Hoth

[Ary the Grey]

The Master watched the student intently as he ran forwards, yet not a muscle on his body tensed. He already knew what was going to happen. Or so he thought.

 

The Student rushed him, transformed, no longer just a frustrated mortal trying aimlessly to achieve a literal impossibility, but now gifted with supernatural grace and movement. Now, as Aryian had wanted him to, Evander finally was becoming one with the Force, allowing it to guide his movements.

 

The Master did the same, but this time, it was Aryian's turn to be on the offense. He lashed out with his fist at the young man, but his fist met nothing but air as Aryian turned, too late to see Evander kick out in the air. The Force barrier he summoned barely protected him from the impact, a jarring blow that sent him skidding back a few feet. And only a split second later, the Student was on him again, this time sliding in low to catch him in a scissor kick and trip him.

 

Aryian jumped over the kick, lunging out with his hands to catch the feet and twist them to a mildly painful angle, only enough to snap Evander from his reverie.

 

"Stop. Good. I'm impressed. I don't think you realized it, but you just tapped into a part of the Force only accessible to those who have fully understood the light and know how to turn back their own darkness. What you just unharnessed within yourself is called Vapaad, it was used by the likes of Mace Windu and Count Dooku during the Clone Wars...but few practice it now. You're lucky I'm one of them."

 

Aryian let Evander's feet go, helping him up to his feet. He gave him a once over, making sure he was allright.

 

"Vapaad comes from the desire for combat, the desire to fight. It can be a good or an evil thing, as it really is neither. But if you're not careful, it can easily lead to the Dark Side. You must always remember that you only fight to protect the innocent and uphold the laws. Never be the first to attack unless it is absolutely necessary. And never, ever believe the Dark Side is your only way out. Trust me...I know it isn't. But that's a story for another time."

 

Aryian's brow furrowedas he thought to himself for a moment before continuing again. Evan's training was already fairly in depth, and they were still a long way from being done. Somehow the Master knew this was going to be a unique bond between the two of them.

 

"Go clean yourself up. Eat, do what you want, the facility map is accessible from most of the common use terminals around here. Later we'll begin with Force techniques. Meet me when you are ready...and only when you are ready. You're strong, but you still have your limits. It's best to learn them."

 

With that, Aryian clapped him on the shoulder, giving an approving nod before turning and walking away, traveling to the base's ain meditation chamber. After checking that it held all the necessary tools for the next set of instruction, Aryian lied down on the floor, closing his eyes and softly meditating. He needed to understand what the Force had in store for him if he was to be gifted with such a strong Padawan...

[Evander]

Evan let out a soft grunt when his legs were caught up by his master. He hadn't expected the man to be able to counter that fast, but then again he wasn't disappointed by the speed either. Instead, he found it as a sort of challenge, something that would only push him harder. And so, he began futilely trying to struggle against his master's vice grip; however he quickly gave up when his master began to speak. What he said stunned the Padawan. Evander hadn't really done anything more than just react to what he was willed to do. He had just listened to the whispers of the Force and allowed it to guide him. And to think he was being praised for that, Evan smiled triumphantly to himself. He then absentmindedly tried to squirm free, but again realized that his master's grip was just too tight.

 

Turning his head to the side to look upon his kneeling master, Evan continued to listen carefully. Amazed that he had executed Vapaad and even further amazed by the fact of what he had just done. However, in his reverie he finally noticed the fatigue that had set in, the weariness of his body and the ache of his muscles. It seemed that he would need to condition himself further. The thought of more training oddly enough appealed to him, he found himself looking forward to it with a sort of hunger. If anything could be learned from today, it was that he could do anything if he just believed. His trust in himself, the Force and his master had just grown exponentially because of that realization.

 

When Aryian brought him to his feet, Evan was thankful for the assistance. For, as he stood there he could feel the weight of his entire body draining him as well as the biting cold of Hoth taking a toll upon his weary frame. Still, he pushed his weariness from his mind as his master continued to talk. He was both praising and cautioning against the use of Vapaad. Evan slowly frowned at what he had heard, but that frown soon turned into a grin as he realized it would be an excellent challenge to not succumb to the Dark Side's call. He was then further intrigued by what his master had said - by what he'd alluded to. What could he have meant?

 

However, before he could ask - because he'd opened his mouth to do so, his master dismissed him telling him to prepare for the next stage of their training, but cautioning him to rest first. Evander was happy to comply as all he wanted to do was find a refresher, take a nice hot shower and eat his way through half of Dantooine. After that, he would probably rest before going to his master's side. Something about his master's words reminded him of what his father used to say before Evan would go out and work the fields with his him. At that memory, Evan smirked before following after his master.

 

For what seemed like hours, Evander aimlessly walked the length of the abandoned base. He wasn't exactly lost, but he couldn't find anything either. Finally, when he was about to give up, when his body craved rest and relaxation he found his way to the old crew quarters and entered a room marked ”œB24.”

[Ary the Grey]

Nearby were a few baskets, each filled to the brim with several small flat stones, lightweight and smooth. Several slowly glided into the air above Aryian, slowly forming their own orbits around a central one, giving the appearance of an atom, a favorite design the Master had when preparing to teach this particular technique.

 

"Telekinesis is a simple yet complex thing. It is normally the first thing you learn when understanding how to harness the Force, as for the majority of techniques it is the base. First, you must concentrate on the Force as you have been taught, and are currently doing. Next, focus upon the stone, leaving nothing but you and the stone in your mind. You and the stone are one. Reach out with your feelings, and stretch the muscles you have yet to exercise. This will become far easier with practice, I assure you, though it is also common for the first time to be difficult. I am here to help if you need it...but I'm not sure you want it. Now...reach out, touch the stone, and move it."

 

A tiny web of invisible tendrils holding aloft one of the stones swung down slowly, depositing its payload gently onto Evander's chest. Telekinesis wasn't hard, but to learn...it wasn't easy, either.

[Evander]

Immediately, Evander began reaching out with the Force. Even as his master spoke to him, he began attempting to gain a greater center within himself as well as trying to muster all the Force energy he could. In and of itself, the feat wasn't so hard, mostly because he met with little success. Opening himself further to the Force was an easy task, but grabbing and holding onto collected Force energy was not. Most of it was dispensed around the room in the form of subtle shockwaves. Some of which pelted the pebbles that circled his master, but ultimately did nothing to knock them from their orbit. When his master had finished speaking and set the basket of smooth pebbles before him, Evander immediately set about his task. He hadn't the slightest idea how he would do it, but knew that his belief in himself and the Force would carry him through.

 

After all, as he began, the words of his master echoed throughout his mind. 'Focus upon the stone, leaving nothing but you and the stone in your mind. You and the stone are one. Reach out with your feelings, and stretch the muscles you have yet to exercise.' Again and again, Evan repeated those words within his head. And he found that as he did, the task seemed less challenging. As he sat there, his eyes first staring before his master and the pile, Evander slowly dropped them so that only the basket and pile of smooth stones remained in his view. Once he had done this, he began to choose his stone and eventually settled upon the stone that sat at the topmost of the pile. It was a pillar of brilliance in comparison to the others. Finally, he closed his eyes, ready to begin at last.

 

In his mind's eye, the pebble appeared. The singular object that would compel him to finish this task, but not only that, he would excel in it as well. Slowly, he found that everything seeped away. And soon there was nothing else but himself and the pebble. Two opposing forces that wanted different things; he wanted the stone to rise more than anything in the world and the stone wished to remain as king of the pile. It did not want to be unseated. But, nevertheless, it would be. And so, he began to stretch his mind and his connection to the Force. The ”˜muscle' that had always been present within himself was now being used for the first time. It was exceedingly weak and required an immense amount of concentration and focus to even achieve a twitch from the pebble.

 

The task suddenly seemed more daunting, as Evander hadn't realized how taxing this would be upon him. He began to feel drained, and only after having started several minute ago. But, his endurance wouldn't give way. He wouldn't quit. Soon the pebble's twitch became more apparent. The ethereal hand that Evander used to envision the Force's tendrils became steadily stronger and more confident with each passing moment. Despite the fact that sweat formed upon his brow and that the first signs of ache filled his joints. Again the hand reached out to the pebble, its five fingers encircling the stone as it began its fifth attempt to make it rise. To pick it up from the pile and assert it's superiority to it.

 

Yet, the only thing that was achieved was more jerks from the stone. It seemed its incessant taunting was growing stronger. But, so too, was the strength of the underused muscle. Soon, the twitches and jerks became violent as the physical form of Evander began to show signs of his struggles. Sweat now poured from his forehead, strolled down his cheeks and dripped upon his robes. Sweat formed and rolled down his back, gathered beneath his arms and upon his forearms. It formed within regions he'd rather not think about in that moment. His jaw grinded against itself with the effort of immense concentration as his brow finally gave way. The straight face he'd worn for the majority of the fifty minutes he'd endured this exorcise now finally gave way to a more determined if not desperate one. And yet, the violent shakes of the stone continued to increase. Until finally, the ethereal hand managed to pick up one corner of the stone, until it was now raised into the air by its side. A subtle and small smirk etched its way across the gritted determination of the Padawan's face, yet he did not stop there. Seizing this small victory, he refocused his efforts and doubled his focus. He would make this stone rise.

[Ary the Grey]

"Good...Don't give up. It may feel like you are exhausted, like your body is weary, but remember, the Force is limitless. You will be able to press beyond it, further than you can ever imagine. At first, right now, it will be difficult. But over time, this will be as easy as going for a morning jog. Your body is only reacting like it normally would when exercising muscles, your connection to the Force is no different...but might I suggest instead trying to relax? To strain your will upon the Force is to strain yourself, instead gently let it flow, but guide it. Let it guide you. You are one.

