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Scarif


Ary the Grey
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Scarif

 

Astrographical Information

Region: Outer Rim

Sector: Abrion

System: Scarif

Orbital Position: No canon references to other planets in the system

Moons: None

Grid Coordinates: Q-4

 

Physical Information

Class: Aquatic

Atmosphere: Type 1 Breathable Oxygen Mix

Primary Terrain: oceans, tropics, and volcanoes

Points of Interest: Crash site of two star destroyers

 

Societal Information

Indigenous Species: No known sentient indigenous species

Immigrated Species: Human, Falleen

Primary Language(s): Basic, a very distant dialect of Falleen, and Lanu (visual language spoken through skin tone and pattern.

Faction Affiliation: Neutral

 

Defense Rating: 1

 

((Summary compiled by Jedi T'ali'au. Thank you!))

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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A warm breeze lazily meandered across Alofilima Pama, gently rustling the fronds of the areca trees, fighting off the beginning of a chill in the air as the sun disappeared below the horizon and dusk set in. It was a welcome relief, as the chill brought tempting thoughts of joining the others on the heating rocks, and there was still much to do. It had been days since the elders of the Three Peoples had sent the message, but the distances involved were so vast that for all she knew, it would take months or even years for a response. In the meantime there was work to do. An Ngaru war party of the Malie tribe would be landing shortly to trade and share of Loloto’s bounty, in a sacred feast signifying a renewal of the two tribes alliance.

 

As a priestess of Loloto, it was T’ali’au’s responsibility to perform the initial preparation of the food in a blessing ceremony that would bring Loloto’s favor to all who partook of it. Which was a really optimistic way to say that she was gutting and cleaning fish with her ritual blade. Many here were ones that T’ali’au’s own spear had found, while many others came from the tribe’s gatherers, and a small pile had been given individually by the rest of the tribe as a symbolic gesture. The Malie would bring a kill from the deep sea, which would be harvested for useful parts while the meat was cooked with the rest of the fish.

 

The Ngaru of the Malie were slayers of monsters, stalking the waves for dangerous creatures that had developed a taste for the People. Malosi even said that other Ngaru tribes would honor them for their kills rather than pursuing the usual skirmishes that were part of Ngaru life. The Ta’avale that T’ali’au had been born among were more traditional, but the young priestess saw a place for all in Loloto.

 

As night continued to set in, T’ali’au finished her ritual preparation of the food and felt the onset of Coldmind. Yawning, she headed out to the massive heat rocks that her tribe had erected and found a pleasing spot to lie amidst the conducted warmth. Her scales, normally a brilliant cyan, were now navy blue and would turn black by the time sleep came for her. Her half open eyes scanned the horizon for the Malie ships, and she kept an ear open for Ola’ike’ole.

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As the Crimson Star entered the space around Scarif he couldn't help but be impressed by the beauty of the planet. It wasn't overly populated and gave off a mild feeling of peace though as with every plante he believed there could be danger lurking. Setting the ship into a low orbit he began to broadcast a general transmission for permission to land somewhere on the planet. He also included the species of the people he was looking for and asked that they be told that a small team of the mercs that brought them here had arrived to catch up and make sure they had settled in. While waiting for a reply he began a generic scan of the planet and noted that it really did seem to have a low population and the information he could pull on the planet was limited.

 

 

As the ship maintained orbit he began letting his men know more about his plan. Even if they could not find work here they would spend at least a week doing a mild training regiment and letting the men relax, as much as Thrysians actually relax. They may even see about hunting some indiginous wildlife. It never hurt to have new trophies to hang on the wall.

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Ola’ike’ole awoke as the sun lightened with the first rays of the sun. She didn’t dress quickly - other than her parents she was the only one up before the sun warmed the sands - and she savored the quiet of the island. A warm breeze meandered in from her window and smiled as it caressed the fur of her cheeks before leaving the sanctuary of her small room. Her parents, it seemed, had been waiting for her and she watched them before they noticed her. They sat at the table across from the other, smiling and clasping the others hands. She envied the way they felt about each other but also wondered at the need for secrecy and coming so far from their home planet. She’d never asked how they ended up on Scarif - she knew they wouldn’t lie to her but she also didn’t want to cause them any distress.

 

“Good morning,” she greeted cheerily after a few more moments of watching.

 

“Good morning, dear,” Her father greeted in his usual warm manner, “We’ve been waiting for you to wake. We’ve heard news.”

