorus of grunts of approval accompanied by the snapping of weapons and armor into place for action greeted him.

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While the Jensaarai attack vessel lurked silently, camouflaged against the starry sky, the interdictor fleet easily kept the two Action VIs from escaping. Try as they might, the ships could not revert to hyperspace. Their sublight engines flared to life, slowly driving the ships in a wide arc away from the visible fleet. Comms crackled to life, “What in the world is going on?! Why did you pull us out of hyperspace? This is not a scheduled inspection. We have authorization codes and are transmitting them now. We are under the protection of the Sith Empire.”

 

The authorization codes entitled the vessels to unfettered movement from Kuat to Coruscant, delivering shipments of metals and computer and ship components for the Sith navy. 
 

“You have our documents. Release us immediately and we will forget this ever happened.”

 

The ships continued to turn in an attempt to shoot for what they perceived as open space, away from the interdictors and the hulking Lictor; which began to power up it’s own engines to give chase.  The trap was sprung and the Actions were driving straight toward the Jensaarai-filled stealth vessel. Meanwhile, the 8-being crews checked the blast doors and security hatches of their craft. Their weapons were limited at best, relying heavily on the protection offered by the fear and awe of the Sith Empire. That and their shipment was nothing spectacular, but the principle of the matter stood.

 

At the console of the Asha’ajak, the helmsman turned  to look at Svata. “Orders sir? Shall we cut them off or fire?”

 

Striving from the back, The Sarlacc spoke,  “Bring us between the ships. When close, fire directed blasts at each. Apprentice Svata will lead a team into the starboard vessel. I will take the port. We will radio once we have control.”

 

  “Aye sir. Consider it done.”

 

The spherical ship quietly maneuvered, it’s thrusters concealed beneath camouflaged panelling, until it was matching the speeds of the larger transports. “Best get into position. You’ll only have moments once the hull in breached before their systems engage to halt the vacuum.”
 

With trained precision, the ship’s cannons protruded from the hull, giving away their position to a fearful sensor sweep before igniting a blast of plasma that tore gaping holes into the ships’ hulls.

 

____________________
 

The Sarlacc and three hardsuit clad Jensaarai warriors launched themselves from the portside escape bay just as the plasma blasts ceased. Through the cold void of space, they hurtled for moments before crashing into the dark durasteel decking of the Action VI just as the shields activated, sealing the hold against the exterior void.

 

Standing, the black hold was illuminated by a purple glow as The Sarlacc’s lightsaber illuminated the packed hold. “Move.” He hissed urging the gun toting warriors forward towards the ship’s bridge.

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Three dim beams pierced the darkness as the trio of Jensaarai-aligned professional goons made their way forward stalking between the crates, barrels, and hulking pieces of cargo with ease. Extinguishing his blade, The Sarlacc dropped into a low crouch and with his years of training began to move as quickly and silently as a Devaronian Fur Spider.

 

It did not take but a minute for the team to reach the single hatch that connected the hold to the meager remains of the ship; cockpit, quarters, engine, and hold; the vessel was simple in design. The blast doors had been sealed. “Almost like they knew we were coming,” a gruff Ithorian chuckled softly tapping on the door with a light echo. Reaching into his shouldered pack the man removed a trio of thermite boring charges and nonchalantly tossed two to his comrades. Without a word they began affixing the charges not to the door, but at predetermined space about the blast doors frame. “Right. Let’s beat feet and crack this oyster” 
 

The entire group fell back, taking up defensive positions betwixt cargo containers. The Sarlacc crouched atop a vacuum packed piece of metal that could only have been a mechanized piece for a larger warship, tucked behind a jutting bolt twice as thick as the average Gammorean. With the push of a button the charges began to hiss and the metallic walls where they stood began to whine and glow. This was the longest part, surely whatever was waiting on the other side would be aware of their imminent arrival.

 

And with that, the entire blast door creaked and fell to the decking with a clanging thunder that made even the season Defender wince. Hopefully nobody had been behind it.

 

The stillness that followed was surprising, but no opportunity was left wasted as the raiding party moved forward, weapons held at the ready.

 

Down the first corridor they moved, their feet barely making a sound as they darted from one shadowy vantage point to another. Nothing. Not a soul. Not a droid. It was as if the ship was empty. 
 

“Valk. Can you give us a readout? We seem to be encountering less resistance than expected.” The Sarlacc requested of their escort. 
 

“Looks like you’ve got 6 or so on the bridge. 2 prepping the pods.” Came the response.

 

”Copy.”

