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Star Wars Star Wars: Legends End: Dark Beginnings

Discussion in 'Role Playing Forum' started by Sinrebirth, Jun 12, 2014.

  1. Sinrebirth

    Sinrebirth Immortal Mod-King of the EUC, RPF and SWC star 8 Staff Member Manager

    Nov 15, 2004
    IC: Missionary Shail Blue
    Arkania, Imperial Mission, 108 ABY

    This was not a world that one expected to encounter charity, reflected the Imperial Missionary Shail Blue, a Zeltron who felt the cold worse than most. Civilised for more than ten millennia, Arkania was a prominent world known interchangeably for its lack of ethics in the field of science, medical exports, its mad scientists, and its engineered diamond industry, let alone its positioning at a nexus of hyperlanes near to the Core or it's curious history with the original Sith Empire. It was a cold world, often freezing, unforgiving, and the famous geneticists it had borne were known for as much. Invariably near the heart of galactic events, it had even dominated them before the Mandalorian Wars bought that brief radiance to a crashing end. Four millennia later, and having been caught up at the heart of the Clone Wars, and struck repeatedly in the Yuuzhan Vong War, Arkania had, eventually, stabilised itself by leaning heavily on its medical expertise to provide itself with a strong niche, profiting handsomely from providing elixirs of youth and health to the rich, research to the scientific communities and, it was rumoured, harbouring experiments that were fought over from worlds as far-reaching as Bastion and Nal Hutta.

    However, wealth bred discontent, and with the genetically determined lower classes not benefiting from nearly sixty years of recovery from the Yuuzhan Vong, the Imperial Remnant - now the Empire again - had set up an Imperial Mission on Arkania with the goal of helping the weak and positively influencing Arkania. It had also gone a certain distance to insinuating itself between the voracious Arkanian economy and the lesser classes, in particular those members that were incapable of looking after themselves and often were preyed upon by the higher echelons.

    And so, the Imperial Mission, a prefabricated building that looked somewhat similar to an Imperial bunker, had been placed next to the Arkanian Sanatorium, with sufficient space to land shuttles, supply freighters or a single light corvette between the Mission and the Sanatorium itself. Imperial Missions often received lesser vessels the Moffs did not secure, with orbital defences supplied by the local governments they assisted. Even then, they were often treated as Imperial embassies and occasionally were ringed with sufficient defences and stocked with enough Stormtroopers to keep back all but a dedicated assault. This was the case with the Arkania Mission, bar one matter; the ringed defences encompassed several mental facilities under their care, including the sanatorium where three prominent subjects were due to be studied by Dr Herdstrom.

    Today, the light corvette was settling on the ground, collecting supplies and passengers. A CR90 variant, the Beckoning Light required minimal crew and for ease of use was relatively automated. Bar the sole and young and newly minted Imperial Knight Yalta Val, who was on Arkania for 'classified reasons' it was a run of the mill Imperial Mission.

    Shame about the occupants of the Sanatorium, she reflected, who were anything but...
    Chukles38, Shira, Thrawn1786, The Great No One
    IC: Jariah Syn
    Aboard the Mynock, heading to Lok, 136 ABY

    Nearly seven years since the end of the Sith-Imperial War, the galaxy was a dark place once more. One would argue it was at it's darkest. At no point in history had the Sith ruled the galaxy in the numbers they did now. Two Sith and a few thousand Dark Jedi did not compare to tens of thousands of Sith with the weight of the entire galactic bureaucracy behind them, a bureaucracy that dominated more territory, peoples and nations than any before it; the Empire, Alliance, Chiss Ascendancy, Mandalorians and more besides all unified under the iron fist of the Dark Lord.

    And Jariah Syn didn't care.

    He doubted anyone he knew actually cared, considering the crowd he ran in. The pilot and tech, Deliah Blue, certainly didn't, and his captain, Cade, care less than him and Deliah together.

    And so here they were, aboard the rickety transport-come-gunboat Mynock, heading to do their next job; the capture of Naxy Screeger, who owed their boss, Rav, big time. Lok was an unwelcoming world to most, but to those with a flexible relationship with the law it was another home from home.

    Speaking of flexible relationships, neither Blue nor Cade were apparent on the deck, which meant Blue was deep in the innards of the ship, tinkering, or they were together, antagonistic relationship and all. Syn didn't pay attention to it. He was focused on what he had to do to get by, though he admittedly thought of Cade as his brother.

    He didn't see fit to check, either, as Cade could be alone, and if so, he was indulging in something he didn't approve of...

    Luke Skywalker, however, was not so inclined to grant his great-great/grandson peace and quiet. But he was also able to ensure that Cade was not engaged in a conjugal moment with his Zeltron copilot by confirming she was indeed deep inside the Mynock, having needed to climb into the catacombs of accessways beneath the ships deckplates to reach a blown power regulator. That was the advantage of being a Force spirit, having passed away over fifty years ago, in peace, surrounded by his friends and family, aged and happy, having left the galaxy to over more than a decade of peace and nothing more than policing required by his son - his grandchildren growing up in the calm galaxy he wished he and his son had.

    At the same time he felt a remarkable dissonance, as if something was changing. It was more than the slow and steady choking of the galaxy that was occurring under the dominion of the Sith, it was an innate wrongness, that something truly terrible was about to occur.

    He had no choice but to wait, he had to speak to Cade, now, regardless of the state he was in. He swiftly darted between the bulkheads of the ship, avoiding the cache of Yuuzhan Vong weapons and creatures Syn kept aboard - it always felt weird passing through them - and emerged in Cade's room, wondering if he would even see him through the haze of alcohol and worse besides, if he was in that dark and terrible place the death of Kol had left him.

    'I need to speak to you, and you need to listen.'
    IC: Chief of State Bail Antilles
    Unnamed Star System, near Sardonia Prime, 146 ABY, late year

    It had been had hard year for the Guardians of Light, but it had been a triumphant one, mastering all manner of threats on their isolated planet in the Unknown Regions.

    But they had also became a waypoint for exiled Jedi, dispossessed Mandalorians and fleeing Galactic Alliance officers. Even though word had recently filtered into this area of the Unknown Regions that the One Sith had been defeated and the galaxy had thereafter been commanded by a triumvirate, it was also known that the Senate had fallen into disarray and was dominated by 'New Imperial' politics that had resulted in an outbreak of the Candorian Plague going awry, and several incarnations of Sith had briefly gained some ground before annihilating themselves, even here, in the Unknown Regions.

    It was late in the year, and the former Alliance frigate Wake of Dawn was on patrol in a nearby system which had been judged uninhabitable but had been cleared of pirate threats. Closer to the galactic rim than Sardonia Prime, it was the furthest east the Guardians had travelled.

    Aboard was former Chief of State Bail Antilles, a scarred man who had presided over the surrender of the Alliance to the Empire before Darth Krayt had seized control, as member of the Alliance triumvirate, and Jedi Knight Lenea Sandstrider, on patrol in a hyperdrive equipped TwinTail.

    They were completing their circuit when an anomalous signal occurred at the edge of the system, but on the wrong side of the planet they were currently orbiting. The ex-Chief, nominally in command, was roused from his sleep cycle and, bleary eyed, marched to the bridge.

    'Kill those alarms, we don't know what we're looking at yet,' he snapped, having been briefed on his way up in the turbolift over the internal communications. His blue uniform was rumpled, and his hair a shade too mussed to fit regulations, but when the government he was loyal to had been gone for almost seventeen years it was all a bit moot. Much of his crew had variations of breaches of the code of conduct, and some had even settled down and started families.

    'What do we have?' Bail said, before he settled into the captains chair, 'and make sure Lenea can here this.'

    'Yes, sir,' said the Twi'lek sensor officer, who looked over to the Aqualish comms officer for confirmation the line was open. She lifted a hand and arched a thumb up in confirmation, and the Twi'lek nodded, before speaking. 'We don't know what it is. We just know it's appeared on the other side of the system and it's freighter sized. It decanted from hyperspace and all but rammed the satellite we left on the approach from Sardonia to here.'

    'So it may be from Sardonia? Then we have nothing to worry about, surely.'

    'Yes and no, Chief.' The Twi'lek held out the datapad. 'There no scheduled jumps from Sardonia to here, not even miners. And if there was, they'd be in a convoy with an escort.'

    'So unknown, but coming from Sardonia.' Although the channel wouldn't pick up the difference, he lifted his voice. 'Jedi Sandstrider, we won't make it around the planet before they're in attack position, and if that happens, they'll either hit us mid-maneuver or use the planets gravity to slingshot and hit us so fast we won't get a second shot. I order you to investigate in advance and destroy a threat if one arises.'

    The Twi'lek sensor officer frowned slightly at the use of the word 'order', and a slight chill descended on the bridge, but Antilles had only arrived a few months ago, after the most recent spate of crises, and so he wasn't entirely used to the nature of the Guardians and that they all cooperated.

    'Well, Master Sandstrider?'
    IC: Darth Tod
    The Front, Nesron, 600 ABY

    What was the best word to describe this moment, he wondered.




    Disappointing, ah yes, that was the word.

    The self-proclaimed Chosen One lay before him, having just crashed head-first into the wall of the building they had been fighting within. Well, what was left of the building, strewn about around them.

    Darth Tod, the Shadow Hand of the Dark Lord of the Sith, patiently waited for Lora Skywalker to regain consciousness, in the hope she would provide a challenge. He absently catalogued her wounds, putting aside the hum of their blades to ascend to the vault of his mind.

    There; A lightsaber burn down her thigh; potentially a skull fracture or concussion; a cracked rib, if the radiating pain from her side was anything. And then his injuries; he worked his jaw, absently - a bruised face where she had cuffed him at the end of a blisteringly fast exchange; not broken, so that was fine. And... Nothing else.

    But no surprise there. He was the Shadow Hand. He had won the Battle of Nerson. He had turned the tide of the Forever War, the seventy year total war that had broken out three decades after the end of Echo, the Golden Age of the Third and Glorious Restored Republic undone, itself constitutionally different to its incarnation after the end of the Watch Era a century before that. Darth Tod knew his histories, knew what legacy was beside him, but also knew what was different between then and now; the Sith were at their most organised and most cohesive, at their most numerous and focused. There was no Zauber accepting a status quo over victory, no flawed Krayt putting himself above the Order, no idiotic Caedus turning the Sith cause to his own end, no Darth Sidious creating an Empire that could be turned against him...

    ... Darth Tod still said nothing. He simply stood and stared down at the Skywalker, at the plot matting her hair... A split above her eyebrow, he saw, added it to his catalogue.

    Releasing a breath, he suffused his presence into his surroundings, expanding his awareness into the masonry, into each piece of rubble, into the corpses and vehicles lining the streets of what had once, many years ago, been a residential block, before the blood curdling fifth Battle of Nesron. He was aware of every facet of this arena, not anticipating, simply above it all. Even the breeze as it flapped at his cloak and hair.

    He was not anything.

    He was Darth Tod.

    His expression as blank as ever, not saying a word, not even breaking a sweat, his power such as it was, he allowed himself one little conceit, a mental smile;

    Lora Skywalker should not have come back to Nesron.
  2. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Jul 23, 2008
    Jacen: What do you call the person who brings a rancor to dinner?
    Tenel Ka: I don't know.
    Jacen: The appetizer!
    Tenel Ka: I will need you to explain why that's funny.

    IC: Tenel Ka Djo, Queen Mother of Hapes
    Kashyyyk, Shadowlands

    Every night she fell asleep to Jacen’s screams, and every morning she woke to tearstained cheeks.

    This morning had been no different.

    Kashyyyk buzzed with the despair and devastation of Jacen’s crimes. Every scorched tree served as another reminder of his fall. And yet, even as she passed beneath these very trees, all Tenel Ka could think of was the boy she had once known. He had been so unlike herself, and yet, you couldn’t not like him.

    Oh, Jacen. What happened? Only silence replied. She would never have her answer.

    Mommy?” The little voice woke her from her ruminations. Mommy, why’s everyone here so sad?” Allana was a beautiful child, even with her red locks dyed brown, and the core to her mother’s heart.

    They’re sad because. . .” Don’t lie to her, don’t lie to your own daughter. “. . . because they lost their homes.”


    No, not forever, Amelia.” She hated calling her that name, but it was all she could do. Would she rather call a false name to her daughter, or the true one to a grave? “They’ll rebuild. We all do.”

    Who burned it?”

    Oh sweet child. Tenel Ka’s face never showed it, but her heart was shattering in her chest. “A bad man did.” Now she was lying.

    I don’t like bad men.”

    Me either.”

    The rest of the way was walked in silence.

    Tenel Ka watched the burial site with pained eyes. It hadn’t remained unscathed from the destruction. Allana stood by her side as the Solo’s grieved. It was terrible, as she remembered every funeral she’d ever been to, was. And this wasn’t even the ceremony. She could feel her daughter’s distress rippling through the Force. Waves of sadness rolled off all of them, but it was only now that her daughter joined in.

    Be strong,” Tenel Ka whispered in her daughter’s ear, so only the two of them may hear. “Can you be strong for Mommy?”

    Of course.” Allana gave her a toothy smile. I’m a strong girl, Mommy.”

    You are.” She kissed her daughter’s brow. What was she going to do without her daughter? Allana was her saving grace in Hapan. Amidst the feuding and backstabbing, all Tenel Ka had was her sweet child. I have to send her away. It’s what’s best for her. Everyone already assumed she was dead. If not for Jacen, she would have been.

