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Leaving Ishvara behind for the first time in a very, very long time, Lord Roshan's new acquired T-6 Shuttle mostly purred as it sailed through hyperspace, shaking only every once in a while just to remind him of how simple and frailly it was designed. While Solus played around with his new pet, Lord Roshan closed his eyes and relaxed for a moment. His relaxation, however, was interrupted abruptly by the return of his new weapon.

 

“Lord Roshan, sir, Tear is bandaged up and while he didn’t like it, he, uh...he’s bandaged up.” 

 

"Well done, Soulless. He'll hopefully be back up and running in no time."

 

“Um, Lord, a question. I swore to your cause but...what is it? Your cause? After all, you are a god, and you ascended me...so what is the goal that I work towards? I understand to become a powerful weapon, but...what does that mean?”

 

Lord Roshan paused. He spun in his chair a little to better face Solus, "Well, Sir Soulless... that is a great question. Are we talking about immediate or existential? In an immediate sense, my cause is to see that you become a great weapon, a "god killer," "soul reaper," and true Knight of Roshan and perhaps even a legendary Sith Lord. And then along with Aliss and I, we will return to Ishvara and kill my rival and all his children and families and their families families and all their relatives and friends and allies and associated people for their desecration of my sanctuary. On that day, with his disembodied head in my hands... I will declare his name and curse it. But I have sworn to never speak it again until the die he dies."

 

The ship shook a little as he spoke of cursing the man's name. Spinning back around in his chair, Lord Roshan checked the readouts in front of him. Everything looked normal. Vessel was probably just showing its age.

 

"As far as existentially speaking, we exist. But you are the greater than us "mortal gods"? What does it even mean to be a god? That we have power? That we can create life? That we should be obeyed and worshiped out of fear or reverence? Or is it simply a title we take to make ourselves feel better or make weaker minds bow before us? To speak truth, Soulless, I am not god in a true sense. I did not create the universe or the Force or even you. But I do understand it, I can manipulate it, and I did place you in a body that gave your already created existence a physical form."

 

Lord Roshan took a deep breath before letting it out slowly and continuing, "But you and Aliss are my children. You are my legacy. One of flesh and one of metal. That's why you take my name. If you choose to rule the galaxy, I will support that cause. If you choose to reign as a god on Ishvara, so be it. But the meaning of life is subduing. The weak must serve us because we are strong. Not everyone can sense the force and use it. So we are special. And our specialness makes us better and greater and more important than them. And thus, it is our responsibility to perfect our power and bend the knees of all that oppose such power and our right to rule."

 

Spinning back around in his chair to face Solus, Lord Roshan added with a hint of sadness, "I forgot that. I grew complacent. I lost everything. The Force punished me. Because I did not continue to enslave it to my will. And a slave on the loose is a betrayal waiting to happen. Does that help answer your question at all, Soulless?"

___

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Solus listened intently to his lord’s words, soaking each one up carefully. It was the first time he had seen a kind of gentler emotion from Roshan so far, though Solus’ lifetime so far had been brief. Still, Solus had seen a touch of anger from Roshan back in his ascension. Now Solus was seeing a touch of sadness. Solus was feeling a mixture of pride and sadness himself. Pride at the fact that Roshan was willing to share this emotion with him, but sadness because his master was sad. 

 

When Roshan faced him, Solus nodded. “Yes Lord Roshan. It does. At least, I believe it does. Yes…”

 

Solus glanced out through the window at the array of passing stars and space. While his sensors that could not read what it was, it and Roshan’s words made Solus think. He turned and began slither out of the cockpit to attend to Tear and Sir Aliss, but at the door he stopped.  He placed a hand on the metal frames of the door, feeling the texture of the metal on his own fingers. Lost in thought, he began to mumble, but grew slowly with enthusiasm.

 

“Lord Roshan, I vow to be the god-killer you need. Once I have become strong enough, your rival will feel your wrath! Yes, that is my oath! Ha ha!” 

 

Solus was feeling a rise in emotion. He couldn’t help himself. His serpentine tail shivered in excitement. Solus' body moved upwards nearly hitting the ceiling with his head.  Solus looked as if he was looking at the ship's ceiling  inches away, when in reality his gaze was somewhere else. With his hands clenched, Solus raised both arms as if in triumph and swiveled around to face Roshan. 

 

“Yes! That is it! I will become a god slayer! Solus the Ascended will become more! "

 

Solus grew louder and prouder, lost in emotion.

 

"By my visions!" Solus slammed the ceiling once with a metal fist, causing a large banging noise.

 

"I will be more god-like then anything before! By my ascension!"

 

Solus slammed with his other fist, denting the ceiling slightly.

 

 "I will become a tool of the Force! By this body!"

 

With both fists he slammed his own chest, the ringing noise echoing throughout the ship.

 

"I swear to be a weapon to slay gods, become a god myself, and then…"

 

Solus turned back to Roshan and lowered himself into a bow. “...your rival will feel your wrath.”

 

Before anyone could say anything, a howl came from the back rooms. Tear was awake and sensing its ancestral home. The ship’s monitors beeped in warning that it was about to exit hyperspace. And Tear knew it somehow. So did Solus. Something in him shivered. Something dark. 