 

With that knowledge and an abundance of caution the group pressed onwards, keenly aware of sensors that surely reported their movements to the bridge and of any would be pitfalls could awaited them.
 

Branching off, the Ithorian and another of the team, a human female, made their way towards the escape pods leaving The Sarlacc and the third, an Ithorian of all things, alone at the entrance to the bridge/cockpit. This time the door was not a blast door. Clesrly the lives of the crew were secondary in value to that of the cargo. The Sarlacc raised a browless brow, wrinkling his forehead in amusement. It was typical of a bloated war machine and only served to strengthen their cause.

 

Standing to one side, he surveilled the hallway. The ship was not a military vessel and it had not been designed with such things in mind. Nodding his head at an overhead vent he pointed to the door. “Give me two and then knock and ask for their surrender.” 
 

The Ithorian chuckled as he took up position alongside the locked doorway, heavy blaster held before him, barrel pointed at the ceiling.

 

Standing beneath the air circulation grate in the ceiling, The Sarlacc was appreciative of his own lithe frame. Reaching up he tugged on the industrial bolts that held the grate in place. The simple application of telekinetic power easily loosened the fasters and within seconds the grate began to fall, guided with a wave of the hand to the decking without a clang or rattle.

 

With a force power leap, The Sarlacc left the floor and came to rest in the chute, the retractable tentacled appendages within his armor that symbolized his namesake, catching him in the shaft, bracing against either side. It was cramped and filthy, but the greasy filth only helped the deft Duros slide more easily about the two 90 degree angles that led him to looking down on the control console and crew below. Two blasters and a hodgepodge of makeshift clubs and knives awaited on the other side of the door from his Ithorian counterpart. They looked frightened. The Sarlacc could taste their fear. He even heard one of the crew nervously squeak something about the Coruscant-Kuat run supposing to be a secure route. They were anxiously awaiting what they thought could be their own demise on the other side. Their fearful focus on the door like cornered womp rats.

 

Carefully and quietly, the Jensaarai warrior watched and waited, braced against the oily shaft until he heard a thudding knock on the door. The crew visibly recoiled in terror. “Would you like to surrender?” came the Ithorian’s voice, “Lay down your arms and not much harm will come to any of you.”
 

And in that moment, before a response could be given, The Sarlacc fell, a force fueled freefall, blasting through the grate as it slammed to the floor, the slime covered Sarlacc’s armor less than pristine landing softly atop it. Once it started, he did not stop moving. The Jensaarai was nothing but a blur as his collapsable staff extended with a deft flick of his wrists locking it into place. In a blur, he was already moving, the weapon seirling about his hands and body as he swung it up and down, left and right, knocking feet out from under their owners and weapons across the room. It took but a moment before the swirling dervish came to a halt, the butt of his staff held at length against the throat of the now one not concussed crew member left on the bridge. 
 

Immediately the human’s hands flew up in the universal sign of surrender, his eyes with with fear. “The door” The Sarlacc growled inclining his head to where his Ithorian counterpart stood waiting on the other side. 
 

Shakingly the man jammed his hand down on the control panel, opening the door with a hiss. Blaster held ready, the hammerhead stared around the doorway before holstering the weapon and sauntering inside. “Ah. Told you it was not much harm. Sounds like the other two didn’t want to go as quietly. One got himself ejected from the ship accidentally, the other is nursing a couple bolts to the leg and a nasty bump on the head. I’ve already called for link up. We’ll get them sorted, just as soon as we make sure this fine vessel is properly acquired.” 
 

It hardly took any persuasion at all to convince the last crewman to give access to the ship’s controls. Bringing it in line with the Valkyrie, the entire crew was transferred to the secure holds and sick bay for containment and treatment. It was there that the Sarlacc and Ithorian took their leave, leaving the two others to nurse the ship back along less known routes to rebel space. 
 

Not bad for a first haul.

 

Making his way to the armory of the Valkyrie, The Sarlacc intended to clean his armor. He had no doubt the elder Svata would be along shortly. It seemed they were already tractoring in jettisoned cargo from the Ryn’s target.

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Scrubbing at the grime on a forearm piece, The Sarlacc nodded. “Undoubtedly, we will eventually attract the attention of bigger fish. Fortunately, we Jensaarai can be like fish in the river, slick, wriggling, and nearly impossible to pinpoint or grab. As soon as we finish gathering your cargo, we will jump elsewhere along the route, wait several days and strike again anew.”

 

Prepare yourself my brother for our next venture. Then when we are ready, perhaps you would like to learn some other Jensaarai ways that may assist you in our upcoming battles? Meet me in the empty storage bay on the lowest levels. Bring whatever spare parts you can find in a bowl, cup, or container.”