 

“Yes,” her mother chimed in, “We’ve gotten communication that the transporters that aided us in finding home here have returned. They’ve requested a visit.”

 

She looked thoughtfully at the excited looks on her parents and a slow smile broke on her face before it was replaced by a frown as she asked, “How did it come about that you’d needed transport here? There are none others here like us.” She’d waited years to ask and this seems a perfect opportunity. She saw them hesitate and look to each other but they finally looked back and her father sighed.

 

“We can discuss this when our visitors arrive,” her mother finally spoke.

 

Not pressing further she nodded and picked up her spear and woven bag that she slung over her shoulder and announced, “I’m heading out to catch fish for the ceremony and see if I can’t catch T’ali’au. I’ll try not to be too long.”

 

She hurried down the worn trail through the village to a pool she and her friend had found: a clear spring they’d found for swimming that she knew was teeming with fish. She dove in, taking her time, selecting the best and most colorful she could find. The tribe had been so gracious and accepting her entire life and so she made it a point to participate and respect everything she could about their culture. Not to mention her desire to impress and please her closest friend. She didn’t bother drying off as she donned everything once more and headed to the ritual area she had no doubt her friend would be at.

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The communications that the Crimson Star had been broadcasting did reach the intended target. He was glad to hear that the "refugees" remembered his old mercenary band and were willing to meet with him. Drogan however still wanted to hear from the authority of the village they had noted as their home. He didn't want to land a gun ship and end up in a fire fight with a large population thinking they were under attack. He wasn't afraid of being overwhelmed, he was more just afraid they would have to kill a large number of the populace and while defending themselves wasn't a problem he didn't need that kind of reputation.

 

Striking up the communications relay again he broadcast a second message. "To the village authority on the planet please provide location and permission for landing. WE would like to meet with our old friends and also seek permission to remain on world for a short period to rest and potentially hunt. Please respond at your earliest opportunity."

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"Initiating cascade failure."

 

The soothing bass of the Saladin's AI had a slight tone of fear to it, though it would have been impossible for a human to detect. The Wolf Spider was practically gutting itself in order to save Aryian, and while Aryian couldn't know the AI's thoughts, the sentiment was not lost on him. The craft lurched into realspace after several loud bangs, signifying blown power conduits. The first thing Aryian noticed was that they were very close to a planet. That was amazingly good luck, or perhaps just the will of the Force. The second thing Aryian noticed, immediately after the first, was that they were very close to a planet, and as warning bells began to ring in the cramped cockpit, he could already feel the tug of the gravity well pulling them closer.

 

After a few minutes, Aryian managed to bypass what remaining power there was into the repulsor systems as the craft hit the atmosphere, but it was nowhere near the power required to allow the heavy mech to make a safe landing. If anything, it allowed him to guide the mech down in a semi controlled manner, aiming for an island so as to avoid a water landing. The repulsors finally gave out about five kilometers above the ground, but it was enough to ensure it would land on a part of the planet where Aryian wouldn't immediately drown. Once again, the Grey Master tapped into the Force, projecting a powerful series of Force barriers in the cockpit to absorb the dangerous kinetic shock he was about to go through. Even though Saladin had heavy armor that would largely allow it to remain relatively undamaged from the impact, Aryian would be like a garbage bag of vegetable soup thrown from a thirty story building without shock protection.

 

KRA-KOOOOMM

 

The impact was deafening, and though the Force barriers helped, the kinetic Force jarred the Grey Master more than he was expecting. For a moment, he blacked out. When he awoke, he clenched his eyes tightly, a burning but wet sensation covering his face. Some sort of fluid spraying from the console...? The Force prickled his danger senses, and he knew he needed to flush it off immediately. He blasted the cockpit door open, blindly throwing himself out of the mech into the knee-high water below. Had it been any deeper, Aryian likely would have been in a great deal of trouble, his right arm was still more or less useless for swimming. As it was, though, the acidic coolant was quickly washed from his face before it could do significant damage to his skin, but the damage had already been done to his eyes.

 

The one-armed Master was now blind.

 

As this realization poured through him, he began to get very frustrated. First his arm, now his vision? Not to mention, he was now stranded on some unknown world. He thought he saw some sort of settlement on the far side of the island as he was hurtling through the atmosphere, but it was impossible to tell. He knew he'd landed in some sort of shallow lagoon, which thankfully the thin layer of water absorbed much of the impact along with the silt beneath it, but he simply didn't know much about where he landed, and now he couldn't see it.