 

Try again."

 

Aryian smiled, his padawan's progress pleasing him. He took to instruction very well, learned the theoretical from the actual very quickly. Evan...was very likely the best student Aryian had taught thus far. It was very likely Aryian could begin to teach him secrets of the Force that only the Master himself had begun to unlock. But...all in good time. All in good time.

[Evander]

A breadth of fresh air hit his lungs, as the Padawan breathed in deeply. Letting the nourishment of the air fill his lungs to bursting, reinvigorating his body in the process. He had begun to understand what it meant to push his body to the physical limits of its endurance; for many a time since starting down this path, he'd done so. Yet, still, even now, he was just realizing what it was meant to allow the Force to take over. To allow the Force to carry your weary body the rest of the way. And though he trusted in it, he was not fully confident in it. For too long had he relied on his own physical prowess, far too long had he been blinded to the truth. And only now was he realizing just what that meant. The Force had been with him every step of the way, always aiding him. Always watching out for him, his successes were perhaps not his own, but that of the Force.

 

For Evander, trusting in something abstract, something intangible and yet everywhere at the same time, was a stretch for him and then some. It meant placing faith in something other than himself, and doing so entirely of your own volition and free will. And that was something he was not always comfortable with. Sure, he had his moments when doing so was easy, perhaps because in that moment it would give him the boost he needed, but overall”¦ Overall, he still could not wrap his mind around it. Not yet. So, when his master cautioned him against forcing the muscle to work, and instead urged him to allow the muscle to move under its own accord ”“ to channel the natural flow of the river in another direction subtly, he found it quite hard. Yet, nonetheless, he was willing to try. He had to after all. And so, breathing in deeply and slowly exhaling, he tried his best to let go. To remove from his mind every obstacle, every impediment that he felt encroaching upon his success.

 

A task that was in and of itself challenging, yet one that was necessary to the completion of his goal: making that damned pebble float. And with each passing moment that he allowed himself to react without thought, that he allowed himself to just ”œbe”

[Ary the Grey]

"Good...gift of the Gods, he finally understands. Evan, you've just broken through a proverbial cage, and now you are free. With this knowledge of how to touch and coexist with the Force, you can do anything. From the moving of a small pebble to the shifting of planets in their orbits...you will come to learn that size doesn't matter. Except to women."

 

Aryian chuckled at his own little joke, relaxed next to his padawan. His arm rose from laying on his chest, and he summoned three other objects to settle down in front of Evan, the first two being a small gas canister and an incense lighter. Aryian manipulated the gas canister to open slightly, allowing the compressed gases to slowly eke out of the bottle, safe in the knowledge that it was a safety bottle, unless it was damaged with some kind of puncture, it would not allow the gases inside to ignite. The Master allowed the lighter to float down a foot away, lighting it and leaving it on the floor. The third and final thing was a small brick object on rails, it looked as if tension was being applied to keep it in the forward position towards Evander, but that with some effort it could be pushed back. There was also an easy spinning dial to adjust its difficulty on the side, currently set to maximum.

 

"Practice as you wish...exercise only makes you grow stronger. But never fully rely on the Force. It is the strongest weapon in your arsenal, but it can be stolen from you. If that happens, you should be prepared. That, however, is training for another day. These other two exercises are simple enough, light the gas with the flame, and push the brick. Both require different kinds of manipulation than you've previously experienced. Or, you can continue with the pebbles, try to pick up two, maybe three, see how long you can grasp them. Your choice."

 

Aryian reached out through the Force, grabbing a handful more pebbles from the basket, adding them to his atom figurine floating in midair, making it more complex and difficult to focus on. He could still challenge himself now and again...after all, according to his own philosophy, there was no limit to how far you could go.

[Scorp Jedi Knight]

He paused briefly as soon as it seemed the meeting had been adjourned before suddenly stalking off further into the abandoned base. He had to admit he felt to rush in leaving just yet. So he walked, it wasn't long nor was it short, yet it allowed him to enter the room he wished to enter. Much like his lightsaber, this new tool given to him, was responsive to him. In that regard he felt a need to at least touch upon the force sensitive crystals stored inside. Behind him lay a workbench, should he decide to for some reason or another take the thing apart.

 

Settling down in to standing meditation, had he been observed, he would have simply looked as if he was staring intensely at the object in his hand. Yet in reality he was probing it, and allowing it to probe him. It didn't take him long to achieve the state of equilibrium he wished with the device, so that it would recognize his touch, and he wouldn't ”˜misplace' it. Clipping it back on his belt, he shook off a small layer of ice that had seemed to form on his parka and boots.

 

Well it is a tad bit cold here, I think It is beyond time for me to pull off.

 

The walk to his ship could have been a miserable journey, amplified by the fact he would have to carry some one the entire way. Hoth cold, slippery ice, and well snow could make even the most staunch miserable after a prolonged period. Fortunately for him, he installed two things on his ship that would make this task easier. The first being a simple calling system, that would allow the ship to come to him.

 

Something he acted on quickly, before taking a small detour into the base. After all, he had to get h is padawan. As his ship touched down a single wave of his hand was all it took to get the force reactive chemicals to unlock his ship and allow him in. Depositing his padawan on one of the beds this ship held, he himself walked up to the cockpit to set the autopilot on his destination.

 

It had been some time since he had last, ”˜dressed' up for an occasion, and he wanted to make sure he would pull this off flawlessly. Especially with the idea, of his stun system still being in play, on the off chance he might actually need it for some reason or another.

 

He was not present in his cockpit to watch the ice ball of a planet receded into the distance. It was just as well that he wasn't behind the controls as he felt something hit him and rock him to his core. All at once, all around him it seemed, a massive wave of”¦ hope and energy, rocked through him. It was staggering to say the least, yet it wasn't dreadful. Unlike the feeling of feeling worlds die, it was, almost indescribable the feeling he had. Perhaps if he no longer had pain receptors, and was hooked up to a lightning bolt, he would have a comparison of ho he felt.

Sprawled out on the cargo hold floor, he felt the slight lurch that suggest his ship entered hyperspace.

[Ary the Grey]

((Sorry bro, but I have stuff that needs doing. Taking you to the Helix Station with me though.))

 

After a while, Aryian felt this was going nowhere. Plus, he had business he needed doing. Without much fuss, both Master and padawan left Hoth. Before they left, Aryian gathered all the materials he would need to again construct four lightsabers while they were in-transit.

[Scorp Jedi Knight]

He was locked in a trance. He had been not just on a search but on a quest for nearly a full month, yet most of that was him locked in the same trance he was now in. It was a delicate process, made by beings who had all come to a sensible and unprecedented agreement. It had all begun for him when h is lightsaber had started to act in a strange way during his talk with a recently returned Jedi”¦.

 

Nearly a month ago

 

Why is it that I always visit cold planets. Hoth, Ilum and now Mannan even though it is on its way to recovery? I thought I was born in the jungle, AND I thought black men didn't like the cold. What is wrong with me.

 

He silently mused to himself as he touched upon his lightsaber. A vibrant cyan b lade extended from both ends, he was not so much as dancing as he was locked in a self created Kata with the blade. The reason why he had come up with the thing, was to maximize the broad swings one created with the double bladed weapon full extended, while at the same time attempting to do it in close quarter. He was rather well aware that for all intents and purposes, walls technically had no bounds on him, however, he avoided them all the same with his saber, as they were special to him in a different sort of way.

 

When he was locked in the moment, the walls seemed to not be the rigid sturdy surfaces they made themselves out to be to the rest of the galaxy. Instead they seemed to give, if ever slightly when he pushed off against them, adding force and power into his leaps as if they were a mini trampoline.

 

His padawan was, studying something, the young man often spent many of his off hours, locked in study, attempting to learn all he could about the Jedi and the galaxy it would seem. However, Scorp was more of a man of action, no matter how laid back he appeared. In general he sought harmony not just with his body, but with the light side of the force. Dedicating himself and is life to the greater good.

 

With his mind perplexed he reflected back on the crystal that gave his blade such a beautiful if icy glow. When he had first found it, it had resonated with a powerful aura that cooled both his skin and the already frigid air around it. It had called to him from across the galaxy, and he had answered. It was then he had discovered the properties of the crystal.

 

Immediately he had crafted a lightsaber to house it, yet on some level he had always left room for more crystals. At the time he didn't know why, and for that matter he still had no idea why. Shutting down the blade he came to stare at the hilt.

 

In a moment of clarity, what the crystal desired was revealed to him. Not so much that the crystal itself had a desire, but instead that the crystal acted as the conduit for a being who had been reaching out to him for an untold amount of time with infinite patience. It was only thanks to his recent increase in clarity and knowledge with the force that he had finally understood the link the being had been trying to establish. It took no time at all before he had wrapped up all he needed to on mannan. After all the Alliance and all other Jedi had long ago pulled out, leaving him stuck on the recovering world. Like a man on a mission, he simply moved into action, and soon the once icy world, was but a small crescent in space before he blasted off into hyperspace.

 

Two days later

Time was moving fast, and his now second apprentice was a quick learner. Amazingly quick. He had to briefly wonder, if the being had prior experience in some way shape or fashion, or had the link that had been established, allowed him to see deeper into the workings of the force.

 

He had to admit when he had first arrived on world a Day or so ago, he had been astounded by the wondrous mineral formations. Though out in the outer Rim territories Orax was a wonder to behold and a pleasure to visit. Yet it was the same formations that had first caused his heart to sink into dismay. For none of the humans he had come into contact with seemed to have the slightest inkling why he was here.