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Posted (edited)

“Lord Roshan, I vow to be the god-killer you need. Once I have become strong enough, your rival will feel your wrath! Yes, that is my oath! Ha ha!” 

 

Roshan listened to the Shard's words as it spoke. The phrase "need" made him bristle a bit. He did not need Solus to be a god-killer.

 

But do I desire it? Of course.

 

Lord Roshan chose not to correct the being in that moment, however. The Shard's heart was in the right place.

 

“Yes! That is it! I will become a god slayer! Solus the Ascended will become more!..."

 

With each mechanical vibration of his voice, the Shard's excitement became more and more palpable. Roshan listened in silence, reflecting on the words uttered.

 

"I will become a tool of the Force! By this body!"

 

Another false statement. But he will learn in time.

 

"I swear to be a weapon to slay gods, become a god myself, and then...your rival will feel your wrath.”

 

As Tear howled and the ship rattled, Lord Roshan spun back around in his chair. He looked over the readouts. The area of space they had dropped out of hyperspace into was unfamiliar and devoid of natural markers. And in the distance, a massive, derelict, space station looking object sat silently in space. It looked old, if not ancient. An ominous chill ran down Roshan's spine at the mere glance. Whatever the almost obelisk-shaped object was, it exuded darkside energy and its artificial gravity well had yanked the small T-6 shuttle out of hyperspace with ease. Moving the ship away from the object and having the nav-computer recalculate their destination, Roshan spoke over his shoulder to Solus.

"Sir Soulless, I commend your excitement. But actions speak louder to words. We can speak something into existence only if we follow such talk with actions. And never... and I mean never... allow the Force to make you its tool. You must enslave the Force to your will. To become a tool of the Force would be akin to making a pet mynock or Tut'aka your master or taking orders from a food dispenser. Simply because something is useful or capable of performing helpful or vital tasks that's doesn't mean that it deserves to be master over your autonomy or has any the right to control you! That is where many a foolish force user falters and becomes weak, impotent, and easily defeatable. Never forget that."

 

Hitting a few buttons on his console, Lord Roshan sighs, "I must apologize for the slight detour. It seems that something random pulled us slightly off course. But we will be back on course in a few moments as soon as we escape its gravity well. Go and check on Tear. As soon as we are in hyperspace again, I'm going to tend to Aliss. Our current route seems to be a shortcut of sorts. Give us another several hours or more and we should be arriving at our destination in no time. In the meantime, I think I'll take this chance to get some rest."
 

Once back in hyperspace, Lord Roshan checked in on the sleeping Aliss. She and the other Knights of Roshan had pushed themselves to their limits just getting as far as they had. She deserved the chance to rest. A shiver rippled down Roshan's spine as he laid down on the metal floor. It wasn't the cold of the floor that made him react, however. It was the thought of where they were headed. He had taught himself two languages over the decade plus of his "seclusion" from the rest of the galaxy. The first was an expanding of what he already knew of the Echani language. It was a research project that he had began before arriving on Ishvara and was easy enough to continue. It was also a language that he eventually taught to his Knights and that they used tactically in battle.

 

But the second was practical for far different reasons. In spite of the challenge, he had spent years learning and mastering the Sith language. It wasn't necessarily easy but between the artifacts and old manuscripts and auxiliary databases and the extra digging he had done while "exhuming" Sith artifacts and journals from caches and tombs, he had managed to piece together a fairly extensive knowledge of the base language in several of its most common forms. 

 

And that knowledge intimidating him a little at this moment. Because whether the readout was in High Sith or some other hybrid form, what he could make of it read an awful lot like the sith word for "Pesegam." And he was more than a little familiar with what Pesegam meant. Also referred to as Moraband or Korriban by the ancients, he'd read stories of its existence and ties to the Darkside and the original Sith Empire. And as much as Lord Roshan didn't mind a little mystery on occasion, he hated surprises. But as it stood, what awaited them there was anyone's guess.

 

And yet all the same, on to Korriban it was. Fear would not stand in the way of the answers and the power they sought. At least, not this time.

___

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Edited by Durose Roshan

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Solus watched through the window as Lord Roshan maneuvered the ship. Once they were on the way, Solus listened intently. He flinched at the rebuke. It was physically visible how Solus started to feel. His entire body slouched slightly, and the enthusiasm that was there moments ago completely dried up. 

 

At his words, Solus nodded and went back to the room to check on the hound. Tear growled slightly at the metal being as Solus entered. The droid stared at the beast quietly and moved closer. It’s growls intensified.

 

 For a moment, he froze. Solus reached forward and grabbed the thing’s head behind the ear. 

 

“Shut…” With brutal force Solus slammed Tear’s head down into the bed. Tear snarled and barked. With metal hands, Solus began to squeeze, making Tear yelp in pain. 

 

“UP!!!”

 

Solus raised Tear’s head up and slammed again. While the bed wasn’t a hard surface, it certainly was enough to make Tear flinch and stay still.

 

For another moment, Solus held the hound down. The hound panted over and over, staring at its owner in utter fear. It knew what the thing could do.  Solus stared down, his yellow eye giving a putrid glow over the thing’s face tempted to try to crush its skull.  To break it apart. His grip tightened. 

