Archive for Rebels A Star Wars Roleplaying Community
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Dakoth
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The Arkuan Expedition(((Welcome to the Arkuan Expedition , a Roleplay about playing roles set in the Star Wars Galaxy, where there are wars. In the stars.
Well then, lets see, this is another one of those somewhat controlled Roleplays in the Spirit of that silly Kallibann affair. Which means that equally silly ONE post per day rule is going to be in place. The same goes for all OOC addendums being made in cyan.
Reminder: One post is less than two, and one third of that of three.
If you wish to sign up and participate in The Arkuan Expedition , head to the Roleplay Discussion Forum and post in the appropriate discussion thread. Posting will start within a few days assuming enough of you lazy punks sign up.
Also, please, if you're going to participate, don't erm.. well.. half-@$$ your posts. This will be the first roleplay set on Arkua, and you can't exactly canonize a bunch of one line gramatically incorrect lines out of monty python. You get the idea. Oh yeah, and this is my first crack at this, so go easy. )))
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“A Jedi is not dead until you see the body” - Ancient Sith Proverb
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-Ruins of the Bakuran Jedi Temple- 86 ABY-
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The inky void had laid across him for hours, perhaps days like a veil of impossible depth, too mammoth to simply be brushed aside. And yet now, he saw as it bubbled gently, peeling away before him, dazzling beams of light smashing through the ever disintegrating wall of blackness.
Was this the force? He wondered, straining to see more as his eyes darted about uselessly with the anticipation of a youngling. Finally the onyx curtain was no more, bathing him in a shower of heavenly radiance. A jovial smile crossed his lips as shapes began to array themselves in his vision. He had finally made it, he was at peace.
The blurred silhoettes started to resolve themselves, their amicable phantoms breaking into the dread form of twisting metal and charred mason. As reality’s glaring light finally swept across his conscience, he realized where he was.
The charred earth rustled soundlessly as he drew himself upright, clenching the dead soil in his hands as he surveyed the bleak scene laid out before him. Nothing had been left standing, nothing spared of the once gleaming spires.
A bird chirped happily on the horizon, oblivious to the devastation laid out before them. He grinned sadly. It would be the only funeral hymn the Bakuran Temple would ever know. Staring off into the wreckage, his eyes picked up the crumbling remains of a cortosis shell, the same that had once housed the council, he sighed, each of their faces thrown into his mind, countless memories stabbing into him as his whole body began to convulse as he lost control for the first time in years.
His chest heaving he collapsed forward, a stream of glistening tears cascading to the scarred earth below, a seemingly unending stream of mournful sobs udulating from him across the empty valley as he came to realization. They were all dead. First Jaden and Vikro, and now Abba, Xander, and Lyn among countless other Jedi, slaughtered by the ravages of conflict. He was alone in the galaxy.
He clenched his fist, slamming it into the ground, sending the coarse dirt pluming into the deserted sky, he should be dead, counted among his noble bretheren as having made the ultimate sacrifice, and yet he lived on, the entire galaxy in mockery of him.
No. He resolved, refusing to give into the creeping pit of fear that had managed to position itself in his path. He was Dakoth, Councilman and Master Jedi, and as long as he wore that title, he had a duty to act as such. His face still stained with glossy tears, Dakoth rose to his feet, firmly planting them, gravel seeping up through his toes as he did so. His clothes were hanging raggedly off his smooth skin, his robes, and blaster nowhere to be found.
“Wait.” he cried aloud to no one in profound alarm. Raising a quivering arm to his face, he stared on in astonishment. It lay smooth and youthful, not a single wrinkle crossing it. Raising the same arm to his face, as if in a dream, he found the same answer waiting for him. His fingers glided unobtruded across his face, smearing slightly the streaklines of his impassioned tears. It was if a lifetime had been abruptly wiped away. Nonetheless, it was something he would have to deal with later, young whelp or not, he was first a Jedi.
Returning to his belt, he assessed what remained of his things, only three of which remained. The battered and worn hilt of an ancient saber dangled on by a thread, his own Viridian blade nowhere to be found. Then there was the crystal, he could feel it pulsing proudly around his neck, its point driving a knife into his sternum, yet he dared not touch it. Finally he produced from his back pocket his Datapad, or at least it’s mangled remains, the screen was cracked and bloodied, its back mangled irreparably. And yet one final message had burned itself into the dimly flickering display. Squinting to read it, a chill jittered up his spine, he had forgotten.
----- TACTICAL FALLBACK AND REGROUP POINT-----
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822-27856-8792619-28264-83933-48932-19817|||||| ||||1245|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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-----DATA STREAM CORRUPTED: SEVERING LINK----
They were hyperspace coordinates, he grinned. Perhaps some hope still remained.
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-Bor: Bakuran Crisis Regroup Point Alpha-
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Betur Tetu slumped his slender form down against the rusted manifold of a decommissioned shuttle’s shell, the majority of its belly buried in under mountains of scrap. His cheek contoured to the rusted ridges of the manifold, flecks of red-orange rust peeling off onto his face. His wispy blonde hair complacently blew about indecisively in the wind as he pondered the situation through grey eyes.
He was at a crossroads, a fresh Jedi Knight in the Bakuran order, he had been dispatched to the outer rim to distribute plauge vaccines to a system of species relatively new to space travel, let alone hyperspace. It had taken him weeks to make his way back to civilization after the general order had gone out to recall to Bakura. By then of course, it had already fallen, and he was forced to fall back on the “Contingency Plan” This so-called plan had sent him to a long forgotten scrap yard on this drab excuse for a planet.
Scattered around him were the decaying relics of war, Apparently during the Byss Empire Conflict, Bor had been a chief manufactuer of Uniform Insignias and Commendations for the Jedi Space Fleets, or some other sort of trivial nonsense. After the war’s end, it had been discovered, much to the dejection of the Bor diplomats, that the planet hadn’t even been included in Miedo’s comprehensive list of enemey territories.
At least Betur supposed it was good a hole as any to gather in. Unfortunately, despite its ideal location, no other Jedi seemed to be getting to the gathering. He had been at the designated location, the scrap yard, for two days straight now, and still not so much as a comm message had reached him. He was beginning to speculate on whether or not he had missed the proverbial train, or if perhaps that train had found itself subject to a turbo laser barrage of some sort.
Still, he didn’t have even the slightest idea to where the Jedi had relocated to, and with nowhere else to go, Betur supposed another few days of waiting wouldn’t do much harm.
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Dakoth
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LXO-45 Frigate: Hyperspace
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Dakoth sat slumped in the cockpit of his newly acquired junker of a freighter, its grime encrusted transparisteel windows tinted opaque to conceal the nauseating pattern of hyperspace playing out on the other side. He had acquired the flying deathtrap from a longtime associate living in Thespis, who had needed more than enough convincing of Dakoth’s identity. It had taken all of his Jedi restraint to stop him from throwing around mind tricks. Perhaps his anonominity was a good thing though, he reasoned. Glancing up at the chronometer, he suppressed a groan, four hours left until he would arrive at Bor, the Jedi rendezvous point. It was probably for the better though, it gave him more time for him to contemplate his situation.
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Error:Location Unknown
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A grin crept onto the stony face of Caesar Vehemus, the fiery light of the brazier casting insidious shadows across his scarred face. All was going as planned.
High Priest Ozar continued with his report, his gilded mantle still glistening crimson in the light.
“Our Judicators have emerged victorious in the slaughter against the Northern Tribes, they report very light casualties.”
“Their Sacred Armaments?” Vehemus’ voice boomed across the gnarled oaken table separating the two. His massive form loomed over Ozar, bringing his gauntleted fist down upon the table, adding another notch to it’s surface.