 

 Once his armor was finished, the Jensaarai warrior made his way to the lowest levels. It was dark and dank in the mostly unused storage space. Aged Jedi-containment devices in various states of disrepair lines the walls. The faint glowlights recessed in the ceiling cast long shadows amongst the exposed beams of the ship.

 

Amongst those shadows, The Sarlacc made his way to meet with Svata. “What we have to discuss here, need not be observed by the crews. Did you bring the pieces? Scatter them about the floor here in the shadows.”

 

”You know that the shadows are where the Jensaarai are best. We do not fear the darkness. We respect it, the power it carries, and the dangers it presents. There is other power though. The power of the light unchained and unfettered, wielded to protect that which we hold dear. Look inside yourself brother. Find your heart. Find your family. Find your desires. Find that goodness which ignites your soul. Find the light that shines in the darkness and grasp it. Use it to illuminate your mind and sight, find the pieces that you scattered. Call them to you. Draw them from darkness into light. Like this,”

 

The Sarlacc reached out his hand, the force swirled in the shadows as it reached out in invisible searching tendrils from his fingertips until it found a single washer. With a pull, The Sarlacc tugged the circular metal ring and sent it airborne, wobbling and whistling through the air past his head, looping about in a wife arc before coming to land on the Duros outstretched hand.

 

“Now you try brother.”

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The duros nodded in approval as he not just listened to the ryn’s tuneless melody, but as he felt the current of the force as the elder dipped himself into it and made it manifest.

 

Seeing the bolt quiver and jostle and rise before clattering back down in the bowl, he congratulated the apprentice, “Well done!” He gestures at the remaining bits scattered across the floor. “One must crawl before they can walk and walk before they run. You are taking your first steps deeper into the ways of the Jensaarai. A Defender is at all times immersed in the force. It guides his steps and carries him to places no one could expect. Even in the midst of chaos; even when the Defender appears as a master of chaos, he is centered within the expanse of the force. Sit. Focus. Clear the floor of the pieces and listen. Allow the force to work as your mind comprehends my words.”

 

The duros carefully lowered himself to the floor in a cross-legged position. He kept his eyes focused on Svata, his presence in the force an anchor from which his brother could hold fast should the tidal fury of the force prove to much. Then he spoke. He told of the ways of the Jensaarai, of the razor’s edge a Defender walked, how the way of a Jensaarai was to seek truth and to protect his community, to safeguard life, to serve justice, and keep to the truth. His words were filled with passion and he continued to speak on the mysteries of the force until Svata completed or gave up on his task. He spoke of the Jedi, how they drifted atop the force but feared the darkness and in such refused to come close to it and by how doing so they had inadvertently trod upon a darkened path. He spoke of the sith who unnaturally tried to dam the force and bend it on a course to their own will, of the dangers of such an act, and consequences should it befall someone. Finally, he spoke of the Jensaarai, bound to the light, but embracing it fully, not denying themselves any of the goodness which the light had to offer; yet unafraid to trod close to the darkness, knowing where the edge lay and refusing to cross it.

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The senior Jensaarai sighed heavily, “It is obvious is is not, when one can touch the force and feel the world around them. There is Svata. There is a difference, perhaps many, between the Jedi and the Jensaarai. Though we sprung from them long ago, we differ in our ideologies. More so than I venture the Saarai-Kaar would have guessed. You see, the Jedi forbid emotion. They use the wall of emotionlessbess to buffer themselves far from the edges of the force. We do not. We embrace all that the light has to offer. As such, sometimes, when we relax, those emotions shine through.”

 

The truth-seeker, thoughtfully pulled his lightsaber hilt free and twirled it back and forth between his hands; his eyes lost in the myriad of twists and swirls.

 

“We were sent by the Saarai-Kaar to try and establish relations with the Jedi again. In the past they tried to massacre our order out of ignorance. Jensaarai always seek truth. Even as we sought to mend bridges, I was seeking to learn. So were you, just look at your saber. I fear I have learned a truth that the Jedi would not wish known. Darkness is playing at the fringes of the Jedi, shooting it’s tendrils deep into the order. Do you know what we were told by the Jedi GRANDMASTER to do to any ship that refused to allow us to board them?”

 

He paused to let Svata ponder before he continued with an answer “Destroy them. Kill them all. Submit or be destroyed.”

 

”That has not sat right with me. We took a prize, the Jensaarai way; but what of the next one? I am inclined to turn us around, return that which we have to the Jedi and report what we have learned to the Saarai-Kaar. But we are a team, what are your thoughts? Did you learn anything else when you were with the Jedi?”