 

“I am in charge, and you will please me! You hear?"

 

Solus realized that there was a noise in the room. A kind of rattling, clicking noise. Glancing back, Solus saw that the sound was coming from his tail shivering on the floor uncontrollably.  This was the first time Solus had to focus to stop moving it. 

 

After he released the hound and backed away, Solus slumped against the wall, his torso leaning back while his tail curled up underneath him. Something was wrong with the body. It felt sluggish. The energy that moved through the wires was not moving as fast. 

 

“This...is...what…” Solus started. His voice box didn’t sound right. It was too slow. Too low. 

 

For a moment, his eye flickered, giving the illusion he was going blind.

 

A dread panic began to form inside Solus. 

 

“What...what’s...happening? No..Lord...”

 

Solus tried to pick himself up, but the chassis wouldn’t respond. The electricity was coiling back to its battery. With outstretched hand, Solus reached for the bed where Tear watched cautiously. 

 

“Tear...help…” 

 

The last thing Solus saw before his eye flickered out completely was the hound struggling to get up on it’s broken legs. 

 

***

 

To anyone outside, it was obvious that the chassis Solus had needed to shut down and do a recharge. However, since Solus wasn’t fully accustomed to what his body needed and how it worked, to him it was the most terrifying thing he ever experienced. 

 

At first, the shard tried to move the body over and over again. It begged. It commanded. It could still feel the body through it’s electromagnetic senses, but it couldn’t see or hear. Solus felt like he had just descended back into the void he came from. 

 

“Is...is this my punishment? Did I not please my Lord? Roshan! Please!” 

 

Solus begged. He pleaded. He requested and bartered with the void around him, hoping Roshan would hear his cries again like he must have had before. Then, it turned to shouting. Silently, the crystal inside the chassis turned from a bright red to a near black. The lines became more jagid, and erratic. 

 

“Well kriff you! I...I will do it! I will give myself power! Yes! Myself and no one else! I will be powerful! Yes! And once Roshan, once you are dead, my family will be better then ever!”

 

**to Korriban**

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She nodded stiffly, almost mechanically, she was so tired. And she fumbled at the clasps of her crush webbing for a moment before slowly standing up. Every joint in her body ached and screamed at her to stop and the blade wound at her belly screamed even louder. She took a deep breath and forced herself to slowly walk out of the cockpit and towards the refresher. She laid a tired hand on Aidan’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze before she stumbled off. 

 

The several meter walk to the refresher pod felt like one of the longest walks of her life and when the door finally slid closed behind her she leaned on it heavily. She let herself slide down its thin metal facade and the tears finally came. Pent up emotions boiled out of her as tears dripped down her face to fall gracelessly from her chin onto her scarred armour chestplate. Were the tears all for Fynn? No. It was a mix of everything, all the deaths, all the memories tainted by such a simple thing. Nearly ever good memory she had was stained by the tendrils of the darkside. Was nothing from before her capture and torture and...Her hand went to her abdomen and she sobbed in a breath, pulling her mind from then to look for anything else. Was nothing before then to be preserved? Every smiling face had turned to frowns, and every bit of memory was filled with choking despair. Where could she find her footing? Not in those blissful hours before the slavepits, not in the embarrassing minutes on kashyyyk. She took in a shuddering breath, even his eyes were so hard now. But she loved him none the less for it. 

 

Uhg love. She pulled at a sweaty strand of hair, trying to cover her emotions again by distracting herself. She pulled at the strand until a glimmer of pain started to edge out her feelings. She concentrated on that pain until she gasped. Her eyes flew open and she saw herself in the polished steel bulkhead that acted as a mirror in the cramped refresher. She let her grip on her hair slacken and she slowly shook her head. 

 

She had already defeated this ghost. A long time ago. She wiped at her eyes and let her emotions slowly settle. She wanted love, she wanted a solid ground to walk on. And perhaps sometime she would get it. But for now, there was nothing she could do but rely on herself. Plust even if they were tainted by darkness and embarrassment, the memories were good ones. She reached out to the sink and pulled herself up and slowly began to undress. She was a mess, a long burn arced across her stomach to end right below her right breast and some of the tissue was unevenly scorched, the bloody remains of her tunic having been burned into the wound itself. She opened the medical pouch on her belt which was lying on the floor and administered a bit of bacta gel and numbing agent, which would be needed before she got into the refresher’s shower unit. 

 

She pulled off her boots and trousers, pulling the sections of light armour off and stacking them diligently inside the shower. She looked at the chest piece and her finger traced the crest of the imperial knights and she let her eyes close. The tactile feedback of the engraved crest helping balance her emotions further as she began to steady her breathing. Her eyes drifted up to her reflection and she sighed. She looked away and stepped into the refresher’s shower. Tapping the button to dispense hot water and letting the flow run through her hair. It took several painful minutes of the heated water and soap flowing down her wounds before she felt close to clean. Then several minutes more for her mind to clear enough to think. Then she picked up each plate of armour and washed them thoroughly off all their muck and blood before she tapped the cold water button and nearly lept out of the shower from the shock of the cold water. 

