Before - Legends The Yoda Journals

Well, this is my story. I spent a few hours developing and writing it, so I won't fell too bad if you don't like it. Feel free to leave some feedback below, it would be appreciated. It may not precisely conform with the EU timeline, but my future stories should be. Without further ado:
A small green creature walked down the street, a small cane was his aide in such a menial task. For this was a great being. A Jedi Grand Master, this green creature was. it was Yoda, and he was at the bottom of a city-canyon on the metropolis planet Coruscant. The tap-tap-tip of his trusty gimer stick alerted a nearby thug.
With a snikt, the thug pulled out a vibroblade. Yoda allowed the being to approach. The Weequay prepared to sink the blade into Yoda, but Yoda had other plans. With a flourish of his hand, he sent the alien flying into a dumpster. He did not even turn around in the act of doing this.
Yoda continued on his way, until he came to a small alcove in a building. There he sat, waiting, sketching little drawings in the gunk on the aged pavement. Another man approached Yoda. This was a tall, imposing man. He had dark skin, and wore dark robes. A metal cylinder was on his hip, and he greeted the diminutive Grand Master, “Greetings, Yoda. Shall we proceed?”
“Yes, yes, but carefully, we must go,” Yoda replied in an odd, frog-like voice.
Together, they strode down the dark alley, until they came to an old building with a neon-sign that read, “Ancient and Dangerous Artifacts,” on which the D and s were worn out. Yoda trudged inside, and Mace, looking around surreptitiously, followed wearily.
“Who’s there?” said a crusty voice from within the dingy room.
“Master Yoda, I am. Mace Windu, this is,” Yoda said in a casual sort of way.
“Ah ‘ere for your prophecy, are ya?” the seller asked greasily.
“Yes, and the Jedi Council is prepared to offer you twenty-five thousand credits for it,” Mace said sternly.
“Ony’ twenty five. I dunno ‘bout dat. Spen’ many weeks lookin’ for it on Tython,” the seller continued, “Won’ take nuthin less than thirty for it.”
“Fine, fine. Twenty seven, will the Jedi offer. No more, no less.” Yoda said with an aiur of finality.
“Twenty eight, and I won’ set mah assassin droids on yeh for insulting me wit’ that offer,” the seller bragged.
“Agreed,” Mace said, as he rolled his eyes, “Here,” he took the small object, and threw a credit pouch to the seller.
“A bad deal, this will be, if fake the prophecy is,” Yoda stated, looking at his bare, green feet.
“We shall see,” Mace said, staring off into the night.


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Yoda’s Personal Chambers
Yoda’s green forehead was wrinkled in obstinate concentration. He was levitating the prophetic-cube in front of him, and he looked as though he had horrible stomach pains.
“Mmmm!” Yoda grunted as the door opened.
He lost his concentration, and the cube fell to the ground. “Knock, you should,” Yoda snapped as he bent to pick up the cube.
It was the apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi, a mere boy of 14. “Oh, I-” Obi-Wan began, but Yoda silenced him with an exasperated wave of his ancient, green hand.
“Yes, what is it?” Yoda demanded, looking sternly at the Padawan.
“Master Windu wants you,” Kenobi continued, “Said something about a prophecy…” Obi-Wan looked around the chambers curiously.
“Yes, go, I will,” Yoda said, ambling out of his quarters, and closing the door while Obi-Wan was still looking around.
Yoda trekked down to the floor below his quarters, and knocked with his gimer stick on Mace’s door.
“Enter,” Mace’s voice came from within.
The door opened, and Yoda walked in, looking around. Mace sat on an odd, circular chair, and Yoda stood there examining him. “What is it?” Yoda said.
“How goes the holocron?” Mace inquired.
“Gah,” Yoda sighed, “No progress have I made.”
“Perhaps it requires a dual effort,” Mace suggested.
Yoda produced the small cube, and Mace and Yoda concentrated with all their might. Slowly, the cube began to shake. There was a slight noise, and the cube began rearranging itself. It was now a polygon with triangular prisms on the side, glowing blue. An ancient text projected onto the wall. “These letters, read them, I can,” Yoda said, “A prophecy it is. One of a Chosen One. Said to bring balance to the Force, he can.”
“We must address the council on this matter. I will assemble a meeting immediately,” Mace said.
Jedi Council Room, A Short Time Later
“I doubt this prophecy,” Oppo Rancis said, “We obtained it from an irreputable source, and the fact remains we have no idea where to look for such a being,”
“I concur. A prophecy retrieved by some common smuggler cannot contain such an important message,” Kit Fisto said.
“Be that as it may, we must keep our eyes open. We cannot ignore a seemingly-important message from the Force,” Plo Koon stated.
“Agree, with this I do. Look out for the Chosen One, we must,” Yoda said.
Trixn’tas 39 BBY
“I must protest. These new tax measures on our operations must stop!” Gue’an Tehsil demanded.