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“There is still good to be found within them, I am sure. So too was it when they sought to exterminate the Jensaarai Order. We have a duty to protect our community from the Sith and from the Jedi. We cannot lie dormant hoping the war leaves our world untouched. The darkness grows strong and yet hope rises in the fires of rebellion. Do we partake of the darkness to fight the darkness? We do not. We walk the razor edge, but we do not fall. When one falls, we seek to bring them back to the light or halt their fall.”

 

Standing, The Sarlacc gestures to the rest of the scattered parts on the floor. “But that is for those who we call family; for you, for me, for our brothers and sisters. You should focus on honing the telekinetic abilities you have seen. Once you have, there is more to be learned. More than meets the eye. A way for a Jensaarai to defend himself when no weapon appears readily available. We will return the ships of the Jedi and the goods we acquired on their behalf. Then we will return to Raka Nwul. Ours is to seek knowledge. The Saarai-Kaar is to keep it. We will report what we have discovered; but I foresee dark times Brother Svata. 

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  • 2 weeks later...

Like a hot blade through bantha butter, the solitary Jensaarai stealth vessel slid through the star streaks of hyperspace. In a way, it was similar to the Jensaarai themselves, they existed in the shadows, beyond the fringes of natural sight. There it was safe(r), yet the chance of catastrophic danger loomed but a hair’s breath away should one divert from the path.  These were the thoughts that swirled through the mind of the Duros Defender as he made his way from his spartan quarters to the relatively open storage area within the bowels of the vessel.

 

In his right hand, the Jensaarai loosely held his gunmetal gray lightsaber hilt. About his body, his loose tunic shifted silently as the fine cloth rustled silently against itself. Entering the bay, The Sarlacc smiled to the elder Ryn. “Good. Let us begin.”

 

Activating his blade, a dull purple glow radiated about the green-skinned alien.  “The lightsaber is an iconic weapon. Sometimes it behooves a Jensaarai to use it. Sometimes, it is better to leave it home. Unlike the Jedi, we do not rely just on our lightsabers or forego the use of blasters. But we are not here to discuss the philosophy of the weapon. We are here to learn how to wield such a tool.”

 

Swinging his saber about his waist several times in a whirling disc of blurred purple, the Duros looked warmly at Svata. “Turn your weapon on; careful to keep it away from any limb you want to keep. The weightlessness of the blade throws many who are not accustomed to it. It differs from the aros, where momentum of the weapon can be used to your advantage. The lack of weightiness here can let a skilled user whisk their blade about at what seems like unnatural angles and directional changes.”

 

Slowing his blade in nearly an instant, The Sarlacc brought his blade up to nearly head height in a two-handed hold, the blade pointing outward from his body, arms extended but not locked, presenting the weapon as the first point a for would run into if they charged forward. 

 

”The Jedi and the Sith have developed many fighting styles for the use of a lightsaber. Many of our Jensaarai brothers and sisters have studied and mastered these. The difference is that the Jensaarai, whilst a master in battle, does not relish inthe fight. We take to combat as willed by the force and we strike with keen unseen movements to end the battle as quickly as possible. One may flit about like a bird, but the goal is to survive the winner in the end so that lives may be saved. In combat, we allow our emotions to mingle with the force in a deadly crescendo. For now though, we will focus on the moves and keeping you alive through the battle. Feel the weightlessness of the blade, the heft of the hilt against your hand. When you are ready, swing it against my own.”

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  • 2 weeks later...

As their blades swirled and crashed, The Sarlacc let the force bind his mind and that of Svata’s, prodding him to learn the smallest of subtleties of their craft. “Your learning serves you well. You must practice the knowledge of the past until it has become second nature.”

 

Still, their blades clashed and swirled. As Svata relaxed, The Sarlacc went from a static form to one that saw him moving about and circling the apprentice. When Svata would swing, The Sarlacc’s blade would clash only briefly as he whirled about out of range to the left, right, or back. A couple times he dove forward, rolling past the Ryn only to come to his feet behind him. If he were to go full tilt, it was likely he would be but a blur. Other times, Svata’s blade only met with empty air, the Sarlacc’s purple blade vanishing with a hiss to only activate a moment later after Svata’s blade passed by. Stepping forward, The Sarlacc would clash his blade against Svata’s.

 

Once his apprentice had gotten the hang of keeping his focus on an opponent who was moving, The Sarlacc went on the offensive, ducking and dodging Svata’s blows only to whirl about, his blade passing within inches of Svata.