 

She slowly dried herself off with a towel from the rack, then hunted in the cubbies for a spare flightsuit. Finding one maybe two sizes too big she slipped into it and stuffed her battered and bloody tunic into the disposal chute. She stacked the clean armour pieces next to her boots and making sure the refresher was clean for Aidan, opened the door and walked back out, brushing her tangled hair as she did so. The decking was cold on her bare feet as she walked the few meters back to Aidan and seeing him asleep she smiled. She sat down on the seat opposite him and stared out the viewport at the swirling lights of hyperspace for a few minutes before she finally spoke. 

 

“Aidan wake up. Your turn.”


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Jedi Master

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the scavenger ship was following closely behind master Tobias' ship. Kel stood by Yava's bedside watching over her as she slept. Her breathing was shallow and and she was running a high fever. In his hand was the last vial of medicine that Trushaun had given him. He hesitated in giving this to her on the vigilance. Now her condition was in critical state. they were too far from an inhabited world to seek treatment. So now Kel was presented with a dilemma. If he waited for them to arrive at Nar Shadaa, she would surely die. But if he gave her the medicine there was a chance he could save her, or that her body would reject it and die in the struggle. meaning that she would die by his hand. Before he did anything else he began meditating in order to prevent his mind from being plagued by fear and doubt. Once that was done he reminded himself of why he was here to begin with. The duty of a Jedi is to the preservation of life and the balance of the force. He came to the aid of these people to follow through on those beliefs. And so Kel placed the medipen on her arm, injected the medicine into her body and began the process of healing Yava by empowering her immune system to purge the harmful chemical substances in her body.


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Posted (edited)

Yava...

 

Yava... 

 

Get up!

 

The room was dark, but outside a storm raged, rain and wind smacked at and in her eyes, figures stood around her. All of them seemed ominously close. Dark figures eager to see about her form some semblance of life. Then finally one of the figures pulled out a small needle, and pierced her eye. The pain was intense, like something from her nightmares but worse. The pain grew, and abated only after the needle was withdrawn.

 

"There... now I'll be able to see." The voice said. But she knew the voice, it wasn't unfamiliar. The figures all withdrew accept one.

 

"K..er..n" The name escaped her lips. As she lay quietly the figure smiled, and sat in the far corner. 

 

"Good. You're awake. Touch and go there but the Jedi saved you... very fortunate." Kern said as he pulled of a pair of black gloves of his hands slowly, revealing the blood stains of a recently embattled form. His body too was covered in wounds. Yet, he didn't seem perturbed by this. He in fact wasn't a HE at all. The face was hers, except for the battle scars. 

 

"You... you almost killed me." Yava felt the peculiar sense of talking to herself. Yet this person was...Kern? 

 

"Damn close I know. Don't be so hard on me... I was trying to win after all." He said as he leaned forward, his eyes leering at her accusation.

 

"You bas...tard." a roll of thunder outside rocked the room as she said it. 

 

"See... now that's not very nice is it?" Kern said sternly. He sighed and wiped some blood from his face wound. He got up, exasperation in his motions, as he began to pace. He had her mannerisms almost perfect, it was like watching someone else in her skin. A sense of deep dread and revulsion came over her.

 

"Damn, really hoped I'd win that one. I mean I hate losing, but losing to her, like that? I was so close. Let's just say I've had better days. She didn't even let me have any last words. Just so damned rude. I tell you... jedi these days have no sense of history. It's all slice slice, kill kill, exterminate evil." He said complaining and ranting about his loss. Yava felt his feelings too, a bitter anger over losing. But why... she didn't lose, and why wasn't she angrier at him? 

 

"Oh... I suppose I should explain... well...this." He/she said as it turned and approached her bed side. The voice was hers, the face was hers... everything about the person in front of her was her. Except it wasn't it was darker, louder, angrier. It's rage shook the room.

 

"Where... where are we?" She asked looking around he non-descript hospital room. 

 

"I peeked a little, the 'Ryloth Spite' I believe. There is a jedi looking after you. Damned fool wants to save you. Jedi are just so reliable you know?" she said as her embodiment continued to pace.

 

"But-"

 

"Oh right, this is your mind... well a small part of it. Think of it... like a partition. A hidden sector. IT's deep, deep, within your unconscious. I had to be careful, too deep and I would be lost, too close to the surface, well that would cause-"

 

Her doppelganger paused as another roll of thunder clashed. 

 

"...well you know insanity is too nice a word for it. Call it a schism of your minds eye, a splintering of your very being into several violent shards of-"

 

"What!?" Yava asked angrily trying to clarify what she was saying. 

 

"It's not pleasant. But lets not dwell on that ok? Right now, you've got to keep them off the scent. If the jedi try to probe you too deeply and with too much effort, we won't survive. Meaning us-"

 

"But what the hell are you!?" She asked angrily.

 

"I'm me, with some you along for the ride. I transferred a part of my mind to you when we linked before I killed your captain. I've been in a continual mental link with you since then. IT was severed when my mind was...

 

He paused swallowing his anger, then continued.

 

"IT's a little transference technique I picked up from my days as a Jedi... I perfected it on Kesh. It killed the first dozen or so... but it's a very useful tool as survival goes. In normal plebeians, I just hitch a ride. But... when someone special comes along. Just think of me as a light combination of my soul and your own. If I just took up residence, then the pesky Jedi with strong mental abilities would see me like a red flag to a Lurian Mudhorn. But like this..."