 

It was perhaps his bias thinking that led him to waste time in his search, for what was calling out to him. Only in mediation around one of the hot springs, that the locals had pointed out to him, he had discovered just how off track he was. Submerging in the force, he found himself surrounded not just by minds, but by a huge group mind as well. It was only during this time, that he discovered that the formations were actually sentient beings, observing him!

 

Excited he attempted contact with him. In failing initially the locals provide a rather generous amount of help, in giving him a translator unit. After that it was not so much as finding a needle in a hay stack, as it was simply being told where to go.

 

That was how he had found his new padawan, not a human but a shard. Intelligent and quick minded, especially for one of his species, he took Scorp by surprise in their initial meeting.

 

one week later

 

Is there any one running this show. Or is this how it feels to be used as an instrument?

 

 

As his ship touched down on Nam chorios and he stepped out side, his new padawan was eagerly trying to grasp the idea of a force push. Perhaps had he done his homework, he would have warned against t such a thing but it was too late. With in moments he was caught in an electrical storm. The first five minutes were something else, but by the end of ten, he had fallen to his knees.

 

It took him over a day to recover. In that time, he had modified his lightsaber, with repulsion lifts, to allow his new padawan to get around. For the next few days, the pair scoured the world, his padawan motivated by something, that he could only refer to as ”˜the other one'. He was willing to indulge in the search as it seemed like a destined sort of thing that only he could take part of.

 

Then the day came.

 

 

Now

 

Now he was locked in a trance on Hoth, forced to use his own talents in the force, to complete his master piece. His soon to be tool, as well as body for his friends. A droid, and a lightsaber. It was an interesting blend, for an interesting bridge between three beings.

 

He was also in interesting blend as well; he could not say he was limited to being a master of only alter, or control or sense. Still he was controlling the temperature in his blood and tissue, in order to heat his hands to the point that should he have struck another being, it would have been as if they had been hit with burning metal. It was essentially however, that he did that, as well as be outside in the harsh cold environment of hoth. He need the quickness and dexterity of his hands, that could operated and touch upon things in ways normal tools could not, and he needed the frosty temperatures of Hoth, to cool down almost instantly that which he did. Locked in his trance, he was engaged in a molecular process, that would make the lightsaber nearly impossible to break even should it be struck upon by another lightsaber. After all, all knew what had happened to Darth maul at Naboo, and no one ever wanted to repeat the experience.

 

At last however he was finished. A layer of ice had formed on his clothes, yet his body remained untouched. Standing up he did a few aerobic exercises , to get his circulation and blood back to normal, with out external aid, before boarding his ship. It was time to return to the Jedi fully. Something seemed to be on the horizon. An event he was able to feel even locked in his trance. One he felt he must be on hand for.

[Sheog the Mad]

The Demented Madness fled the blue caress and emerged over the world of white. Hoth. Such a simple world. Almost all the planets in the galaxy were just as simple. One terrain. One type of weather. One type of thing. A world of trees. A world of sand. A city-world. A world of Ice. The galaxy seemed so very unoriginal. So unoriginal it was maddening. This, of course, made Sheog hungry, like most things tended to. The feast would hopefully sate his appetite (which was doubtful).

 

"My dear Sheog," said the fallen angel, to the seated and eating Hutt, "I read of a rare culinary treat enjoyed on a few border worlds. It seems they take living simians, restrain the animals, and then eat the brains of the still living animal. I was wondering if your chef might be able to procure something like that for us from the various sentient beings which populate this galaxy."

 

Sheog's eyes widened, and he felt slightly sick, yet intrigued. A dark smile played over his food-speckled lips.

 

<>

 

His expression grey even darker.

 

<

 

His guest continued, oblivious to Sheog, who was at the moment calling up a recipe for human brain pie from the depths of the holonet. The recipe called for fresh brains, so live ones should do. Sheog called up the file. Hopefully the recipe site wouldn't give his onboard computer viruses.

 

1 (9" size) pie shell (made from a mixture of grains, which were unfortunately only to be found in the Royal gardens of ex-Alderanni royalty. Stupid Death Star.)

2 cups Bothan sugar (made from ground Bothan bone, marrow sifted out)

2 tablespoons of Ranat milk. (How they milked a Ranat, Sheog did not want to know.)

1 pinch of Iridonian salt (The process for which is disgusting)

2 Gungan eggs

1 cup of Ewok blubber

1 teaspoon of Mon Calamari blood.

1 Human Brain, Fresh, not frozen. Asian decent preffered.

 

Delicious.

 

The fallen angel continued blabbering, perhaps unaware of his possible future. Sheog saved the file for later, though, Ason would still need this Uriel. Unless the Master liked brain pie, at which he would kindly have his cooks prepare the delicacy.

 

"Its a funny thing, but have you ever noticed how much crime there is in our galaxy? I wonder if it would be possible to create a criminal so beloved that the populace would rise up to protect him or her?"

 

Sheog considered the Fallen's question. His dark expression faded as he took another bite, imagining it was brain pie.

 

<>

 

Sheog's face contorted in a pleased smile.

 

<>

 

He glanced out the viewport as The Demented Madness settled upon the frozen wasteland. He smiled and slipped into a warm overcoat, which covered all but the very end of his tail, presented to him by one of his droids. Cold-weather gear was also given to Uriel, if he wished to take it. Sheog packed on his weapons, and several packages of worms and other assorted foods and beverages for the journey. His smile broadened as his slick underside, protected by the layers of slime, brushed against the ice as he moved his way a few meters away from The Demented Madness, just in case the ship decided to explode. Several scanning droids followed him, setting their scanners for wampas and other life-signs. He turned slowly to Uriel, keeping his guard up, ready for any sign of attack.

 

<>

[Dashel Illioni]

Growing up as a lab experiment under a Dark Lord of the Sith had subjected Uriel to a lot of stressful environments, but Hoth's freezing surface had surely been designed to test the limits of any being treading foot on its surface. One glance at Sheog reminded him that feet of course, were completely a matter of speech and not a limiting factor. As big as he was, the Hutt packed more muscle then fat and made for a very dangerous opponent.

 

Something Uriel was counting on in this case.

 

"On the way," said Uriel to Sheog, "downloaded as much information as I could about the habits of these things, the better to draw out my prey and slaughter them on my terms."

 

Uriel grinned at the Hutt, "It turns out, however, that drawing them out into the open might not be the best idea considering they are ambush hunters."

 

He paused as two of Sheog's droid servants brought forward two squirming teenagers trying futilely to free themselves.

 

"Sheog, meet John and Sandy," said Uriel introducing the two humans, "Somehow, they managed to stow-away on a ship bound to Mechis and found themselves in your cargo-hold. They are eloping because Sandy's parents treat her so badly."

 

Uriel let both sarcasm and hate color the tones of his voice. He had barely checked his impulse to simply torture the pair when he found them and now he felt a sick joy that he had not. This hunt would be made so much more interesting because of their supposed love for each other.

 

"As you see Sheog, John has cold weather survival gear on. Sandy does not because she will be entertaining me for the next three nights."

 

John's eyes widened as Uriel's exact meaning filtered through the terror that was already flowing through him. After all, Uriel had made them watch the meals being prepared in the Hutt's kitchen and watch the video of the surgery which had resulted in the clone Marta's death.

 

"The small compass attached to his wrist will let him know where to go on the surface of this planet. Once there, he is to set camp and wait for further instructions. To keep him company, I have arranged for a cambot with record and broadcast capabilities so that we know what he's up to and can see how is love is faring and what she will endure should he not survive."

 

Uriel walked up to the droid carrying Sandy and removed her clothes with a single slash of his vibroknife.

 

"Of course, if he doesn't want her to freeze to death before his trial really starts, he should be getting moving. The sooner he is out of our sight, the sooner I take her inside the ship and warm her up."

 

He watched as the droid holding John dropped him unceremoniously in the snow. For a second, it looked as if John might charge the two, but Uriel showed him the massive blaster in holstered at his side and the teen boy took off for the horizon.

 

Uriel turned to Sheog once the boy was out of hearing range. "Two things you both should know. The boy has a tracking chip embedded in his hip. Put it there myself, pity we did not have any anesthesia available at the time."

 

Uriel paused remembering the delight he had felt as the boy was screaming. It was an impulse he knew he would have to check as it seemed to unbalance his neural interfaces too much.

 

He continued after sending a brief electronic message to the droid that Sandy should be taken inside and be prepared for the evening's entertainment but not before she heard his final words to Sheog.

 

"The boy's clothing, gear, and very skin were dosed in the scent of a Taunton which my reading indicated was the favorite prey of our prey," said Uriel and the coordinates I gave him were for the hunting grounds of a fairly substantial set of active lairs."

 

As Sandy was carried back into the Hutt's ship, Uriel turned back to Sheog. "The girl survived because of the environmental shield attached to the droid carrying her. She never even felt the cold of Hoth."

 

Uriel's plans for the girl had come straight from a treatise on the subject of torturing lovers from a burnt out world circling a star once near the center of the Old Sith empire. Whomever had written that treatise had been a mastermind of horror, because he or she had advocated inducing lovers to betray each other in a futile effort to save themselves.

[Sheog the Mad]

"Sheog, meet John and Sandy," said the fallen angel, showing Sheog a struggling pair of young humans, "Somehow, they managed to stow-away on a ship bound to Mechis and found themselves in your cargo-hold. They are eloping because Sandy's parents treat her so badly."