    The ceremony ended, and Allana ran off with Han. Tenel Ka sat on the ground and called upon some meditation techniques she hadn’t used in a long time. It was peaceful, and much needed to keep her centered. The dark side wasn’t as fearsome a beast to her as it was for others, but she knew her limitations. Her father’s death had tipped her, and Jacen’s had swung the scale in circles.

    It was Ben’s worried voice that broke her tranquility.

    “Didn’t you leave Alla, er, Amelia with Uncle Han?” He asked her personally.

    Before she could fathom a response, Lowbacca came down the ramp of the Falcon with her daughter in his furry arms. [Not here.] He told Ben.

    “Threepeep was walkin' about inside but we for he was outside.” Allana attempted her best serious face as she spoke.

    [Master Durron?] Lowbacca drew Tenel Ka’s attention to the highest ranking Jedi. The master had a puzzled look on his face. It took but a split second of silence, and then Allana’s fearful voice broke it.

    “Don’t talk to me! You’re not even real!”

    The moment Durron's Force wave hit her daughter and Lowbacca, Tenel Ka was screaming. She was unsure in the moment what she cried, whether it was, “No!” or “Allana!” or even “Jacen!”, but she screamed as loud as Jacen had when he died. Ignoring all else, Tenel Ka felt her way through the horror and found her daughter. Time slowed to a stop as she watched that little body soar.

    She did what every Jedi mother would do for her child in danger.

    She leapt and held her arms outstretched.

    If all else failed, she would cushion her daughter’s fall.

    She realized mid-jump that she hadn’t stopped screaming.

    TAG: Sinrebirth, Mitth_Fisto
  3. Skywalker_T-65

    Skywalker_T-65 Jedi Grand Master star 6

    Nov 19, 2009
    IC: Mara Jade Skywalker
    Arkanis System

    Shock, anger, despair...yes, even some fear...all words that aptly described what it was like to be Mara Jade Skywalker, as her XJ3 dropped from hyperspace.

    Perhaps, the best descriptor, however, would be absolute, utter loss.

    For a Jedi to love someone, completely and totally, they had to be joined. The level of connection would naturally depend on the power of the Jedi in question, and the deepness of the love. For Mara Skywalker, she had been with the most powerful Jedi of his time...perhaps all time. Luke's bright light had been a permanent fixture in her life for years...she could always feel him, no matter where he was.

    And now...Luke Skywalker was just...gone. Just like that, the brightest light in the Galaxy went out, and it tore a hole clean through Mara's heart. She didn't even need to look at the other X-Wing to know Luke wasn't in it.

    "Master Skywalker?"

    That was Tam...a hint of fear in his voice. Wiping tears from her brilliant green eyes, Mara shook herself, and pulled herself back to her old training. Deal with the Vong now, grieve for Farmboy later. She wouldn't leave Ben without a mother too.

    "I'm fine," Mara answered, firing her thrusters and maneuvering next to the other X-Wing...keeping her eyes on the Coralskippers, and not the empty fighter on her other side.

    As fine as I can be...Luke...

    TAG: Sinrebirth
  4. Penguinator

    Penguinator Jedi Grand Master star 6

    May 23, 2005
    Talon Karrde
    The Wild Karrde, the Krant System, in Bothan Space

    This was quite the turn of events, thought Karrde, but he maintained his cool posture on the Wild Karrde's bridge, not even permitting a flicker of emotion to cross his face. He inhaled, exhaled, and spoke.

    "Calm down, people. The Republic is not in the habit of shooting first." At least, I hope they're not.

    It wasn't typical of Republic ships to play hardball like this, but Karrde suspected this was typical of Bothan attitudes these days. He'd heard word that Borsk Fey'lya had been in something of a power struggle with Ackbar and other Republic leaders, but that was a political battle.

    He turned to Mara Jade.

    "Put me through to the customs frigate. Hail Aves, quietly, if you'd be so kind. We need to figure out what's going."

    Karrde gently eased his ship out of the pace of the Starry Ice. He wasn't quite sure how to play this - he was a relative unknown to the Republic, but he suspected rumours had been circulating. On the one hand, he regretted not setting up a different identity for the Wild Karrde, and indeed not using one of his many aliases, but on the other, being as above-the-board as possible would keep them from getting shot. Hopefully.

    He thumbed the comm channel open with the customs frigate.

    "Good day. My name is Karrde. How may I help you?"

    Tag: Sinrebirth
  5. Mitth_Fisto

    Mitth_Fisto Force Ghost star 6

    Sep 29, 2005
    IC: Jaina Solo
    Kashyyyk, Shadowed Lands

    Walking. It was a simple thing and technically she wasn't sore any more. The bacta, Force healing, and her stay at the hospital before the galaxy took another turn for crazy had seen to that. But it was at peace.

    She didn't feel it. But it was at peace, whatever that means. If it was true. . .did Jacen actually survive to die? No. Maybe. She couldn't go there today. I had to remain strong.

    It was almost like a mantra that echoes, as the title of her as the Sword of the Jedi had resounded to her in the Yuuzhan Vong war as she took the title of Vong deity, as her brother had become a monster, and as she had prepared to kill him. Had killed him. Why was she here? Why were they here?

    A part of her wanted to run, find some conflict somewhere and just be the Sword. But there was nothing Uncle Luke thought she needed to be at, no excuse to miss the funeral of the brother she had killed. No, no. She could not think of him that way. Not even now. He had stopped being her brother long ago, and the funeral had merely been postponed until she had killed Caedus and brought peace for her Aunt. It was that simple. Now if only it would stop hurting as if she didn't believe it.

    Her steps were sure and soon she stood with others, Jag close. Why didn't he leave? Why did he keep coming back? Hadn't she hurt him enough? Hadn't he hurt her enough? But they were friends, he was friends with her parents as much as someone that militaristic can be. A part of her wanted to bury her head upon his chest and just shut out the world, but that was a refuge denied to her now, as the Sword, as a friend.Even if he was now heading the Moff Council he had made the time to be here for them, to remember what once was. Something you couldn't escape in the charred remains of this forest

    Kyp was nearby as well as her father worked the wood to reveal Chewbacca's monument. The familiar chuffs and growls of the Wookiees present, relatives all, caused her vision to blur for a moment. Kyp was just a friend as well, although she knew he wanted to be more, had been, could of been. . .pushing the thoughts aside she focused on her family, on Tenel Ka.

    Walking away, more walking. She had looked at the once majestic charred remains of the Worshyr trees. They held nothing for her in their charred husks, or the week signs of life struggling to surge once more into the air that was filled with the scent of charred remains.

    Then things started to go sideways, Allana was brought out by Lowie, and she smiled at this moment of peace and deep friendship and kinship born from years past. And a hint of their time as Killik Joiners of the same hive. Where was 3PO? That fussy protocol droid wouldn't be left behind or walk away from a child. She knew, she had had to trip his breakers to get away often enough with her brothers.

    About then Kyp decided to go and make her question if she had ever truly awoken from her nightmares. As Kyp force shoved Lowie and Allana, screaming something about them not being real. Her brothers body, Caedus' body, had not even been cremated yet and Kyp seemed to be suffering from something. It was a pale thought that crossed her mind in the flicker of the moment.

    A moment before a trees struggling form was brought down toward her by the force. Leaping to the side she force shoved at Kyp in return, trying to send him back and away. Toward Chewbacca's monument. Though battered and worn, she was still the Sword of the Jedi. And with a grim determination and subtle pleasure of a familiar role of combat once more, something so much easier then the reflection and mourning they were here for. She couldn't worry about Amelia now, she couldn't worry about the others, she had a mission given by the Force itself it seemed to intervene. Stop Kyp Durron.

    TAG: Sinrebirth, spycoder9
  6. The Great No One

    The Great No One Jedi Grand Master star 8

    Jun 4, 2005
    IC: Jacen Solo/ Stealth X/ Above Kavan/ Hapes Cluster

    Rage wasn’t the emotion that flowed through Jacen Solo’s veins, which he absently noted was very unsithlike. No, it was frustration and a vague sense of loss at what Lumiya had forced him into. By following him to Hapes she had signed her own death warrant, but she couldn’t have known that at the time. Manipulative as she was, Lumiya had wanted her fingers in every aspect of Jacen’s life, but he had never allowed her that, regardless of her “good intentions” in guiding him to his destiny. The problem was, they wanted two fundamentally different futures for the galaxy, and he had only recently realized it as she continued to push him into his sacrifice. And he knew what she would demand of him knowing that he had not only a lover, but a daughter for whom he would upend the entire galaxy to ensure her safety. Already had done so, to be fair.

    It was that different desire that had resulted in him sitting in a stealth x above the planet Kavan, having been in a precarious situation with his Aunt Mara, until Lumiya had shown up. Mara… Well, having been the Emperor’s Hand once upon a time there was no telling what she would do with the knowledge that he had people that he cared about in Hapes. He couldn’t trust her. He couldn’t trust Luke. He couldn’t trust anyone with that knowledge, and even had it been Emperor Palpatine himself fleeing down to the planet, Jacen would have followed and ensured his family's safety.

    As he turned the fighter away from the void where Lumiya had once been, unsure as to whether she still lived or not, and started heading down to the planet to finish the job that Mara had forced upon him sooner than he’d been expecting it a vision slammed into him at the same time a pair of profound absences registered themselves in the Force.

    The Dark Man remained ensconced upon the throne even now, the circular tattoos still present as they always were. Who are you! Why can’t I stop you! Jacen practically howled at him in misery. The future was supposed to always be in motion, yet this seemed to be immutable no matter what he did to stop it. At least his daughter was not standing at his side, his precious Alanna was safe for the time being so long as he continued down his current path. That was all that truly mattered.

    The Scene cut to a star destroyer bombarding the ancient sith stronghold of Ziost, which Jacen still did not understand. What was the significance of a long dead planet? There were times that Jacen feared he would never understand what he was doing, but that was something no one would ever know. If anything his lack of understanding of this aspect of his vision was a sterner taskmaster than Lumiya had ever hoped to be. No one could push Jacen harder than Jacen himself.

    Then there was something new. He saw the galaxy arrayed before him, and white orbs started as pinpricks in seemingly unrelated places across the galaxy and began to expand. A chill shot through Jacen as he saw them eventually covering the entire galaxy, and he knew this whiteness had nothing to do with the lightside, and everything to do with erasing the things he cared about. What… I don’t understand. Why can’t this be clear? Frustration began to build in him even more as it seemed that the Force itself was out to destroy what Jacen cared about. No. Not the Force… But that didn’t answer anything.

    As he was forced to continue to watch the galaxy reset itself with his Uncle Luke overlaid across the galaxy. Luke Skywalker, protector of the galaxy and all that was good. The symbolism couldn’t be more obvious. Nor could Luke being absorbed by a white orb and darkness sweeping out of the Unknown Regions. Jacen remembered the sudden absence he had felt, and felt his stomach begin to fall. Luke Skywalker was no longer alive. Nor was his mother. Guess I can rescind that arrest warrant now. Jacen wondered about his father for a second but decided it was irrelevant as the vision faded.

    He found that he was nearing the point that he would have to pay attention to flying as he entered Kavan’s atmosphere, but Jacen found himself immensely unsettled. Maybe… Maybe he should talk to Mara. Surely she had felt the loss of Luke, probably even more profoundly than he had. Things had changed, irrevocably, and Jacen had no clue what that meant for what he was trying to do. He certainly couldn’t discuss this with Lumiya, who very well might be dead at this point, and maybe, just maybe, this had changed things enough that he needed a new path. It was something to at least consider, but if Mara seemed like she would threaten his daughter in the slightest… Well, there was only one way that could end.

    While Jacen was anything but satisfied with his understanding of the situation, he knew that it would require a new tack. As he headed down to meet his aunt for what he still suspected would be the last time, Jacen reflected on his lack of sorrow at the loss of his mother and uncle. He found a thought echoing through his head as he landed on the planet, What am I becoming?

    Deciding he should at least try something peaceful, given his new goals, Jacen activated his comm and sent a message to what he hoped was his aunt. “Mara, I know you felt… what I did. Luke is gone. We need to talk. If you don’t want it to be in person, fine, just respond to this message.” Now it was up to Mara to decide what to do.

    TAG Sinrebirth
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  7. Mitth_Fisto

    Mitth_Fisto Force Ghost star 6

    Sep 29, 2005
    IC: Thuwistan Zawahul
    Rodia, Jungles, 100ABY

    Another sunrise, another day, and another long breath. The cycles of life in the Jungle continued with it's own predetermined cycle. Not the Yuuzhan Vong, not the biots, not the presence of himself could deter these things. His leaves felt the breeze of the breath of lives flowing freely. Though the Force was quieter here, though the ebb and flow took a channel as often not of his own plantings he could still sense the all of all about him. Taste it on the air, digest it in his leaves, and observe it in the waves of light that found their way to him. As with any day he found the seasons nearly long enough here in these odd jungles to follow the Tyia and the breaths of altered air to wherever they found need of a Thuwistan such as Zawahul.

    So once more he found himself, mediating as the fresh day requested as much if not more than the words of those here. It was not between the Rodians and the Yuuzhan Vong this time, merely the factions of the later between themselves. All was new for these as for he, all was fresh, but unlike he they did not follow the roots or the waves of light to find their ways through the days. These were the descendants of the beasts that hunted, like the kept beasts of Revyia fields crops, you did not tend them with vaunted meals, but with prey and hunt. So the cycle was found and the leaves were spared to merely pruning without loss of seeds nor stalk. The packs were separate, so here they had their fields, but not their airs. Not yet. It was a cycle of seasons, of seeds, and paths that were yet too newly escaping their favored soil to have truly found their roots.