“Recovered, of course.” Ozar responded unflinchingly, something that could not be said by the various lieutenants and attendants lining the circular table.
“Very well then.” The Caesar said, sitting back in the massive granite hewn throne provided for him.
Ozar continued nonchalantly, ignoring Vehemus’ temper. “The Necrosi will be there in two days time to collect, which should give our Judicators plenty of time to move on the village.”
With a near sadistic grin, Caesar Vehemus cut Ozar off. “Where they will slaughter them like animals.”
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Xander Vos
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Lorn Onasi drummed his fingers on the yoke of his fighter as it flew steadily through Hyperspace. He gazed around, and absent-mindedly noted that when he removed himself from this cockpit, he was going to destroy it so thoroughly it would never be able to remind him of the boredom he'd suffered within it. An instant later however that thought drained from his mind as he reminded himself something serious had happened at the Temple, there couldn't be any other reason for them having to gather at the emergency rendez vous point.
Momentarily, he thought back to history lessons under Master Kast about the Jedi Purge of a century ago, when Vader had drawn the Jedi into the Temple using the emergency beacon, and had slaughtered them, and how it had only been quick thinking by Masters Yoda and Kenobi that had saved Jedi flying in from other planets. The thought had crossed his mind more than once that perhaps this was a trap, but he had little other option, and right now he got the feeling Bakura wouldn't be the best planet to visit.
Only days before, Lorn had been stationed on Dantooine, working with the local population to rebuild after a particularly vicious Miedo remnant had slaughtered half a tribe and ruined their village. He'd received the call to rendez vous at Bor, the pre-designated rendez vous point if Bakura were in danger. He was aware that the Council had discussed shifting the Temple's location to a safer world, because of reports the Sith could be mounting an attack, but he didn't think they'd - the Council and the Sith for that matter - actually do it.
He shrugged to himself, everything would become clear when he got to Bor and out of this damned cockpit.
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Lord Embeion
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Orihon found himself starring at a clock in the Coronet Starport waiting for the next shuttle to the Space Station above. His prehistoric X-wing was undergoing major engine and capacitor repair...Finally after another moment or so the transport shuttle touched down.
[Space Station]
The main engineer on his craft was a Bith that didn't speak a stitch of common. It puzzled Orihon in the first place how a Bith could preform such a task, he guessed with enough practice anyone could do anything. As he neared the craft one of the Corellians waved him over.
"Jedi, your damn junk pile won't stop beepopping! Just give him the credits and get the hell out before we lose business over the annoyance."
"That wouldn't be the only reason.." Orihon whispered under his breath.
"What? What you say boy?"
"Nothing! here are your credits. You can give them to your boss. I'd rather not spend a days worth of time trying to thank him again." and with that said he hopped into the cockpit and R2-JH34 sprung to life. The little Droid opened the emergency message over the communicator.
"Bor, huh?. I guess we best be off!"
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Jaden Nightsaber
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Fifteen years. He was only a child then, but still it hurt. There is no emotion, there is peace. He had been been without a father for fifteen years and now he was without a mother. The Fall of Bakura had been the fall of his mother. Now he sat in the corner of a ship full of remaining Jedi, some determined, others scared. But Amilius was neither of these, he sat in silence as the knowledge washed over him. He was the last Nightsaber.
The ship rumbled as it moved through hyperspace. The consistent hum was hypnotic and numbing coupled with the gentle vibrations throughout the ship. It's destination was preset but what lied there, few knew. Bor was a planet only some heard of and even less visited. Now all the Jedi that survived the Fall of Bakura were heading there, hopefully the Sith would not be able to follow.
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Lord Vexen
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"Crazy. The last year had been crazy" thought Alian. Alian had been off planet by the time that the fall of Bakura happened, but his master wasn't. According to what he was told, his master had stayed behind on Bakura, but was mercilessly slaughtered by a Sith Lord.
Alian pondered what to do next, but first he looked around at the area near him. Sitting directly across from his was a Jedi he recognized named Amilius Nightsaber. Alian remembered him from his childhood days, the two had been good friends. Alian felts remorse for Amilius, he had lost both of his parents and was now alone in the galaxy. Alian decided to walk over and talk to him, comfort him maybe.
"Amilius, how are you feeling?"
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Rive Caedo
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Skreth-Lii, one-time Jedi of the Republic, current galaxy hopper and holophotographer, was enjoying a delicious breakfast of a warm biscuit (with a generous amount of bantha butter), two scrambled rill eggs, and four strips of fried dewback. With a tall glass of blue milk on the side. He was a tall, aging Draethos, with scales in a lovely (in his opinion) cobalt shade of blue covering his vaguely reptilian body.
A family of moisture farmers was generously providing him with food and board while he was here on Tatooine trying to document the nomadic movements of a clan of Tusken Raiders - with the understanding that he'd inform the family of their current locations so they could avoid the clan as they passed near the farm's land.
His meal was interrupted by the chirp of his datapad - an incoming message on a frequency he didn't use often. The Bakuran Order had gave him the frequency in case he ever wished to join them - he had no intention to, but accepted it anyway.
He read as far as 'tactical fallback' before swallowing his bite of biscuit and muttering, "Oh great libraries of Ossus, what have they done now?"
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Jaden Nightsaber
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Amilius was sitting in his trance pondering the Force's will when he was interrupted. A distant voice came crashing through his mental wall, shattering his trance. It was Alian, an old friend.
"Amilius, how are you feeling?" He asked him. Amilius knew he meant well but he did not feel up to conversing about his recent loss. He looked up at Alian and paused in thought.
"I'm... fine." Alian didn't buy it but wasn't going to push the issue any further. Amilius was gracious for his understanding and watched as Alian nodded and went back to his seat. Amilius slowly started to drift back into the sanctuary of his mind and the Force.
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Dakoth
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Docilous- Capital City - Bor
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With his scap heap of a ship docked in the relative security of a Privately (privately of course being Jedi) owned hanger bay that looked as if it had not been touched since the War, Dakoth had set out in search of the "Crisis Rendevous Point" The comm message had only contained the planets location along with triangulation coordinates for a fairly large section of land. This was not disheartening to him however, rather it gave him time to think as he strolled down the bleak streets of Bor, his footsteps guided by an omnipotent hand that did not trifle him to consider directons.
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Bor Scrapyard
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Betur's head bobbed up as if some pupeteer had suddenly yanked a string, breaking the embrace of slumber that had began to sink in around the Jedi. He was no longer alone he realized as he felt his presence expanding through the force in search of whatever had touched him. There was a definite presence approaching, although no malice filled it's heart to indicate danger. Perhaps he would finally have some company to mull about the scrapyard in diluted anticipation with he mused. He had to admit it to himself, the wait had conjured up somewhat of a little pessimistic streak within himself.
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Xander Vos
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Lorn slipped out of his cockpit as his fighter finally docked in a privately owned hangar bay in pristine condition. He noticed a rather junky looking ship had already landed in the bay in another of the docking bays. He gazed longingly at it, for although it was much older and scragglier than his own sleek XJ-10, it had the advantage of leg room - and lots of it. As he left his craft he felt shivers of delight shoot up and down his body as he stretched both legs out after the long flight, and turned to look sourly back at the innocent looking X-Wing.
Leaving the Hanger Bay which had, obviously, been purchased by the Jedi Order long ago in case of an event such as this, he traversed the streets, his brow pursed in concentration as he attempted to figure out where exactly the rendez-vous point was. It was all well and good to name a planet, even a specific location in a city on that planet, but from there, he had nothing.
Stretching out in the Force he felt a strong presence ahead of him, one that seemed to resonate with wisdom and experience. Glancing about quickly he spotted no one who seemed to fit the desctiption - not that there was really anyone around him - and set off, trying to follow the presence as it moved through the streets.