 

Kern twirled about in her female, lythe form. A perfect facsimile of her to down to her hair and imperfect left ear. 

 

"Like this... I'm just a part of you. Your aura will be the same gray mass, nothing special. Provided you keep your emotions in check, I'll be no different then the normal conscious mind. I even have your predilections-" 

 

"That's... just evil." Yava said, clearly pissed off. She sat up and tried to remove the needle from her eye.

 

"No... well perhaps a little evil. Sure I didn't ask permission, but the strong don't need permission to do what is needed. Sith survive because we do what we must. You are a force sensitive. I couldn't pass up the opportunity given the dangerous mission I had. Besides, you get way more then your share in this."

 

"I don't want it, I don't want you...I want you out." She tried to pull at the needle but it wouldn't budge. The pain rose and fell when she stopped.

 

"Well see that's the thing. I'm hardwired in. Scoop me out, and you come too. So unless you want to turn into an unsightly vegetable, I suggest working with me." He shot back, the full predicament setting in with her.

 

"That isn't right... it isn't fair. You almost kill me, and now you want favors? You-" Yava said, her anger raging. 

 

"Oh boohoo... a little mind transfer and you get skittish. Come now. It's not all bad. You get all my experience, all of my memories. Everything to use as needed. You can't buy that sort of knowledge. Plus I know so many delicious tricks, all in all you're getting a great bargain." He said as he leaned in smiling with her face back to her.

 

Yava began to panic, the storm outside got worse, and she began to shake. 

 

"I don't... I won't-I know a con when I hear one. Now I want answers, and since your in my head, I think I deserve some right the hell now!" She said a hint of her own anger growing. 

 

"Alright, alright... easy. There is a way. IT's complicated, but it can be done... listen you're waking up. Don't mention any of this... actually never mind. Your waking mind won't remember it, at least not at first. Just find your way to Korriban, remember... go to Korriban, I will take it from there."

 

"Why you egotistical, selfish, narcissi-" the room vanished, and quickly her minds eye plunged back into the waking world. 

 

-----

 

Yava's eyes fluttered. She looked up at the strangely masked humanoid caring for her, she groaned as real pain racked her body and lungs. 

 

"What.... what the hell?" she asked groggily.

 

"Where... where are we?" Yava asked the man without moving, as she struggled to breath.

 

Edited by Fynn Relmis

"Some things... are worse then death, being forgotten for example..."

Member Since '05 - The Old Ones | Character Sheet

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Yava continued to stir and groan throughout the process of Kel's treatment. Kel noticed that her fever seemed to be dissipating. Although her breathing was still shallow. it was slow, but the medicine seemed to be having a positive effect on her. Eventually, Yava's eyes fluttered and slowly began to open. "She's coming around." Kel quickly opened the door and called out to the other crew members. "Hey, She's waking up! Get her some water!" Soon enough one of the crew members, a Twi'lek male came and delivered a flask filled with precious clear liquid. Kel thanked the man, took the flask, and returned to Yava's bedside.

 

Kel heard her curse under her breath before asking where they were. "Still in space. But we're closely approaching Nar Shaddaa. I've also called a medical transport. You'll be taken to a hospital for further treatment once we arrive. In the mean time, it's important for you to stay hydrated." Kel held out the flask towards Yava's lips. "It's water. don't worry, there's nothing in it."


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The small transport carrying Aidan, Kashi, and the rest of the strike force began its long journey through hyperspace to the planet of Serenno. In the back of its cargo hold, Aidan Darkfire began a long meditation with a comlink by his side, focusing his consciousness inward, allowing the Force to flow through him. It came to him first as a trickling stream, but as he relaxed and allowed the sensation to occur more naturally it slowly became a large river connecting him to everything else in the galaxy. He could feel the ship, its crew, the strong presence of Kashi, and beyond...a vast ocean of stars and life that clung to existence.

It was one mind he sought, though, one among the trillions and trillions. The Force normally didn't work like that, especially with someone who wasn't a seasoned master. But here, now, he simply held hope, and trusted in the Force. After a long while, he found her.

((Continued in the Dejarik Board, we will try to keep this quick))


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Kashi stood at the entrance of the transports cockpit, gazing into the swirling brilliance that was hyperspace. For the Knight, it was always a splendid experience, its origins truly unknown and the mechanics of it lost upon his mind. And yet the serene nature of the Force flowed just as elequantly here as it did just about anywhere, as if it reached beyond time and space. He couldn't help but feel a sense of calm in the thought.

 

Turning away from the cockpit, he wandered back to the rest of the strike force, most of which was beginning preparations for the oncoming battle at Serenno while others simply sat in silence. It was almost unbearable.

 

Walking in with a grin, Kashi slapped his hands together and briefly rubbed them before reaching into his pocket for a deck of cards. "Who's up for a game of Pazaak?"


 

Sheog the Mad said:
oof Sheog

Is actually a tribe of autistic ewoks in a costume

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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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Zipping through hyperspace, the Jedi Shuttle hurtled towards it’s destination. The ship fulfilled it’s duty as intended. It did not ask any questions. It went where it was directed and it did not question it’s purpose.   Leena pondered these things as she sat on a cushioned bench in the common area of the vessel. Why couldn’t she be more like this starship? Be a Jedi. Bring peace, not chaos. Stand for the oppressed and downtrodden, not flee at the sight of the enemy.