 

Sheog's mind slowly took comprehension of the situation that Uriel had just put them in. He had separated two young stowaway lovers from each other, using the male as Wampa bait, and had summoned one of his own serving droids, a comprehensive B-1 Battle droid, to transport the distressed girl back to the guest quarter's for his own enjoyment. As the B-1 picked up the girl, it looked quickly to Sheog, and both of them shared a look. If the droid could show emotion, it would have portrayed anger and disgust to the highest degree. Sheog's maddened mind erupted in the same emotions, anger at Uriel for disrespecting the Hutt's hospitality, and disgust for his self-serving actions. And the fool was even using one of his droids to help him in his rape. HIS DROID! Just for that, the fool deserved to die. He had NO right to order his things around.

 

Sheog quickly purged the emotions from his mind, but a single idea formed under the protection of his clouded mind. Death to the fallen angel. Uriel was too much”¦ A sith. Much akin to those who brought the countless Sith orders down around their lustful heads, all too concerned with their own pleasure and strength to care about the order as a whole. This man was not a true Sith. He was a lowfife. A lustful pig, concerned only for his own lustful intentions. And like the animal he was, he would be slaughtered like one. He was torturing these innocents, simply for the joy of it. Sheog chuckled, keeping his dark intentions cloaked beneath his ever-swirling, maddened mind. He made it sound like his laughter was at Uriel's plan, dark and sadistic, as if he were in agreement. Sadists be damned!

 

As if separating young lovers was not already a high enough sin, this Uriel had taken another step on his evil path. He was going to kill the boy and rape the girl. He had gone too far. Yes, the Sith were supposed to be like this, but not the Krath. If Sheog were required to do such a thing, he would kill his very master. Young love was to be cherished, not destroyed and violated. Violaters of this code were to be destroyed.

 

<>

 

He pushed himself backwards towards the landing ramp of The Demented Madness, and lifted his hacker-hardened datapad up, as if to check the sensors, but he was, in fact doing something much more”¦ Fun. As the angel continued describing his ever-so-evil plan, Sheog sent out an order to all of his technicians, who were at their stations on-board the craft, via encrypted message:

 

We have an unwanted guest. Activate plan, Zeta-Three. Kick this angel's ass.

 

<>

 

As Uriel described (in a monologish fashion) the way the Wampas would eat the boy, Sheog took a long, steady drought from his canteen of potent alcohol, and stuffed a handful of worms into his gullet, he would need the energy for the fight to come. He kept his thoughts and intentions hidden, beneath the natural cloud of madness that filled the skies of his mind. He continued pushing himself towards the landing ram, with powerful movements of his tail. Uriel still stood, yammering on about how he would rape the girl, about 50 meters from the landing ramp. He began to concentrate, calling upon the powers of the force, upon the three disciplines; Greed, Lust, and Gluttony. Their power would be augmented by his new meal. He channeled their power into his tail, increasing his speed greatly.

 

<>

 

As the white worms slid their way to a delicious death, Sheog's technicians were hard at work. The two YVH 1 droids equipped with LS-150 Heavy Accelerated Charged Particle Repeater Guns were activated inside their compartment near the landing ramp. Their processors were hardened like almost every other piece of technology onboard the Hutt's craft, making it impossible to hack into with a brain implant while taking fire. Their skeletal appearance like something from Terminator, they both shambled from the compartment, hefting their repeating guns. Their Laminanium armor did not shine bright, and their repeaters did not gleam. They were meant for stealth. Stealthful obliteration. They both jumped from the landing ramp, sinking and obscuring themselves in the snow and ice.

 

<>

 

At the same time as the YVH droids were activated, a similar signal was sent directly to The Demented Madness's stock of five B-1 battle droids. As the B-1 carrying the young female passed by, he called upon his brothers for arms, and they were ready to answer. The other four B-1s filed quickly from storage, grabbing E-11s and set up firing positions at the top of the wide landing ramp. They had a good line of fire, attributed to the oversized landing ramp (meant for the accommodation of several oversized Hutts) giving them full view (and the ability to fill his body with blaster fire) of Uriel as Sheog moved steadily away from him.

 

<>

 

The three hardened probe droids, spaced in a large triangle formation before the craft, (for better scanning formation) were given the direct signal at the same time as the other droids. The two at the far ends of The Demented Madness (about 20 meters from the craft, and 40 from Uriel) took a bead upon his chest. The last of the probe droids, who was thirty meters behind Uriel also took up a bead upon his back. The technicians smiled, as they activated the last of The Demented Madness's defense features. None of their signals could be traced. If they were received, those without their knowledge of the code would take hours to hack their encryption.

 

<>

 

From their concealed hatches, dropped four anti-personal gatling guns, one on either side of the landing ramp (About fifteen meters from each side), and one on each end of The Demented Madness. Thousands of 30mm rounds were ready to be used. The Gatling guns were accurate to 4,000 feat with a shot spread of about 20 feet. At this range... There was no escape. They were normally used for tanks... But this was a special case. Sheog (who was now five meters from the foot of the landing ramp) smiled at Uriel (who was 45 meters from him now) as the guns dropped silently from their hatches, quietly warming up for action. Now for the final touch. Surprise was by far on his side.

 

With one swift motion, Sheog lifted his Chiss-made maser pistol from his holster, aimed it at Uriel's yammering mouth, and fired a round. As the blue bolt left the maser, all hell broke loose to sweep the fallen angel from the face of the planet of ice.

 

The YVH-1 droids had spent the few seconds of time since their arrival to take aim with their Heavy ACPs at the unarmored Uriel. As the blue bolt leapt from their master's gun, they opened fire, sending a solid stream of disintegrating plasma for Uriel's chest and legs. The ACP was somewhat effective against heavy armor, but was simply devastating against something like light armor or bare flesh, which was all their target was wearing. Hundreds of plasma rounds, like a ripping and tearing rain would tear the target to bits in a matter of seconds. The droid's superior telescopic sensor package would help their storm of fire keep exactly on target.

 

As if that wasn't sufficient enough, as Sheog fired his Maser round, the five B-1 battle droids (who also had taken the necessary seconds to aim) at the top of the spacious landing ramp opened fire with their E-11s, filling the air above the head of their master with well-aimed red streaks. The canvas would soon be stained with another, similar color. The crimson red of blood. The droids shots were all aimed for Uriel's head and chest. This was how battle droids were supposed to be used. Not fighting clones.

 

In the same moment that Sheog fired his maser, the three Viper probe droids fired upon Uriel with their integrated blaster cannons, which would catch him in a three pronged cross-fire, in addition to the green storm unleashed from YVHs and the red fire from the B-1s. They had been busy analyzing the fallen angel, sending reports to the other droids about his armor type and weapons.

 

The fallen angel would have to be suprised. Sheog's thoughts were clouded, his transmissions coded. If he beat one of his opponents... There was still more than enough to kill him. Anywhere he would run, the Gatling guns would trace him, the droids would follow. If Ason had a problem with it... Then he'd deal with it when he got there.

 

From the four Gatling guns, (at the same time as everything else) which were all aiming at Uriel, came forth a thunderous roar, like the bellow of Cererus at the gates of Hades. From the rotating barrels came a fire-storm of death, in the form of the 30mm slug firing at 4,200 rounds per minute per gun”¦ All directed at Uriel. The Gatling guns would form the last crossfire to the battle. All at once, from YVH-1s, B-1s, Probe droids, Gatling guns, and Sheog's maser did the firestorm fly. Thousands of rounds. Overkill. Death. Crossfire to the highest degree. And Sheog was not at risk at all. He had a bead on Uriel, just like the rest of his allies. If he did anything, he'd get shot from practically every direction. How beautiful the sound.

 

((KILLSHOT REQUESTED: URIEL STONEDOG))

 

((OOC: You have no equipment on your character sheet”¦ Nothing. Because of this, I do not know what you are carrying or are wearing, other than the warm-weather gear I gave you.))

[Dashel Illioni]

((**Killshot Defense**))

 

Uriel, smiling at the success of his plan, turned towards Sheog to explain the remainder of the plan. The unknown interrogator whose notes he had been perusing had insisted that it took two individuals to make this particular gambit successful.

 

He never got the chance. As he turned towards Sheog, he felt the Hutt's rising tide of anger. Even at this distance, it was palpable and revealed a lack of foresight on Uriel's part. He should have informed his partner of the entire scope of his plan.

 

Uriel knew from the sheer amount of anger that was racking the Hutt that his fellow apprentice would soon be targeting him for destruction. His robotic components informed of the flurry of messages sent from the Hutt towards his droids and the ship, though the heavy encryption made reading them impossible.

 

Momentarily, he considered attempting transferring his consciousness to one of the droids. He vaguely recalled hearing of a Krath that could do so, but did know the method to accomplish that small miracle. He also suspected that doing so would probably require more time then he currently had.

 

He never heard the droids or defense weapons deploy. With his hands propelled by the Dark Side, Uriel fired the Model 434 at a point just in front of his toes three times. The first blast cracked the ice beneath his feet.

 

The electronic portion of his consciousness recorded a thunderous boom beneath him, lost to the sounds of the second shot from his blaster. That shot cracked the ice further, and Rahalin felt himself rise rapidly upward.

He attempted to counter the sudden tilt by stepping backward, but stepped into the trail of mucous left by his fellow apprentice. In the chill of Hoth, that mucous had gelled into something with the consistency and slickness of silicone lubricant and Rahlin's feet slipped out from under him.

 

Even as Uriel pitched backward, he triggered the third shot. The last shot separated the ice sheet he was standing on. Detached, it pivoted completely on some unseen fulcrum. His fall and the action of the pivoting ice put him below the streams of fire from the various weapons fired by Sheog, the droids, and the ship's defense weapons but presented him with a new set of problems.