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Lord Embeion
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-Bor Space-
Orihon was awaken from his deep meditative sleep by the ear shattering alarms. Orihon gave himself a quick slap in the face for a jolt as he realized he was about to ram into a freighter a mere few dozen meters away. He slammed the auto-pilot off and grasped the handles. With a quick pull and nudge he managed to barrel roll out of the collision.
"Shut up, it's alright R2" The Padawan spat out as he rubbed his eyes trying to regain his full senses from his sleep. After a few beeps from the Droid Orihon just started to ignore the little swiss army knives ranting. We'll were hear. I hope to the Force that Master made it he thought
-Starport Hanger-
Orihon dusted off his robes as he made his way through the Hanger halls and out into the public. He pondered were the others would be hiding or if they would be hiding at all. "I suppose I let the Force guide me as Master says I should let it. But then again the Force has steared me many of wrong before in the directions department" he muttered to himself as he made his way through the streets.
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Jaden Nightsaber
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The ships soft rumbling had ceased. The ship must have stopped. Amilius didn't even hear the hyperspace alarm. Finally they had landed upon Bor. The few Jedi that were on this ship swiftly moved off. They had to make time and get to the rendezvous point.
Amilius wasn't expecting much from Bor. Even so, he was surprised at it's barren landscape. He could see why they chose this planet, no one would be there to bother them. Amilius looked up and saw that they had begun to move towards the rendezvous point, he picked up his pace and joined up with them.
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Lord Vexen
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Alian had gone back to his seat after talking with Amillius, and he decided to take a little nap before the flight ended. After an unknown amount of time, the hyperspace alarm woke Alian up. The ship descended to the planet Bor and the Jedi on the ship exited it.
Alian was suprised at the planet. He had never been there before, but he didn't expect it to be so barren. As the other Jedi began to move on, Alian ran to the near front of the pack, wanting to see what would happen next.
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Jaden Nightsaber
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-Bor: Bakuran Crisis Regroup Point Alpha-
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Betur Tetu had heard at least four ships in the past few hours. Undoubtedly the most action this planet had seen in a long time. He couldn't help but feel a bit optimistic now. They will all make in here shortly, Betur thought happily. Only a few more moments alone wouldn't hurt him.
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Streets of Bor
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The streets were deserted, just like the rest of the planet. They moved in a close cluster in case this was another ploy by the Sith to eradicate the remaining Jedi. It wouldn't be the first time they tried it. The four of them moved in classic fashion, close to the walls, two looking ahead, one on their flank, on checking the rear. Amilius was the one bringing up the rear, Alian was one of the two up front. From the looks of this planet though, they weren't likely to see any action.
It was a good possibility that there would be others waiting at the rendezvous point when they got there. Hopefully more people than less. It was a foolish hope but most are. Nevertheless they continued to follow the coordinates to the regrouping point.
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Rive Caedo
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Skreth-Lii had left a note to the moisture farmers. Something to the effect of: "Pressing concerns. Thanks for the food. Tusken Raiders last seen two clicks north of you - good luck."
The Bakuran Order wasn't really his concern - not for the past few decades anyway. But, he did like to keep appraised of the situation. So, he made a quick jump to Bor to see what the trouble was about.
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Dakoth
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-Bor: Bakuran Crisis Regroup Point Alpha-
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He could feel them now, thier presences expanding into nigh-tangible nodes of energy as they converged about him, filtering to him as if the force had placed some sort of invisible sieve about the planet, with him at the center. He could make out Eight distinct lifeforms headed his way, thier thoughts filled with caution rather than animosity, allaying his fears of a Sith ambush. Nonetheless, Betur clutched his silvered hilt firmly in his palm. If there had been one thing he learned during his small and relatively tame tour of duty on the outer rim, it was that people could be decieving. He had watched as eager volunteers happily working to distribute vaccines to thier people had gone rogue, smuggling out entire crates of medicine for sale on the black market.
"Expecting a fight?" A stranger's voice broke the stillness, nudging him promptly from his distraction.
"Should I be." Betur replied neutrally staring up at the newest arrival. He was a suitable match for the decrepit junkyard around him. His brown robe, or what he guessed had once been a robe was stained with what appeared to be the blood of a half-dozen species, large parts of it sheathed away, leaving behind singed, fraying edges. His tunic did not appear much better. It was a rusted brown that seemed to want to tear itself from its owner as soon as possible. However, despite it's awkward fit it was at least clean, leading Betur to suspect that the man, or for all he knew, vagrant, had recieved a nice hand-me-down.
"I'd hope not from a fellow Jedi" The figure answered, locking his crystal blue eyes upon Betur, flashing a youthful grin of reassurance.
"Well in that case, Welcome to the middle of nowhere, I'm Betur Tetu, Jedi Knight." Betur responded, his mood instantly shifting to amicability, a sweeping rush of hope filling his being as he gazed upon a comrade.
"Dakoth." The newcomer indentified himself, scanning the horizion as he did so. Evidentally Betur wasn't the only one to feel the presences which were now practically within spitting distance.
"The Councilman?" Betur blurted out, somewhat taken aback by the idea of it.
"Do I look like some fossil in a big chair to you?" Dakoth rebuked, feigning indignace.
"Suppose not, Kind of a ridiculous question when you think about it." Betur chuckled. It felt good to finally be with a friend again.
"But on to buisness of course." Dakoth continued, sobering his lackadasial attitude "Are there any others on Bor?"
"Other than the ones that just recently landed with you, no, I've been alone for quite a while now, I worried I had missed the train." Betur explained. "It seems though that we're about to get a substantial amount of company."
"Indeed." Dakoth said seconds later, turning to inspect a group of four who had just strolled into the scrapyard, making little effort to hide the glittering sabers hanging from thier hilts.
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Xander Vos
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Lorn sauntered into the junkyard casually noting, coincidentally, that as he entered from one entrance, other Jedi were entering from other entrances, almost as if the Force had gathered them here at the same time despite the fact the message had been relayed to them for days now.
Gazing at the two figures already positioned in the centre of the junkyard, Lorn crinkled his brow - one of them looked familiar, Betur, he thought he was - but the other he had no idea about. He stretched out in the Force and felt the presence he had felt upon landing on Bor, an aged, and experienced presence, which didn't make any sense, considering the man he was gazing at must have been in his twenties.
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Jaden Nightsaber
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"We're here guys," the leader of the group of four Jedi said. He turned to them in a whisper and said "But don't let your guard down, they could just be posing as Jedi." They broke their formation and cautiously deactivated their lightsabers and tucked their hilts away.
Amilius strode over the the center of the scrapyard that seemed to be the Alpha Regrouping Point. Standing there were two Jedi, and other was walking towards them from another entrance. Amilius decided to speak up first.
"Hello there." He said with a friendly tone. They waved back. "Is this everyone?" He asked looking around hoping to find others rummaging through the scraps.
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Rive Caedo
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Skreth-Lii had already received two or three thin cuts along his scalp from low hanging pieces of scrap and wreckage in the junkyard.
"Hell of a place for a retreat point." The Draethos muttered to himself as he approached the group of Bakuran Jedi.
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Lord Embeion
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Orihon made his way through into the larger group of Jedi. He noticed that he knew nobody that had made it to the retreat point. He looked up into the center were a tall man stood with pride and dignity. "Is that.. High Councilmen Dakoth. Impossible, if there was an attack he would be on the top 10 list." he muttered to himself.
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Dakoth
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What had once been a small chat between himself and Betur, had quickly burdgeoned into what could only be described as a Midichlorian convention. Jedi had now encircled them, all still keeping thier distance from eachother in instinctive distrust, as if a ruby saber might leap at any moment from one of thier belts.