    The cast of chase spoke well and true. It was their place upon which the cast of rots biots had trampled to their deaths. So to did the cast of rot speak well to ask instead that their roaming crop be returned to their keep, instead of slaughtered upon the trampled paths. Rebuttal and speak, they were growing, their roots seeking new paths. Something that sparked a high hope that a season less may be needed for flowers and fruit to blossom between the casts without the need of any but the air and breath to carry them there.

    Then the cast of chase spoke once more about not herding the biots. Things which he was shamefully glad were dead upon his presence here, as the eaters of plants were always a disturbing kind to pass between. The leader of the cast of rot rose forth to strike, the season may be shortened but yet the flower was not yet ready to bloom upon the young plants.

    With a twitch of his upper petal leaves he drew the breath between himself and the rocks. Those beneath the body of the nearest grazer sprung as his upper two of three leaves rose and bent toward it, and launched with the force of the breath to bring the beast to land between the two before they should yet come to blows. He need not touch the rarefied breath of the beasts to do such. As for the stones he let them roll off the body and stop at the feet of either party.

    "Both have failed." A long leaf from his base set rose to point to the warriors. "You slaughter those that wander where they should not. As is well. A killer of things and protector of others is not given easily to guide. Yet you waste, the flesh spoils of a feast, and you do not eat nor share. Where is the honor of killing if nothing comes of it?"

    Then a leaf rose to the other, the one of rot, "Your pens are weak and your eyes wander. Have you so much these matter for nothing but fodder? Better to loose one crop and save the rest, then waste all crops and strength upon saving one that has already rotted." A third leaf rose slightly twitching toward the carcass. "It is time to feast upon a hunted crop, or to gag upon the blood. Choose both of you." His words rustled slightly as he let his leaves settle. The sweet tang of dead beasts and rotting flesh yet worked a mild desire to eat upon his system, and his mind a curiosity if honor would be served by either cast today. He would stand clear if neither had honor, or intervene if one worked with it only to be betrayed. Life was still in the Jungle, and few yet breathed here though a fresh breath like a living beast that desecrated the plants had come. Whether Rodian, or beast, or new. Nothing mattered unless it came to interfere with the passing of these held breaths.

    TAG: Sinrebirth
  8. DarkLordoftheFins

    DarkLordoftheFins Jedi Master star 4

    Apr 2, 2007
    Lora Skywalker
    Nesron, Ruins, 600 ABY

    Her mind returned and there was . . .


    Pain could be a distraction. Pain could be a Jedi’s undoing, weakening the grip on the force, destroying the connection through which a Jedi drew strength. Lora had understood it long ago, but only now she had finally . . . mastered pain.


    It helped her focus her power. It helped her draw strength from a depth she had never allowed herself to drain from. Pain was everything. And everything was pain.

    Breathing in, channelling the force she regained her consciousness and raised to her feet by the pure force of her will. The emerald green hissed into existence in her hand not because she had activated it. No her will demanded it and made her blade once more the natural extension of her body, her will and her desire to . . . end HIM.

    “Tod, I assume?” She hissed out, as she identified the Shadow Hand. The opponent who had not withstood her attacks, but had bested her at the first round could be no less than the legendary ancient Sith hidden behind the features of this cruel, cold child that stood before her.

    “I . . . “ She coughed out blood and breathed in, feeling the pain. Her pain. He was not in pain. He was cold and ancient. Nothing was left of him but a shall, a host for the power he embodied. In so many ways he was perfect. A perfect destiny.

    “ . . . have been looking forward to meet you.” Her blade slowly raised and pointed at the Sith. “As much as one can look forward to something . . . inevitable.” She send him a cold smile. “Another round?” She asked and did not wait for the answer.

    Through her pain she channelled the force into a nearby rock, sending it towards her enemy. A second one came from the other side. They would be o more than minor distractions. But just as they reached the awareness of her enemy she speeded forward, swinging her lightsaber into a wide swing down at the Sith and summoning all her pain, all her power . . . as the blade crashed down on the Sith. “Power, you know power, do you?” She hissed at her enemy.

    “Let me show you what true power is.”

    The pain would guide her hands. She was her pain now and her pain was her. Pain was everything. She would show this Sith what . . . pain was.

    Tag: Sinrebirth
  9. Chukles38

    Chukles38 Jedi Master star 5

    Jun 10, 2005
    IC: Cade Skywalker
    Places, doing things

    Space was dark. And vast. No, scrap that. Terrible way to start these kinda things. Just bad. It was huge though, even stretched out above the city, even through the lights and noise. Stars far distant glimmered in the silken sheet above Cade, whose head was doing a pirouette about the busy streets. Space was big, and he would know. Once, he drifted in the black, all light calling to him, sirens in the void. Mocking, maybe, since he had possessed no means for movement in the colossal vacuum. He didn’t think about that time much, really. Further considered, it probably did little to help his current mental state.

    Still, that was the past. Long distant, at this point, and now he had to deal with this city. Nice place, all said and done. A little too clean for his taste, kinda uppity if you asked him, but he was sure there would be seedier districts that would offer a devilish pirate like himself some more… appreciated comforts. Place like this, it was easy to forget everything he’d left behind. Jedi, empires. Heck, he’d of forgotten his own karking name if it weren’t for certain individuals prattling on about legacies and destinies. This place though, this was nice. No ancestors tryin’ ta’ come for Cade here. Well, not yet, at any rate. He supposed the day was still young, but might as well enjoy the moment. That was one lesson he’d learned well by now.

    A contented sigh escaped Cade as he plopped down on a bench as he continued his examination of the stars. Up there, that was freedom. Out amongst the blackness of space, dashing from star to star, never sure if the Mynock would hold together. Something liberating about that feeling, really. He’d never felt quite as good in his time with the Jedi, though perhaps he had merely forced himself to believe that. Either way, he found himself pleased with his lot save one small detail. The moon. He found it offensive. Cade couldn’t say why, of course, but there it was, glaring down at him, disrupting his viewing of the heavens. He found it irritating, but the more he stared, he became downright infuriated. Something must be done about it, but what could be done, short of pulling a Death Star out of his pocket and going all Old Empire on the thing. The light was washing out the view of his stars, though, so he reached forward, trying to grab at the shining disk. It was a silly thing to do, he imagined, but he had to do something. He stretched forth, feeling the Force flow from his hand. This was a bewildering development, as it had been some time since he’d touched the Force, and never before like this. Still, best to just go with it. He imagined it wrapping around the planetoid far above, gripping, grabbing. Cade pushed, throwing the moon as far from his sight as possible, watching as it rocketed away. Implications regarding gravitic and atmospheric differences wreaking havoc on this pleasant world didn’t even enter the pirate’s mind. He imagined throwing it off into the sun or, perhaps better yet, to Coruscant itself, crushing the throne of Darth Krayt as he sat upon it, laughing maniacally or whatever it was he kriffin’ did all day. Now that was an image worth keepin’ around, that it was. A pleased smirk settled onto Cade’s features as he played the scene over and over in his mind.


    Cade wasn’t aware of how long he’d been out of it when he groggily came to, a very irritating voice carrying on about… something. Cade wasn’t sure. He did catch the word, “listen,” however, so he did what he did best and decided to ignore it. That had been some karkin sorta death stick. Musta been bad, cause that was the worst high he’d experienced in a long time. He knew what he was talkin’ about too, cause he’s had some pretty bad highs. Rav would hear about this. If Cade was gonna’ sell his soul for death sticks, he better be gettin the top shelf, not this stoopa cheap stuff. What was up with that, anyways? What kinda a hallucination was that? Kinda outta left field, don’t’cha think?

    At length Cade opened his eyes, first noting how dark it was with a good deal of surprise. He didn’t remember turning off the light. Deliberately looking away from the doorway--where he caught the briefest glimpses of a most unwanted sight--he let his eyes adjust to the darkness as he eyed the shattered remains of his bedside lamp across the room. He could feel his body already burning away the death sticks, restoring his good health and preserving his strapping youth. Kark it all. His mind cleared, Cade began to piece together what had happened. So, it hadn’t been a planet after all, and he hadn’t been upset at a moon. It was his room and lamp, respectively. That meant that he hadn’t used the force then, he imagined, which was somewhat relieving. After all, why else would he take the death sticks? Well, they did make him feel good, almost as good as Blue did. Kriff it, better some days. So, if he hadn’t used the Force, how’d he send it flying across the room? His eyes darted to his right palm, where a circular burn was briefly seen before his body healed, leaving the skin flawless. He imagined he earned it by grabbing the bulb and chunking the lamp. Didn’t remember doin’ it, but he didn’t figure it meant he didn’t. That left one unanswered question. The lamp was bolted down, so how did he… ah. One quick look solved that. The bolts had been pulled out. The light had been bolted, true, but not well it seemed. One more stoopa piece of bantha dung on this Force-forsaken ship. Cade found the expression quite to his liking, and decided he’d have to use it more often.

    These thoughts settled for the time being, Cade returned his gaze at last to the glowing figure by his doorway. He didn’t want to talk to Luke now. His ancestor was dead, why the zark did he have to come bother him? Couldn’t he be content with bein’ dead like everyone else in the galaxy? After heaving a heavy sigh, Cade mumbled out, “What do you want now?” without so much as moving from where he lay on his side.

    TAG: Sinrebirth
  10. Ramza

    Ramza Administrator Emeritus star 8 VIP - Former Mod/RSA VIP

    Jul 13, 2008
    Kyle Katarn
    Hyperspace en route to Nar Shaddaa, The Moldy Crow, 5 ABY

    Despite the fact that he had named it The Moldy Crow, despite the fact that it was an HWK-290 light freighter, despite the fact that it had the same paint job, Kyle Katarn had decided that this was not The Moldy Crow. Mostly because the clutch was all wrong. In any case, thanks to said lousy clutch, he was now running noticeably late for his rendezvous, which would probably mean another lecture from Jan. That made four times this month. This replacement ship would have to go.

    Maybe get something new, opt for a different bird this time. The Dusty Hawk.

    ... No, that was terrible.

    He came out of hyperspace with silky smooth ease - yet more evidence that the new Crow was utterly worthless - and was rewarded with the sight of twelve TIEs and an Interdictor-class barreling down on his allies.

    And Jan.

    This situation demanded some rectifying. He quickly moved to -


    “Not now, Jan, I’m trying to get a… lock…”

    His hands froze momentarily. He still wasn’t used to… to that. And then when you coupled it with the dreams…

    Or rather, the dream. It was always the same. Every night.

    Without failure.

    He shook his head. That had not come to pass. That would not come to pass. These abilities had allowed him to stop Jerec. He targeted one of the TIEs. “Don’t think, feel,” he muttered to himself.

    And then he opened fire.

    TAG: Sinrebirth
  11. greyjedi125

    greyjedi125 Jedi Grand Master star 5

    Apr 29, 2002
    IC: Stark (Subject 1313 )
    Nar Shaddaa, Corellian quarter, 5 ABY

    There’s no peace.

    Peace…was a lie.

    His life, if one could call it living…was a lie.

    An ever-present nightmare of miasmic memories assailed him during his waking hours and presented itself in earnest after forced insomnia gave way to deep sleep. Years of hiding did nothing to assuage the torment brought on by a torrent of images and emotions he could not be sure weren't his, though he knew this to be true.

    Phantoms constantly attacked his mind, played havoc with his senses. It mattered not if his eyes were open or closed. If he was sleeping or awake. One moment, the world would be as it ever was, plain and predictable, then suddenly, 'it' would come over him. Overwhelm him. The visions. He'd feel the tide of unbridled power, the blazing furnace of pure hate, the sting of betrayal, choking despair, uplifting hope, and even….!. How could he know what it meant to love?


    But her face…it would never remain. Too many faces, to many places…and pain, always pain.

    Who was Galen?

    ...a failure…

    Did I die? Did he die? Wait….

    It was hard to tell what was real, who’s memories were his, who’s feelings he was feelings, who’s anger? who’s pain…..


    “I am my Master’s weapon.” He saw himself saying, but it was not him.


    “I lay waste to all that stands in his path.” No. His face was speaking someone else’s words.

    I am STARK!!

    There was a rumbling noise and a tremor strong enough to wake him. He rose up with a start, drenched in sweat, not unlike most nights. His head hurt, and once again, it took him several moment to regain his focus and orient himself.

    “Ugh…..where am I?”

    Screaming outside.

    Stark felt the rush of panic through the force, which caused him to rise to his feet quickly. “What’s happening?” He whispered aloud with some confusion. He was alone once again in that back alley.

    Where could she have gone.

    Pulling up his hood, the form of subject 1313 quickly made his way out of his place of concealment and unto an open space. He narrowly avoided several panicked sentients. Still, he couldn’t figure out the source of the commotion until he spied someone pointing to the sky.

    TIE fighters.

    Have they found me!? His heart skipped a beat.

    The sight of the TIEs caused images to flash in his mind almost reflexively. Stark saw himself plucking TIE Fighters from the very air with the Force.

    No! not now! He silently commanded himself and forced his mind to remain in the present. He had seen that particular scene before in his nightmares. It had been very vivid. He felt power he could only imagine. He hated to admit it. He was weak. He was a wretched creature…and…he knew that had not been him.

    “Come, Stark, come. Safer down, it will be.”


    The wretched copy felt a pang of joy at seeing the old woman. Where had she come from? It didn’t matter. She was his candle in the dark. The only one who had helped him in ways he could hardly describe. She looked after him and was the only one who could calm him, bring him back to reality whenever the visions took him.