 

At least...he couldn't see normally. Aryian sighed heavily, reaching out with the Force, filling his vision with the blue ghostly images that represented the connections between all things. It was honestly something he hadn't done since he'd taught padawans, and while it was a good exercise to begin to touch the Force, it was also exhausting after a while. Armiena was half Miraluka, her mother the full Miraluka who always wore those creepy eye covers. Miraluka 'saw' like this all the time, it was how they'd evolved, but Aryian didn't have the endurance conditioning they had and was already exhausted from leaning on the Force for several hours prior to the crash.

 

He checked his person, finding his light tonfa, and used it to cut a strip of cloth from his robes, wringing it out and wrapping it around his head, covering his eyes. The cool water felt good, and it would help protect his eyes from the elements while they healed. He would still be able to 'see', but it would definitely be an uphill struggle from here. Minutes later, he'd trudged from the water onto the beach, taking a seat under a tree. He was tempted to nap, but also knew that time was of the essence. Slowly, he expanded his senses, reaching out across the island, his thoughts prickling at the minds of any who were sensitive enough to hear him.

 

Help...

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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The sudden appearance of the unknown ship caught Drogan slightly off guard, but seeing how badly damaged it was and that it was going to crash caused instinct to take over. "This is the captain, all crew to battle stations and prepare to enter the planets atomosphere. We will be follwoing the decent of the damaged ship and attempt to rescue any survivors." As soon as the message was sent and the crew sent the all clear he took manual control of the ship and began his decent. He hoped this didn't spark any type of issue with the locals but there was a chance they could either save a persons life or at least salvage the ship. Either way he was planning on making it to the planet.

 

As the Crimson Star continued its decent, Drogan suddenly had a more urgent desire to reach the planet. Something was wrong he could place it but he was now almost certain that there was someone alive on the planet that was invovled in that crash. He began broadcasting a general message requesting a response to try to get someone from the ship to answer and continued his decent. It wasn't long till the wreckage of the ship came into view and with it a somewhat stragne sight. There seemed to be a person standing near the crash, he couldn't make out much detail but he was sure they were not in good shape. Circling the site twice to check for other movement he set the gunship down 100 yards from the wreck and apparent survivor.

 

Turning to his second he ordered him to stay with the ship and maintain combat protocals. "This is the captain, I want heavy field combat loadouts and all crew off the ship in the next three minutes. A fire team of three will immediately secure the right flank while a team of two secure the left. I will begin to approach the survivor and the ships wreckage. No one is to fire or take action without my permision. Relay all tactical information as it is obtained and make sure that you do not provoke the locals should they arrive."

 

As he stepped of his ship and the crew began to follow his orders, he slowly approached the ship and the strange man standing in front of it. As he began to get closer he swore that the man was saying help but he wasn't seeing any lip movement or really hearing a voice. "I must be imagining things" he mumbled as he continued to approach. "Sir my name is Captain Drogan of the Crimson Star, we saw your ship fall out of orbit and are here to offer assistance. Are you alright, I recommend moving away from the ship in case the reactor goes critical. Please come towards the sound of my voice and we will take you to the small medbay on our ship and see if we can get you lodging at the village on the other side of the island. We know some people here and may be able to get them to help." This was just strange, he was within 15 yards of the man and realized he was blind and it seemed he was missing an arm. Not the strangest combat victim he had ever seen yet this man didn't look like a combatant so what was going on here?

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A few minutes later, Aryian felt the ship, and his skin bristled. He wasn't sure what to expect, and depending where he was, they could easily have benevolent or hostile intent. After all, scrappers still made decent money. But they also wouldn't know about him or who he was, and that gave the Grey Master the advantage...more or less. As the man who identified himself as Captain Drogan identified himself and addressed him, Aryian wearily hauled himself to his feet.

 

"The reactor's fine, the power systems are blown anyways. It's already shut down and should be intact enough that we're not at risk."

 

Aryian stretched, his right arm that was buried in a sling in his outer robes now clearly visible, as well as some of the hodgepodge carbon scored Mandalorian armor he was still wearing marked with symbols from different clans. Reaching conversational distance with the man, Aryian seemed to look back at his ship, and though they couldn't tell it, he was. He could see that everything was more or less safe for the time being, if not incredibly screwed. He'd never been as good at machinery and electronics as his ex wife, his forte had always been software, but he knew enough to get by. The repairs were doable, but definitely not at that present moment. Right then, he only wanted a bunk and a bottle.

