Saga Ruina Rostovis Domini: A "Death and Dying" Challenge Response

RUINA ROSTOVIS DOMINI
The Fall of Master Rostov
A "Death and Dying" Response in Four Posts
By Ty-gon Jinn

Timeframe: AOTC and slightly thereafter
Rating: PG for some intense dramatic violence
Characters: O/Cs, with several Jedi from AOTC
Genre: Drama
Keywords: Kit's Challenge #5, Death and Dying
Summary: The death of Jedi Master Ethe Armothwan Rostov in the Battle of Geonosis through his own eyes and the eyes of another, his wake in the Jedi Temple, and his remembrance on his home planet of Kecyrk...
Notes: Characters have come from various and sundry stories of mine or round robins in which I have participated; hopefully, this will function on its own.
Spoilers: Assuming everyone's already seen Episode II, none.
Disclaimer: I'm just writing this story for fun, and I have no intention of making money off of it. Star Wars, the Jedi, and other things that sound familiar from the movies or "Expanded Universe" books are property of George Lucas and Lucasfilm LTD.

This is a work in progress. I'll post the other three as I can, but it shouldn't take long to finish them. The title is in Latin; perhaps the use of a "mostly dead" language is appropriate.

 

NON PERMITIO EST; PAX EST.

The shots rang out clearly from the platform above him, but the heat of the moment kept them from being noticeable. All around him, there was nothing but whirling colors as the Jedi pressed inward from all sides. The nexu was still lying stunned, but the acklay and the reek were giving the other Jedi trouble.

Now, though, things had become personal. The sound of laserfire registered in the mind of Jedi Master Ethe Armothwan Rostov as he saw something falling from the platform. As the thing fell, it became obvious what it was; it was dressed in a Jedi?s robes and had the characteristic shape of a Vurk.

Rostov?s tiny, lithe frame jumped aside as the Jedi hit the ground before him. A lightsaber, too, had fallen, but far from his hand; from the way the Jedi was coughing, the fall had hurt, and would probably kill him, as the laserfire had failed to do.

Rostov crept forward. The diminutive being, twenty-third Kameer of the Jedi Order, recognized the fallen being before him. It was Coleman Trebor, member of the Jedi High Council. Rostov nearly smiled as he saw his old friend, though the urge passed quickly seeing the wincing expression that seemed fixed on the councilman?s face.

He couldn?t help thinking that it should have been him that had taken the laserfire. Rostov had been offered the spot on the High Council at the death of Master Yarael Poof; he had turned it down, preferring to work with crèches and training clans. He had recommended Coleman to Master Yoda instead. As he looked down on Trebor, lying helplessly, he tried to give a small smile in case the councilman could still see. He leaned down to find a pulse, and lost it just as quickly.

Straightening up, he sighed.

Behind him, there was a sensation. Barely perceptible, easily missed. He felt it, turning to face it, only too late. As he first began raising his lightsaber, he felt his eyes go wide as something tore through him. His eyes fell to the shock stick that had pierced him, the end coming out through his robes in front. It was as if he could feel its entire length swinging around as he turned, struggling to breathe, and locked eyes with a Geonosian picador.

He slumped to his knees as the picador, now without a stick to corral the reek, withdrew its throwing arm and began trying to force its orray backwards, away from the Jedi?s glare.

The Geonosian backed into the path of Aayla Secura, who dispatched the picador?s head with her lightsaber just as Rostov?s vision failed him. He slumped over, feeling a sharp pain as the shock stick hit the ground.

He tried to feel relief as he saw the picador being removed from the battle, but he could not feel it. He tried to feel anger at his own impaling, but could not feel it. He tried to feel remorse for Trebor, but it would not come. He could feel only the pain, and one other sensation.

He was dimly aware of a noise around him; first the galloping feet of an orray, then what seemed the voice of an old friend, crying out. Then the sound departed, leaving him with only the sense of the pain in his chest. He could no longer smell the burnt flesh or metal that was filling the arena; he could no longer taste the dirt lying against his face. He was only aware of himself and the feeling of the stick that had pierced him, except for one sensation.

He could feel an embrace around him.

Ethe Armothwan Rostov, Jedi Master and twenty-third Kameer of the Jedi Order, gave up his last breath in surrender to the Force.

There is no emotion; there is peace.

 

Very well done! You captured the emotion of the scene without overdoing it. Nicely written, very realistic! Superb!

 

VaderLVR64: Thanks. I'm especially glad you think I didn't overdo it... "There is no emotion," after all; "there is peace."
__________

NON IRACUNDIA EST; SERENITAS EST.