    “Vima, wait…..what’s going……”

    Before he could finish, the TIEs circled back and hit a small ship. There was an explosion, and falling debris…chaos in the streets. People panicked even more and Vima was bowled over.


    Stark rushed over to the old woman, thinking only of protecting her as he moved. He roughly pushed other panicking sentients away. If anything happened to her….

    “Are you alright?” Stark inquired, filled with worry. He was oblivious to what was happening behind him, the damaged ship landing on the streets. The old woman had not answered him, but was looking past him. Her expression was….

    Stark felt a jolt go through him. What was that? Is that…danger? Fear?

    Slowly, he half turned his hooded head, and looked over his shoulder. It was only a minuscule glance, but in that instant, he knew….he knew.

    That armor. He could never forget that armor…..even if it wasn't his personal memory. Stark looked straight ahead, giving the two men his back. He had no idea who the bandaged human was, but if that was…

    Boba Fett.

    He’d clashed with the bounty hunter, or to be more specific, he remembered a clash with him. There was no way he could do so now. The other man, he had to be a bounty hunter too.

    Stark suddenly remembered his lightsaber, but the feeling he was getting through the force quickly corrected any foolish notions. He needed to get out of there. Now.

    “Vima. I can’t do this. I’m…..I’m not….him.”

    A sharp pain slashed through the revenant's mind, causing him to wince. A phantom was back….a phantom voice.

    "Who the hell are you? You’re not who I expected."

    An vague and undulating image invaded his mind’s eye along with the voice. A man was speaking, an old man with greying hair…..and a….

    The sound of Vima gasping suddenly caught young Stark’s attention, dispelling the image and the voice back to the recesses of his jumbled memories. The old woman was grasping her chest, her fingers digging into the fabric of her cloak.

    “Vima! No….no! you mustn't….”

    Panic descended on the young revenant. His candle was flickering and two Shadow Stalkers were approaching. They would take away his freedom, or destroy him in the process.

    Without a second thought, Stark picked up the old woman and carried her off as fast as he could. He did his best to blend with the panicking crowd, having no intention of stopping, not until that particular feeling of danger abated.

    Despite the noise, the fear, the danger and the panic, something else was tugging at him. Something that was not there a moment ago. Another feeling….something, or someone….like Vima, but much more.

    A wild idea born of desperation blossomed.

    “Hang on Vima, hang on. Just a bit longer…” Stark breathed out as he jogged with his burden.

    Maybe…just maybe…there was still hope.

    Tag: @Sinrebirth
    Random Comments and Mitth_Fisto like this.
  12. Imperial_Hammer

    Imperial_Hammer Manager Emeritus: RPFs star 5 VIP - Former Mod/RSA

    Sep 25, 2004
    IC: Gilad Pellaeon
    Location: Akranis System

    Gilad Pellaeon was a tired man. Against all odds, he had managed to survive what could have been the end of the galaxy. Never in his almost sixty years of service had his world, his work, and his legacy come so close to crumbling down upon him. This was all the work for younger men, people much more energetic and youthful than him. And yet, power and responsibility seem to have had a way of finding him. Thrawn chose him and his ship upon his return, Natasi had given him command after her campaign had failed, and the Republic had recognized him as one of their most capable fleet commanders.

    Sometimes the old man wondered how deserved it all was.

    He also wondered if the Solos and Skywalkers ever felt the same way.

    Pellaeon was looking forward to his vacation. He had hoped this could be the beginning of his end. He was just so very tired. All the setbacks, all the surprises, all the disappointments. He had seen and done far too much.

    As per usual, his aide Miat Temm, came in to give him reports. There was a message from his son, and a communique from the inquisitor-actor-turned-warlord Adalric Brandl. Apparently there was some urgency about the latter.

    As Pellaeon opened his mouth to dismiss Brandl's request, the shuttle rocked. Pellaeon frowned, but was hardly surprised. What is it now?

    Mait ran back into to the cockpit and Gilad followed behind her. A quick look at the screens and out the viewport informed him of the situation. A lone Yuuzhan Vong frigate with coralskippers deploying.

    Pellaeon's frown persisted. He intensely disliked warlords and privates. They were the barbarians of the void, undisciplined and never civil. Usually hopped up on bravo and testosterone, or whatever hormones those monsters happened to use.

    "Alert the fleet to the presence of this pirate. Be sure to mention my name and emphasize its disruption to the hyperlanes." Pellaeon said at first. That usually helped to get the Republic's butt in gear.

    "In the meanwhile, I guess Brandl will get his wish." Pellaeon said. He knew the disgraced inquistor was nearby and did not want to run the risk of facing off with the frigate. He'd seen too many good pilots underestimate the aliens and their technology to disastrous results. "Get us out of here, then inform Brandl of our visit. Make sure to inform him that we have plans for dinner on Naboo."

    Pellaeon turned and then stopped before exiting the cockpit. He always did this. Was this a coincidence? Rarely is the universe so coincidental. Brandl was a firebrand that often antagonized the Remnant and the Republic alike. It was unlikely that he had suddenly changed his ways and formed some sort of alliance with renegade Yuuzhan Vong.

    After all, the Vong were not the strongest known patrons of the arts.


    "And inform fleet command about the change in our itinerary." he added.

    Pellaeon returned to the cabin and fastened his seatbelt. These next few minutes will likely be a little rocky.

    Tag: Sinrebirth, Skywalker_T-65
  13. Thrawn1786

    Thrawn1786 Jedi Master star 5

    Feb 8, 2004
    IC: Mitth'raw'nuruodo

    Clone Chamber, The Hand of Thrawn, Niruan

    Darkness. Then light. Then darkness again. Wetness, everywhere. That was what the being Mitth’raw’nurodo’s first memories were, his first experiences within the Spaarti cylinder that had birthed him, of sorts.

    My memories, my sensations more like, Mitth’raw’nuruodo had thought. Not the only memories…

    For some time-he didn’t know how long, though he determined to figure that out later- he had been floating in this cylinder, growing, strengthening, sleeping. It had been a restful pattern where time was neither his friend nor his enemy.

    And yet…

    The galaxy was changing. Oh yes, even he knew that much. Mitth’raw’nuruodo, even in his current state of suspension, could gather that much. For starters, he could recall himself on the bridge…the bridge of a large ship, with himself at its center, giving orders and relying on the shield of a small brown creature. There had been an older man, his secondary…what was his name? Curious. There had been battles. Some won, some gracefully retreated from. There was no dishonor in giving up on a cause that was clearly lost. Always better to survive and fight another day, and return with greater strength, greater numbers…and greater strategy.

    But now he was here. Here, in this tube of liquid nutrients, completely undressed, and without any comprehension of how he had gone from command to unconsciousness. The nudity was the least of his concerns (though he had always been a modest and proper being); it was the puzzle of the missing blanks that were within his mind. Not to mention the visitors he’d had.

    There had been two voices, belonging to a man and a woman. Mitth’raw’nuruodo had been drifting in between states again when he had briefly heard muffled conversation. His vision was somewhat blurred thanks to the solution within the cylinder, so he was not entirely sure of the man’s identity, but the woman. He knew her, somehow. From his command days. And…earlier?

    Jade. Jade? And something with the Emperor, once his superior. That had sounded right, aside from the niggling bits of doubt that clouded his mind (Emperor? Emperor who? You have never served an emperor! Nor this Jade…or have you? Who is this?). It led to confusion, which was something he knew he was not accustomed to, no matter which set of memories he reflected upon.

    For now, though, Mitth’raw’nuruodo slowly stirred, testing his arms and legs, gingerly climbing out of the now smashed cylinder. There had been some sort of rush- he had been able to hear that even through the thick glass- and pressure, followed by the glass cracking. It had been a bit of a battle to stay on his own two feet given the way the waves of nutrient fluid had rushed out of the container, especially since he wasn’t used to standing (again! Why did he feel like a newborn when he knew he was older than one?), but determination was one of Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s strong points, this he knew well, and so he had remained stationary.

    Once he was certain the waters had lowered and all was safe, Mitth’raw’nuruodo avoided the shards of glass still attached to the base of the cylinder, stepping onto the wet floor. A quick glance around the room showed he was the sole occupant- the man and the woman, Jade, had long departed. Had they been responsible for the flood? It seemed reasonable. Peace and solitude for months, then two strangers intrude and all chaos occurs. Still, he was grateful to them- for all he knew, he might have been trapped in that cylinder for longer had they not come along. Gratitude would only get them so far if ever he met up with them again, though.

    The overhead lights flashed, and Mitth’raw’nuruodo rapidly blinked, his vision adjusting to the abrupt change. He dropped into a crouch, his gaze drawn to the doorway, preparing himself for this latest intrusion. Somehow he knew basic physical combat tactics, so if they were armed-

    “Grand Admiral,” the intruder said. “Welcome back, sir.” The man abruptly straightened and saluted, seemingly frozen in place and clearly awaiting a response. From him. Grand Admiral. Now that was familiar. It was as normal as breathing in air, as if something precious that had been lost had been suddenly re-gifted to him, something he hadn’t realized had been taken from him until now. Mitth’raw’nuruodo stood, carefully, taking in this human male, noting his height, posture, air of familiarity, and ultimately, respect. Yes…he had known this man.

    “Fel,” Mitth’raw’nuruodo greeted him, the name rusty and refreshed on his tongue. “Baron…Fel?” A pilot. The best. He had personally chosen him. The memories came rushing to him, one seemingly falling on top of the other in his mind. A flash of irritation hit him- where exactly did he know him from? He had been in this chamber for the duration of his life, had he not?- but he was careful not to let it show. Best find out what Fel demanded of him, and what he could grasp of the situation at hand.

    Tag: Sinrebirth

  14. The Great No One

    The Great No One Jedi Grand Master star 8

    Jun 4, 2005
    IC: Subject 25739/ Interview Room/ Maximum Security Wing/ Arkanian Sanitarium/ Arkania/ 108 ABY

    It was a very dull room that Subject 25739 found himself in. While there were two doors in the walls, they fit so seamlessly into the metal box that if the table and chairs were removed that there was a good chance that whoever was in there would never find them unless the guards outside were feeling benevolent. Not that the guards ever seemed to show any benevolence towards any of the prisoners in the max security wing. It also would likely prove far harder than it was worth to remove the boring metal chairs and table from the room to try something like that, bolted down as they were.

    Looking down at the ground Subject 25739 noted the chain that ran through the ring in the floor. It also connected to both of the anklets that rested against his skin. He knew that his fellow prisoner was in the same predicament he was, just as he knew they both had on straight jackets and dirty grey jumpsuits beneath them. They just won’t give me a bath anymore. I mean, I only tried to drown that orderly once. That’s no reason to let us sit in our own filth all of the time.

    I know. It just isn’t fair, why can’t they treat you the same as all the other prisoners.

    Well, we both know that wouldn’t be fair to the other prisoners now would it. A smile found its way onto Subject 25739 face, which was long and pointed, and rather gaunt at present because of the chemical soup that had been running through his veins for these past years. The lack of food hadn’t helped anything either, but despite everything there were still those here who feared him. And with good reason. It was very doubtful that they had ever stopped telling the spoon story to new orderlies. Or doctors now that he thought about it. That has to be why they’re always so interested in ya. All the newbs gotta take their shot at the great unknowable Subject 25739.

    Bob, you know I hate it when you call me that. Stop it. There was a sense of fear from the voice in his mind, and Subject 25739’s smile widened.

    Finally the other man in the room, Subject 83247, a Chiss of all things, stopped talking. He wasn’t ranting as much these days, which was a blessing to Subject 25739. It had gotten tiresome quickly. He did still almost randomly demand, cajole or beg to be let out of his straight jacket, but the other two in the room had quickly learned to ignore those. Just like they’d learned to ignore the claims that he’d be a good boy. Neither of the men in this room were even capable of being good, as they were then, and both of them knew it. But they were hoping to trick the doctor who had stuck with them far longer than anyone had managed to deal with Subject 25739 on his own. It was impressive in a way, her seemingly genuine caring.

    Doctor Herdstrom started talking, and Subject 25739 gave her another once over. She was a small thing, but well built for her size. Her assets definitely leaving nothing to be desired, be they in the front or the rear, despite the modest way she dressed and she had a pleasant face. One that he almost remembered from somewhere, but he doubted it could actually have been her. Maybe if she ever put her hair down. Oh well.

    Finally deciding to listen to what she was saying he found out that she was praising the two of them for actually trying to improve themselves. It had been easy to fake when he noted that they’d started lowering his medications, as he found himself far more able to focus and think than he had been for years. While it meant a return of the pain that had left him a trembling mess on the floor when they had removed the Force from him, he’d take that trade any time and twice on life day. She was in for one grand surprise if she ever pronounced him sane, not that he suspected any sane person would ever do that. It was too obvious there were voices in his mind, and it was quite literal in his case. Whatever had happened to him nearly twenty years ago, whatever it was that had caused the immeasurable pain he had to deal with on a daily basis, it had given him hundreds of other minds to occupy his poor head. That had been a rough time in his life, and he sometimes, when he was particularly bored, wondered how he had made through it.

    As the good doctor wrapped up, she called for the orderlies, and as usual Head Orderly Kendush entered the room within seconds. Kendush had apparently had a bit of a hard on for causing Subject 25739 pain over the years, but the time had come to finally put a stop to that, now that there finally was a doctor who seemed to give a shab about her patients.