 

Turning these thoughts over in her head, Leena turned the hilt of her lightsaber over in her hands with the same rhythm. End over end the signature weapon and symbol of the Jedi turned and tumbled through her deft hands. It symbolized who she was supposed to be. She took pride in it and hated it at the same time. 
 

“Maybe you’re not meant to be a Jedi Knight Leena Kil. The MedCorps wouldn’t be so bad even without . . .” she paused, shaking her head to try and drive the thought out of her mind.

 

_____________________________________
 

Elsewhere on the craft, the armored Mantis finished cleaning his grayed Jensaarai armor, leaving a dull gray hue across the pieces. It was a Jedi training or meditation room. The Jensaarai had found it a refuge in which to contemplate. The ritualistic cleaning of his armor was as much meditation as the battle-ready maneuvers practiced within the waves of the force.
 

“I guard my emotions,

 

Lest they control me.”
 

The warrior spoke softly as he began to pull his armored boots and armored leg plating into place.

 

“I guard my kin,

 

through unity,” 
 

He placed his chest piece into place, looking at Sandy. “We are strong.”

 

Reaching down, The Mantis picked up his bracers and began to carefully afix them. 
 

“I guard justice,” 

 

He continued as he finished securing his arms. 
 

“For true justice is the path to peace.”

 

Picking up others bits of armor, the Corellian expertly secured the oieces into place without even having to look.

 

Continuing, his voice dropped to a loud whisper, 

 

“I guard Knowledge, lest the truth is forgotten.”

 

Picking up his belt, the Jensaarai slung it into place, before methodically placing each weapon in it’s assigned space.

 

“I guard life, because from life the force flows.”

 

”These are the tenants of the Jensaarai way Jedi Sarna. We were born of differences with the Jedi; but like the Jedi we stand for what is good. We seek a peaceful life;” he picked up his helmet and walked towards Sandy with a warm smile, “but we will do what must be done to preserve peace for our own and those who stand with us.” $:$/ He gestured towards the door, “Shall we walk?”
 


Strolling down the ship’s corridors, The Mantis spoke, trying to explain the ways of the Jensaarai while also honoring his oath to protect them.  ”Many who find their home amongst the Jensaarai are like Jedi Kil. They live in peace with their world, nurturing and creating in a galaxy of destruction and chaos. We protect them and they make us whole. Together, we seek the truths that the galaxy wishes us to not see. In true truth, real justice can be found. In that justice, true peace lives and flourishes. Not under the shadows of untruth. We operate there so that others may not”

 

Pausing at the threshold to the room where Leena was pondering, The Mantis took his helmet and gently placed it on his head with a click. “I will remain at the edges of the shadows. Unless needed, nobody will even know I am there. Right now,” he pointed towards the room where Leena sat, “I believe young Leena needs a Jedi to help her right now. May the force be with you Master Jedi.”


_______________________________
 

Staring down at her lightsaber, Leena did not even notice as the others approached just outside. The force rippled around the young Jedi as she questioned her position in the galaxy. She held onto the thought that the Grandmaster had sent her on another mission; but something made her wonder if it was not just a way to get her out of the way and not deal with the catastrophe she had been a part of on Mon Cal. After all, it had seemed like the Grandmaster had confirmed that Leena was not meant to fight the rising darkness. Fighting the darkness was what the Grandmaster wanted; where the order was directed and she was not to be a part of that direction. How long could she remain a Jedi if she did not conform?


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Humming a marching song as he worked, Svata carved and assembled from the pile of tech and oddities on the table. Slowly, over hours, his creation began to take shape.

 

The center of the construction was the bone hilt, hollowed out for the power cell, crystal chambers, and the various other bits that made the ancient weapon work. He set down the vibro-etcher and took a long look at the decorative carving running along the length of the soon-to-be lightsaber.

 

Constellations adorned the whole of the hilt, a starfield as detailed as the night sky. A simple, small outline of a sarlaac weaved between one cluster of stars on one side of the bone shaft, and a tiny ship moved through the stars on the others.

 

My teacher and my family.

 

Svata smiled as he stared at the empty spaces between the stars along the rest of the hilt.

 

Looks like I've got a lot of space to fill.

 

Svata began the work of placing the crystals into their respective chambers. He sunk into the Force as he'd been taught, for only through his connection to the mystical, uniting power could he complete his work. A bitter but pleasant ache unfolded in his chest as he worked, a memory coming to mind...

 

Parami laughed, clapping her hands in time with Svata's silly marching song. Behind the exaggerated goosestepping of her shameless husband, their first son marched in time, breaking pace every few steps to run and catch up to his father's longer stride. A durasteel strut lay propped against the 4-year old boys shoulder, his "weapon" that he used to hunt the ship's loth cat.

 

Unfortunately for Svata, the universe seemed to have granted the young the equivalent energy of a collapsing star, and the proud ryn had to admit defeat and end the game. He pulled his son aside and held the boy's "weapon".

 

"Now, why do we use weapons?" he asked.