 

They continued for hours, sweat pouring off their bodies and the temperature in the hold increasing by the minute. Their speed that had started slowly increasing to an upbeat tempo of almost blinding speed. The sabers of the two crashing together as often as they met empty air. The Sarlacc flipped and flitted through the air before he finally landed across the hold from Svata.

 

Righting himself, The Sarlacc held up his blade by his face in a salute to Svata before deactivating the blade one final time. At the same time, the intercom dinged from somewhere in the recesses of the hold indicating imminent reversion to real space. 

 

Reaching up, the Duros tried in vain to wipe the swest from his crowned head. “Very well done Apprentice Svata. You are learning well.”

 

((POST CONTINUED IN ARTUS PRIME)

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  • 4 weeks later...

The Duros eyes gleamed as the two apprentices interacted. He then interjected himself before the two could set off to test their martial prowess. “The Jedi are mortal just as you and I. They fear the darkness and in their fear they sometimes unwittingly align themselves with it.” Offering a nod to Bones, he continued, “We are less cleaning up their mess and more redirecting a potential dilemma. Many years ago, the Jedi came for the Jensaarai and tried to slaughter us all. We were misguided then; but as you see, we were redeemed. Without the use of the force and our abilities to hide, our order would have been lost. Where would you be now in such a world?”

 

Reaching into a pouch at his waist, the Darlacc drew two datachips out and handed one to each apprentice. “There are times when a Jensaarai must fight. There are more times when it is prudent to simply be a ghost amongst the shadows.” Glancing about the hallway, The Sarlacc returned his look to his comrades, a twinkle sparking in his eye. “I do not know all of what you learned under the Sun-Dragon’s tutelage young Bones, but the Secret of Evaporation is a skill that has yet to be passed to from me to you, Svata.”

 

Turning to walk down the hallway with the elder and younger apprentices, the Duros continued to speak.  “The secret is not a skill that all Jensaarai can master. Some excel in other areas. This is the will of the force. It would be foolish to not have knowledge of it though. The shadows of the world offer more protection than you know. You must simply join them. I do not mean to sound cryptic. Reach out on the force, feel everything around you, the ship, the air, the food-based substitutes in the mess. Feel it. From this matter you also came. You are the same. Open up your mind and your body to this. Blur the lines that separate you from the world around you. When you are one with the world, you are the world, and no longer a single sentinel to be seen. When you mingle your essence and bond it to the durasteel deck, the particles of space, and all between, you will be practically invisible to that which seeks to divide us from the world around us.”

 

Stopping at the closed door to the bridge, The Sarlacc turned to his apprentices. “The Sarlacci soldiers who fly with us do not take well to intrusions. The bridge is monitored by cameras, guards, and security measures. The Secret of Evaporation cannot carry another. It is a bond between the worlds around you and the force. Still, together, the two of you must test yourselves. Ensure the programming on your datachips is complete.” He raised his eyebrows playfully at the duo. “Good luck.”

 

And with that, he left the two apprentices to their task. He had his own to undertake before they arrived on Mechis. Returning to his quarters, The Sarlacc, reached into his sack of belongings and gesr he had brought along and removed several fist-sized cubes of durasteel.  

 

Regaled in his armor, The Sarlacc settled onto the floor, crossinglegs crossed beneath him and raising his hands above his head he began to concentrate. Reaching out on the force, the Jensaarai Defender sought out the cubes with his mind. Individually, he telekinetically lifted each cube in the air and beheld it in both the force and with his eyes. They were polished, smooth, and flawless to the eye; a chunk of metal individually cast as one. Yet, when he began to prod them with the force, microscopic pits began to shine. Invisible fault lines began to radiate from each cube as he concentrated on it. Each was unique, some cubes had lines that zigged and zagged across them practically shrouding the cube itself in a cocoon of purplish glow; others had one or two lines that criss crossed their surface; still others had singular points that radiated when beheld.

 

After studying each cube for several moments, The Sarlacc returned one to his focus. With concentration, he poured his attention and the force through the object until he could see not just the faults on the surface; but how and where they ran through the cube. Some dead-ended, others connected in a sprawling maze of angled lines that jigged and jagged together.

 

After several minutes of concentration, the Sarlacc moves one hand. Reaching out with a finger, he tapped a nexus on glowing lines on the cube and it shattered, falling in a pile of dust to the floor.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Waiting outside the bridge, The Sarlacc nodded slowly in approval. “The force flows naturally with you brother Svata. Even I cannot walk fully unseen betwixt those who would seek me. Bravo. Brother Bones has taken suddenly ill. Food poisoning or hyper-sickness, I would guess. This task will be up to you and I now. Might I suggest you return to your quarters and prepare. We cannot be discovered as Jensaarai.”