“The ruling of the Jedi Council, this is. Your government and you made us arbitrators, yes?” Yoda ruled.
“I--” Tehsil began, and he whispered into his comlink.
The door opened, and at least two dozen men and aliens came out, all wielding blasters and deadly expressions. They opened up with their blasters, and Yoda pulled out his saber. Tehsil ran out a nearby corridor, leaving Yoda alone with the Trixstian governor. Instead of firing at him, they were firing at the governor. Yoda leapt to his aide, but it was too late. He took a bullet to the chest, and Yoda jumped into a nearby vent. A bolt slammed into the roof of the vent above him, and Yoda crawled along. A wave of heat hit him. Yoda rolled into an adjacent vent shaft, just as a fresh wave of flamethrower wooshed by. Yoda wielded his comlink, and said into the device, “Need evacuation, I do. Hurry, you must.”
He crawled for several minutes, until he caught a glimpse of natural light ahead. He opened a panel, and looked down a 10,000 meter drop. The Trixstian Palace was high enough to be up in the clouds. Fluffy clouds surrounded the great building, slowly journeying across the land, unaware of the struggles below them.
There came the humming of a gunship, and Yoda felt it reveberate into his spine. He ignited his lightsaber, and waved them down, hoping it was Captain Darcip. By the Force, it was, and Darcip opened up the side panel of the GX-220 ship. With a bound, Yoda was inside the ship, and they moved away.
“Mission go well, sir?” Darcip inquired. He was a tall man, perhaps twenty-five standard years, with a full head of brown hair.
“Eh. Betrayed by Tehsil and his merchants, we have been,” Yoda said.
At that moment, the ship’s deck buckled beneath them and warped.
“Tehsil isn’t giving up yet, it seems,” said Darcip as he performed a nausea-inducing roll. “Our shields are down!” he screamed as the back of the ship decided to fall off.
“Eject we must!” Yoda encouraged, as he leapt into the seat behind Darcip’s. “Now!”
Darcip and Yoda careened into the cool evening air. A missile drifted lazily by, and Yoda attempted a last ditch Force slam downwards. Yoda survived, but the missile caught Darcip in the chest. There was a strangled cry, and he was no more.
Yoda knew even he would not last indefinitely against three Firespray Patrol ships, which were even now were firing upon him. Yoda drew his stunted green lightsaber and slapped a few laser bolts aside. A missile lanced out torwards the Jedi Master. Time stretched out, like a band of elastic. Yoda leapt into the air, his blade at the ready, slightly behind him. He landed lightly on the missile, and deftly hopped towards the flying ship, and landed on the top. He sliced through the ship’s durasteel hull, and dropped through the gap.
The pilot rotated about in his chair, and groped for his blaster, but Yoda was upon him. He sliced through his chest, knocking the blaster askew. Yoda directed the ship into space, and set the hyperdrive on a course for Coruscant, the location of the Jedi Temple.


Jedi Temple, Coruscant
“Betrayed by Tehsil, we were. Killed, the Governor was,” Yoda said, a note of sadness in his voice.
“What did they want? Credits?” Mace Windu inquired.
“No. No demands, did they make,” Yoda stated, “The prophecy, I believe, it was, that they were after.”
“Surely they did not think you were carrying the prophecy,” Mace scoffed.
“No, no. Force me to get the prophecy they would have,” Yoda explained, as he sat gingerly down on his round chair.
“Perhaps the man we bought it from betrayed us,” Mace hypothesized.
“A plausible theory, that is. A police squadron, you will send, to his building to apprehend him,” Yoda ordered kindly, as he propped his gimer stick on the wall.
A muffled explosion was heard from below, along with a yell. Yoda’s communications panel pinged, vying for his attention. Yoda glared at it as if it had said something rude.
He dropped down from his chair, and waddled over to the panel. Jabbing the button, he answered the call and put a stop to the pinging.
“What?” Yoda said sternly.
After a moment, his brow furrowed, and he looked up at Mace.
“Under the attack, the Temple is,” Yoda informed him, with the air of someone speaking of bad weather.
“We must go to the Holocron Room,” Mace barked as he quickly departed.
“Go down to the hall, I will,” Yoda said, more to himself than anyone.
He limped down, depending on his gimer stick, for all the world an ancient pitiful old alien, about to be blown apart by the crossfire from the battle. Until he pulled out his diminutive green saber, and threw his cane aside. Now, he was something both awesome and terrible to behold. His stern, but kind brow, was no atypically dark, and he was neither angry nor happy, but he would not allow the Temple to fall while he was still able to stand.
He leapt at the nearest attacker, deflecting a flurry of bolts, and impaled him through the neck with his saber. Half of dozen of attackers saw him, and began peppering him with laser bolts. Dodging perhaps half, deflecting the rest, Yoda pushed on through the storm of light. In an instant he was upon them, slicing and dicing; his opponents were no match for the Grand Master.