 

His head had snapped backward when he slipped, striking the ice with enough force to temporarily jar loose a series of memories lost to the ministrations of the master that had taken him from his life on Mandalore. The disjointed memories passed before his eyes even as he slid into a cavity that had lain beneath the ice.

 

((**End Killshot Defense**))

[King Kheldar vos Correlli]

Ruling on Sheog vs. Uriel:

 

First off, Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?

 

The end result was a serious action by a PC-point blank blaster in mouth, followed by several rounds of droid NPC support fire. The latter was drawn on items with the ship/character sheet, though appearing with their debute attack in the RP. An impressive gauntlet, though for the sheer firepower, the set up was lacking. Never the less, there was careful attention to detail, especially distance, without the post being too drawn out, ensuring an effective attack.

 

Uriel's defense was interesting- firing the 434 blaster, effectively a heavy blaster, in succession to break through the ice and escape into a snow cavity to avoid a wall of laser fire. The key question here is would it be sufficient to evade the kind of firepower brought to the fore in a timely enough fashion.

 

Compariably speaking, the 434 is on par with the blaster used to deep fry Greedo in Ep IV. It would certainly sublimate the ice if fired point blank, though I find it questionable if it would be enough or focused enough to give Uriel the drop needed for reasonable cover. The use of Force foresight would at the least justify the two shots and half-step from getting off successfully, though I can't see the tactic used as being succesful- too much ice would need to be destroyed (and at the risk of scalding one's self very badly from the resulting steam burst) in a short order,, and while the headshots would miss, those drawn on the center of mass might have some issue with evasion, even with an underlying cavity. A seriously innovative effort given the manner in which the attack came, but I believe one running into physical limitations to make it an effective dodge against the permafrost of Hoth.

 

Killshot successful

[Sheog the Mad]

Sheog smiled slightly as he watched Uriel duck and weave around bullets and lasers. It was interesting to watch a futile action. There was no escape for the boy. As the Fallen Angel dove into the snow, scrambling for cover, the Stow-away, Sandy, was being treated to a cup of hot chocolate and freshly baked cookies, made by the plumpest of female chefs (with a full cup of love baked right in!) in an effort to cheer her up from losing her best friend to Uriel's schemes. Several of Sheog's technicians drew a hot bath for the girl, and told her that Sheog's greatest intention would be to find her friend, and bring him back to her in the best shape possible.

 

Back out in front of The Demented Madness, bullets and well-aimed lasers were slowly following the furiously digging angel, who was showing great ingenuity by using his heavy blaster pistol to try to blow a hole through the frozen oceans of Hoth. What exactly he was trying to accomplish was beyond Sheog, if he did drill a hole through the frozen ice and through to the ocean layer, he would be practically flash-frozen.

 

Sheog watched as the hole got bigger, almost big enough to hide the fallen angel from view. Now only the Fallen Angel's head was exposed. Perfect for around three-thousand well-aimed 30mm anti-tank rounds. There was a non-dramatic spray of blood, and the headless corpse fell (again non-dramatically) to the ground. Sheog sighed, he had been hoping for a dramatic death, but that sort of thing seldom happened any more.

 

The probe droids moved in, dragged the body out of the crimson crater, and deposited the still spewing body at Sheog's feet (or the Hutt equivilant). He shook his head in disgust and turned to the droids.

 

>>A dishonorable death for a dishonorable man... Perhaps along with the pelts of the wampas, our master would enjoy this pelt as well. Collect it and any other things of value from the body. Give any credits to the girl, as well as that blaster pistol of his.>>

 

As the droids went off to prepare the body as ordered, Sheog glanced towards the sky. He hoped his master was not too displeased. He entered several commands into the technician's mainframe. They must prepare to hunt wampas and for one other thing. Angels, no matter how fallen, had a way of turning up again. Hopefully, he will have learned his lesson.

[Dashel Illioni]

Uriel piloted Chayat into orbit around Hoth. The voyage from Kamino included time for learning, reviewing, and remembering. All three had taken on a new vitality for Uriel after his reawakening in the cloning vat.

What he had learned on the flight over had chilled him considerably. The Kaminoans, upon a bribe coupled request, had provided the notes and medical records related to Delaney that had been found at their former Master's apartments. The techniques practiced upon her had started while she was in utero, and had progressed after birth, extending into every facet of her life, from education, to physical development, even the substances from which she derived nourishment. While their former Master had not completely eliminated her need for solid nourishment, he had modified her to the extent that some substances would forever mark her as unique.

 

What that Sith had done to the two left ashes in Uriel's mouth. Upon reviewing his own actions, he found that those actions followed along the same lines as the former owner of his two companions. The correction that Sheog had enabled left him with a greater control over his impulses and a far greater self discipline than had been evident before. While his impulses were far from tamed, there now existed a larger framework to limit those impulses.

 

That correction enabled by Sheog was remembering the entirety of his life prior to his first master erasing his memory. Something about the cloning process had undone the damage his Sith Master had done through the force, and now Uriel knew whom and what he had been. With that knowledge came a need he recognized as a good one. He wanted a family, something to live for beyond his own needs much as Sheog lived for the advancement of the Hutt race. His family would be the extension of the clan that he might not ever see again because of his status as Dar'jidai.

 

He also knew two young people whom he would offer a place in that clan, providing that they accepted the attendant responsibility and he could convince them his reformation was genuine. A quick scan from orbit with Chayat's systems enabled him to find the first part of that campaign. The transponder implanted within John was still transmitting and enabled Uriel to guide his ship to within several meters of where the young man had found shelter from Hoth's freezing atmosphere.

 

The young man did not immediately run from the cave despite the noise a yacht's repulsor lift produced. Uriel sighed, knowing that somehow he would have to lure the young man out. That did not prevent Uriel from gathering his various weapons before debarking from his ship. He actually hoped the young man would attack him, making it far easier to get the boy inside his ship, warm and safe from all the dangers of Hoth and its various occupants.

 

His sensors disabused him of that idea almost as soon as he disembarked. While the Chayat's sensors were optimized for deep scanning, his personal system was optimized for far greater detail over range. The cave that housed John had other occupants, inimical to life forms other than their own. He regretted that those life forms did not include the wampas that he and Sheog needed for their skin.

 

Before entering, Uriel extended his rudimentary Force senses in an effort to understand the intentions of the beings within. He located John easily, the boy's mental state rotated between fear of his captors and concern over Sandy. Both were strong enough to allow Uriel to locate where the boy was in relation to himself and that the boy was a captive, warm, and relatively comfortable.

 

The other beings were far less distinct but he was able to gather that those beings felt little or no concern about their hideout being found. For some reason, that arrogance angered Uriel and he decided that rescuing the boy might prove interesting.

 

Disdaining the use of his droids, Uriel made sure his gear was set firmly in place and entered the cave. He had not gone far when he encountered his first obstacle. Somebody had installed a door. Though there were cracks between the door's frame and the rock walls of the cave, the door stood firmly against Uriel's force enhanced attempts to move it. Fortunately for his purposes, other methods existed.

 

He quickly had his cyborg components scanning the door for its locking mechanism. A rather low tech keypad provided the only way into the lair beyond. His electronics quickly ascertained the correct key sequence and Uriel rapidly entered it.

 

Two human guards stood talking in low tones on the other side. Uriel drew his anelace, propelled himself forward with their Force, and stabbed both men before they could grab their blasters. Listening intently after their fall, Uriel realized he had somehow kept the element of surprise and meant to continue utilizing it.

 

He proceeded forward along 10 meters or so of corridor. From its looks and his electronic scans Uriel knew that the corridor had been carved from one of the rare rock areas on Hoth's frozen surface. He proceeded to the end of the corridor until he encountered another door. This one proved to be unlocked, and he quickly rolled the circular door aside. Two more guards were on the other end and both died as quickly as the first pair.

 

Stopping to search the area via the Force, Uriel located one further life form other than John inside a rather snug cave. John was in a cage, wrapped in warmer clothing than he had been given by Uriel while the other being in the room was floating serenely inside a portable bacta unit. Uriel walked up to John's cage and sat down outside to talk with the boy after insuring that the bacta unit's occupant would not be leaving anytime soon.

 

What he said took mere minutes and involved him handing his blaster over to the boy. He freed the boy, picked up a pair of matched light blasters from one of the guards, and went further into the complex. Once they went past a series of more natural caverns, they entered the largest cavern in the complex.

 

The relatively small cavern they came in opened into a massive one which by its look had started out naturally enough and been excavated over time. Inside was a veritable cornucopia of goods, many quite valuable by their looks and by the shipping papers attached to their crates. Uriel looked at John who spoke to him for the first time in a long time.

 

”œPirates,”

[Sheog the Mad]

”œRetrieved individual named John. Request cease fire to reunite John and Sandy, provide reparations to all parties, and proceed with mission.”

[Zalis Krales]

Nimbus reverted back to realspace above the planet Hoth. Her captain, Zalis, a male Nautolan made a quick visual scan of the planet. It wasn't anything special, just a giant ice ball covered in snow. Looking down at his scanner, he could see that there were a few outposts on the planets surface. One of them was the location of which he would pick up a very rare spice for a Hutt. It was a bit strange in his mind, that he would work for a Hutt without seeing the slug face to face. But then again, he really didn't mind so long as the Hutt continued to send his beautiful aid to meet up with him. Zalis knew that she echoed off a pheromone that made him infatuated with her, but truth be told, he didn't care. She was beautiful and well worth any risk she might require.