 

The Sarlacc placed a warm hand on the elder Ryn’s shoulder. “I am proud of you. You have done well with your training thus far. I know you will become a learned Defender.”
 

Then he turned to go to his own quarters, his intentions to remove his signature armor and don his more wellworn spacer attire.

 

((continued on Mechis III))

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  • 3 months later...

The seasoned Duros watched his apprentice through pupilless red eyes. He had long since changed from his Jensaarai armor back into the space suit  he preferred to be found in. Sitting at the controls, the hum of the engines distance in the background mingled with the waivering gauges and occasional blips from the console. To a being born, and to many intents, bred from the mysteries of the cosmos, this was as peaceful and serene as one could hope. Even here the force buzzed gently, at peace with the world around them and whisked away by the alternate reality through which they traversed.
 

Yet, all was not at peace. Svata’s words revealed his troubled soul. The darkness of Dathomir had taken her toll. Like many a spacer, The Sarlacc was numb to the demands it could place on one not seasoned to it or prepared for it’s probing tendrilled reaches. Had he assumed too much of the wizened Ryn who now travelled with him? He probably had. The man had lived a full life, yet even now was expanding his understanding of the universe as the shroud was removed from the existence he had known. It had to be hard and the Defender kicked himself for not having seen or thought it sooner.

 

The Defender let his comrades words hang in the air for an uncomfortable period of stillness. A stillness only broken by the automized machinations of the ship about them. He turned his friend’s words over in his mind, chewing on them as if testing them for a hidden bit of gristle or fat that did not belong. And then, after nearly a minute of solitude within his own mind, he spoke. His words carried with them the weight of his thoughts and he spoke each as if it were a complete thought unto itself.

 

“So too were we.”   

 

The Sarlacc fell silent. The world about them returned to the embracing silence of the tomb that was hyperspace. He knew his words were enough. The Duros had spent enough time with Svata to know that the Ryn would take the words to heart and turn them over in his mind as he thought on them applying all their experiences and his knowledge of the Jensaarai to the comment.
 

Turning back to the console, The Sarlacc left Svata to his thoughts; his own mind turning to their future. The galaxy was in turmoil and while the Jedi and Sith made grandiose maneuvers to try and wrest the state of the galaxy towards their chosen ideologies, The Sarlacc knew it was in the small details, the daily acts of kindness and compassion that was where true change awaited. Regimes rose and fell. Truth lived on, held fast in the hearts of all who treasured it. And so, the duo would set off to enact small change as they had on Darhomir, where even now the forces of truth and knowledge steamed forward to keep the word of the Jensaarai and offer glimmers of hope and light in the shadowy underbelly of the grasp of darkness.

 

The Sarlacc’s fingers sailed over the console with precision expertise, diverting their course mid-jump. Turning around, he regarded Svata. “Perhaps some lightsaber training to help recenter your mind?” 

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The Sarlacc beamed warmly. Even if his rather expressionless face did not show it, his care and compassion radiated from his distinctly alien pores. With a sweeping motion of his hand, the Jensaarai Defender sent the few loose bits and pieces in the room sliding into the walls about their perimeter in a gust of force-induced momentum.

 

Pulling his hilt from his belt, The Sarlacc nodded deeply to Svata. He knew the elder Ryn was full of surprises. It was a Jensaarai trait that his apprentice naturally had an affinity for. Still, this was training, a practice duel as it were, to hone their already sharpened skills and senses for their next inevitable encounter. Using live fully powered blades, they needed to extend caution as well, lest one render the other incapable.

 

Spinning the unlit hilt in his hand, the Sarlacc spoke, his voice smooth as he began to circle about their empty training space; a cat circling it’s prey. “The Jedi and the Sith have, like so many others, perfected numerous forms of combat. It is wise for a Defender to know them. To familiarize oneself with them and others is within the paths of a Jensaarai Defender.” He continued to circle, his hilt twirling effortlessly in his fingers as he spoke, his mind surging forth on the force to prod Svata’s defenses, seen or unseen“Still, as the Jensaarai takes this knowledge, so to do we grow and expand upon it. We use the armor of a Sith, the dedication of a Jedi, and the weapons of both. We expand though. By and large, the Jedi focus upon their blade, the Sith on their power. A lightsaber is a powerful tool, nothing more; but it is more than an energized blade.”