"Is this everyone?" A Jedi inquired aloud, breaking the tenuous silence. Dakoth recognized him immediately as Amilius, although he could not say as much.
He took this oppurtunity to thrust himself into a sort of de facto leadershop position, answering accordingly.
"No, Everyone from the order is currently residing most comfortably at the new temple. We are I suppose what you would call, stragglers for lack of a better word."
"New Temple?" A Draethos called out from the modestly sized crowd, ducking over a jagged beam of durasteel to bring himself into the clearing.
"You Haven't heard? Have you been stuck on Tatooine under a rock or something?" An unfamiliar Jedi at Amilius' side scoffed.
"Well, actuall-" The Draethos began, only to be cut off by Dakoth.
"They'll be time to discuss under which rocks we've all been hiding soon enough, for now lets simply get the names out of the way." He proposed, eyes resting briefly upon each of the Jedi's face as if he were taking a picture.
"This Is Betur Tetu" He gestured, Betur's shoulders slouching shyly at the recognition. "And my name is Dakoth."
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Rive Caedo
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"Named for Master Mandal, no doubt." Skreth-Lii couldn't recall ever actually meeting Dakoth Mandal, although he probably had in passing at least.
The Draethos didn't wait for a response, "My name is Skreth-Lii, once Jedi of the Old Order and brief... acquaintance? of the Bakuran Order." He bit his lower lip with his overbitten teeth for a moment as he considered if that was the correct term for his brief association with the Bakuran Order decades ago, "My days of defending the galaxy are long past... but I do like to keep appraised of the situation of things not reported on the Holonet."
((Your profile lists Mandal as Dakoth's last name, but I can't recall it coming up at all in either of the Without Sin roleplays and the profile was last updated in 2006. So perhaps that's out of date.))
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Xander Vos
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((I used Mandal in DE I think, or at the very least on the Wiki.))
"Lorn Onasi," Lorn said, dipping his head slightly, almost mockingly, though the smile on his face dispersed any unpleasentness from the gesture. "I was working with the Atuchi tribe on Dantooine, where one of the small remnants of Darth Miedo's grip on the Galaxy had attacked and pillaged their homes. I was helping them to rebuild, per orders from Master Vos."
Lorn paused, remembering the kind old man, Xander Vos, who had taken him under his wing of sorts after the war. Lorn had become a Jedi Knight a few years after its completion, and had been aimless within the Order. Master Vos had helped him along, and had been a mentor to Lorn. He hoped he was alright.
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Lord Vexen
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I'm going with Mandal also...its easier to remember
"Jedi Knight Alian Leum at your service" said Alian, who was standing next to Amillius. Alian technically isn't a Jedi Knight, as in he had never undergone the trials. However, with what he had been through, he decided to call himself a knight.
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Jaden Nightsaber
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Alian introduced himself to the group and so did the rest of the group that arrived with him. Then suddenly all eyes were on Amilius. He had gotten lost in thought about all of the others that he had forgotten to introduce himself. An awkward silence fell over the crowd of Jedi.
"Oh....er...My name is Amilius. Amilius Nightsaber." He heard a few murmurs amongst the crowd. He knew what they were talking about, his father. His shadow would always be over Amilius. He wanted to draw attention from that quickly. "Well now that that's over can we discuss the new temple that Dakoth mentioned a moment ago?"
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Lord Embeion
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Orihon decided not to drag the center light over. He figured he would wait until after the discussion they would question who he was. He tried to sit back unnoticed as Amilius changed the subject. Unfortunately Dakoth had remained sharp and spoke before the subject changed. " And you?"
"Uhhh.." Orihon studdard. He stood back up again and said " I'm Orihon Sir. I was on a reconnaissance mission on the planet Corellia. I'm sorry but I can only reveal more information to my Master or the Council Sir!". Orihon lowered his head in a bit of embarrassment as everyone was starring at him now.
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Dakoth
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-Bor: Bakuran Crisis Regroup Point Alpha-
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“ Cae Orson, and this is Tabrak” The last Jedi revealed, stepping forward as to draw his imposing physique into the light.
“That’s simple enough then.” Dakoth said with a reassuring smile dropping any last vestiges of anxious tension that were lurking within his muscles.
“But yes, there is a new temple, and I can assure all of you that you won’t be finding this one surfing the holonet. In fact, you won’t be finding it at all, no matter how many astronomical charts you pour over.”
An air of intent confusion had been infused in the group as Dakoth’s voice dropped an octave. “Our sources confirm that the Bakuran Temple was eradicated by a hostile Sith fleet, confirmed to be under the command of the Kroprulan Empire. Grandmaster Regala and masters Korak, Mandal, and Vos are presumed dead.”
At the mention of the last name, Dakoth could not help but avert his eyes away from Lorn’s face. Even though he knew the Jedi would betray no sign of grief, a man’s eyes conveyed enough.
Skreth-Lii seemed slightly taken aback as he processed the rather shocking news, the very idea that the timeless walls of the temple could simply be destroyed seemed ludicrous. It was as if the Jedi had just informed them that the force was an elaborate ploy for power perpetuated by an occult herd of Banthas.
“You’re… You’re sure sir?” The padawan, Orihon, muttered. It must have been especially hard to take in for him, Bakura was most likely the only home he had ever known.
“Yes.” Was all he said.
Lorn, still as emotionally steady as a block of granite plowed forward, “So if the Bakuran temple has been wiped out, I assume the only other alternative would be to head to this new temple.”
“I agree” Betur said, floating forward in the crowd. “Theres no point in spending another minute on this rock, for all we know the Sith war fleets are on their way here as we speak.”
Alian took the short pause following Betur’s rather dramatic statement to interject. “What? Why would the Sith want to come for us? They’ve already destroyed the temple and killed Grand Master Regala. They got what they wanted!”
“Because the Sith don’t leave matters unfinished.” Amilius answered darkly.
“Ok then, we’ll be going to the new temple as soon as possible” Skreth asserted impartially “So, where exactly is this new temple.”
“The temple is located in the Charanos system.” Dakoth began with a sigh that seemed to hint at the complexity of the matter. “Don’t feel uneducated if you’ve never heard of it, its embedded in the deep core, and surrounded by a rather unusual phenomenon that can be said to loosely resemble the transitory mists of the Hapes cluster.
“So basically what you’re saying, is that it is suicide to get to the temple.” Betur replied, raising an eyebrow as he did so.
“Yes…. And no.” Dakoth answered after some hesitance. It was getting to the point where he wasn’t even believing this himself. On paper the journey to the Charanos system seemed infinitely dangerous, even successfully charting a hyperspace route to any single deep core system carried a failure rate of well over 3720 to 1. When one compounded the potentially lethal transitory mists, it became a fool’s errand.
“Excuse me?” Skreth spoke up once more. “I’d rather not die to make a cordial visit.”
“Relax, no one will be dying, allow me to finish.” Dakoth explained. “For any normal pilot, the flight is suicidal. But no one in the Jedi order is what one would call normal. A pilot who knows exactly where they are headed, aided by the force, can successfully navigate a route through the mists.”
It was a rather ingenious spot for the new temple when one considered all things. It had the advantage of being unknown to the rest of the galaxy just as Bakura had been, but this temple was now off limits to anyone who couldn’t steer a ship at greater than light speed. And the only such people who could do that, were force users. While Sith could also most likely operate at such speeds with the same basic amount of proficiency, without a specific destination they would still be groping about uselessly in a hypothetically infinite sandbox. Except the sandbox was filled with black holes and super clusters.
“So if its so hard to find,” Betur began, “How did we find it in the first place?”