He swung his saber over his head, and as he watched the bright light pass in front of his face, he was dimly aware of what he had felt, as something glanced off the blade. He watched as a battle droid fell over, snapped in half and melting in the middle, where its own laserfire had been ricocheted.

Jedi Knight Joshua Tsion Di?arris let go of his saber with one hand and spun it in the other, deflecting another bolt to his right and then swinging it to take the heads off a row of advancing droids.

He threw his saber into his left hand; his right still hurt since trying to deflect a blaster bolt. He had succeeded, but his hand had been burnt anyway, a reopening of an old scar that hadn?t healed. He looked down, and found a new crack in the skin pooling blood on the palm of his hand, and he wiped it on his robe.

He closed his eyes, just for a second.

In that moment, he saw something; he could see the falling body of Coleman Trebor, he could see a reek-picador, he could see a blue Twi?lek woman with a blue saber, and he could see a shock stick, piercing flesh...

He forced his eyes open, only to see the staggering form of a Kameer, run through with a shock stick, collapse into the dust.

His mind reeled; Rostov had been his own master, first in the training clan and then during his later apprenticeship. He watched as Rostov?s chest fell at an odd angle upon the stick, and tears came to his eyes. He screamed, not aware of any words but hearing "Nooooo!" once it left his mouth. He began rushing to the side of the arena, nearly blinded, trying to pick his way over fallen bodies and half-molten droids, toward where he had seen the master fall.

He nearly rushed the reek-picador, but it was already lying headless on the ground. He raised his saber against the runaway orray, but as it scampered along the ground, it ran past the shock stick, and Josh forgot about the beast.

The stick was lying flat on the ground. Wrapped around its sharpened end were a robe and tunic, bloodstained but empty.

All thoughts of avenging the little being?s death fled from Josh?s mind as he sank to his knees in front of the stick, slowly trying to unwind the twisted fabric. The rest of the heat of the battle faded away behind him.

He tried to remind himself of the Jedi Code. A Jedi does not act for personal power or wealth, but seeks knowledge and enlightenment. A Jedi never acts from hatred, anger, fear, or aggression, but acts when calm and at peace with the Force. There was to be peace over anger, honor over hate, strength over fear. A Jedi shall not know anger, nor hate, nor love.

In its own strange way, that last was the most difficult. A Jedi was not to know attachment, but Masters became family. Separation was unbearable.

And the Code said nothing of Pain.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he finally worked the tattered cloth free, and as he stood, he realized what was actually implied by the robes. Master Rostov was gone.

There was no word to describe the feeling; pain mixed with relief, with agony, distress, and celebration. Rostov had truly become one with the Force.

Josh stood shell-shocked, unable to think for a moment.

Then he had no choice. Stuffing the smaller robes inside his own, a blaster bolt forced him to swing his saber again. The droids were advancing.

There is no passion; there is serenity.

 

NON IGNORANTIA EST; SCIENTIA EST ET HUMANITAS EST.

His hand moved quickly, and the flame on the end of the stick he carried died with the motion. The match sizzled as he let the firelight die and threw the burnt sliver into a small wastebasket for a droid to collect later.

Around the small meditation rooms, dozens of candles had been lit, and the only fire not blazing in the room was on the small pyre that had been erected. Jedi Master Yu Martuf stepped back to watch the light flicker as the flames danced upon the candles, then sat down in one of the seats the room provided.

Sinking his head into his hands, he sighed, knowing what was coming. It wouldn?t be long now before the others came in to pay their last respects to Master Rostov; according to Knight Di?arris, he would be there soon.

Martuf had been Rostov?s first apprentice, and the only to formally receive the status of ?padawan.? He had, in fact, been one of only a handful of Jedi to ever accompany other Jedi to his species? homeworld, and he had observed several Kameer traditions, which is why it fell to him to light the candles and set up the wake properly. Even the Jedi Order could bow to a cultural tradition, especially the tradition of a culture that revered and canonized Jedi Masters.

He heard the door slide open, and watched as Joshua Di?arris walked in, carrying a tattered tunic and cloak neatly laid across his arms. A few others followed him inside, Sie?ka Ti-Gar, Esree, and Carolyn Eyaf. Martuf looked up in greeting, but remained seated, unsure of his ability to stand as Josh placed the robe upon the pyre.

Martuf?s own former padawan, Bal Jolenar, took a seat behind his old master; before that, Martuf hadn?t even noticed him there. Liara Khe sat next to him, and he smiled to see them both there. Even Nessa Menel-Luin, Martuf?s first padawan, had come along.

Two others came into the room, one taller, the other a short frame that looked rather like Rostov?s own. Knight Fallon Anasazi and his padawan, Ethe Anasaziwan Ukranov, twenty-fourth Kameer of the Jedi Order, entered in silence and sat near Martuf.