 

Trying not to get caught up on a possible future love interest, he pushed her image out of his mind and went back to work. Hoth present a few dangers for any ship that wasn't prepared for the harsh cold. He'd have to make constant adjustments to Nimbus in order to keep her running while on the surface. At least the credits are worth the risk. Making slight adjustments, he piloted his way down to the surface.

[Dashel Illioni]

Ureil landed a safe distance away from Sandy, not wanting to inadvertently add another tragedy to his life. He watched as John dropped his weapon, ran to nearest exit, and raced across the frozen landscape to take Sandy in his arms.

 

It was a poignant moment, one Uriel managed to miss entirely. He was busy going over an inventory list of the cave they had left and found several interesting tidbits, including a map of known ranges of his prey from a hunting party the pirates had ambushed long ago.

 

The information left him with a greater knowledge of the creatures than he had before, but left him with some work to do. He waited, patiently, as John and Sandy boarded his ship, then asked everyone to assemble in the lounge for a quick meeting a few minutes later.

 

Before heading to the lounge himself, Uriel tuned his hyperspace transceiver to the frequencies Sheog had used and sent him a quick message.

 

<>

 

He signed off and went to the lounge and talk with his family. There was a lot to talk about. This family would have a hierarchy, with him at the apex, but its members would always be expected to live life as close to the Mandolorian ideals of his past life as much as possible.

 

Then again, that might be interesting considering his being a Dar'Jedai. Uriel shrugged it off. The matter would work itself out in time.

 

Once Uriel arrived in the lounge, the meeting immediately centered around those topics that were important to his family. John and Sandy officially became engaged, with Uriel promising to pay for a wedding and honeymoon for the two of them. It seemed as if they had accepted his offer of being a part of his family, and that they asked to settle on Mandolore afterwards.

 

Uriel smiled, knowing that if there were any Mandolorians left on the planet, that the two of them would be learn about the heritage they had adopted and its expectations. Uriel thought they actually had a chance to succeed.

 

Once their fate was settled, Uriel announced his attention to hunt Wampa's on his own. He was pretty sure that between the cave and his ship that there was plenty of equipment for him to do so and that while he did so, the four beings on the ship could do accomplish whatever tasks they saw fit beyond the maintenance duties his Zeltrans had already set themselves.

 

Something occurred to him as he made that announcement. He looked to the younger of the Zeltrans and watched her eyes settle on John and Sandy. Knowing what her prior Sith Master had done to her gave him a good reason to stare her down until she flinched from his gaze.

 

His words were simple, direct, and entirely and keeping with his newly rediscovered purpose, "They are family, free from your manipulations, your experiments, or anything other than support, help, and the actions expected of all good family. Is that clear?"

 

She smiled and nodded yes. Uriel understood somehow that he had just passed a test. What test he did not know and he felt unschooled rage uncurl within him. He tamped it down, knowing that such rage was useful later, but unwarranted in this setting.

 

Once other details had been ironed out, they moved his ship to the old smuggler's base, gently tucked it inside the cavernous structure, and closed the blast doors, sealing it from Hoth's hostile atmosphere. Inside the structure, Uriel quickly began outfitting himself with the necessary gear to hunt down wampas. A T-47 modified for operations in Hoth's atmosphere gave him somewhere to store his gear before setting it out.

 

He had just begun the startup sequence, when Sandy ran up to him holding a datapad and a look of sincere concentration on her face. There was not display of fear there at all now and he wandered about that, despite the changes in him and the pledge of his protection.

 

Turning, Uriel wordlessly accepted the datapad and scrolled through the sections she had highlighted for his convenience. What he found there had him charging down the corridor to the bacta tank which he had seen earlier and the individual still floating in it. A bacta tank that he now knew was more than just that, it was contained a stasis field for the individual there.

 

He tapped the keypad in a specific sequence and watched the bacta tank slide aside, revealing a passage that went far deeper into the mountain of stone the smugglers had discovered. Slowly, with his weapons drawn, he went down the spiral staircase into the very bowels of the ridge of stone that had prexisted the smugglers arrival on Hoth.

 

It took 5 long hours for him to walk through the twisting passage that led downward from that spiral staircase. As he passed through, he had made 3 stops along the way to check some sensor outposts and barricades the former occupants had set up. What he found encouraged him, as the monitors put in place indicated that the Wampas they had feared still occupied several offshoots of the cave.

 

That would make the hunter Uriel's master had ordered far easier. He decided that the hunt would occur in two parts, one in the barricaded areas to hone his skills, and the other part in the wilds of Hoth, to test him against both the land and the Wampas. It he former he would hone both techniques and skills unique to the Wampas, and in the latter he would use them to his advantage. Only the pelts from the second part of the hunter would he give to his master. The others would decorate his lair here on Hoth as a reminder that to get something worthy, you needed to earn it.

 

A lair that would be carved out among the massive geode that the pirates had stumbled upon and left empty. When Uriel walked into it he understood immediately why they had sealed the way down here as they had and avoided the place.

 

The place stunk of the Darkside. To Uriel, it was if someone had taken the dark glory of his master Ason and let it go stale. His sense of the force was almost immediately overwhelmed and it took a great deal of effort to make sense of the jumble that threatened to overthrow his mind.

 

Once his mind was safe from the assault, he took out a hand held flashlight and examined the geode. It was a natural formation, but something long ago had hollowed the place out and turned it into a shrine of the darkside, complete with living quarters and other specific areas.

 

Uriel longed to explore the place, meditate among the darkness, and search around the place for any powerful artifacts that might have been left behind.

 

He did not get the chance. As soon as he emerged into the grand plaza that was at the heart of the shrine, he was attacked by a small family of wampas. The Darkside had flared its warning microseconds before he was attacked and he barely had enough time to draw, target and fire upon the largest of the wampas as it charged him.

 

The shot missed the mass of the being due to the creature leaping over something in the floor of the cavern. Instead, it went down howling with the lower half of its left leg missing from the knee down.

 

Seeing the rate at which several smaller Wampas were closing in on him, Uriel switched the blaster to his off hand and drew one of his Anelace with the other. The battle that followed seemed to last forever before the last one fell. When it did, Uriel had several pelts that he decided were worthy of being presented to his master.

 

Quickly, he skinned them to the best of his ability, piled the skins to one side, and inspected the lair the beasts had set up inside what he intended to be one of his residences. It did not take him long to discover how the beasts had entered. A small fissure had opened up in one of the walls, allowing for entrance from the surface to the lair for what he now knew where a mother and her cubs.

 

He called to his family via commlink, described the geode and what he wanted done there and left his knew family a way to get it done. He figured they would find a way to pleasantly surprise him. He hauled the pelts, still stinking back to his ship, placed them in stasis, and then returned to preparing his hunt despite the beating he had undergone while fighting the Wampas.

[Zalis Krales]

Zalis slowly made his decent into the hangar or the outpost on Hoth. It's primary use was for harvesting spice, more specifically, Lumni Spice. It was rare and the credits for it on the black market were through the roof. The contract he had was for a total of eight crates worth of spice. As he landed, he made sure to put his jacket on before leaving his ship, as it was indeed cold even inside the outpost. Walking out, a Gotal was already walking up to him as two Rodians carried sleds with crates upon them.

"You're the Hutt's errand boy?"

 

"Yeah, just load the crates on the cargo platform. I'll go inside and fetch your credits."

 

Zalis walked back into Nimbus and collected the credit chip that he was given for the exchange of hands during these deals. As he walked back out, the two Rodians began to walk away after loading up six crates of Lumni Spice. Instantly realizing that he may have been duped out of a deal, Zalis withdrew his blaster and pointed it at the Gotal.

 

"What the Frak are you trying to pull? I believe that the Hutt requested eight crates, not six. If I show up short-handed, I end up receiving a blaster in my face versus you. So you two Rodians better go fetch the other two crates before I blow your boss's face off."

 

The two Rodians paused for a moment, not knowing whether or not their boss was worth the work, or perhaps they simply didn't think Zalis would indeed pull the trigger. Either way, the two needed some convincing. Zalis lowered the blaster towards the Gotal's legs and pulled the trigger.

 

"I need movement from you two now!"

 

With that, they quickly raced into a back room. Zalis thought for a moment that they could be going for weapons of their own. If so, he may be in for a harder job then what he really wanted. It was only three seconds after he had the thought that the two Rodians reappeared, but had a few more in tow, all fully armed. Moving his blaster to point directly at the Gotal, Zalis made sure to blast the creatures face off. Quickly running for what cover he could find, which happened to be behind one of the crates of Spice. As he hit the ground, a blaster bolt whizzed over his head while another struck the crate.

 

"Fierfek! That's going to cost me!"

 

Zalis quickly poked his head out to let of a few squeezes of his trigger, hoping to bring one or two down so that the fire fight would even out a little more in his favor. A few more whizzed past his head forcing him to lower his body once more. Too bad he only took one out with his six shots. Deciding that there could be a better pay off he he simply walked into their cargo hold in the outpost, he could risk a crate or two. He withdrew from his belt a flash grenade and threw it over the crate. Once he heard it go off, he rose to his feet and began to move towards the back room, firing his blaster as he moved. With each step he took it felt as if time was slowed down for him, allowing for direct contact on each of his shots. Soon, he managed to kill all seven of the grunts who opened fire on him. As he slowly made his way back to the cargo room, he found only a lone worker, whom he quickly shot in the face. It held at least eight crates of spice, whether or not it was the needed spice was yet to be determined. Spending the next hour to move every crate the outpost held onto his ship, Zalis was sure to get extra for his work.