 

"I appreciate the assistance, by the way. Had a pretty bad hyperdrive failure, only managed to get this far on luck alone, really. Name's Aryian. If we leave my, um...ship right there, I can come back later and fix it right up."

 

He was beginning to sense that these men were recognizing the ship for what it was, not as a normal configuration, but more or less a walker mech with a repulsor system and hyperdrive strapped to it. Curiosity was running rampant, and he didn't want them touching Saladin while he was busy resting up.

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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So the man wasn't one armed at all, and oddly enough was wearing pieces of Mandalorian armor. The man seemed pretty sure there was no problem with the ship and Drogan was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. However the ship did seem a little more heavily damaged then he thought and didn't look quite right but he was no expert ships beyond the ones he grew up around. "I appreciate the intel on the ship and am glad you seem to be fairly intact. If you wish we can send a request to the village to have them prepare some form of space for your to recover and I can leave a small number of men to guard your ship from scrappers till you are able to repair it if you would like?"

 

While waiting on a reply he was listening to the incoming chatter from his men and everything seemed okay. There were no other people about and the ship showed no readings of any other vessel rapidly following the downed ship. It really seemed that this man just had a bit of bad luck and needed some help. While the mercenary side of him wanted to ask about what he was doing and try to judge what kind of a man he was. At this point he was a little more concerned about getting him some help and making sure that there wasn't going to be any trouble coming his way.

 

"Do you know anyone on planet or is there anyone you want my crew to contact?"

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Aryian shook his head at the mention of a guard.

 

"I...I don't think it'll be necessary. This island isn't highly populated, I don't think, and there wasn't that much space traffic that I noticed on the way down. You're probably the only ones who noticed me. I'd appreciate a lift to that village though, if you're willing, once I get to a working holonet terminal I can wire you some funds for your trouble."

 

He kept moving his head, like he was looking around, and to the other man, he might as well have been.

 

"From the heat, I'm guessing this is a tropics zone...islands, mostly water...what planet is this anyways?"

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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The realization dawned on Drogan that based on this man statement he was blind. It was slightly shocking for a blind man to be this calm while being approached by an unknown force on an unknown world. He had to give the man credit for courage. He was a little surprised he didn't want anyone to watch the ship but that was his choice.

 

"There is no need to worry about payment at this time, or at all in the end, we were already orbiting the planet waiting for permission to land and visit some old friends. As to leaving a guard I will respect your choice, you were right about there being little traffic I am just naturally slightly paranoid. Is there anything you would like gathered from your ship before we depart?"

 

While waiting on a reply Drogan contacted his ship. "Patch my comms through to our friends on the planet and any receiving terminals on the island." After receiving confirmation that he was broad casting he sent out another message. "This is Captain Drogan aboard the Crimson Star. We have landed planet side at a wreck that has hit the island and are transporting the survivor to the village for treatment and rest, please confirm permission to do so and set up some form of medical location to check more closely for injuries. Please respond as soon as possible."

 

Turning back to the wreck victim he paused to see if he needed to collect anything or if he was ready to go. While waiting he sent his men an order to return to the ship.

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Again, Aryian shook his head. He already had his lightsaber on him, though it certainly didn't look like a traditional one. He was ready to depart whenever.

 

However, when nobody was looking, he reached out with the Force, quietly shutting the cockpit access hatch, and by generating a large amount of heat around the door seal, more or less welded it shut. Anyone looking to scrap it would have to cut through the ridiculous armor of the tank, or simply move the whole thing. It would be safe for now.

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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The strange feeling that suddenly enveloped him and he was unsure how to proceed. His body took over and he instinctively reached for the hilt of his sword. He wasn't sure where the feeling was coming from and began to pivot his head back and forth looking for the source of what he was perceiving as danger. "Men report any and all activity in the area and enter into strike formations. Something is happening near bye and I will not be caught off guard." Turning back to the man in front of him, "Sir if you will please move quickly to the gunship, there is some unknown entity or force near bye and I would like to be a distance from here in the next five minutes." Taking two steps to the side he gestured to the ship and continued to examine the surrounding area. As he maintained his watch on the surrounding area as his men moved back to the ship.