“I’m not exactly sure, the Jedi who discovered the location died on Bakura, unfortunately. I found my way there through one of the follow-up survey teams that the council had dispatched to locate a suitable temple ground.” Dakoth explained.
“Well it all sounds good to me.” Amilius announced, an oh-so familiar glint of excitement shining in his eyes that reminded him so much of Jaden. “How are we getting there?”
“If I understand correctly, Dakoth is the only one in the group who knows where we’re headed, so we’ll have to put our ships into lockdown, and tag along with him.” Lorn pointed out, seemingly happy at the prospect of abandoning his ship.
“That’ll work, I borrowed an old LXO-45 freighter from an associate, so we should have more than enough room to accommodate everyone comfortably for the length of the trip.” Dakoth responded, doing some simple arithmetic in his head to make sure he had enough rations on hand for the trip. “I’ll be blunt though, it is the absolute worst ship I have ever had the displeasure of flying. It goes to hyperspace, and that’s about it.”
“It can’t be any more Spartan than the Atuchi dwellings, it will do fine.” Lorn said, motioning with a quick sweep of the hand for the Jedi to lead the way to his ship.
____________________________________
-Error: Unknown Location-
____________________________________
The last of the cackling fires had died down, flickering ruby embers all that remained as the Judicators heaped the last of the fallen into the Necrosi. The Warlord would be very pleased. They had not lost a single warrior in battle today, High priest Ozar noted on his scroll with a wicked grin. This year’s Quelling was proving to be the best in nearly ten decades.
“Mik’rath” The Chief Judicator’s voice rang out, harshly and simply. His men responded instantly, falling into place around the Necrosi as their ancient stone-hewn frames began to rumble forward, the spiked treads of their antiquated wheels rupturing the earth beneath. The day’s toil was done, and it would soon be time to reap the reward.
|
Jaden Nightsaber
|
Dakoth started on his way towards his ship. The others followed in tow. Amilius could hear the clicking of several comm-links. The captains of each ship communicating with a corresponding droid left on board. The droid would then in turn lock down the ship to await further instructions from the captain.
Something didn't feel right about traveling on a suicide mission to a new temple no one has ever heard of. Some of the others didn't seem to find anything wrong with this but Amilius would keep his guard up. The Nightsaber linage would not die today. The Sith had already taken one.
He looked around at the group he was traveling with. Many thoughts raced through his head. Was anyone a Sith spy? Did anyone recognize him as a Nightsaber? Would they ask him about his mother or father on the ride there? How long would the ride be? All inconsequential thoughts in comparison to the journey they were about to face.
|
Rive Caedo
|
Skreth-Lii shook his head. He'd been around the galaxy enough times to know that whenever the words "unfindable", "untraceable", or "indestructible" came up, it inevitably ended with the words - sooner or later - "that's impossible!" as things fell part around them.
... That was apparently what just happened to them now. You'd think they'd learn. Slip into the crevices of society. Settle down. Let things take their natural course. Although Skreth-Lii did admit to himself that he hadn't chosen that path until he was well past the life expectancy for most humanoids.
Oh well. One of the advantages of his lifestyle was that he had no real enemies. If this was some sort of overly elaborate trap, it was a fair bet that it hadn't been laid in place for this Draethos.
Although this ship wasn't exactly what his preference for keeping an eye on things was. The LXO 40 series was hardly spaceworthy even when it was brand new - Skreth-Lii had had the displeasure of owning one.
|
Lord Vexen
|
Alian followed Dakoth to his ship. He didn't like the idea of flying through the mists. Even with the force, something could, and probably would happen. Part of him didn't even care. If the Jedi had cared enough they would have at least sent him a message through his comm. He decided he would stay, but he didn't worry about the outcome.
He himself did hope that the new temple was nice at least. Alian then thought of what would happen if they got there. Probably a long screening process, followed by the assingments. Alian wasn't looking forward to having a Master again, he had already had one and he had gotten used to life without one. If he was lucky they would not remember he was a padawan and he could get away with telling them he was a knight.
|
Lord Embeion
|
Orihon couldn't help but fall asleep. He was so exhausted from all that had taken place in the past day. The overwhelming fact that his Master and the entire Jedi Order was shattered and in ruins. He drifted off quietly while no one noticed.
"But Master why can't I use my power of the Force for the good of the Order"
"The means in which you used such power is not to be used by Jedi unless in the most grave and dire situation. What you did leads through one path that no man or living being should walk."
His dreams were recurring of this one evening with his Master after Orihon used his powers of the Force to change the numbers on a flight of one ship. The ship carried a Trandosian Bounty Hunter that had killed innocent people to get one man. The ship would lead to.. The Padawan woke up in an uncomfortable position that pinched his neck. The ship was going through pulses for some unknown reason.
|
Xander Vos
|
Lorn settled into a ripped and torn seat aboard the craft, and smiled contentedly. Compared to his X-Wing, this was heaven. He knew his annoyance with his X-Wing was irrational, but for now, that long, sweaty, sticky trip from Dantooine to Bor was stuck in his mind and was as hard to get rid of as a Sith at a Jedi gathering.
|
Dakoth
|
__________________________
-Deep Core: Charanos System-
__________________________
A thunderous jolt shook the ship as Dakoth seemingly spontaneously trigged an emergency hyperdrive disable, the stars barely coming back into focus as the Jedi re-engaged the drive, hurtling them back to light speed. His face was etched in stone, his eyes open but unseeing as he submerged himself almost completely into the realm of the force. After hours of unbroken concentration, the gateway to Pacis was finally settling into focus within his mind’s eye. The ship pulsed once again as he quickly twitched the yoke instinctually, avoiding what he knew not, but most probably averting a disastrous crash.
The tension that had been welling up in every fiber of his being finally began to dissipate as he emerged from the thickest of the mists. A short straightaway through clear hyperspace was all that remained. His shoulders slouched in relief, he hadn’t made the journey out to Pacis in a very long time. Reaching over he tripped the hyper drive abort sequence, the starscape pulling back into focus as the laws of physics reassumed dominance.
The outmoded craft shuddered once again as the transition completed itself, the looming viridian sphere of a planet filling the freighter’s viewport, seemingly close enough to touch. He flicked the reverse thrusters of the LXO into full drive in order to compensate for the staggering forward inertia that exiting hyperspace had left them with. Yet for some reason, he hesitatated as he pulled away from the control, a dark sphere of uncertainty sinking into him like a lead boulder, nestling itself in his stomach.
Seconds later his ever swelling fears were realized as a chilling screech pierced his ears, echoing throughout the confined corridors shattering any illusion of serenity that any of the Jedi aboard maintained. The groaning of metal being hewn from its joints coursed through every corridor, Dakoth frantically bringing up system diagnostics as more and more alarms activated, barely audible over the sickening creaking of the hemorrhaging ship.
Dakoth’s hands shook with uncertainty as he futily tried to re-engage failsafes and bring the dying behemoth back under his reign. Hundreds of micro fractures began to appear on the diagnostics screen, shields flickering in and out at random, atmosphere beginning to vent into space, threatening complete decompression. As Dakoth was trying to bring the shields under some sort of stability, Lorn’s form burst into the cockpit, a gash across his forehead indicating he had been thrown about by the failing artificial gravity in trying to reach the cockpit.
“What the Frack is going on?” He screamed over the death throes of the vessel.”
“I Don’t… They…” Dakoth stuttered in confusion as he mashed in a manual abort code to no effect. “it’s a complete systems failure, hull integrity has been compromised, I’m trying to bring us into a stable orbit” He shouted back, collecting his wits.