 

The little boy opened his mouth, but then stopped, cocking his head in a comical fashion as he thought. He'd recently figured out that stopping and thinking got him the right answer more often than just blurting out whatever came into his head. Unfortunately, he was also four, and Svata could tell after a few moments that his son had gotten distracted and was off on some internal tangent.

 

Parami, no doubt guessing Svata's intention, walked over.

 

"What does Aunt Kila use her weapons for?" she asked.

 

This answer knew, and he shouted, "To protect the clan!"

 

Svata smiled. "That's right. That's what weapons are for. To protect the people and things you care about."

 

"I don't think Aunt Kila likes me."

 

Svata couldn't help but smile a little. The abrasive Kila had problems with children, and their son's recent obsession with weapons had earned her an endless stream of questions on a few occasions. Her respect for Svata's position had kept her from snapping at the little boy, but children were more perceptive than people thought.

 

"I bet you're wrong. You're a Dragoste. Kila's a Dragoste."

 

This seemed to appease the boy. "What should I fight for?"

 

Svata considered, but it was Parami who answered. "Son, you should fight for whatever you believe in and whoever you want to protect."

 

"I'll be a great protector like Aunt Kila!"

 

Parami smiled and looked at Svata. "I know you will."

 

Click

 

The last piece of the the emitter array snapped into place on the hilt. The weapon was done.

 

Svata wiped his eyes.

 

"Alright. You just need a name.

 

...Protector." He chuckled. "Simple, but I think that fits us, don't you think?"

 

He pressed the activation switch, and the twin golden blades hummed to life.

 

"Protector..." he muttered, still grinning.

 

___________________________________________________________________________________

 

Svata stepped onto the bridge.

 

On 7/24/2020 at 9:50 PM, The Sarlacc said:

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.”

 

He grinned as he wrapped his new lightsaber hilt in cloth to hide it from casual sight.

 

"Defender Sarlaac, if you're going to teach me the mysteries of the Force, the honor of the Jensaarai, and my place in the universe, I think it's only right I teach you something." He stepped up to the viewscreen. "How to enjoy your work. And there's nothing more heartwarming than seeing a bully get what's coming to them. So yeah...I'm ready."

 

 

 

 

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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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Sandy let her head rest against the crash webbing as she pondered the statements of the force user that was speaking in front of her. There seemed a strange sense of justice in everything he spoke, but at the same time there seemed a tinge of darkness. Or what was it? She could not tell, and perhaps a later deep dive into their split from the Jedi Order would be more fruitful, Sandy did not know. She looked at his heavy armour and when they arrived in the room where Leena sat she grinned. 

 

“I will someday need to learn more sir, but for now I must warn you that this place is not a planet for heavy armours. If only for your comfort." She ducked into the small refresher and came out in what was mostly a Jedi tunic but cut down to shorts and a short top, made out of breathable and fast drying material. Bare footed, she strapped her leather belt around her hips and looked at the hyperspace panel. Then back at Leena who she sat down beside and gave her a quizzical look. Her voice was soft and carried no reproach. 

 

“I sense much turmoil in you Leena. What is on your mind?”


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Jedi Master

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Leena toyed with her saber hilt, deftly spinning the silver cylinder from fingertip to fingertip; her mind lost as it wandered within itself. Her eyes darted upwards to Sandy as the master spoke. Sitting up from her slouch she offered a feeble smile. “Master Sarna, I was just,” she looked the master up and down before taking a deep breath and continuing. “How did you know you were meant to be a Jedi? I mean, when did you know that you were heeding the force’s call? I just cannot help but wonder if, well, maybe; maybe I was not meant to be a Jedi.”

 

”Look at this,” she held her lightsaber hilt up, pointing it towards the ceiling, “I know the basics, but thats it. I cannot even remember the last time I actually used it in a fight. I used to not even carry it. The last time I activated it I used it to threaten another Jedi; then we about got blown up. I’m not some leader of soldiers or protector of worlds like you or the Grandmaster or so many other of the greats.”

 

“Is the grandmaster sidelining me because I am not a fighter? Could you teach me how to be a great warrior like you. Maybe then I could prove that I am true Jedi.“ Leena’s ramble came to a halt as she looked expectantly, albeit hesitantly at Sandy. The truth was, she didn’t like fighting. She was a healer, a beacon of light in the ragged galaxy. If she was to be a Jedi though, she would do what she had to do; if that meant slicing and dicing her way through Sith troopers, well then, so be it.

 

______________
 

The Mantis hung back as Sandy approached Leena. It was not something he was needed for. What the Jedi Master had said about their destination coupled with her attire change into less-than-traditional Jedi garb had given him pause. Heading back to his spartan quarters, he would change. A Jensaarai was more than his armor after all. A light white robe over a pocketed tunic of gray would have to suffice. He could still carry enough supplies to fee confident should the worst arrive; but he wouldn’t be relying on his body glove to continually whisk away his heat and sweat. The Mantis really was not a fan of standing around and sweating without cause.