    Perking up, Subject 25739 said, “Oh hello again Kenny. I was afraid you’d gone off for lunch or something.” He thought about the bruises his ribs already had, and knew that was likely to become a broken rib fairly shortly, or maybe a broken nose, but it had to be done. Kenny needed to pay.

    Growling low in his throat, Kenny turned to the doctor and asked her if the session had gone well. She replied that he knew the answer to that already, and asked him to take good care of both Subjects 25739 and 83247. I do wish she’d use our names every once in a while. Not… that I even remember mine, but still. Such a nice humanizing element going to waste. It always makes the shock of stabbing them in the face so much more fun. Subject 25739 grinned at the thought, and looked up at Kenny. The scowl he received was more than enough to let him know that Kenny was already in a foul mood, and that it would take very little to push him over the edge.

    “You know Kenny, I could really use something to snack on right about now. You have any suggestions? I was thinking maybe your wife’s fingers would do the trick. I’m sure they’re absolutely scrumptious!” Subject 25739 began cackling, and a shadow passed over Kendush’s face.

    Picking Subject 25739, without unchaining him from the floor first, Kendush said in a very low voice, “I’m only going to warn you once. Keep your mouth shut scum, I will shut it for you.”

    “Gasp! Shock! Dismay! Kenny, I do believe that’s the first time you’ve not used my number before. Are we finally becoming best buds? I’ve always wanted a pet orderl-” He was interrupted by a fist slamming into his face. The fist just happened to be about the same size as his face, but there was no help for that. Then he was thrown to the side, and Subject 25739 had to twist so that his ankle wouldn’t be broken on the way down due to getting caught on the chair. Kendush reared a leg back and slammed his booted foot into his stomach, and all Subject 25739 could do was gasp out laughter. He’d finally won.

    TAG: Chukles38, Shira A'dola

    WINKWINK Jedi Knight star 1

    Dec 15, 2008
    IC HK-47

    HK-47 was walking around town. He found a truck, just a regular old-school truck. Had wheels as well as repulsors and everything, weird.

    There was a being inside of the truck. That was a problem, But not for long. HK-47 was very… direct when dealing with problems.


    IC Hob Bob

    Hob Bob was strolling down a surprisingly dark corridor. Well, not so surprising, it was a secret corridor. And not really strolling either, more uh, well, stomping. He was not happy about this job.

    “Yeah, go take out a hardened bunker. Yes ma’am no problem! Oh by the way there are about 200 people who will be trying to stop you. Well ma'am that’s a bit more of a problem!”

    Scowling inside his helmet he tossed a device of his own making inside an air vent in passing. He had already passed around twelve of these vents and was trying to decide if he should start rationing his supply.

    “Oh stop complaining, you love this plan.”

    He decided to start only planting them every other vent. Wouldn’t want to miss on a portion of the complex, even he and HK couldn’t take that many men.

    “Although with what we bought him I kind of want to see him try.”

    “You make me wonder if I am suicidal.”


    IC HK-47

    HK-47 was driving his new truck across the water towards his objective humming to himself. He had started doing that, mainly to annoy his new master.

    He looked down and realized he was getting meatbag all over his massive enclosing robe. He kind of liked it. He also saw a hat amidst the meatbag and liked that as well so he put it on, still skimming towards the island the representative from the Queen Mother had told them to violently pacify.

    She hadn’t wanted them to know whom she was representing and had been quite upset when he had said “Declarative statement: Please inform the Queen Mother that we shall exterminate her infestation of Meatbags with vehemence! Placating condescension: Quietly.” He had then looked at Hob Bob and said at quieter a volume “Pleading Request: We shall not do this quietly shall we master?”


    IC Hob Bob

    He had almost reached his destination, having taken the long way to cover more vents and figured HK was probably pretty close to his mark so he consulted the map he had downloaded to his hud and started making his way to the generator room.

    “It’s a good idea.”
    “NO IT ISN’T!”
    “Yes it is, on an unrelated note, how the hell did these people not find these corridors?”
    “Maybe they did”
    “Maybe they put sensors in here too”
    “Maybe you’re right”
    "Maybe we’re walking into an ambush”
    “Maybe you’re right about that too”
    “Maybe you should stop starting our sentences with maybe”
    “Maybe i should”

    Hob Bob looked at the at the button that would activate his little presents, thought for a second, and pressed it.

    “Maybe if there was an ambush that will take care of it”
    “I hate you so much”

    He reached the door leading to the secret entrance near the generator room and quietly opened it.


    IC HK-47

    HK-47 reached his destination and got out of the drivers seat, trailing meatbag behind himself as he opened the back of the truck and started a quick systems check on his new beloved toys, draping one over each shoulder and picking up the other two as he made his way towards the edge of the cliff where he would be able to see the relatively small vault like door in the side of the next island over.

    He then very gently place the item in his right hand on the ground and activated the personal shield system he had convinced Master to buy, noting movement around the door.

    He then picked up the baridium tipped rocket from the ground and loaded it into the rocket launcher he was carrying with love and care and seated it on his shoulder.

    No, they would not be doing this quietly.


    TAG your move sinre
  16. Ktala

    Ktala Jedi Grand Master star 6

    Sep 7, 2002
    Jedi Knight Tionne
    Tatooine, Mos Espa, 14 ABY, early year

    Tionne and Kam in a gaudy waiting room on Tatooine. Following Master Skywalker's requests, they had been ordered to search the underworld for any possible threats, and items that might warrant their interest. On this trip, they were after something called a Sithcelaphon. Kam and Tionne were hopping to entreat the owner to let them have the item for safekeeping. So far, the entire trip had been quite busy. Following one rumor after another, had finally brought them here to Tatooine. They even had an interesting stop along the way, when they helped out a group of musicians. That had been quite enjoyable, as Tionne remembered the small adventure. Having other musicians to sing with was always a treat, exchanges songs, thought she doubt that her partner Kam felt the same way. He seemed to have other things in mind, but he did not say anything. They had moved from one being to another, and they had chatted, talked and bribed their way through, until they finally found there way to this owner, Cicil Roth, a Twi'lek with expensive tastes, if the look of this room had any indications.

    Now they sat together, waiting to meet with Roth, and Kam moved closer to her. She looked up, a slight smile on her face, when suddenly the doors opened. A tall human male who had his face partially covered by a scarf and hood stepped in. Both Kam and Tionne gave the person a brief look, as he walked over to take a seat opposite and to the side of them, close to doorway that Roth's room lay. Kam scowled and simply turned to Tionne. "You do know I'm attracted to you, right?'

    Tionne was slightly taken back by the question that came out of nowhere. She watched as Kam's face turned a bright red, and the other man snorted softly. Kam stammered on, obviously feeling a need to continue what was on his mind, "I mean, I like you, and we seem to enjoy each other's company, and I'd like to spend more time in your company, and, and..."

    Whatever Kam wished to say was interrupted when the door to the waiting room flipped open, and a green skinned Twi'lek pushed his head through the gap. The Twi'lek looked over towards the man with the scarf. 'Master Roth will receive Pedric Cuf now,' said the Twi'lek, and Kam widened his eyes. 'But we were here first!' he stated. The Twi'lek looked over, not impressed. "But Mr Cuf's appointment was before yours, to discuss the artifact. So you shall have to wait to discuss it.' The servant smiled, all teeth, 'If of course there is anything to discuss as I understand Mr Cuf's offer was quite generous."

    "On the condition I need not haggle for it at the auction," Pedric Cuf cut in, adding "And I would remind you that my name was to be kept in confidence."

    A most curious request indeed. And the fact that he did not wish the item going up to auction, made it look as if they would not have the option they were hoping for. Tionne made a mental note to look up the man's name, to see if she could find out anything on him.

    The Twi'lek spoke to Pedric Cuf, gave a curious look, before responding to the man, "It is not as if Jedi walk in your high circles anyway." The man's reaction and demeanor changed instantly. His body froze, and then he quickly waved a hand. "'No more of my time is to be wasted." He hurried through the doorway, not even looking in Kam's and her direction, as if a crazed wookiee was hot on his trail. Though Tionne could not feel anything within the Force, his physical actions told quite a different story, at the mention of Jedi. This was going to be an annoying complication. They would most likely not be able to garner the item that they had come seeking. The real question was, why did Pedric Cuf want the item so badly, that he was willing to pay handsomely to keep it out of the auction.


    Tionne looked back at her partner Kam, who was grinning at her, boyishly. She frowned for a slight moment, until she realized what he was refering to. She had known him since he had come to the academy, one of Master Skywalkers first students, just like she was. In truth, she did like it when they were put together on missions. They seemed to work well together, and had a natural nack for anticipating each other. Tionne moved her voil over on her lap, and smiled at him, as she gently plucked a few strings on the instrument. "Do we not spend time together now?" she asked him softly, her white eyes shinned, as she looked over at him. She gently began to play a tune. She smiled at him. "I think..." she tells him, "the Force will guide our paths." She tilted her head slightly. "and ...the sooner we finish this, the more time we will have to ourselves." she replied with another smile, as she now sings a song, gently weaving the Force into the lyrics, hoping that perhaps they will indeed be able to do what they had come to accomplish.

    TAG: Sinrebirth
    Random Comments and Mitth_Fisto like this.
  17. Random Comments

    Random Comments Jedi Master star 5

    Sep 25, 2012
    IC: Joruus C'Baoth
    Aboard the Chimaera, near the Nkllon system, 9 ABY

    They were plotting again. Pellaeon and the Grand Admiral, in their little ysalimiri bubble, hoping he wouldn't notice, wouldn't understand what they were doing. They were plotting. Against him.
    This was to be expected, of course. Since they had come to his domain, they had promised him power.
    Bah. This 'Thrawn' did not understand power, and never would.​
    They promised him an Empire of a million worlds.
    What use the control of worlds one will never visit, or people one will never know?​
    They had promised him Luke Skywalker. They had promised him Solo, and her Jedi Twins.
    At last, they had stumbled upon it, the source of power. Individuals. The control, complete and total, of individuals. Their stories, their lives and deaths. Jedi underlings would serve him well. Yet still, they did not understand.​
    They had done little enough except to make him promises. Empty promises.
    And they asked 'so little:' 'A small--almost trivial--bit of technology.' 'The partnership of a Jedi Master.'
    They believed him an idiot.
    When they thought he wasn't looking, when, safe in their foul Force bubble, he couldn't hear them, they plotted against him. They wished only to use him, his resources and his mastery of the Force, in their ridiculous campaign. Then they would discard him.
    They had no intention of fulfilling their promises.Three months, and they couldn't even tell him where his Jedi were!
    Not that they searched too diligently, nor worked overly in their attempts. They attempted to placate him with more promises.
    They had no intention of fulfilling their promises.
    But they would, all the same. He would make sure of it.
    They believed him an idiot.
    But he was the Jedi Master.
    He knew the Force.
    He knew power.
    And they would bring his Jedi to him, whether they willed it or not.
    That was true power.

    Looking up from his musings, he saw the eyes of Thrawn's subordinate lock onto his. not understand how to control his subjects. Yet this failing could perhaps be useful to him.
    Thrawn was turned away from him, seated in his "Command Chair". Were it not for the ysalimiri, that would be another fatal mistake.
    He strode over to Pellaeon, stopping just outside the ysalimiri bubble, and spoke.
    "Captain Pellaeon," -a trace of mockery in the words- " I take it your master has failed once again to bring my Jedi unto me, even to locate them? If you do not have some progress to report soon, I shall be forced to take over the operation myself. The operation of my ship." He let the threat hang in the air. He could do it, and Pellaeon knew it, too. But there were also things Pellaeon did not know of: C'Baoth's true cunning, his understanding of the situation....and Sample B-2332-54.

    TAG: Sinrebirth
    Thrawn1786 likes this.
  18. HanSolo29

    HanSolo29 Manager Emeritus + Official Star Wars Artist star 7 VIP - Former Mod/RSA

    Apr 13, 2001
    IC: Anakin Solo
    Aboard the Eclipse, 27 ABY, 2 months in

    This wasn’t exactly what Anakin had envisioned when he had set out to convince the others of his proposed mission to eliminate the Voxyn threat. He had formed everything perfectly in his mind with an air of confidence and determination and he had convinced himself that he would not succumb to the protests of his uncle and parents. In the end, he figured they would eventually understand why he had to do this…what other option did they have? He had a deeper understanding of the Vong and their bio-tech than anyone else at the moment, it only made sense.

    And then he stepped through the door to the briefing room and he felt his stomach sink to the floor at the scene of his parents and uncle deep in conversation with a Hutt. His first sign that something was amiss was the murmurs amongst Jacen and the others, something he had been keen on shutting out in order to concentrate and to silently rehearse what he was going to say to Uncle Luke. And then there had been the burning hulk of a transport that had slammed into the deck and had forced them to stop their forward progress momentarily as the survivors were extracted.

    The signs were clear and yet, he had decided to ignore them to follow his own selfish desires. Why did he fool himself into thinking that everything would just go on as usual and he would be granted the mission? Again, doubt filled his mind and he began to second-guess himself, even as his uncle explained to him his thoughts on the mission and the new threat that was apparently taking precedence.

    Anakin simply stared and worked his jaw for a moment, clearly irritated at his uncle’s words. How was he supposed to simply give up on the Voxyn mission when he didn’t even know what this ‘other’ thing was? Tracking something that ‘happened’ to an origin point didn’t tell him a whole heck of a lot. In fact, it sounded like a wild bantha chase and a cheap excuse to try and deter him from the true mission.