 

He recognized the feelings he was having, he hadn't felt it since his band had eliminated three force users at the request of a sith master. He was young but he remembered that feeling and didn't like it. Besides that sith had actually been hoping his apprentices would kill his grandfathers men and earn their sabers. That had not ended like they hoped. He also hoped that his suddenly tense attitude didn't make the injured man nervous.

 

As he escorted the man to the ship he maintained his vigil and was hoping that there were no unknown force users lurking around. But that did bring up the other question of who was this man that he may be being hunted by a force user. Either way he had promised his assistance and was planning on giving it. As they stepped on the lift his crew man formed a firing ring at the edges pointing in all directions to provide a wide range of fire. AS the door closed he turned back to the stranded traveler.

 

"Once the ship is in the air I will show you to one of the guest rooms and have our field medic take a quick look at you. He is not a normal doctor but he is decent at field triage. If you need anything just ask and we will provide what we can. Once we have received word from the village we will make for there and get you set up in a better position to recover."

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  • 2 weeks later...

Aryian braced himself against one of the ship's bulkheads, sliding down to the floor. He still hasn't felt anything malicious from these men, nor had they treated him with anything less than the actions of good samaritans.

 

"You can relax. Tell your men to stand down, or whatever. It was just me. I'm...well, it's a long story, best told over a glass of ale. Or wait, this is a tropical planet, they probably have rum or something. Short answer is I'm a Jedi. The long answer...I have a feeling you can wait for that. I just really need a bacta patch and some gorram sleep, that's all."

 

Aryian allowed himself one last survey of Saladin, the alchemized and enhanced armor looking far different through the Force than he'd thought possible. The internals were a mess, but he knew enough about the mech to get it up and running when he was feeling better. Couple hours of Force meditation and persuasion, and the thing would practically fix itself.

 

"Um...thanks, by the way. Getting into a bad habit of saying that more often, I suppose."

 

And with that, he allowed the Force to fade from his eyes, finally relaxing a bit for the first time since Mandalore.

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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Figures this man was a jedi. He thought he felt someone using the force earlier but had assumed it was an external source. Oh well he had dealings with Jedi before, and sith for that matter. As they got the man on board he issued the order for his men to stand down and had them prepare to head to the village. He also had his one man place a bacta patch on the man to begin the healing process. "I can't promise how much sleep you will get but the bacta patch should help and we will begin heading to the village now." Even if they hadn't heard back from the village he was sure they would take in the wounded man. If nothing else he could ask for his old aquanitences to take him in for a few days. As the man was led to a guest room Drogan made for the bridge and was intercepted by the man he had left on the ship.

 

"Sir we recieved a communication from Onderon, a client has personally requested our presence, or more accurately the presence of our former band for help in a matter pertaininig to what sounds like security." The crewman handed off the data pad and went to prepare his station for launch. It had been years since he had been to Onderon. Truthfully he was no more then a child at the time and had thought the planet stunning. It seems his trip to Scariff would be a short one.

 

"This is the captain, once we have taken our injured guest to the village for help, we will be preparing for a jump to Scariff for a potential job. While in route to the island take stock of our supplies and determine if we will need to barter for anyting at the village. That is all."

 

A few mintues later saw his gunship airborne heading to the far side of the island. He wondered how they would be accepted but he wasn't to worried. The flight was not overly long and their arrival didn't seem to cause any major distrubances. Leaving the command deck he went to find his guest and let him know they had arrived at the village.

 

Knocking on the door he entered after. "We have arrived at the village and will disembark shortly, is there any supplies or gear you need before we drop you off Master Jedi?"

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Aryian chuckled. "I don't suppose you have a prefab forge I can borrow? I appreciate the offer, but you've helped me enough. The Force will provide, I just need to get up off my tuchus and do it. Well...when I can, I suppose."

 

Moments later, Aryian had left the ship, thanking the Captain and crew one last time as he did so. Through the Force, he studied the small group of tribals that had gathered to watch him. For a long while, nothing was said. Then, He simply walked through the crowd, past them, taking refuge under the shade of one of the tropical trees in the village. He'd be safe enough there from natural predators. Now...now it was time to get some damn sleep. When he awoke, he would be ready to get to work on Saladin's repairs. Before he dozed off, though, he applied the bacta patch to his arm, hoping to regain functional use of his limb soon. His eyes...his eyes could wait.

 

Sleep took him quickly.