 

Once he loaded the cargo, he warmed his ship and and left Hoth for Nar Shaddaa, leaving the outpost abandoned with bodies all over the hangar. Zalis didn't care, and he was sure his Hutt employer wouldn't either. Hopefully though, Dordjooba wouldn't be too upset that he lost two crates of the original Lumni Spice, as he was bringing back more crates of spice then what he wanted.

[Fynn Relmis]

The cold winds of Hoth howled across the hardened rocky surface of the near barren world. In this frigid waste, a large wampa awoke to a dull sound near the mouth of it's cave. Growling in warning, the creature got to its feet quickly, its nose detecting a creature foreign to it's environment. It's cold black eyes scanned the mouth of the cave, and approached growling again in anger. After a moment of silence, there was only stillness, and the creature assumed that it had warned off the stranger.

 

It began to retreat, turning to see a figure dart past it with a flash of light. It growled first in surprise, then in shock as it felt an instant of searing pain cut through it's upper midsection, it had no time to react however as the blow had severed it's spine with surgical precision. It fell over into the snow, it's hot breath melting a small amount of ice into a tiny puddle near it's mouth. The last sight of the creature was of man in tattered gray clothing approaching it slowly.

 

"I hope you taste better then you smell..." the man said, shortly before putting the creature out of it's short misery.

...

Fynn took great pains to carve up the carcass so as to waste nothing. On Hoth, without access to the technology the rest of the galaxy so took for granted, one had to waste nothing. Of course it was entirely possible to leave this place, and find luxury and technology to ease his time alone. But Fynn had long ago rejected leaving his self-imposed exile. If the force had use for him, he would follow it's will. The years of solitude had taken it's toll on his garments, and his shelter, but he felt his mind was still sharp. While his use of the force had changed, it hadn't abandoned him, though he knew some of his more advanced skills had atrophied.

 

He approached his shelter, a cave with thick door of ice and rock that was balanced with a counter point. Only a jedi, with the application of the force on the right spot could open the small entrance. Fynn reached out with the force, and pushed at just the right spot, and the door creaked opened long enough for him to escape to the warm interior. The cave was spacious, and had a floor covered in various pelts that Fynn had procured through hunting. The walls were adorned with paintings of markings that haunted and preoccupied Fynn's dreams.

 

A small fire greeted him, as a small astromech droid chirped at his return. He said nothing to the droid, only patting it on the head as he pulled the wampa remains near the fire and began cooking his dinner. On the far wall a carefully drawn map of the known galaxy had been chiseled. Fynn had taken great pains to create it day by day, with another planet from his memory. It had been a tedious task at first, but strangely he found it comforting, and by reaching out with the force, he could feel minute differences in each of the planets, some were no longer there, others were cloaked in shadow, as though some powerful darkside magic had absconded them away.

[Fynn Relmis]

Fynn's eyes snapped open, and alerted him to his state. He was dreaming, he was sure of it. there was a smell of trees and fauna. His former master was there, he could see her, or feel her, but she was near. It was Yavin, he was sure of it, the sights and sounds were so real, so vivid. His friends were there, Darex and Ara. The greeted him with smiles...

 

He was a padawan again, a young pup brimming with pride and a sense of duty. He knew his place and had a certainty to him, and to his actions. Looking down, even his boots, now tattered and weathered, were new and squeaky clean. Where was that young man of action and retribution, where was that warrior ready to charge off half cocked into battle?

 

He could hear Darla, laughing, her presence filled with light and pleasant emotions, A warm breeze drifted past him, and he stood quietly by himself, meditating in a corner. He could hear every bird, every creature, feel the force around them... it was all so connected, so protective. It was, for an instant, home. Then there was a thunder bolt, a massive shock that seemed to rip into the scenery around, him, pulling everything from him, and as sudden as a jump into hyperspace...it was all gone.

 

It was his droid that awoke him from sleep...

 

The chirping was dire, as if there was some emergency.

 

"I'm up...I'm up." Fynn said as the responding to annoying teacher who was scolding him for nodding of in some boring history class. He approached the small power pack that had helped him survive all this time. When he'd landed he was sure that he'd have at least 4 years of power. He had anticipated only leaving in an emergency, and only occasional departures for supplies when absolutely needed. With a few taps he discovered the emergency, the power couplings on the small station were giving out. Apparently the extreme swings in temperature were not as forgiving to the power as he'd hoped. Without fresh couplings, he'd be out of power in a manner of days.

 

Stepping back Fynn swore with an old Dantooine curse. "Well T-4 seems like we might need to do a little shopping." he said unceremoniously. The droid bleeped in agreement as Fynn began to make preparations.

[Fynn Relmis]

"Why... why... why didn't I park the damn thing a little closer?" Fynn aloud to no one in particular. His long isolation had taught him the value of speaking to himself. It wasn't if there was anyone around to hear him. Besides he doubted the force cared whether he had begun to go mad.

 

The source of his agitation now was his own incompetence. The ice flows in the area had signicantly shifted in the years of his exile. What was a simple hill, now was a towering castle of ice and rock. The summit of which was his goal. Scaling the impermanent mountain was now a task equal to that of even the most able mountaineers, and though Fynn had experience in such manners, it didn't make the climb any less perilous. Hence... the complaining. Still there was more to it then a simple climb, something drew him hence, more then a simple desire to leave the Hoth for his own survival. Was something calling him? Here? On this abandoned ball of ice and snow?

 

Fynn clung to the side of the cliff, perched at an odd angle trying to find his footing. One misstep, and force powers or not, he'd have an awful long way to fall. The temperature was dropping now, the sun on the far horizon was steadily falling. In an hour, possibly less, the dark would come, and with it a mind numbing cold that would mean death, even for the monstrous creatures that called this place home. He found a small crevice and reached for it, slowly moving upwards using his breath to guide his pace, minutes paced like hours as the wind slowly began to pick up. He'd been on Hoth long enough to know when a storm was coming, and there was no question, one was brewing. There was something else though, as if he were nearing something, an energy source, almost as if there was a presence that called out to him through the force...

 

He was near the top now, a meter or more and he'd find his salvation. As the glimmer of hope arrived, he felt a renewed energy. Suddenly the crevice he clung to begin to give way. He had seconds to live as the cracks around the crevice enlarged and groaned. Fynn focused on the cliff face... stretching out with the force, he used his powers to hold the thing steady, forming ice molecules and then whole chunks of ice, locking the crevice in place for a moment more.

 

A few meters deep, Fynn spied an object shining like a diamond, and this was no mere piece of ice. It was more, it shimmered, it's multifaceted surface creating a halo of light around it placement as Fynn blinked and looked again. This was no illusion, the object seemed to hover for a moment, long enough for Fynn to pull it to himself with the force. It was a crystal, as pure as water, and warm to the touch. It was twice the size of his fist, and bore blueish tint. Through the force Fynn could feel that it's power was immense. He'd heard of such crystals being used to power whole starships, and defense fields. What was it doing here?

 

"I'm sorry, but your failure is just unacceptable!" Fynn said aloud, as if he could actually tell the planet what to do. The response from the planet was predictable. He'd bought himself a few seconds, but beyond that. Fynn reached back, back to a memory of his training all those years ago. Before the cliff face fell apart, he gathered every bit of power he could muster, and sprang upward, leaping upwards in a blinding flash. He cleared the cliff face, the summit and landed in a crumpled heap at the top of the hill, nearly dislocating his shoulder as fell in an uncontrolled mess, not worthy of the graceful jedi he had once been.

 

Getting up and dusting himself off, Fynn sighed aloud and looked over to the object that had so imperiled his life so. A large ice and frost incrusted sheet covered it, and it's landing gear had long since frozen over, but it was still there, waiting for a day like this one. A gentle pull with the force and the entire sheet flew off, exposing the Templar II, a little worse for ware, but still in one piece. It shone in the evening sun, it's metallic drab paint job still mostly intact. In a short time, Fynn had the reactor up and running, fueled by a reserve tank Fynn had saved for occasions like this. The cockpit readout surmised the situation, most of the sensors were out and would take time to fix, the hyper-drive was functional, but the computers memory core needed to be thawed out, life-support was also minimal, and there was no hope of lasers for several hours. For now the cockpit with the addition of a heater coil would suffice to survive the night. He had the tools, the know how, and the ability to fix most of the problems, but for now, he needed rest.

 

The galaxy would have to wait at least one more day. A Force crystal was a powerful artifact, one that could easily spark a conflict if in the wrong hands. That such a thing would be discovered by him disturbed Fynn...if he could feel it, others would probably as well. There was no way to know who would show up to claim it... or what they would intend to do with it.

[Tares Vortex]

The surface of the ice covered planet seemed to slide gently below his feet. Tares stood gazing out the viewport of the Revelation, taking in the scene for several moments. The large ball of white slowly rotated in the radiant beams of the nearby star. Something about the view seemed peaceful, but restrained. Hoth was a place of chaotic solitude: floating on its own among a galaxy full of busy life. Tares traced the various lines carved deep into the planet's surface. He knew the ship's computer was handling the primary sensor sweep of the surface, but something irrational inside of him suggested that his own sight could aid in the search. In some ways, Tarse was reaching out more with his senses within the Force than his mere sight. The search had a calming effect on him.