“What?” Lorn yelled back with a look of confused horror on his face as he realized just how dire their situations was. “I don’t think you’re really going to have to worry about orbit though.” He screamed over the din, gesturing up at the viewport, which had now been totally encompassed by the planet ahead of them. Fiery streaks of atmosphere already licked hungrily over the LXO’s helm, clouds beginning to streak by the vessel as it became hopelessly entrapped within the planet’s gravity well, careening ever faster towards the surface below.
Dakoth yanked the ship’s crash webbing tight over himself, Lorn dragging himself into the navigators seat to do the same. He could only hope that by now the others possessed the foresight to do the same.
“Twenty-two until impact!” Lorn shouted back as he read off the fractured glass of the navigational console. “we need to decrease our descent angle!”
Dakoth deployed the drive flaps in case by some miracle they were still active, pulling up on the craft’s yoke, fighting gravity as he shaved degrees off the decrepit shifts impact angle, doing his best to guide it. The ground below had begun to come into focus, a massive clearing sat swallowed in the center of a seemingly infinite jungle. With any luck they would be able to smash into the clearing and give the recovery team an easier time at finding their remains.
“The heat shielding has failed” Lorn yelled, retaining his composure as bits of the craft’s hull began to splinter away, visible for a brief moment in time in the periphirary viewports before they hurdled into the jungle.
Lorn tapped his display once more in frustration before relaying the latest system failure
“We Just lost th-”
____________________________________________________________
|
Xander Vos
|
"We just lost th-" Lorn began as a horrendous screeching tore through the craft, followed by an equally horrendous shudder, throwing Lorn forward again onto the display screen in front of him. Hard.
"FRACK!!" Lorn screamed in pain as he staggered to his feet again, the pain in his head unbearable, as the screeching combined with the powerfully pain head ache he already had thanks to the large gash.
|
Lord Vexen
|
Alian sat quietly untill a huge jolt of force knocked him from his seat. The shuttle began to fall into orbit, quickly. Another shock sent him flying into a duresteel wall, greatly injuring his shoulder. "Son of a-"
Another shock sent him straight into another jedi, knocking them both down. He staggered to get up and walked over to Dakoth. "What the hell is going on here?"
|
Rive Caedo
|
The jolt hadn't phased Skreth-Lii. He'd been ready for the deck plating to explode underneath his feet ever since he'd first laid eyes on the LXO... and that felt like months ago. He must have fallen into a deeper trance than he'd intended.
The trance was quickly dispatched into mere memory as one of the Bakuran Jedi toppled over him and knocked them both to the floor. Lii let out a short gasp as the other Jedi stepped on his blue, webbed hand - twice - as the Bakuran struggled to get up.
Not seeing any benefit to standing up just to be thrown to the floor by another jolt, Skreth-Lii stayed on the ground.
|
Jaden Nightsaber
|
Amilius was lost in a world of his own most of the ride there, oblivious to everything outside of his head. He drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the ride. The Force was guiding them to this new planet, Amilius was sure of it. He tried to stay mindful of the Force around him at all times. The Living Force. Keeping his thoughts in the here and now.
The ship rattled. Nothing out of the ordinary, just some intergalactic turbulence. Then it rattled again, this time more forceful. Amilius opened his eyes, this wasn't the ordinary. The lights flickered and cargo suddenly lifted off the ground only to crash back down with a thundering crash. With that cargo went the bodies that also inhabited the ship now. The ship jostled about and everything seemed in disarray. Sound was a blur to Amilius, everything coming together in one wave of nothingness. Chaos ensued.
One could only figured that whatever was happening, it was not good. Some figured an attack by the Sith, others thought an asteroid storm, and others figured they were crash landing on a planet, hopefully Pacis.
|
Lord Embeion
|
Orihon was gripping his seat for dear life using all his might to stay in one spot. The pain in his neck only got worse when a small cargo crate flew into his face knocking him unconscious instantly. He fell into a deep sleep were he begun to dream about the small group of Jedi had landed on Pacis and within hours were under attack by a mysterious figure. Orihons body was being thrown around like a doll only making his injury worse. He slammed into a piece of metal hanging off the wall piercing his right lung.
|
Dakoth
|
___________________________
-Deep Core: Charanos System-
___________________________
“Six until Impact!” Lorn called out again, blood pouring through his head as he struggled to read the navomputer readouts, which were now beginning to smolder into oblivoin.
The callout was almost irrelevant, a simple glance at the fast expanding clearing through the viewport accomplished quite nearly the same thing.
Dakoth gave the yoke one final force-backed tug before the drive servos shattered, the controls locking up,
useless.
Time seemed to slow as he expanded himself through the force, his presence washing over the dying ship’s hull, becoming the deteriorating albatross as it dived into the ground.
Four…
The metal creaked and groaned as he nudged the guiding flaps, the ships shockwave bending the thick jungle trees beneath it
Two…
He felt his presence quiver and buckle as he violently tried to pull up the entire ship, shattering his concentration and returning him to reality just in time to pick out the individual blades of grass in the clearing below.
The ship smashed headfirst into the ground, the cockpit stabbing into the earth as if it were a farmer’s spade. Hewn earth erupted into the sky, the jade slivers of the once tranquil plantlife writhing as the ear piercing shockwave tore them into confetti.
The tail end of the LXO had sustained much more damage, its jagged frame splintering upon impact, sending it tumbling forth, putrid smoke pouring out of the husk as it ground to a halt, leaving a trail of blackened earth in it’s wake.
|
Dakoth
|
___________________________
-Deep Core: Charanos System-
___________________________
A bright white light beat down on Dakoth’s face, spurring him back into a pseudo conscious fog. The low buzzing of a fluorescent sterile lamp filled the small room he was in, the hot pulsing white light never completely drifting into focus as he slowly rocked his head to take in the surroundings. He was not alone he noticed, a rather attractive Jedi healer was intently scribbling on a data pad, not noticing he had awoken. After a moment she got up and went over to him, leaning down to fluff his pillows. He wanted to call out to her and ask her to turn off the light, it was beginning to make him sweat. It was so hot, he didn’t know how the healer could stand it. It almost felt like he was being roasted. He tried to move but he couldn’t, he wanted to scream but he had no voice. The light was so bright, so loud, so hot. Too hot.
The Jedi’s eyes flashed open in clarity, thrusting him back into reality. The ship was devastated, sparks spattering out of ruptured conduits in discord. The entire pilot’s dashboard had been set ablaze, the acrid smoke thickening the air around him as he struggled to untangle himself from the now skin-tight crash webbing. Finally working his bloodied fingers to the release button, Dakoth freed himself from the webbing, only to be rewarded with shooting pain as several of his splintered ribs tried to expand outward again. Unsteadily he rose to his feet, turning his concern to the others who had been in the cockpit at the time. It was around this time that he realized he was no longer in the cockpit of the LXO, rather he was in a cockpit embedded a good twelve feet in the ground with no ship attached to it.
_________________________________________________
Betur Tetu had found himself wedged under a large rations crate, pinned up against the floor, or the ceiling, he wasn’t quite sure at this point. Either way he didn’t’ want to be in this situation. Sliding the rather bulky crate off his person, Betur observed the scene. It seemed that he had been thrown into the main cargo hold, explaining the cargo strewn about him, but little other was visible through the pluming black smoke that was erupting from every possible crevice. He could faintly make out the outline of a webbed limb grasping for a foothold in the cracked flooring, and another robed figure lying motionless on the ground, at least he assumed he was motionless, the smog was beginning to burn his eyes. Seeing no other alternative, the young Jedi rose to his feet and uttered a simple “Hello”, breaking the silence.
|
Xander Vos
|
Black. The very word means the absence of light, the exact opposite of white, which was in itself the entirety of colour. Blackness was what greeted Lorn Onasi. Voices, muffled, undecipherable and confusing circled him, only serving to lengthen his confusion. Perhaps the ship's crash had forced him into unconciousness, and he was now a slave of his own mind. Perhaps the ship's crash had killed him, and this was as it was after death. Perhaps he was lying asleep back on Bakura, in the midst of a horrible nightmare. Perhaps.