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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After a few days, and much help from the tribe, Aryian had repaired Saladin and was on his way. Hopefully he wasn't too late to catch the funeral, despite the whole crappy explanation for how a couple days had passed here but not on Kashyyyk. Somehow it had to do with hyperspace travel, relativity, and plot holes tearing continuity a new one for the sake of a good story or plot development. But what did Aryian know of such things? He was merely a figment of an imagination, living in a fragile bubble of pseudo-reality whose real purpose was to entertain the one who made him. Did that really matter though, at the end of all things, he could have wondered were he even aware of the narration. And the truth was, it didn't. It was more or less all existence on any planar universe.

 

But as it was, Aryian really was unaware of all that, and it was mostly just filler so the double post actually looked meaningful and full of content instead of a one sentence cop out for not typing anything with any actual substance. In the grand scheme of events that happened on Scarif in regards to the story of the 'great' Grey Master Aryian Darkfire, some buttons were pressed, some levers were pulled, and the grizzled former Jedi witnessed the galaxy smear around him as his ship made the jump to lightspeed.

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  • 2 months later...

A comet appeared in the upper atmosphere of the long forgotten world. Streaks of red orange fire traced the sky as a Lambda class shuttle broke up on impact with the thick atmosphere of Scarif. Wings and hull peeled off like a muja fruit rind and scattered, leaving small secondary and tertiary comets to trace the sky in dark contrast. The shuttle’s vulnerable passenger compartment initiated its automatic drew recovery program but it failed to deploy more than one reverse thruster before the ship’s remains hit the ground high speeds. Throwing sand and water high in the air. The sound of the collision and the sonic booms from falling debris echoed throughout the archipelago.

 

The lone passenger was left in the shuttle’s fragmented interior. Barely alive, suspended in crash webbing, one blown away by shuttle fragments just below the shoulder. The only thing that stopped her from bleeding out was the mass of automated nanites that were busy sealing off arteries and veins in the stub to prevent host death. But if Sandy were to live through the next few hours, she would need help, and fast.

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Calix Meus Inebrians

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A powerful shockwave of raw concussive force tore through the islands, bending or even uprooting some areca nut trees. The crashing shuttle’s path along the beach became a lengthy patch of molten glass terminating at the water’s edge. The hissing of steam rose up from the superheated exterior where it touched the warm shorewater. T’ali’au was not one of the ones to go into the Offworlder’s ship, the tribe could not risk it exploding with her inside, but when she saw others pulling a slip of a girl out of the conflagration she knew that her wisdom would be needed. She ran back to the village and cut through the food preparation structure to a room that served the tribe as an infirmary.

 

T’ali’au sharpened her operating knives and ran them through superheated streams of water and alcohol to purify them for the coming work. Needle and thread was procured, along with healing salves and inflammation reducing ointments. The priestess also took stock of some living specimens in a nearby basin filled with seawater and hewn from natural rock.

 

When the human was placed on her table T’ali’au was able to get a better look at her injuries, multiple lacerations, contusions, and a dismembered limb… Oh what fortunate winds, T’ali’au thought sarcastically. She set to work on putting the girl back together.

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When Sandy gained consciousness she found herself lying on a table, cool to the touch, though not as cold as a morgue table. Her skin seemed to stick to it, perhaps a mix of blood and antiseptics. She was keenly aware of her nakedness and lack of weapons but she kept her eyes closed as she could sense people in the room, talking back and forth. She could sense one concerned presence of what was likely the doctor of whatever place she had crashed on. Scarif was it? Hyperdrives were the kriffing worst, no doubt some degree of Faustian sabotage or just pure luck. She happened to be one of the .0002333 percent of hyperspace users to encounter a fatal error. In this case not fatal. But damaging?

 

She bit her lip and opened her emerald green eyes and looked about the room. She could feel the harsh stitches in her arm stub and the pain throbbed up into her head for a moment before she willed it away. Covering herself with her good arm she sat up and looked about the room her eyes catching what appeared to be the Falleen doctor she spoke,

 

“Thank you for the fix up doc, what do I owe yah?”

 

It was a joke of course, but with primitive cultures one could never be sure. Plus the pain from her injuries were overwhelming her normal 'calm,' 'reserved' self. She was suddenly self conscious that the Doctor had likely seen the multitude of self harm scars that covered her legs and remaining arm. And her face flushed red.

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Calix Meus Inebrians

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  • 2 weeks later...