 

His ship had arrived into orbit mere hours before. The techs and mechanics onboard the Gateway had kept the Revelation in good condition during Tares' tenure aboard the station. The engines ran with the same level of efficiency as when they had been brought online for the first time. The sensors were sharp and detailed, and the few weapons felt primed and ready for action if called upon. For the first time in a long time, Tares felt as if his ship was alive once more. In some ways, this feeling extended to himself as well. He was finally out in the galaxy again, seeing old and new sites alike. Curiosity was setting in with a degree of purpose once more. He was no longer going through the motions of daily life or of running a corporation. He had a mystery on his hands and the desire to seek out some answers.

 

His quest of sorts brought him to Hoth for a simple reason: this was the delivery location of the mysterious metal bracers that had been purchased on his company's dime. The delivery charts were marked for a small outpost on the north western hemisphere of the planet. Such outposts were often small and temporary. Pirates, smugglers, scientists, and other diverse groups often took up temporary residence on planets of more withdrawn systems. Tares half expected the outpost to be long abandoned. A few left overs might still be detectable: shelter foundations or left over fuel cells; things barely detectable from orbit. Still, he had decided to take a chance on finding something of interest before venturing to the surface of the planet.

 

Reaching out with his own senses, Tares couldn't help but feel a slight familiarity in the Force. A faint presence, barely noticeable above the background radiation of local wildlife, rested deep on the surface of the planet. Before Tares could press any further with his senses, a chime from the Revelation's automated computer snapped his awareness back towards the ship. He quickly moved over to one of the primary controls for the computer system and brought up the detailed sensor read out. One item from the read out stood out above the normal sensor findings. A small metallic structure nestled in the snow. The type of energy and heat radiating from the structure suggested a ship rather than a shelter. More importantly, the finding seemed to correspond with Tares' sense within the Force.

 

A half hour later, Tares was standing on the descending lift of his ship. Before him, the cold subtle snow drifts rushed up across his face as he struggled to focus his site on his new surroundings. He had landed the ship mere meters away from the location of the sensor finding. From this vantage point, the metallic structure was clearly a ship. Tares didn't recognize the look or markings of the ship, but the presence in the Force was something very familiar. In fact, two distinct presences in the Force felt familiar. The first presence was inanimate: an object of great, focused power. The second presence, however, was both alive and even more focused and powerful. He recognized the presence almost immediately. Taking a step out, Tares approached the base of the open landing ramp of the foreign ship and ascended into the ship. "Anyone home?" He rang out....

[Fynn Relmis]

Sleep had come quickly to Fynn, and his mind wandered in his slumber. He saw faces of of people he had once known, voices and whispers of his friends and enemies a like. They gathered together in a thick crowd of an amalgamated chorus, but he couldn't hear what they were saying...

 

A force presence... It brought his head back to the real world. He could feel someone drawing near, someone who his senses had felt before. He searched his feelings, but no name came to his lips. Still he he had to protect the crystal, until he could verify the persons identity. Without a second to spare Fynn stowed the crystal in a cockpit, and ambled out of the cockpit to face whoever it was. He thought about grabbing for his lightsaber, but decided against it. The ship came in for a landing, and Fynn was impressed by the size of the vessel. He didn't feel a threat or a dark force approaching but still...

 

Fynn's look had to have been off putting, his old tattered Jedi robes combined with the furs he had procured had to make him look have man and half beast. His face was bearded now, his body leaner and more fit then it had ever been when in the order proper.

 

"Anyone home?" rang out a voice that was oddly familiar. Fynn did a double take. It couldn't be, could it?

 

"Tares... Tares Vortex?" Fynn said with a shock. He stepped forwards towards the man he'd met all those years ago.

 

"Its good to see you my friend! I have to say your choice of vacation leaves much to be desired." Fynn said still not entirely certain that he wasnt going insane.

[Tares Vortex]

Tares paused for a moment to take in the scene of his new surroundings. The vessel had a worn feeling to it, as if it had been sitting on his landing struts for quite some time. The man standing before him had a similar appearance contrasting with an energetic sense in the Force. He was dressed in a combination of tattered Jedi robes and locally hunted animal furs, a stark difference to the suits and formal wear Tares had grown used to on the Gateway. Tares tried to think back to the last time they had met. Sometime at one of the previous temples probably. Most likely in passing or during one of the rare times Tares had ran into Skye, Darex, or Darla during their travels. It had been quite some time since he had checked in with that group: he knew much had changed.

 

"I could say the same of you." Tares noted before moving forward with a welcoming stance. "It is good, if not surprising to see you again, dear Fynn."

 

In a galaxy full of countless populated, and even more lifeless planets, the odds of running into anyone Tares knew were astronomically slim. A remote world such as Hoth received few visitors at any given time. Random, seemingly chance encounters between individuals seemed to be almost impossible. In his gut, Tares felt that something more must have led him to Hoth; to meeting Fynn within his own ship on a frozen world. His touch with the Force wasn't solid enough to determine whether he had some guiding influence up until that point, but Tares was willing to bet that something that nudged the chance encounter along.

 

"Well..." He began, "I would assume we have the same question of each other, so I guess I will start. I'm here investigating a specific lead involving some internal financial issues within my company, Solaris Enterprises. I was assuming I would find an abandoned outpost of some sorts here. I never thought I would discover an idle ship sitting in the middle of the frozen tundra; much less one that is owned by a familiar sight."

[Fynn Relmis]

"...Fynn..." His mind stirred when heard Tares say his name. It was his name of course, but it had been so long since anyone had said it to him that it sounded almost foreign. Strangely he was closer to Tares alignment now then he had ever been when gallivanting around the galaxy as a brazen night. Hoth had forced him to choose a less prideful path, and feel sides to the force that he had previously ignored or shunned. He had done what he had to, to survive.

 

He listened intently and nodded as the man finished. It was an amazing coincidence to be sure, but had come to learn that the best things in life often happened by accident. Either the force was behind this, or blind luck. The mans immaculate suit spoke to his doing well, or at least to his fine choice in tailors. Still, Tares Vortex, here, speaking to him after so long. He had so many questions, but he decided they could wait.

 

"I would assume we have the same question of each other, so I guess I will start. I'm here investigating a specific lead involving some internal financial issues within my company, Solaris Enterprises. I was assuming I would find an abandoned outpost of some sorts here. I never thought I would discover an idle ship sitting in the middle of the frozen tundra; much less one that is owned by a familiar sight."

 

"I suppose I'm here on my own accord as well. After the disaster of Helix station, losing Darla as well as my mind for a bit, I wanted to be as far from the galaxy as I could be." Fynn said as relaxed a bit. "It's been years... I think. I have an encampment a few clicks from here. It's a small enclave I discovered in my first month here." Fynn he pointed in a general direction. He turned back to Tares, "Your welcome to visit, though I'm afraid it may not be up to Coruscant hotel standards." Fynn added with a small smirk. The weather on Hoth was beginning to shift again, they would need cover soon either way. Fynn had learned the planets moods, and now was the time seek shelter.

 

"Hold here a moment," he asked as he ambled up the small ladder and retrieved the crsytal from the cockpit, putting into a small knapsack, he then slung it over his shoulder. It was then he felt he had to inform his old friend, hiding it from a fellow force user, gray or not wasn't right.

 

"Tares, I've discovered something, something powerful here. Something that others missed..." Fynn said in slightly distant tone. The wind behind them both howled, as the storm front approached.

 

"We should seek shelter, your ship or my sanctuary, and I will tell you what it is that I've found." Fynn said quickly.

[Tares Vortex]

"I can offer you a meal aboard my ship." Tares remarked, "Perhaps something a bit different than the local wildlife if you'd prefer."

 

He motioned toward the landing ramp before exiting the ship. During the short few steps between the two vessels, Tares considered Fynn's remarks aboard his ship. He seemed to harbor a deep secret: keeping safe an item of sorts from the wrong hangs. Something in the Force also felt different, perhaps even out of place. A draw towards great power existed at a specific point nearby. An object of some sorts: Tares couldn't exactly pinpoint the source of his feelings. What was apparent was the degree of concern Tares perceived as emanating from Fynn's presence.

 

Once they reached the Revelation, Tares keyed the button to bring the lift up and into the main interior hold. From there, he led Fynn into the main galley and brought out a few pans onto the counter. "What can I interest you in, today?"

[Fynn Relmis]

"It's enough to be warm for the moment." Fynn said as he took a deep breath for the first time in years that didn't result in a small breath of steam as he exhaled. It felt good to have feet on solid metal for a change. He felt truly warmed as well.

 

"Tares, you look good. The years have clearly treated you well. Your business seems to have flourished." Fynn mentioned as he saw the many crew he employed. This had to mean something, staying on Hoth was a mixture of penance and regret mixed with self discipline, but those feelings were gone now. It was time for him to return, that much was certain. But to the jedi? Fynn wasn't sure the order was the place for someone such as himself. He slowed his thoughts, there would time for these matters.

 

"I probably look like more savage then jedi now..." He said aloud as he could his reflection in an blank screen. The hair alone was enough to frighten. For a second he thought of asking for some luxurious meal, but then he had another thought, something he'd desired for longer then he cared to admit. "Coffee? Black with a few sugar cubes?" He asked plainly. It was amazing how something so seemingly simple could make such a difference when you went without. He took a seat at a small table in the main galley, and looked up at his old friend. He was much as Fynn remembered. The force flowed about him freely, perhaps a little less a clearly, but then Fynn's own connection with the force had changed as well.

 

"You wouldn't have space for my vessel would you? If I could hitch a ride of this rock, I'd be much obliged." He asked politely. He pulled the sack from behind him and placed it on the table between him and the grey jedi. The feeling of the force swelled between and the object seemed to heighten his own sense of his surroundings. It was like standing next warm fire, except there was no flame, and nothing burning. Curious.

"How much do you know about force crystals?"