 

As he spoke and spun his hilt, The Sarlacc suddenly flicked his wrist and on a wave of the force sent the deactivated hilt spinning parallel to the ground, ethereally tethered in force to his hand and mind. The blade would only be activated as it made it’s final spin towards Svata’s body.

 

All the while, The Sarlacc continued to speak. “As Jensaarai, we do not seek to fight; nor do we overly concern ourselves with the finer points of combat when we need not. A Jensaarai’s goal is to bring the combat to a close as soon as it has begun. We preserve life where we may and take it only if forced.”

 

Stepping backwards, The Sarlacc’s second hand fell to his waist and the weapons and gear about his belt. Should his blade not circle back around to him after it’s attack he wanted to be prepared for whatever Svata brought to the table. This was lightsaber training, but that did not mean other means were off the table to further the combat training they engaged in. Every one of his senses were attuned to his apprentice and the room about them. While a Jensaarai threw themselves into combat, fueled by their emotions, The Sarlacc held himself close, unwilling to become a blazing beacon of power, lest he strike down his apprentice.

 

((1))

 

((Force probed Svata’s mind and defenses; threw unlit lightsaber hilt at Svata from across the room, activating it at the last second to try and bisect his apprentice; stepped back and prepared for counterattack))

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The Sarlacc’s eyebrow raised as he noted his apprentice’s mental push against his own probing. It was good that Svata was aware enough to understand what was going on. In as much as the Jensaarai sought knowledge and truth, so too did they seek to protect it. The blue-green Defender would have voiced this, had it not been for the sudden rigors of combat that began to unfold. For the moment, he was content that his apprentice had responded in the Jensaarai way.

 

The Sarlacc’s grip tightened on his collapsible aros at his belt line as he felt his probe repulsed and the signature of Svata’s presence gray and waiver. Still, he could visually see the man, illuminated in a athletic flop by the royal hue of his suddenly activated blade as it tasted thin air before hissing back within it’s internal sheath to careen back around the edge of the field in a force propelled arc. 
 

It was then that the Ryn’s own blades ignited with a telltale duel hiss. Even as they did, the two connected blades were a burst of sunlight in the training hold as they blurred into a circular spinning prop like so many they had encountered on less developed worlds. This is a saber duel afterall, the defender noted to himself as his own weapon arced free from the immediate field. If it was to be such a training, it would appear the Defender had put himself at a disadvantage from the starting gate. 
 

The Sarlacc shook his head, it was of no matter; for even though he and his saber were separated by time, the bond of the force between the two hummed strong.

 

And then it happened, the disruption of Svata’s imprint in the force clouded the elder’s movements. Two bright and growing circles of blue energy erupted from where Svata stood. It was with barely a thought that The Sarlacc recognized the telltale sight and sound of a stun shot being fired. It echoed in the air. Had he been clearly visible in the force, The Sarlacc might have had time to react, to grab the gun with the force and wrestle it off target or to throw up some sort of ad hoc shield. As it was, he was not prepared and so all he could do was react; his body instinctually moving with his preconceived plan. 

 

On instinct, The Sarlacc reacted; his body already tensed and ready to move. With a flick of his wrist, the aros at his waist was free. In that same motion one end of the collapsible staff extended and struck the ground with an echoing ting, an extension of the Duros body and will. The Defender was already in motion, using this third point as a fulcrum to vault himself upwards, clear of the incoming stun blasts. The sharp collapsed opposite end of the weapon dug uncomfortably into The Sarlacc’s  hand as his full weight bore down on it. He felt the tickle of radiated energy as the blasts from the heavy blaster narrowly missed him; sending tingling sensations racing up and down the Defender’s unarmored left leg.

 

As he came to land, his right foot caught on the decking, firm and clear of the shots. His left; however, still twitching with cast off energy, hit the ground and slid, toppling The Sarlacc forwards, towards Svata and his spinning blade. A silent muscle-tensing bolt of pain shot up the Defender’s leg and into his side - a sprained muscle at the least.

 

Swinging his cortosis-alloy half-extended aros about in a wide arc, The Sarlacc sought to crash the weapon into the spinning maelstrom of Svata’s blades. His grip on the weapon loosening so that the weapon

might be torn from his hands in the momentum of his foe and cast like a mislaid hydrospanner in a podracer engine - a tumult of chaos so as to damage whatever or wherever it was careened by the power of the propeller. 

 

In that same moment, The Sarlacc loosed his mental grasp upon his saber hilt, one that had endured despite the agony that now tore at his stomach from his strained leg. The weapon tumbled harmless to the ground, a spinning top somewhere beyond him and behind his apprentice. In that moment, it did not matter though; for as much as this combatted contest was one between brothers, it was still that, a contest of combat from which one would emerge a victor and one defeated, both bearing the knowledge of lessons learned.