The girl, apparently in a state of shock, made a joke about payment, apparently being out of it enough to not realize that the worst was yet to come. She even changed color, which was something that T’ali’au didn’t know humans could do, but she didn’t know enough about their culture to understand the subtext of red skin in human interaction.

 

“Right now I’m going to with you can pay me back by biting down on this…”

 

The priestess handed the girl a leather strap that was kept handy for the really bad wounds.

 

“Because this is kind of good news bad news situation. The ship you crashed on appeared to have some safety devices that kept you from dying from blood loss. Hurray for you. But attaching a replacement in a healthy and effective way will require me to reopen the wound. Boo sad face. Now, I do have a monomolecular edged knife, so it will be a quick cut, and then you’re going to show me how fast you can down this jug of Ava Malosi to forget all about it.”

 

T’ali’au measured the arm stump at the best cutting point and prepared a wrap and a thick circle of blood gorgon coral.

 

“Now bite down on the leather because this is really going to hurt.”

 

And it really did.

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Oh kriff this

She bit down on the scrap of what tasted like nerf leather, but was likely the local equivalent of nerf, and its bitter aftertaste that clung to the roof of her mouth was what she decided to concentrate on as the surgeon began her bitter work. Sandy let her eyelids flutter closed as the fell into the force as the waves of pain began to wash over her from her now reopened arm The nanites did their best to stem the flow of blood but the coral decided to devour any that was destined for the floor or table.

 

Sandy suppressed most of the pain, but allowed herself to feel a great amount of it. Basking in the pain, letting its waves wash over her and clear her mind from the grogginess of the crash and it allowed her to watch the operation with little detail missed from scrunched up eyes or screaming. As Sandy did neither, and simply watched, her emerald green eyes taking in every stroke of the blade and every spray of blood. The force was a powerful thing, and relying on it so was exhausting, so when the surgeon was done Sandy drank down the elixir offered.

 

The colour drained from her cheeks, leaving her face pale and covered in the dark spattering of freckles and scars. She suppressed vomiting and hacked back a cough. SHe had never tried alcohol before, and from the taste and dizziness it was rather strong.

 

“Wow I...” She sputtered off a cough again and laughed at the dizzy feeling that overwhelmed her senses. “Do you have another bottle?”

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Calix Meus Inebrians

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  • 2 weeks later...

"I'm responsible for the spiritual and physical well being of my entire tribe, of course I have another bottle. But I also know you need to pace yourself, so eat this first or you'll be useless in the morning."

 

T'ali'au handed the girl a bowl with a traditional breakfast for her people, a scrambled mixture of eggs, creamed sweet areca nut milk, salted fish, and some cooked vegetables.

 

"The more you eat, the faster that sliver of coral will work. It's called blood gorgon coral, and it's acting like your body's own cells to repair the damage and essentially regrow the arm. Is there a battle going on up above or something? You're the second Jedi to crash here in recent times. I didn't meet the other one, an older man, surly I'm told, but there was a festival and I was very irresponsible. Or maybe you are here about the reactor, the crabby Jedi apparently said he would pass along word of our situation."

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A flash of sudden disappointment drew across Sandy’s face at the thought of not getting another draught of the delicious alcohol. She glumly grabbed the bowl of eggs, cream, fish, and veggies. The first bite of the mixture brought her eyes fully open and she grinned. It was delicious! She shovelled down the mixture as she examined the lump on her arm. She wiped her brow with her good hand after setting the bowl down and awkwardly tied her hair back to keep it out of her eyes.

 

“Then I will eat as much as I am able. This is some very cool stuff you have applied. As for the Jedi? There is no battle, my hyperdrive seemed to take a mind of its own to bring me here and spit me out over this world. Perhaps the force brought me?” She thought for a moment and extended her feelings around her. An old danger prickled at the edge of her consciousness. Cold and unfeeling. Decades old and seeping into the planet itself.

 

“Is there something here that needs a Jedi’s help?”

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Calix Meus Inebrians

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An encrypted comm arrives to Sandy's comlink on known Jedi channels.

 

 

Sandy,

 

I would like to speak with you concerning what happened on Nal Hutta. I had expected to debrief you on Coruscant, but they told me you departed almost as soon as you arrived. Are you all right?

 

Master Skywalker

 

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...why are the pretty ones always the most hazardous to your health?

May the Forth therve you well...