Slicing through the eyestalks of the last intruder, he turned around to survey the damage. The battle was still a furious storm of sabers and slices of light, but the Jedi were outmatched. Several Jedi had been killed before they could draw their sabers, and the last few were little more than a motley collection of padawans and younglings.
Seeing a squadron of the invaders advancing, Yoda launched himself into the air, 180 feet, no mean feat for a Jedi, and glanced the ceiling with, his claws. Falling rapidly, he spun around, wielding his saber a green blur. The soldier nearest Yoda’s blade soon lost his head. The next in line was cut a bit lower through the shoulders. The third lost his stomach quite literally; he fell screaming and died. The fourth, died receiving a cut through his lower stomach. The next 8 received various injuries to their legs, all falling down in pain. The whole fiasco was over in a second, and Yoda brought his blade about, brandishing it like a baseball bat.
Off in the distance, Yoda saw an attacker operating a rocket launcher. He looked like he had the intelligence of a smart rock, and a rocket spewed out, burning rocket fuel trailing it. The rocket struck a pole, and a crack lanced up the two thousand year old marble.
The pole began to buckle, and the cracks spread like a disease, infecting the surrounding ceiling. Chunks of marble and durasteel fell, and with a resounding crash, the pole was done. A mark of the Temple’s integrity, destroyed by the attackers.
A familiar figure approached him, wielding a light-whip. It was Tehsil, and he was leading several squadrons down the great hall. Yoda closed his eyes. The pirates took this a sign of his defeat and began laughing. The distasteful noise was quickly drowned out by moving stone. There were now screams instead of the laughing, which some may have found amusing in Yoda’s place, but the old Jedi found it saddening it had come to this.
The pole’s remains swept over the wave of pirates, crushing them like leaves in the fall underfoot. They were no more, but several, including Tehsil had survived the onslaught of rubble, and they raised their weapons.
“Where is that prophecy?” Tehsil demanded, snapping his weapon complacently.
“I am wondering: Who sent you?” Yoda said, chuckling.
“Non’ yer business,” the pirate drawled, spitting at Yoda’s feet.
“Hmm. My business, it is,” Yoda said, waving his hand, as if to stroke an invisible pet.
“It’s yer business, and it was a Senator from-” but who it was, Yoda wouldn’t know, as his voice was drowned out by his murder from Tehsil. .
“Don’t even bother with your mind-trick business,” Tehsil commented, examining his blaster.
Mace Windu, Kit Fisto, and Eeth Koth leapt in front of the pirates. Tehsil brought his whip to bare, but he was dead, and he hit the ground. The other pirates opened fire, but they died quickly to some of the greatest Jedi in the Order.
Tehsil spun the whip around, its tentacles cackling with electricity. Yoda gripped the puny weapon with the Force, and crushed its power cell. The Pirate pulled out his blaster, and sprayed the room with deadly bolts, like ambassadors from death.
Windu lashed out, and ended his life. The human was dead before he hit the ground.
“I think it is time we all found out what this prophecy is, and why someone wants it so badly as to attack the capital of the Republic.” suggested Master Fisto.
**Jedi Archive Room, 2 Hours Later**
Four Jedi Masters focused on an object. It was a strange object for their focus, a glass ziggurat, embellished with rods of metal, composing each side of the figure into four equal panes.
The object was a holocron, and the Jedi were reading it. It broke into four sections, and the prophecy was received.
“A Chosen One?” Eeth Koth stammered.
“Long have there been legends, speaking of such beings,” Yoda offered, staring at the holocron ponderously.
“Can this be true, Master?” Fisto wondered, his bulbous eyes fixing on Yoda.
“A real prophecy, this is,” Yoda stated, scratching his chin.
“How can we be sure? We did obtain it from an… interesting source,” Windu inquired, observing the ziggurat.
“Markings there are. Impossible to duplicate an accurate prophecy it is, without the prophetic powers of the Force,” Yoda answered.
“Master Koth, summon Master Nu. She must archive this prophecy,” Windu ordered.
“I go,” Koth obeyed, gliding out of the room.
“Allowed to see this prophecy, no one can be,” Yoda stated.
“Especially the Senate. Corruption is great there,” Mace offered.
“Yes, yes,” Yoda said, his great mind on the prophecy.
“Should we send out search parties for this Chosen One?” Kit Fisto asked.
“No. Alert the Senate, that would. Born yet, this being may not be,” Yoda said.
“Nevertheless, we should be aware and keep our eyes out for this being while we travel the galaxy.” Mace suggested.
“Agreed.” Kit Fisto said.
“Adjourned this meeting is,” Yoda said, “But not are Sith. When find this being we do, finally finished, the Sith will be.”
Meanwhile, on a backwater planet called Tatooine, a small child was born. There was no father, and the baby’s name was Anakin Skywalker. He would soon change the fate of the galaxy, from being an insignificant baby, to the infamous Darth Vader, to fulfilling the prophecy of the Chosen One…..