 

Releasing his grips on his weapons, saber and aros, The Sarlacc reached with a glance as his hands pushed down on the floor, his eyes focusing on the heavy blaster in Svata’s hand. With a force-imbued heave fueled by his own pain, The Sarlacc sought to telekinetically wrench the weapon awry, slamming it upwards in an attempt to deliver a cranially corrective blow to his apprentice’s face.

 

And as he attacked, The Sarlacc swung his legs around readying himself to move once again, his strained muscle protesting in silent shooting pains that the Defender used to focus his own attentions on the task at hand. 

 

((2))

 

((Repulsed by Svata’s mental defenses. Precognitive abilities hampered by lightsaber distraction and Secret of Evaporation usage.

Used his staff to leap relatively clear of the shots using what had been the basis for his second set of movement; still getting zinged by the radiating energy of the stun blasts, causing The Sarlacc to sprawl as he landed.

Swung his staff (aros) at Svata’s spinning blades and will release the staff into the momentum of the blades if there is a connection.
Telekinetically let go of his saber hilt allowing it to fall and turned this telekinetic focus to Svata’s blaster and tried to slam it into Svata’s face)) 

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The Sarlacc did not stop his momentum to see if his attacks connected. He heard his staff clatter against the wall with a hollowed ring. Suddenly the Jensaarai Defender felt with clarity his apprentice, the charade falling to the wayside as the Ryn turned his focus to his bladework.

 

The Sarlacc felt the incoming strike a fraction of a second before it came and he jerked his leg back instinctively, the tip of the blade searing the pilot’s uniform he was wearing as it’s plasmatic blade tinged his blue-green skin, filling the air with the acrid smells of his flame retardant uniform curling back against the heat. A sharp smell wafted into the air.

 

Instinct was a life saver. As a warrior of the force, instinct often kept the Defender alive, his body his weapon and he a master of it’s form. When a weapon is chipped though, forms must change. If they do not, weaknesses can be exposed and if one does not adapt, their weapon might be shattered. So to was it with The Sarlacc as he jerked his leg to safety, the opposite tensing as it tingled anew. The strain of his pulled muscle tugged with invisible claws at his gut, dropping the Jensaarai low as his momentum carried him backwards, slamming his rear to the floor as he slid haphazardly backwards away from his apprentice.

 

The sharp bolt of pain from impacting the floor mingled with the newfound arcing lightning that tore at The Sarlacc’s side. That pain twisted as it seemed to take on a life of it’s own, a dragon bellowing in pain upon the waves of the force. It’s fiery breath was practically palpable in the air as the fierce determination settled in the red eyes of the Duros.

 

The force swirled with the power of the ethereal beast as the pain coarsed through the lithe being’s body, and still, he contained it; it’s fiery wind seeking release. The glow of yellow sunlight was a spear that sought to pierce his scales and yet the weapon was double sided, one lethal point outstretched in damnation, the other buzzing with equal hunger, yet directed not at it’s foe but it’s master. In that moment, The Sarlacc reacted on instinct, his mind and body unified in purpose. With a telekinetic propulsion that lasted less than a moment, using the momentum of his own fall, The Sarlacc lashed out with his hands. He cupped the invisible power of the force and sent it surging forward towards Svata’s blade in an effort to drive it’s opposite spearpoint of light towards his apprentice. The ballistakinetic display of power was usually reserved for small and microscopic projectiles, thrown en masse; but it could and was being applied in greater singular focus on his foe’s blade. In that moment, The Sarlacc rolled backwards, landing on his knees, his body growling in pain; a snarl that escaped the Duros lipless mouth in an animalistic display of the raw emotions that he contained within his form - only to be released at his command.

 

Extending his hand, The Sarlacc called his deactivated hilt back towards him, the metallic hilt whirling through the air with a deathly heaving pulse. It’s weight pulled by the force beyond it’s own momentum.

 

((3))

 

((Leapt back to avoid the stab from Svata’s lunge, toppling backwards and sliding as he collapsed from his internal pain and momentum of reaction to the incoming blow.

Rolled backwards to his knees, unleashing the draconic emotions that are standard of a Jensaarai in combat in a blast of telekinetic energy tontry abd force Svata’s second blade back into Svata.

Used the force to call his hilt back towards him. (Can be used as an attack if Pheristroch wants it to be, otherwise it is just to call bis blade back to him.)))

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