    He started to open his mouth to object to what his uncle was hinting at, but his father was quicker on the draw. There was no sugarcoating the situation with the older man and he was rather blunt in revealing that they were dealing with something that opened voids in space and his uncle did indeed want him to go into the Unknown Regions to investigate. This refocused his annoyance on his father and he shot him a glare before his mother quickly diffused the situation.

    “Anakin, we need your opinion on this,” she said softly, but still with a sense of urgency.

    Again, the doubt began to resurface as he sighed. That seemed to be happening a lot more frequently lately…and he hated it. “But…the mission,” he started to protest, looking between his parents, Uncle Luke and his siblings before finally resting on the Hutt, almost as if he was silently accusing him of causing everything to fall apart. “Someone needs to take care of the Voxyn. We can’t just forget about them and potentially lose more of our numbers because someone is concerned about a few black holes.”

    He shook his head slowly. “I can’t just let this opportunity pass by. I’m sorry, but there has to be someone else…” He was almost afraid of that answer and he purposely lowered his gaze to his feet. “Right?”

    TAG: Sinrebirth
  19. Chukles38

    Chukles38 Jedi Master star 5

    Jun 10, 2005
    IC: Doctor Quillan Herdstrom
    [1:17 P.M.] 108 ABY: The Offices of Dr. Herdstrom, Arkanian Sanatorium, Arkania

    Mirai was a most interesting case, and a patient quite dear to Quillan Herdstrom. Young and fresh as the doctor was from her schooling, it was a rare honor that she would have secured a position on staff at the Sanatorium with so little experience, and the psychologist would forever remember her first patient, labelled 17467 by the facility’s staff. A fine specimen, too, as most beings would attest. Quillan would have to admit that she understood the appeal. The twi’lek woman was an attractive enough sort, though Quillan knew her to be somewhat unstable. Still, her crimson skin was becoming, if also suggestive of the flames she seemed fixated on.

    That was in the past, though. Mirai had worked hard to show an interest in change, in rehabilitation. Quillan doubted if ever the woman would lose her fascination with fire, but the twi’lek seemed intent on finding more acceptable methods of indulging her interests.Though the doctor had had her doubts, Mirai had given her less and less reason each day to hold her longer in the Sanatorium, especially at the expense of the government. Soon enough, the woman would be free to make her own course through the black of the verse. For her part, Quillan wished her well.

    “We’ve come a long way now, haven’t we Mirai?” Quillan sat behind her desk, bespectacled as always, her blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail. Her expression was professional, impassive, but as next she spoke, a slight smile graced her features. “In my professional opinion, there is little to hold you here. I imagine the board will take that into consideration and will agree with my assessment. The time for freedom comes, Mirai, but I think my thoughts are less important than yours. How do you feel, now that you might be leaving this facility behind you?”

    TAG: Thrawn1786
  20. Shira A'dola

    Shira A'dola Jedi Master star 6

    Sep 4, 2012
    IC: Subject 83247
    Interview Room, Maximum Security Wing, Arkanian Sanitarium, Arkania, 108 ABY

    Subject 83247 rocked back in his chair, an old habit he’d never kicked. Or at least, he tried to, as the chairs were bolted firmly to the floor. His inability to move even the chair contributed to his sense of cleithrophobia and he felt his heart start to beat faster. Get me out of this thing. I’ll do anything you want of me, just get me OUT! In the beginning of his sessions with the doctor, he had begged incessantly, promising whatever he thought might sway her to let him out of the straightjacket. As time had passed and the months had gone by, she had started ignoring his pleas. Funny thing, that. The one thing I actually want help with, and it’s the one thing she doesn’t seem to give a shab about. She’s a funny little creature, isn’t she? He winked his luminescent red eyes at the attractive blonde. “Hey sweet-cheeks, you wanna let me out of this thing? You know how much I’ve changed in these past few months since we started these lovely sessions. I enjoy this time with you and Subject 25739, I really do, but this jacket...I mean, jackets are supposed to keep you warm, right? Or at least make you look good. This thing does neither and it’s so terribly uncomfortable. I’d be able to behave so much better if this was off. You can even ask the orderlies, I’m much better behaved when they take off my jacket.”

    That part was actually true. Once the authorities had noticed that his behaviour was becoming rapidly more violent and unpredictable when the jacket was on 24/7, they’d started giving him 30 minutes or so without the jacket every couple of weeks. Of course, they’d learned swiftly to sedate him when they came back to put the straightjacket back on. The first few times, he’d sent the guard responsible for the act to the critical area of the medical bay. These things aren’t humane. You’d think they’d at least treat me with some respect. The respect born of fear if nothing else. He grinned darkly, bowing his head slightly to keep the doctor from seeing. They were playing nice, he and Subject 25739. They needed the doctor to think they genuinely wanted to change their ways. He truly was surprised by her earnestness and seeming goodwill in wanting to help them. What they kept from her was that they didn’t want to change. He almost felt bad tricking her like this. Almost.

    Another wave of pain made him shudder slightly. With his seeming improvement, the guards had been ordered to cut back on his medications, including the injections that were given daily to keep the Force from the grasp. When they had brought him to the Sanatarium eight years ago, they had cut him off from the Force in one sudden, cruel moment. It had left him in helpless agony for weeks as he’d tried to adjust to living without it. Eight years was a massive amount of time to be without a vital part of yourself. Even though the medication was only cut back and not axed completely, the elusive amount of the Force he could sense coming back to him created a similar kind of pain, if much less potent. He didn’t mind. It came in waves every so often and it was a small price to pay for having the drugs cut back. His mind hadn’t been this clear in ages, and he put that to good use. He’d discovered that Subject 25739’s cell was right next to his and they’d conversed together quietly since becoming acquainted all those months ago during their initial session with the doctor.

    The pain lessened and he realized that the doctor was addressing the two of them. Something about congratulating them about their effort to improve themselves. He snorted silently. If only she knew. Improvement, after all, depended on what the person in question believed they needed to improve upon. And the two men’s ideas of what they needed improvement on certainly differed from the doctor’s.

    She ended things and the orderlies came to collect them, lead by Head Orderly Kendush. Subject 83247 had noticed that he had a thing for bruising up Subject 25739 on a regular basis. I know the man can be infuriating, but honestly, have some self-control. He looked on with amusement as his fellow inmate began winding up the orderly. It wasn’t hard to push Kendush over the edge in normal circumstances and the man seemed particularly unpleasant today.

    He leaned back slightly and watched, getting a good idea of what Subject 25739 was trying to do. After all, talking about a man’s wife like that, well that was a bit below the belt and, sure enough, Kendush lost it. The punch Kendush let fly at the human was swiftly followed by a harsh kick and Subject 83247 jumped to his feet, only stopped by the chains keeping him locked to the floor. Oh it had been so long since he’d been in a good fight and he itched to get into this one somehow. He could hear 25739’s breathless, triumphant laughter. He had every reason for his glee, knowing what Kendush had put him through. The Head Orderly would be sacked for certain now, if not something more drastic, now that he was beating a patient in front of a doctor. The Chiss pulled again at the chains before reaching out as far as he could, just enough to trip up Kendush. He had to get something into the fight at least, even if it was just that, before the doctor made something to happen. With her seemingly compassionate nature there was no way she’d allow this to go on.

    TAG: The Great No One Chukles38
  21. Chukles38

    Chukles38 Jedi Master star 5

    Jun 10, 2005
    IC: Doctor Quillan Herdstrom
    [11:45 A.M.] 108 ABY: Interview Room 4, Maximum Security Wing, Arkanian Sanatorium, Arkania

    Sessions had been going as well as could be expected, given the patients Quillan had to deal with. Subjects 83247 and 25739 were, by most accounts, beyond hope of rehabilitation. After several weeks examining the duo’s interactions, Herdstrom could see why. Even without her years of study, there was no mistaking their disturbed states. One suffered from extreme bouts of rage and aggression, masking his ego and extreme intellect. The Chiss was certainly a handful, and Quillan wasn’t sure what to make of him, nor how to handle his treatment. Evidently past doctors felt a similar loss of direction, for they had the chiss on a surprising cocktail of drugs when Herdstrom got her hands on him. She had remedied that after their first interview with only marginal results, and those she conceded she might be imagining. Still, many of the medications cancelled out others, some had proven ineffectual in regards to chiss physiology, and another had been outlawed by the Galactic Alliance Pharmaceutical Examination Board four years previously due to complications that Quillan had not, quite, been able to ascertain the details of. Still, despite cutting him down to the bare minimums, the chiss showed little change. Quillan, however, was learning what she wanted from the patient, and while his return to society seemed unlikely, that was a win in her books.

    There was no reason, however, to cease her supportive outward appearance. Thus far, things were going to plan, and there was no point in disrupting the status quo. She left some encouraging words with the two, praising the precious little improvement she had seen, before calling for the orderlies. Her attention returned to her datapad as she glossed over the notes she’d added to the pair of files. Already she rivaled some of the previous doctor’s observations. It seemed the average time dedicated to these two was a matter of weeks. Both were a dead end in career progression, but none had thought to take the route Quillan had. Perhaps none had had the motivations of Quillan.

    Revelry was shattered as 25739 began to taunt Orderly Kendush. Far from an oddity, still 25739’s attacks seemed in rare form today. Quillan watched over the rim of her glasses, wondering what the patient hoped to achieve. With this particular subject, however, it was impossible to narrow down exact motives until after the fact, if even then. As the verbal jabs reached their peak, Doctor Herdstrom set aside her datapad and moved to stand, intent on interjecting and calming the situation. She was too late. Quillan knew that Kendush had a temper. He was legendary for it, but he was not stupid. His frustrations were rumored to be taken out on the inmates of the maximum security wing of the Sanatorium. Rumor abounded that the head orderly’s wife was undergoing a constant strain of medical issues. Quillan had no doubts this put unnecessary stress on the orderly, but she didn’t realize things were as hard as they no doubt were. Kendush snapped, assaulting an inmate before Quillan’s eyes. No manner of justification could forgive such an offense.

    As 25739 hit the ground, Quillan shot to her feet. “Kenny!” The shout took even her by surprise. She berated herself. Allowing the patient to influence her so, well, she was better than that. She had to be, her situation was too precarious. Quillan had to retain control. “Kendush,” she corrected, her tone even, controlled. “What do you think you’re doing?” The orderly ignored her, continuing to kick at the prone form of 25739. His assault was halted as the chiss moved just enough to trip up Kendush’s footing. The large man staggered towards Quillan, who in turn rushed forward and pulled at his elbow. “Enough, Kendush!”

    The large man turned and landed a backhanded slap solidly on Quillan’s cheek, sending the small woman reeling. Kendush shouted something, but Quillan didn’t hear. She was seeing red. She did not like to be hit. Brought back memories, not pleasant in the slightest. She couldn’t stand for it, wouldn’t. Not again. Her eyes focused on the ordely’s back, their icy blue flashing cold with fury. Kendush continued shouting, some nonsense about who she had slept with to get her position, but Quillan didn’t care. She’d been assaulted, the orderly was returning to his ministrations, while the other orderlies lingered in the doorway, unsure of how to react. They didn’t have time anyways. Quillan strode forward and grabbed The large man’s shoulder, turning him to face her. He had to be stopped.

    The orderly had gotten in a lucky blow before, but now Quillan was ready. Deftly, she ducked the swing and brought a palm into the man’s crotch with such force to drop the man to his knees. As his lumbering form collapsed, Quillan’s other palm lashed forward and collided with Kendush’s throat. With that, it was over. The doctor pushed the man to the floor with little effort, for resistance had left him for the moment.

    Doctor Herdstrom took a moment to stand and compose herself. She righted her glasses, left askew by her recent maneuver. Her hair fell over her shoulders as she pulled loose the tie on her ponytail. She smoothed back her hair and pulled it back into her customary style. So engaged, she turned and looked at the orderlies still in the doorway. “Well boys? Are you just going to stand there? Secure Kendush until I can speak with the administrator about his misdeeds. The rest of you, help me see these two to the infirmary. They require examination.”

    “Beggin’ your pardon ma’am, but we’re not to escort these men any place but their cells and the interview chamber. Straight from the highest authorities, Doctor. They’re dangerous.” One of the orderlies had stepped forward, the only man daring to speak. Quillan recognized him.

    Gyrinim, is it? I’ll deal with the administrator, but I won’t allow these men to suffer from complications caused by your superior’s actions. Move, gentlemen. Now.” The authority in Quillan’s voice was beyond refute, and the orderlies complied. The doctor moved forward and collected her datapad. As they moved from the room, Quillan’s face only just began to smart from where Kendush’s blow had struck.

    TAG: The Great No One , Shira A'dola , Sinrebirth
  22. Skywalker_T-65

    Skywalker_T-65 Jedi Grand Master star 6

    Nov 19, 2009
    IC: Lenea Sandstrider
    Unnamed Star System, 146 ABY

    In a star system so remote it didn't even warrant a name, one would not expect to find any sign of civilization. Many systems in the Galaxy were settled, but those that lacked names were not among best, one could expect a temporary pirate base or something of the like. So the fact that a former Alliance frigate and an escorting TwinTail fighter, both more advanced than anything the average pirate could use, were in the area would have confused anyone who may have been observing the situation. As it was, the only signs of life in the otherwise empty system were the aforementioned craft.

    While the frigate orbited around one of the planets in the system, the TwinTail coasted along a ways away from its larger counterpart. Inside the fighter, a young woman sat. Occasionally pushing some floating brown hair out of her eyes, the woman sighed heavily.

    Why did it have to be me doing this?