Piercing the blackness surrounding the Jedi Knight, a ghostly figure appeared before him: an old man; old, but not weak. His long, silvery hair, moved gently, as if in a wind, but Lorn could feel none on his body. The man looked familiar, his name eluding Lorn, as if trying to cup water in his hand, or remembering a long ago dream.
The man smiled at the Jedi Knight, "Hello Lorn."
"Hello," Lorn said thickly, his throbbing head hurting him even in this place, wherever 'this place' was.
"Who are you?" He asked, clutching his head.
"My name and who I am are not important. The will of the Force has brought me to you, and it is that will that I obey, as I always have."
"You're a Jedi?"
"Of course I am," the man said, spreading his arms with a smile, "How else could I be here if not a figment of your imagination - which I sincerely hope I'm not."
"Then you're dead? Am I dead?"
"Good heavens know dear boy, very far from it. In fact, you're lying in the jungle forty klicks from the Temple, your pilot seems to have misjudged your landing," the man smiled apologetically.
"It is to him that you must pay the utmost obediance to, however," the man continued, "For he alone holds the key to your survival. If you abandon him now, all will be lost. Do you understand?"
"What?" Lorn asked, not quite comprehending.
"If you do not follow Dakoth, all will be lost for this fledgling Jedi Order," the man repeated.
"But why? What's wrong? What do I have to do with it?"
"Just do as I say," the man repeated, "Because if you don't, then-"
"Hello?"
Lorn's eyes snapped open, and sounds rushed into his ears: the crackling of flames from the wreckage, moans from those around him, the background noise from the planet's wildlife, and whoever had just uttered the uncertain word.
|
Rive Caedo
|
Passing by. They were passing by now. He could feel that much. The clatter of their boots were passing by.
What had happened? That was the third squad now. The third squad of Clone Troopers that had attacked him. That wasn't coincidental - it couldn't be.
What were these feelings? These waves of overwhelming torment? He could hardly feel anything beyond them. Death. So much...
"Hello?"
That was decades ago. He didn't die then and he wasn't dead now. Skreth Lii's arm was wedged between two floor plates. He'd slid into the gap between them, it seemed. His body was resting on a ruptured fuel line.
... ruptured fuel line?
Trading temporary pain for what could be essential seconds, he sent a strong burst of force energy into the already partially bent floor plating trapping his arm. It lacerated a long strip of skin along his trapped forearm as the plating bent further upwards from the burst.
Scales dripping with pale yellow fuel, Skreth-Lii crawled back onto the deck.
((We had a 2 for 2 unconscious experience going, so I figured I'd continue the trend))
|
Lord Embeion
|
His mangled body lay open on the grass surrounded by bodies of his brethren. Everyone laying in a pool of there blood. Orihon's eye lids flickered over and over trying to open. He had a pipe jutting out from right rib cage spewing blood everywhere. Several large pieces of scrap metal dug into his arms and legs, a large triangular piece was inches deep into his left thigh severing his arteries.
Abruptly Orihon woke up in a panic. He looked to his left and then to his right, he saw a fellow Padawan lay dead. He noticed the pipe sticking out of him and suddenly he lost his adrenaline and the pain set in.
He let out of screams of agony and cry's of pain. The lung by some miracle held together by the pipe until the pressure was to much and the organ collapsed. Blood started filling the lung intensely fast causing the young Jedi to drown on his blood. The yelling stopped and all that was left was the crying. His eyes darted from one place to another looking for someone still alive.
|
Jaden Nightsaber
|
Light. Amilius' eyes shot open. It was such a sudden change from the blackness he was just in that the light blinded him. There was a faint ringing in the background but Amilius couldn't quite make out what it was. In fact he couldn't make out any sound. Not only was he blind but he was now deaf. Could he speak? Was he alive?
His blindness was slowly subsiding. The white was fading from his vision, revealing an image from the center and dilating out. The ringing still filled his ears and he still wasn't sure if he was dead. Sound came crashing back into his ears deafening him again. The sound of flames licking metal and grass was the first distinguishable thing heard. Memories flooded his mind. A grave. Hyperspace. A blur of a cargo hold. A red blaster bolt. Fire. Grass and dirt. Green on blue lightsabers. The crash.
Amilius was alive, but were the others?
|
Dakoth
|
___________________________
-Deep Core: Charanos System-
___________________________
A plume of smoke rose ominously in the distance. No doubt another village had been attacked. Thekal took a deep breath, trying to calm the quivering that was slowly overtaking him. “Some champion I am” he smirked to himself, running a gloved hand through his dyed mane. It was bright blue, marking him as the protector of his people, sworn to stand beside them. Most of the villagers however, had decided to do their “standing beside” from the relative safety of the jungle, leaving him and a dozen warriors alone in the village square. His contemplation was soon turned outwards once more as his personal Throll approached him, reverently carrying the village’s only Sacred Armament. The massive form of the servant knelt down before Thekal, bringing himself to eye level with the warrior. Solemnly, Thekal slid his hand into the Armament, its arcane enerergies immediately filling his being as he lifted the gilded gauntlet from the Throll’s hands. It contracted itself around his wrist, fitting itself snugly through some dead magic.
Even the awesome power of the artifact did not sway the sense of dread welling up within him. While he had never seen warriors as skilled and courageous as the ones who now stood with them, their weapons were little more than jagged spears and wood-hewn maces. He was the only one with a true weapon, and it was doubtless that the force that would soon bear down upon his settlement would be overflowing with such armaments.
Giving one final glance to the black smoke in the distance, Thekal marched over to join the rest of his men, thinking how odd it was to know he was about to die.
_____________________________________________________________
____________________________
-Charanos System: LXO Crash site-
____________________________
A plume of smoke rose ominously in the distance. No doubt another piece of the LXO had ignited a fire in the dense jungle. Dakoth could not concern himself with this presently though, not when he had a crew to consider. With that in mind, he bent over the still disoriented Lorn, using a jagged piece of burnt metal to cut him free of the crash webbing. His efforts stopped immediately though as a sound pierced the confusion.
“Hello?”
It seemed surreal, the very thought that language could occur in such a dark place. Yet nonetheless he tried to summon his own voice for a response.
“Betur?” He shouted, not knowing where the word had come from.
“Dakoth?”
Startled, the Jedi looked down to find that Lorn had regained conciousness and was now staring at him expectantly. Remembering his task, he finished releasing the Jedi fro his harness, helping him to his feet. The blaze was becoming more intense now, threatening to incinerate them if they didn’t act soon.
Motioning for Lorn to follow, he grasped the metal grating of the floor that had become the wall. Pain shot through his chest as he scaled the incline, flames licking at his back. Lorn reached the top first, dangling down a helping hand to pull his companion to safety. Free of the smoky cockpit, Dakoth encompassed his surroundings. The rest of the LXO had come to a stop about two dozen yards from where he was standing He could make out two quivering bodies lying on the fringe of the wreckage, another slowly hoisting himself to his feet, drenched in some sort of liquid.
“Betur?” he called out once more, this time greeted by a response, a blackened hand waving frantically in the smog.
“Over here, We’ve got wounded!” The hand shouted as it emerged from the smoke, revealing Betur.