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Sandy watched with some concern as the Mon Calamari Apprentice spilled forth her concerns. She took a moment to scoot herself a bit closer so she could place her scarred hand on the girl's shoulder. It was a bit shocking to think that Apprentices might look up to her as some great warrior knight, like Locke Starspanker or even Kyrie Eleison. She wasn’t old enough and nor did she consider herself worthy of that respect. With a quick glance over Leena and the memory of a glance at her files, Sandy could tell that she wasn’t much older than the girl either. At least not a decade older. 

 

“I will address your points one by one if that is ok with you.” She let a casual smile cover her face, and at this close distance the girl could adequately see Sandy’s long healed scars from her captivity on Thalassia and Tatooine. The long , small lines that cut across her chin and up her cheeks that marked when the flesh had been peeled off layer by layer. Without the temple healers, Sandy doubted that she had been able to look anything like she did now. They were small and recessed scars that did not restrict or stiffen her face. 

 

“I never knew much about my own direction. I had to trust that voice inside myself, that voice of conscience, which amplified with our connection to the force can lead us on the righteous path. You must seek out what is right. And strive for that.” She arched an eyebrow. “Very few are called or have the discipline to be a Jedi Knight. Most will surrender to their emotions and forget their purpose.” She made sure the girl was looking at her. 

 

“Do you know our purpose?” 

 

She answered the rhetorical question just as quickly. 

 

“It is to protect the weak, safeguard the helpless, and to be without fear in the face of death.” 

 

She let her hand fall from the girl’s shoulder. 

 

“That is not our code however, that is the standard we must uphold. We hold all life to be precious, even that of our enemy.” She shook her blonde head. “Do not think that being a jedi makes you a commander of soldiers or some great fighter. That is folly. It is our great dignity to deny ourselves that passion. A Jedi is a healer, a lover, and an upright and righteous being. We are not and should never be soldiers. We may apply ourselves in the method of war but it must be only as the edge of the knife, we cannot let ourselves be swept up in command. That was the folly and downfall of the Jedi order in the past.”

 

“We became soldiers and lost ourselves in the process. How much suffering did great Starlisk or others cause while leading fleets and divisions of men?” She knew she was straying from the topic, but she figured it might be best for the man listening in to hear as well. “Any Jedi can justify the acts of war, but they loose themselves in it. And if we are lost, how can we safeguard the helpless when we sweep them aside in order to gain power or a system. That harkens of the darkside instead of the light.” 

 

She looked back into Leena’s eyes. 

 

“So strive not to be a great soldier, for that is not the destiny of the Jedi Knight. I and others can teach you the way of the sword, but the best lesson of the lightsabre is to know when not to use it. Yes, we are called to defeat the Sith Lords, and I have killed several and made a name for myself, but even that is a great tragedy. It is only with great reserve that I will go, and only with great reservation will I draw this sabre. But there comes also a point in which we must draw our sabre.” 

 

She tapped her hip, where the long battered hilt sat rested against her bare knee. 

 

“Does that answer your question or did I go blab my head off again?” 


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Jedi Master

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“We are an order at war though. What good am I if I cannot hold my own and serve the greater good? If I let hospitals and refugees get blown away? If I run when I ought to stand and fight? . . . even if I don’t know how to.” The girl paused, letting her own words soak in. “I guess I should have. Not sure what I could have done against such a force, but anything would have been better than nothing. I just would rather soothe suffering than be forced to create it. Isn’t that what we are doing charging out to fight the Sith warmachine?” The Mon Cal shoved her smooth hilt into her waistband. “I guess I am feeing ignorant. It feels like the whole order is gearing up towards war and the Grandmaster made it clear I wasn’t fit for the frontlines. That upsets me. I want to be a servant of the force, not a soldier, a good Jedi though too. I’ve seen what war does. I finally saw it in reality on Mon Cal. I’ve seen what war does, smelt it, tasted it, been in it up to my gills; but I was never in it in it. Then I was. I didn’t like it. I don’t want to make it. I want to heal it and keep it from happening to others, especially those who are innocent of its cause. It just doesn’t feel that is the Jedi that is needed or wanted. Maybe it isn’t the true Jedi Way.” Leena shrugged her shoulders as she looked at Sandy. “I just want to help.”


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On 7/24/2020 at 9:50 PM, The Sarlacc said:

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.”

 

Svata gave Sarlaac a lopsided grin, his whiskers bristling. In one hand he cradled his iron staff, hidden blades sheathed. In the other loosely dangled his heavy blaster pistol. The old ryn looked every bit the part of a rogue.

 

"It'll all depend on who's onboard and what they're transporting, but if this shipment is worth taking...well, it's probably worth protecting. We can hope, but I'd be ready for droids or troopers. We probably won't need to worry too much about reinforcements, but with the rebels stepping up their attacks I wouldn't put it past the Sith to start instigating piracy policies. Ships patrolling just off the hyperlanes, that sort of thing. Sith can get pretty ruthless when they get pushed. I heard a story about a freighter transporting explosives, only for them to go off once they were boarded by pirates. Turned out they'd been shipping those bombs back and forth for weeks waiting for a pirate to take the bait."

 

Svata shrugged.

 

"In the end we can't control what they'll do,  just do our best to do the right thing. At least, that's what's always helped me sleep at night."

 

He turned back, and a serious expression tightened his face. Old pain danced across his eyes for a moment, then it was gone.

 

"Just gotta do what we can."

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