    If one thing was true about Lenea Sandstrider, it was her short attention span. Not much was needed to bore her...and floating around in a fighter didn't leave much excitement. Unless something were shooting at her, but with how empty this system was...

    Luckily for the young woman, her boredom was broken by the beeping of her fighter's comm systems. Flicking a switch, the young Jedi waited for a voice to come through. Unsurprisingly it was a member of the bridge crew on the frigate, the Wake of Dawn. Somewhat more surprising, it was the Twi'lek sensor officer, not the communications officer or the former Chief of State.

    "We don't know what it is. We just know it's appeared on the other side of the system, and it's freighter sized. It decanted from hyperspace and all but rammed the satellite we left on the approach from Saridona to here."

    Lenea frowned slightly. It was obvious that she was just keyed into the conversation and not being directly addressed, but that didn't mean what was being said didn't get her attention. Something was finally happening. Though the fact that whatever this thing was came from, presumably, Saridona was worrying...any Guardian ship would have made contact as soon as it exited hyperspace, not just plowed through a satellite.

    The young woman was about to say as much, before more words came over the TwinTail's comm systems.

    "So unknown, but coming from Saridona?"

    That was Antilles, which meant that Lenea probably missed something. There went that short attention span thing again. Refocusing on the conversation she was listening in on, the young woman waited to be addressed directly.

    "Jedi Sandstrider, we won't make it around the planet before they're in attack position, and if that happens, they'll either hit us mid-maneuver or use the planet's gravity to slingshot and hit us so fast we won't get a second shot. I order you to investigate in advance and destroy a threat if one arises."

    A single elegant eyebrown went up into Lenea's hairline at the word 'order'. The only person she would follow an order from, well without a snide comeback anyway, was her brother. And that was from respect...something that a washed up politician didn't really have. At least, not to the young woman in the fighter. By the same token, the man was probably used to a more organized military and Jedi Order than the Guardians. And, well, there was at least something happening now.

    So she'd let him go...for now.

    "Well, Master Sandstrider?"

    "Yes sir," Lenea replied, putting emphasis on the 'sir' and making her feelings on the order clear, "I'll investigate whatever this is. I would appreciate if you watch my back if this thing turns out to be hostile. Thank you very much."

    Closing the channel, the young Jedi fired the thrusters on her TwinTail, spinning the craft around from its previous course, and heading towards the fading hyperspace signature. The fighter responded easily enough, but...

    Why did I have to use this old thing? The 'streak is so much better...

    Continuing to lament the fact she wasn't in her own fighter, the Jedi turned around the curve of the planet...wondering what she would see on the other side...

    TAG: Sinrebirth
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  23. Thrawn1786

    Thrawn1786 Jedi Master star 5

    Feb 8, 2004
    IC: Mirai Matalina

    1, 2,3, 4, see the flames fall to the floor
    5,6,7,8, hurry now, the fire is late...

    An old rhyme-was it from her childhood? Or something she had made up herself?-had started echoing in Mirai's head since the previous evening, when she had laid down on her humble cot in her stark surroundings to close herself away from the world, the harsh galaxy that had never failed to pass judgment on her since she had been born. They never knew the whole story, no, never knew how the flames were always present, and how her life's goal was merely to catch them. A question in itself- when she did catch them, what would she do with them?

    But now she was here, with her friend, Dr. Quill as she called her, dear doctor Quill. At first the good doc had resisted the nickname, but when she had seen how much joy it had brought to Mirai's meaningless life (for life WAS meaningless if she wasn't allowed to chase the fire to catch), she had allowed it. Mirai was a good girl, yes she was, she had gone along with the doctor's treatments and rehabilitation, and now she was here. So close to chasing the flames she could feel their heat.

    Best not let the doctor know that, Mirai silently told herself. If she knew the truth, she would want to hunt the flames too, and Mirai did not share with anyone. Even when it had earned her a lashing as a child, and she still bore the scars, the whip had been so deep. But they had been nothing compared to the flames, the flames...

    Mirai snapped herself out of her reverie. "I feel...peaceful. Good. I think I can leave my old life and wants behind me, and be a new person again." There. That was a safe answer. Too bad Dr. Quill didn't know much about fire. Anyone who did would know that the hottest of flames can give rise to new life, new births- in Mirai's case, a rebirth. Still...

    Dr. Quill had genuinely believed in her and had tried to help her when the rest of those fools had given up. They would have left her locked away from the fire forever, not understanding or appreciating the chase. Dr. Quill had- not necessarily fire, but Mirai had occasionally seen a look in her eyes, similar to her own. The doctor was chasing something too, although Mirai, in all their sessions of treatment, hadn't quite been able to put her finger or lekku on it. They were sisters of a sort, and Mirai had to admit she would miss her sister.

    "I will say, Dr. Quill, Dr. Quill-ey," Mirai paused, testing the new name out, "that I will miss you if I am released. Will you miss me?" Perhaps she could come visit the doctor, when the flames had died down and she was seeking out their trail....

    Tag: Chukles38
  24. Sinrebirth

    Sinrebirth Immortal Mod-King of the EUC, RPF and SWC star 8 Staff Member Manager

    Nov 15, 2004
    Chapter Two

    IC: The Omniscient Narrator, 1000 ABY

    It occurs to me that anyone watching this drama unfold would not know the full story.

    I imagine they knew what happened up to the Battle of Endor, but that was one story. This, well, this is the rest. How much do you want to know? How much do you know? Find out. There is much to the story which is unknown, much to tell about six hundred years of history. But here is the briefest of summaries of what was once history. You can imbibe upon it, you can also not... but I am the Narrator of the End of Time... so perhaps something within here is of import, and perhaps some of it is not, to you oh so little actors on my stage.

    After Endor the Empire collapsed, fractured, and retreated, the Rebels becoming an Alliance of Free Planets and then a New Republic, triumphing over invasions and attacks by opportunistic alien species such as the Ssi-Ruuvi, Nagai, Tofs and Yevetha, and defeating rogue warlords such as Zsinj, Krennal, and Devian. The Empire steadily retreated into the Deep Core, the Outer Rim, and the Unknown Regions, the latter faction breaking free of the war, and the Rim factions suing for peace under Gilad Pellaeon after a decade and a half of reversals at the hands of the murderess Iceheart, the genius Thrawn and the efforts of the squabbling Moffs and Grand Moffs. The Deep Core Imperials carried on fighting under Admiral Daala in various guises, and never really surrendered, or learned that their cause was lost.

    The dark side did not just roll over, however. In the years after Endor the various Dark Jedi under the Emperor's command either joined his clone or set out alone, finding Sith knowledge and becoming their own factions - the New Sith Order, the Disciples of Ragnos, the Sith that followed the commands of Lumiya, and eventually the One Sith under Darth Krayt. They contributed to the warlordism of the Empire, fought amongst themselves, and were defeated and driven into hiding, the Emperor's Dark Empire and Lumiya's own Crimson Empire both shattered beyond recovery.

    But other factions had set their eyes on the galaxy; the extragalactic Yuuzhan Vong. And after allying with warlord and Sith factions to undo the Empire, usurping Black Sun and rallying the Diversity Alliance, they invaded, and after half a decade of destruction and devastation and wholesale genocide, were defeated and imprisoned on Zonama Sekot in the Unknown Regions, though the majority of their species ended up on Rodia, of all places. Their actions allowed the Sith and Imperial factions to regain ground within the New Republic-turned-Galactic Alliance, and in the years after the Yuuzhan Vong were defeated they, under the command of Darth Krayt, Lumiya and in the form of a rediscovered Lost Tribe of the Sith, forced the Jedi to detach themselves from the Alliance to protect it from the Sith, and inadvertently released Abeloth, a fallen Celestial, from her cage in the Maw, triggering an apocalypse in which Daala became Chief of State and was deposed, Imperials attempted to seize control of the Alliance, and the Tribe was devastated at Abeloth's hand before her untimely defeat. But the Empire was fully reunified, the surviving Imperials in the Deep Core and Unknown Regions reforming, and the end of the Star Wars in 50 ABY bought the rise of an Emperor and a lasting peace. New iterations of the famed Jedi Outcasts traversed the galaxy bringing peace to those groups not aligned with the Order, and Watchmen were assigned to the stars once more.

    By 95 ABY the peace was shattered when the Alliance sought to regain control of the Jedi after a variety of Sith-caused incidents, triggering a Jedi Civil War, and, when the Alliance friendly Jedi triumphed, unleashed a Force Cold War in which other factions sought to obtain their own Force users. Before the Alliance realised its error and restored the status quo, the Sith had used their levers within the government to devastate the galaxy before in turn falling upon themselves and being driven back into the shadows. more splintered than before. It was another thirty years before the One Sith made their move, sabotaging the Ossus Project, despoiling a hundred worlds the Yuuzhan Vong were recovering at the Jedi behes. A Sith-Imperial War arose and saw the One Sith dominate all their Sith opponents, rally the Empire to defeat the Alliance, and decimate the Jedi at the Massacre of Ossus, only to seize control of the Empire mere days thereafter, triggering an Imperial Civil War which undid their three year long effort seven years later, leaving a shallow government known as the Triumvirate ruling the galaxy. The Senate allowed neo-Imperials to seize power, beat off a Sith incursion into the Senate on its own terms, and almost lost control of an outbreak of the Candorian Plague, in time for the Sith in 146 ABY to decimate themselves in the Unknown Regions and for the Forces of Light to defeat those that remained in the known, weakened by the Shadow Hunters and the efforts to re-establish the Rule of Two by Darth Wredd.

    Despite the outbreak of the Titanomanchy in 200 ABY, the galaxy remained at peace until the Jedi and Sith came to blows for a final time in 300 ABY at the Great Battle of Ruusan and sued for an end of their conflict, creating an opposing set of Watches and reconfiguring the Republic into a constitutional monarchy where the Senate and Moffs ruled side by side beneath an Emperor and a Chancellor. For a hundred years it presided over true peace, and then, when the Republic discovered Echo with the help of the Shadow of the Son, a plant derivative that could cure Force users, the Republic turned on the Jedi and Sith and annihilated them, creating a second age that lasted until 500 ABY with the restoration of the Jedi and Sith by the Archangels and Alchemists, rebel Force groups who had discovered a cure for Echo. Lesser Sith threats emerged periodically, for example on the world of Valendia, but three decades after Echo was destroyed, the peace collapsed into the Forever War, seven decades long of warfare and horror that, as far as anyone knows, will never end...

    This is what happened.

    It still is.

    But it is also dramatically in flux.

    What will remain? What did happen? What can? What shall?

    Even I don't know that.

    And I'm the omniscient narrator.

    But I answer to Yammka, as well, if you wanted to give a name to your God.

    Ramza, greyjedi125, Peng, RandomComments, Ktala, , HanSolo29, Imperial Hammer, Skywalker_T-65, The Great No One, WINKWINK, Mitth-Fisto, spycoder9, DarkLordoftheFins, Chukles38, Shira, Thrawn1786, The Great No One

    OOC: Yes, I referenced every RPG I could find in the current RPF, and a few from the old, that were post-Endor, calmly seguing them together. If you have a game you want to see mentioned, chime-in and I'll make it so.
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  25. Sinrebirth

    Sinrebirth Immortal Mod-King of the EUC, RPF and SWC star 8 Staff Member Manager

    Nov 15, 2004
    IC: Lylithe Kya
    Nal Hutta, orbit 5 ABY

    As if bidden by Jan Ors, the Moldy Crow decanted from hyperspace and began to spit fire, catching a TIE fighter in the crossfire. But it was not that which drew Lylithe Kya's attention. It was the imbalance that rolled through the Force, rumbling across the system. As a SpecForce operative she was a Force user, like Havet Storm, the fallen Shira Brie, and formerly Luke Skywalker. Slightly breathless, she leaned on the wall.

    It was almost... Enticing, the sensation. She savoured it, briefly, let it course through her, her lips drying up. Lylithe's head dipped, her blonde bangs dropping over her eyes, and she fought to compose herself, standing back up and casting a glance around the bridge as the corvette rocked.

    Jan Ors caught Lylithe's reaction from the corner of her eye. She had figured out the Kya woman relatively quickly, and knew what she was seeing. Her information was in Director Madine's records - her husband dead in the Clone Wars - the resurgent and brief war in 11 BBY where the Spaarti clones went mad - and her daughter having estranged herself from her as an Imperial loyalist who worked for the Mining Guild... But Kya wanted revenge on the Empire for letting her husband die, despite the fact he had volunteered to go to war and had once been a Lord... She didn't trust Kya; vengeance was a bad reason for a Force user to do anything.

    And potentially she needed to keep both eyes on Kyle Katarn, too. Jan refocused, studying the Sentinel as it opened fire again, catching a handful of smuggler freighters but still not-obviously pinning them in place.

    The TIE fighters careened away, reforming with half their number missing, most from the Crow's timely arrival, one from their own efforts and the rest from potshots from other smugglers. They interposed the Sentinel between them and the Crow so they could put together a flight of four, what with another four harassing the Corellian quarter of Nar Shaddaa.

    'I have a channel through to the Crow! I don't know how long it'll last!'

    The Captain raised a hand to Jan, indicating she could take the line. 'Kyle, it's Jan. No time for pleasantries. We're going to make a push for the other side of the moon, out of range of the Interdictor. We just need someone to buzz it so we can get a head start. Once we break the initial contact we'll be home free.'

    She went to speak further, hesitatingly speaking, unsure who she was talking to, now. 'Kyle, I -' and then comms officer cursed and they were cut off by the jamming again.