Jolenar clapped his hand over Martuf?s shoulder, and he finally felt strong enough to stand again; he strode quickly over to Di?arris and embraced his fellow former apprentice, the closest thing to a padawan his master had ever taken after Martuf?s Knighting. Josh returned the hug and then firmly shook Martuf?s hand in thanks.

The room was beginning to fill as Knight Adrean Spender, one of Rostov?s associates, led in several beings that Martuf vaguely recognized and Di?arris recognized slightly better. Dozens filled the room as the members of Josh?s crèche and training clan filed in, each taking their seats. It had been years since anyone had seen the others, yet no one seemed to notice. No one seemed to notice, either, that they were unaware of the significance of the candles; they were simply a part of the ceremony.

The youngest mourners were led in to sit near the back wall; Rostov?s own Gundark Clan, now in the hands of Knight Jo?nar Miloné, came in quietly and tried not to look at the bier, whether they were there to see it or not. Young Tsilas Patmose and Adna Scyulla were clearly teary-eyed as they came through the door, but they came in anyway.

The last to arrive was perhaps the most impressive in attendance. Jedi Master Yoda of the High Council arrived to stand near the pyre, and greeted Martuf and Di?arris with a small, solemn nod.

No one knew exactly how to react when the fire from one of the candles was gently applied to the bier, and the pyre leapt into flame. It was not even Rostov?s body being consumed, but his robes. No one knew how to understand the fact that Rostov had disappeared. Even Yoda himself had had doubts about whether even a Jedi who disappeared could retain his identity in the Force, yet standing in that room, the mourners all seemed to feel Rostov. Few Jedi in history had even considered, let alone understood, the nature of death once a being has already become one with

 

NON MORS EST; VIS EST.

She paused, staring out the front window from the overstuffed chair in the corner. A message had come from the Jedi Temple. Most Jedi did not know their families, but the long-lived Kameer kept fastidious records and the next of kin had to be notified if a Kameer Jedi was killed.

Sulva Artioevna Lorenya Mayova Maorovna dropped the commlink on the floor as the sun started to come up over the snowy winter hills of the planet Kecyrk. Master Yoda had let her know of the death in battle of Ethe Rostov, twenty-third Kameer of the Jedi Temple. She sighed, and slowly began to get up out of the chair.

She looked out, seeing lights dance on the darkened edge of the sky. She nearly smiled through the tears that were welling up in her eyes. She turned to the window, where a candle had been placed on the sill, behind the transparisteel. She lit the candle and stared out on the snow again. She would have to tell her sister when she woke up, and somehow, she would have to get in touch with all their other siblings.

Behind her, she heard footsteps, and she turned to see Luba Sathevna, one of her youngest daughters, standing there.

"It?s still days before the holidays, Mom," Luba said sleepily. "Why are you lighting the candle?"

"It?s for Master Ethe," Sulva sighed, looking back at the candle.

"Is he okay?"

"He?s fine," Sulva said, somehow feeling that it wasn?t a lie at all. "He always will be, now."

Luba wandered back in the other direction, to get something for breakfast. Sulva just stared out at the sunlight on the snow and the candlelight flickering before it. She remembered the first time she had looked into Rostov?s big green eyes more than a hundred years before, and thought about what she had said to him.

"You?ll always be with your family, my immortal little brother," she whispered.

There is no death; there is the Force.

 

I'm speechless Ty-Gon...

Outstanding job! The charcters from SW and your originals are seamless. I'll never know how you make them up!! The latin titles were beautiful almost poetic. They gave the story that timeless feeling. And closing every chapter with those strong lines of the Jedi code (I assume) are breathtaking.

I love how you convey a since of understanding of your charcters in such a short story.

The future will know the writings of Ty-Gon Jinn. They have no idea yet...
But trust me...
they will...

 

STARDOG-D-JEDI: Thank you so much! I'm nearly speechless from the praise.

I can tell you how I managed to make the characters up, though... none were made up specifically for this piece. Some of the characters are years old, others are being fleshed out; most were created for other challenges. This happened to be one of my biggest challenges because I've never before made so many secondary characters the focus of a story or brought so many together in the course of four posts... I'm glad it worked.

Yes, the four lines are (at least I believe they are) from the Jedi Code... the line that concludes each post is an English/Basic translation of the Latin line that opens it. (Example: Non mors est; Vis est is There is no death; there is the Force.)

The future will know the writings of Ty-Gon Jinn. They have no idea yet...
But trust me...
they will...

I have to thank you for a kind comment like that, but seeing as I'll be studying journalism in college and I'm an odd kind of aspiring novelist, I may have to hold you to that...