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"There's a wreck from an ancient war that has deteriorated in such a way as to leak toxins into Loloto. It's contained to one area now, but if the toxins reach any of the major currents then they could spread catastrophically throughout Loloto. Despite our past connections to a greater understanding of technology, we are a simple people now, and lack the means to stop this doom on our own. The old archives mentioned an order of guardian mystics called the Jedi, and we reached out to them on the recorded frequencies, but received no answer. Until recently we thought that maybe the order had died out, but some offworlders here recognized the metal cylinder you wear as a mark of being a Jedi."

 

T'ali'au chewed thoughtfully on fish from her own bowl as she regarded the girl. She didn't look like what one would think of as some sort of occult scholar, but on the other hand the stories of her people were full of trickster spirits who used expectation to misdirect people, and maybe the Jedi were no different. Those same spirits were often very wise, even if the heroes in the stories couldn't see it at the time.

 

"Is that cylinder the force that you think brought you here?"

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As the woman spoke, Sandy reached out in the force to sense of what she was speaking. An ancient war. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she could sense the old terror, the old seeping destruction, permeating the ocean coming from a central source. A glowing green aura. Antimatter Toxins. A core of a ship? She withdrew her presence and looked at the woman. Her emerald eyes sharp.

 

“The force is an energy field that surrounds us, fills us, around every living creature. If you want I can tell you more, but for now…”

 

She reached out her hand to where her pile of clothes and lightsaber lay and they sprang to her hand over the ten foot gap as quick as an arrow. She smiled at the lady and Sandy selected the lightsaber from the pile and showed it to T'ali'au. She ran her fingers across the silver hilt. Careful not to depress the switch on the side.

 

“This is a Lightsaber, the weapon of the Jedi order. The weapon that we hold back the tide of evil with.” She smiled thoughtfully and took another bite of food. “If you want, we can journey together to this wreck and I can see what I can do? Our order is slowly regaining its strength, and I am happy to help you.”

 

________________________

 

The comm from Jaina reflected off the broken comm link and went to the shipboard comm that the handheld device was paired to. All that would return to the Jedi Master was the automated distress signal of a downed ship.

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Calix Meus Inebrians

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“If your Jedi ways can protect you from the toxins I will be happy to take you, but I think you should wait for your arm to finish growing before you try to swim through a massive maze of wreckage in a toxic sea. You’ll have our hospitality, and the process should only take a few days. If this force thing sent us a Jedi to save our planet I don’t want to throw her away recklessly by rushing in prematurely.”

 

T’ali’au regarded the weapon curiously and noted some sort of emitter on one end. She wondered idly if it was like the blasters her ancestors had brought with them.”

 

“So this force is like Loloto? She’s who I’m a priestess of, and she binds and influences all things.”

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Upon hearing that, Sandy dove back into her food, only speaking between bites.

 

“My master taught me ways to protect myself from that kind of stuff, but you are right, I will wait until this thing regrows.”

 

She took another heaping bite as she shrugged on her tattered tunic. She paused at the next questions.

 

“Yes, I would say they are likely very close. When I was young I worshipped a God that would speak and manifest itself to me, I later learned that it was the Force. Does Loloto give you powers?”

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Calix Meus Inebrians

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“Loloto does not give anything regardless of one’s reverence, she simply is. No prayer or offering is required for her to be present, because she is in all things, in the places between all things, and in the current that moves us all forward in our lives. Faith in Loloto isn’t about miracles, it’s about understanding the truth of the world, and surrendering to your place in it so that you can be happy with yourself, rather than suffering over what you are not. Loloto gives and takes, and joy and loss comes to us all, but in learning to accept the flow of our lives, we find ourselves renewed by not fighting against the truth of the world for what we think we want.

 

Eating breakfast makes you happy, but it is not the only path to happiness. Loloto is understanding that even if you miss breakfast one morning, you can still be happy, and that dwelling on not having had breakfast will only bring you unnecessary grief. Some people get so attached to what they think they need for happiness that they destroy everything around them to try and preserve that one fleeting source of temporary happiness.

 

That being said, knowing your place in the world is less magic and more wisdom. So unless being happy is a magical power, I think I’m just a normal girl who helps people find their own measure of happiness through understanding of the world, one breath at a time.

 

Speaking of helping people, I need to check your patterns again, just to make sure you’re recovering okay.”

 

T’ali’au checked the girl’s heartbeat and temperature, her hand lingering a moment too long on the girl’s forehead as a question formed in her mind.

 

“What’s it like always being so warm like that?”

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