    Jan scowled, portions of the crew looking at her as if expecting a tearful display. To be honest, she didn't know what she would've say. 'Did I stutter? You have the plan - go for it!'

    The Captain, his eyes scanning the viewing port for threats, spun back and snapped at them, ignoring that she was giving orders on his bridge. 'You heard the lady!'

    The Eridain lurched forward, the Sentinel opening fire with linked quad lasers, hitting fleeing freighters on either side of them, essentially bracketing them in. Lylithe stepped up beside Jan. 'The Interdictor is boxing us in, forcing us to take the route over the Corellian neighbourhood where his third flight of TIEs is.'

    'So he intercepted our transmission.'

    'Looks like it,' said Lylithe. Shrugging, she added. 'We'll just have to hope we can weather it, or the locals cause them enough trouble the TIEs can't get their act together.'

    'I can't see it happening.'

    Jan cast her eye to the Moldy Crow on the sensor board, recounting how Kyle had defeated seven Dark Jedi with much longer odds than them. 'Stranger things have,' she said, smiling despite herself.'


    Down on Nar Shaddaa, Vima glimpsed Boba Fett glance over in their direction before Stark scooped her up in his arms, but the moment seemed to pass, and then they were on the move, Stark scooping her up in his arms and Vima clinging to his chest with grimy fingernails, breathing heavily.

    'Down, put Vima down,' she said, once the Force seemed to calm, insofar much as it could with TIE fighters strafing the city. They turned an alley, and Vima instead felt something different, she turned as Stark placed her on the floor. A male presence that she recognised. The man was another Jedi survivor of the Clone Wars, Dray, pushing, as ever, his trolley, laden with his few meagre possessions, but Vima had avoided him in her self-exile. She knew not of Stark's involvement with him. She did however know the Force was increasing in tempo, and she felt a miasma around Dray that she knew from her own days of despair...

    You're dead. You are all dead, the voice said to Stark, insistent. How can you be alive?

    'The Empire returns,' Dray said, growling. 'Is it time to fight, or flee, now the Empire has lost it's Emperor?'

    It was at that precise moment the wall to their left blew outwards, catching Dray and sending him and his trolley wheeling away into the opposing wall with a wet crunch. Vima herself fell to her back, just about cushioning herself with the Force, and peered back up at the debris for Dray, or Stark.

    In it's place stood Boba Fett, pistol pointed at Dray's unmoving body, his helmet looking that way. His colleague took a step from behind him, amusement rife in his voice. 'You forgot the third option; to die.'

    Vima froze, unsure what to possibly do, her lightsaber too far away, and even though she could spy Dray's in his scattered belongings, strewn across the floor, she was never ever going to be worthy enough to hold one again.

    And so she froze.

    Ramza, greyjedi125

    IC: Mara Jade
    The Wild Karrde, the Krant System, in Bothan Space, 8 ABY

    Suave and sophisticated to the last, Mara mused, as Talon opened the channel to the Customs frigate now tagged as Prudence, a virtuous name for so small a tug.

    A young Bothan appeared on-screen, and Mara frowned. She could tell he was young by the shortness of the fur on his face. Though to a human he may as well have been a Wookiee for all the hair apparent, for a Bothan it indicated a man just out of his teens. 'Captain Traest Kre'frey of the Bothan Defence Force here, and I am less interested in who you are,' he bristled. 'Do you intend to assist the Starry Ice or not? Or should we take their beeline for you to be such that you're in the habit of aiding suspicious freighters making use of sensor overlays?'

    Mara winced doubly even as she connected with Aves and the Ice, scrambling the channel. Firstly the Kre'frey family had been humiliated when Generel Kre'frey died at the Battle of Borleias due to, ironically considering the Bothan spynet, misinformation, and any member of that family would have a chip on their shoulder the size of a Death Star. Secondly, they had broken the scrambled code that Ghent's wizardry had enabled, preventing the ships true pennant code being revealed - which meant that the computer systems must have taken a chunk of damage.

    With the latter on mind she opened a line of sight channel, and reached Aves. 'You've been had, Aves. The Bothans know it's the Ice.'

    'And I'm sure you told them, Mara,' he said, nastily.

    Mara resisted the urge to snap while Karrde engaged in whatever sophisticated response was required; she had phased him out briefly to concentrate on Aves and his paranoid delusions. Instead she dropped her tone sharply. 'Cool your jets, Aves. We're looking at a Customs frigate here, not a shuttle. You're the one arriving in pieces after changing the rendezvous.'

    'And I'm the one sitting on a signal which caused Tatooine to explode into a white ball of energy.' Aves said, wearily. 'The Bothans pull me over they're going to investigate and they'll get their hands on it.'

    Mara's guts froze. A superweapon? Karrde would probably flail around for his neutrality but Mara couldn't see him not wanting to know more. 'Wait a second, Aves,' Mara looked to Mara in time to see Kre'frey chop his hand down, through the response.

    'Whoever you are, I don't care. I have just been informed that a private channel has been opened between you and the Ice. Care to explain, before I order my guns to open fire on you both?'

    Mara found it suspicious that he was being so aggressive, even for a Customs frigate. Did the Bothans have something to do with whatever was happening on Tatooine? It seemed as if Kre'frey should have been looking to aid the Ice, not assuming that the interruption was designed to allow the Karrde to avoid a painless customs inspection.

    She shot over a brief summary to the screen closest to Talon, and hoped it wouldn't noticeably distract him. It was a delicate situation and she wasn't all too sure the Karrde could take on a frigate. And if it did, it wouldn't be all that useful a ship if marked by the Republic.

    IC: Thrawn
    Near Bpfassh, Chimaera, 9 ABY

    The tableau lain before Thrawn was not one he approved of. The Grand Admiral did not brook threats, and he did not react kindly to them.

    Neither, it seemed, did a tinny voice in C'Boath's head. What do you think you are doing?

    I thought I would try a historical figure we know of that fits the criteria, said another voice; so not talking to C'Boath.

    Thrawn was obvious to such a discussion, and simply weighed up the chances of Intelligence finding the Skywalker and Solo and stood from his command chair, taking the additional step forward to bring C'Boath into the sphere of the ysalamiri bubble, and then another to pull him still further within it, Rukh silently stepping beside his master.

    'Master C'Boath, when I give a man my word, I mean it. A ruler cannot be so unless his subjects can rely upon him to be fair in his rule.' His tone became suitably menacing. 'As such when I said I would deliver the Jedi to you, I meant it. So in the spirit of the resources I am spending to fulfil the end of the bargain, resources that could be put to better use elsewhere, perhaps you should accept my efforts as sincere, no?'

    Pellaeon took every effort to keep a smirk from his move, but he did allow himself a slight twitch of his moustache.

    Thrawn decided not to give him an opportunity to respond before adding, raising his hand slightly in a signal to Rukh. 'If the Skywalker's have indeed fell into a black hole or headed into the void after some other threat, we have a unique opportunity in they you are, failing the return of the Sith, the most powerful Force user in the galaxy. With that in mind, our ability to operate is increased and as such the movement towards the Empire's ultimate success, and ultimate power for those who work with it, is sped up.' He paused, softly adding. 'I would loath to see you left behind. Are we understood?'

    IC: Kam Solusar
    Tatooine, 14 ABY

    A smile and tune; a pure Tionne response. With a grin and nod, he became the stoic Kam Solusar, Jedi Knight, former Dark Jedi to the Emperor himself, and focused on the business at hand.

    'Whoever Cuf is, we can't allow him to walk away with a Sith artifact.' Kam stood, lightsaber already in hand, 'and even if I couldn't get a decent read on him in the Force, his body language told me he didn't want Jedi looking into his business.' Master Skywalker had insisted they all learn to analyse matters without the Force, should they be bereft of it, and to prevent them becoming overly reliant upon it. 'And anything that someone doesn't want a Jedi to look into involving Sith artefacts can never be a good thing, let alone legal.'

    He turned to face the doors to the inner chambers of the Twi'lek collector, which promptly opened, Cuf striding out, face fully cloaked and his height showing, ignoring them entirely. The Twi'lek's major-domo spluttered, half following Cuf out. 'Is your business finished with my master?'

    Cuf stopper his stride, briefly glancing back. 'Yes, now.'

    At the utterance of the word now the doors that Kam and Tionne had can't through slammed open, a pair of clothed Force users, adopting the traditional garb of the Disciples of Ragnos, fleeing backwards from a charge led by Padawan Jaden Korr, his yellow bladed lightsaber weaving a basket of energy, attacking and also defending from a third Disciple pursuing him, all three Sith acolytes wielding a single crimson lightsaber.

    The Force had not warned them of the arrival, and Kam briefly wondered if they were in league with Cuf, before one detected him nearby and kicked out a booted foot and sent him stumbling to the wall. The major-domo shrieked, slamming the doors shut and locking them, not a moment before the pursuing acolyte unleashed a bolt of lightning which overwhelmed Jaden's defences as he crossed the threshold into the room, causing him to thrash before dropping.

    Kam ignited his lightsaber, one opponent turning on him, the other on Tionne, as they realised the threat behind them. Kam would have preferred to protect willowy Tionne from the threat, but had no choice but to allow her to shoulder the burden of her own opponent, and his heart sank as the third acolyte opted to head towards her only after casting an eye over the two of them.

    He could sense the thought; kill the fragile looking woman, then all three of them could team up on the muscular man.

    Kam had no doubt the acolytes would regret that assumption, and focused on the clash of his own battle.


    IC: Soontir
    Nirauan, beneath the Hand19 ABY

    It didn't take long for Stent and his younger colleague Shawnkyr to join them at their discovery, as Srach, in a full blown blush which was likely to draw some ire from the Chiss, regarded the naked Grand Admiral Thrawn. All of them were relatively wet, from the relentless dripping from the ceiling as the water from the river drained away. Stent looked like, from his wet hair, he may have even slipped at some point.

    Nonplussed by either the wet or the nudity, Fel focused. 'Yes, sir.' His eyes briefly took in the various pieces of shattered equipment once more; clone, and all the more incredible that it had been under their noses for some time. He went to continue when the roof moved, mechanics whirring as a massive head, for want of a better word, chimed in, water dropping from the grooves it revealed by the emergence, or, perhaps, if the rooms state of disarray was anything, re-emergence.

    'Voice recognition software active, bzzzz, calibrating for additional life forms... Zzzz.... Compensating for damage to processor unit, activating battle droids...'

    Fel stiffened slightly, as did the other four members of the squad. Hand picked to be the best, none overreacted, but each subtly stepped to allow for the supplies to either side of the room to add cover to them, while Srach took a further step towards the clone. Fel, in the centre of the impromptu corridor, simply held his hands at the small of his back, coming to the conclusion that said droids were not in any shape to imperil them from the debris strewn across the room...

    And the moment passed a mere second later.

    '... Compensating for lack of responsiveness, acknowledging..z and activating subroutine C - early discovery of clone chamber...'

    The mouth opened wider, and tipped down slightly, a blue light shining down to give life to an image of Grand Admiral Thrawn, the original, fully garbed in the articles of a Grand Admiral, cloak behind him, lapels attached, tall and imposing, his presence filling the room as if he had actually been here. Fel heard a sharp intake of breath from Stent or Shawnkyr, and smiled slightly beneath his goatee - even the legendary Chiss stoicism was rattled.

    'If this recording has surfaced, then this secret chamber under the Hand of Thrawn has been discovered, in all likelihood by my colleagues, as part of some inevitable incursion.' Thrawn turned from facing his clone, somehow, with that atypical prescience, realising the inevitable placement of the intruders, all but catching their respective eyes before turning back to his clone.

    'So. The year of this recording is twenty eight years after the ascension of Emperor Palpatine, and five after his death. I am posed to launch the full-scale campaign to defeat the Rebellion in the coming days, now I have possession of the Katana Fleet, so I do not anticipate I will have time to visit Nirauan for some time. But, in short, you are a clone.' Fel winced, and the others tensed.

    The hologram didn't allow them a moment. 'It cannot be changed. It is what it is. You are my clone. You have my memories, my intuition, my mind. It has been tested on other clones before. Successfully creating tacticians.'

    'Why follow through with this? Why not be yourself? Because of responsibly. Because only you can bring order to the galaxy. Without you trillions will die, and the galaxy will fall.'

    Fel felt his heart race, in fear, in fear of what was coming; the Far Outsiders... An invasion from another galaxy, in the middle of a galactic civil war. For a brief moment he wondered if Thrawn would continue, would tell them all about the threat that the Empire of the Hand was working towards defeating. As if Thrawn understood the possibility, he turned back, all but looking at Fel and the others again, and turned back.

    'Whomever has found you will tell you the facts. All I know is that no man cut from my genes could stand by as so many fell. I can, at least, give you the truth.'

    And I can give you the rest of it. That voice was not smooth and clipped, but oily and murky, pushing, seemingly, from between the clones' eyes and speaking softly. You will see when you have the opportunity.

    And the presence departed, just as Thrawn finished up. 'I wish you all the best... Grand Admiral.'

    And with that the hologram ended, and Fel remembered, abruptly remembering the clone was naked. 'Stent.'

    The Chiss needed not to receive an order, and was promptly shirking off his shirt and, topless but drips of water still falling, passed the shirt to the Grand Admiral. 'Sir.'

    Fel took a few steps towards him as Stent approached, and turned so he was side on, poised to lead the way on. 'We need to take you upstairs sir, Admiral Parck will need to debrief you when you are ready.'

    'Are you ready, sir?'