Struggling against his pain, Dakoth broke into a force sprint, trying to keep pace with the comparably healthy Lorn. He soon found himself bent over one of the bodies, even through the smog he could tell it was Amilius. Nearly paralyzing fear ran through him as he laid a hand him. He could not lose another one, he wouldn’t. Turning him on his side, a wave of relief washed over the Jedi. He was shaken, but alive.
Dakoth’s relief quickly faded to anguish once more as Lorn, stooped over another fallen Jedi, called to him. “I don’t think this ones gonna make it.”
|
Xander Vos
|
Lorn leant down, checking the Jedi, who was gurgling slightly, choking on his own blood. He pulled him gently from the wreckage, placing him on his back, tilting his head to the slide and clearing his airway as best he could. Trained in healing, Lorn placed his hands to the boys chest, feeling for the puncture, where a broken rib must have punctured his lung.
Sensing where the tear was, he used the Force to gently pull the bone from the lung, sealing the small hole, and setting the bone back in it's right place. Without bacta, it could very easily break again, but it should hold in the mean time.
|
Lord Embeion
|
Orihon started to gasp for air but it was no use as the blood wasn't fully drained yet. He tried to focus on the Force but the pain was still to unbearable as he death gripped the unsuspecting grass. He could move his right leg but his left was to damaged from the sheet of metal in it. Again he tried to focus on the Force to calm himself. Reaching out through the Force he felt the life and wilderness of the planet. He let himself slip unconscious into a deep sleep. Even if he knew it was unfair to his Brethren he also knew that it was the only way.
------
"But Master I can do this!"
"Not this time little one"
The young Zabrak walked onto a cruiser at his Masters side. On board he saw nothing but men in uniform and an occasional droid
|
Dakoth
|
____________________________
-Charanos System: LXO Crash site-
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“Orihon” Dakoth said to no one, a pang of guilt ringing in his chest as he did. There was nothing he could do for him now, What was once the LXO-s tiny medical inlet had consumed itself in flame, the embers of the ignited vaccines huing the blaze a sickly brown. The padawan could now only rely on his inner strength, and his bond with the force.
But he had to put the agony of Orihon out of mind for the moment, he still held himself accountable for the other JedI who were now strewn amidst the contored derbis of their only transport. By this time, Betur had wafted over to the group, Skreth-Lii leaning heavily on his shoulder. The draethos was so thoroughly soaked with the putrid odor of engine fuel that it seemed as if he would burst into a fireball if he so much as attempted to ignite his saber. Snap-Hiss-Boom!
A quick scan of the area left all accounted for. Lorn’s blackened face was still bent over Orihon, checking for any other injuries, Amilius was staggering to his feet, and Betur had sacrified his robe to Skreth to serve as a makeshift towel. And Alain was…
Dakoth paused. Alain wasn’t. The pangs came back sharper as he spun violently, eyers darting desperately into crevices. The knight was nowhere to be found. No hand shot up, no corpse smoldered. Knives pierced his stomach as he screamed the jedI’s name to deaf ears.
But now was not the time for panic, he had already fallen too far down that pit. Composing himself, he searched for logic in illogic, centering himself in the force. The events of the crash played through his mind, smashing down the walls of perception. He felt himself embody the doomed vessel as it plummeted towards the ground, the searing pain of his slowly incinerating shell forcing his senses open with intense agony. And he felt Alain, in the cockpit, screaming something inaudible as the ship rocked violently. As it did his form disappeared, he felt him, sliding back, deeper into the recesses, lost in the crevicies of the LXO, falling out of his mind as the ship splintered brilliantly in the sky, scattering across the continent below.
And there it was, the truth laid bare before him. It was so simple, it astonished him how quickly such a plain fact could escape him in turmoil. The plume of smoke rising from the jungle, a light in the dark. He was sure Alain was there, alive or not though, he could not tell. Immediately the JedI shot up, further perplexing the half dozen eyes already fixated on him.
“We’ve got to move now, no choice.” he vociferated*, wheeling about to gesture to the black streak in the air.
“Why, what about the rescue team?” Betur stammered, overwhelmed at the prospect of jumping right back into action.
“Damn the rescue team!” Dakoth swore, passion’s firey embers burning in his eyes “Alain can’t afford to wait, he could still be hanging on.”
“Alain?” “Where do you?” Lorn began, checking around once more for himself. “How do you know he’s even there?”
“No one else dies.” was all the JedI said before sprinting off into the thick underbrush, leaving the others bewildered.
Betur began to stammer, flicking around his eyes to Lorn and Skreth for some sort of appeal. “Is he insane? What is he even yammering on about? I’m not going trapsing off into some alien jungle when the rescue team is probably minutes away!”
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-Pacis Obrital Sensor Station 2A-
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Ensign Hindley curled his lip in discontent as he placed his now empty coco mug on the station’s dashboard. It was probably the last coco he’d see for half a decade. The stuff was rare enough to start with, the possibility of finding it on what amounted to little more than a well-off frontier world was what one might call astronomically unlikely. Just as unlikely it seemed, as the screen in front of him actually lighting up.
He was no force sensitive, but it didn’t take one to know that the JedI had stashed them all in the middle of nowhere. Nothing had even entered Pacis’ orbit for days now, in fact, the entirety of the system wide activity amounted to some asteroid thudding into one of the other floating rocks they called planets. Sweeping his now useless coco cup into the trash chute, the ensign turned out the station lights and set off to find himself a nice pazaak game.
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Jaden Nightsaber
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((OOC: Woah! Necropost bringing back an RP. Talk about reviving a topic))
Weary feet carried Amilius away from the wreckage. His head still wasn't on straight. His ears heard sounds but couldn't make them out. And yet he staggered on. A few others were upright and seemed in better sorts than Amilius. It seemed as if everything came into tuning with Amilius at once. This only added to his headache but still he continued on towards Betur and Lorn. Now he could understand the shouting going on.
"....can't afford to wait, he could still be hanging on." A Jedi said with concern strong in his voice. Amilius couldn't figure out who or what he was talking about.
"No one else dies." The Jedi then ran off into the underbrush. Betur looked at Amilius, Lorn, and Skreth in awe.
"I’m not going trapsing off into some alien jungle when the rescue team is probably minutes away!" Betur was sure of this and didn't look like he was going anywhere. Amilius didn't really have a stand either way, but he wasn't going to let a team member run off into the jungle alone. The words of the man rang in his ears, "No one else dies."
"I'll go," Amilius spoke softly but loud enough for Betur to notice. He went off in the same direction as Dakoth. He could hear Betur's complaints from behind.
"...staying right here!" Betur yelled. That was all Amilius heard, the branches and bushes muffled the sound of the ship burning and Betur's objections. Now Amilius was alone and had to find Dakoth who had to find someone, Amilius didn't know.
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Dakoth
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-Charanos System: LXO Crash Site-
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Betur cursed under his breath. The remaining Jedi were already shifting their stances. One guy in a robe charging into an alien jungle could be crazy. But two, two was always a crusade. There was no doubt in his mind that any moment the others would break off into the woods after the zealots over the infinitesimally small chance that Alain was still alive.
Letting a hand drop into the charcoal flecked pocket of his robe, Betur produced a small round disc, thumbing it's activation pad and flicking it into the dirt beside Orihon's propped up form. He watched for a second as the disc hummed to life. It emanated a soothing blue, which Betur now took to be an ironic color for a distress beacon. At least now the rescue crew would know where to pick up Orihon if they were all maimed to death in the jungle.
Turning back, Betur could already see the other two Jedi taking off into the forest. Lorn took the lead, with a somewhat resentful Skreth-Lii following closely behind.
"Wait up!" The Jedi shouted out. The only thing worse than sending your party out into a strange alien wilderness was being alone in a strange alien wilderness.
It was rough being a Jedi.
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