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Star Wars CLOSED Resurrection

Discussion in 'Role Playing Forum' started by Sinrebirth , May 5, 2019.

  1. JediMasterAnne

    JediMasterAnne Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Apr 24, 2004
    IC: Feyna Morrow
    Outside the Cloister

    Unfortunately, the battle had found them.

    Before she'd had a chance to help Rouser with his arm, before they'd had a chance to start looking for somewhere to take cover from the fighting, an X-wing zoomed overhead and fired a torpedo at the group of Disciples and storm troopers that had just taken down the Jedi. Tavion's lackeys were obliterated, but Feyna and Rouser were too close to avoid the blast.

    She was sent flying by the explosion, and she must have blacked out again. She didn't feel the impact with the ground, but when she came to, everything hurt. Where was she? Where was Rouser, was he alive?

    "Rouser?" She called out, very slowly trying to move, testing her body, unsure of her injuries. Besides Rouser, she looked for her comlink, perhaps to try to call Drayson before they got caught in more friendly fire. Or a weapon, to defend herself.


    TAG: @Sinrebirth @Jerjerrod-Lennox @HanSolo29 @TheSilentInfluence
    Last edited: Mar 10, 2020
  2. HanSolo29

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

    Apr 13, 2001
    IC: Aryan Graul

    Unfortunately, no one cared to acknowledge Aryan’s plea.

    Linnett, who had previously served as his lifeline to escape from Tavion’s clutches, was floundering to maintain control. She appeared distracted, and through their bond, Aryan could feel her confusion and struggle. There was so much conflict within her, but when he tried to reach out to better understand her situation, he heard himself gasp as her voice suddenly filled his mind with a warning.

    “Don’t trust them, apprentice.”

    Aryan instinctively lowered himself closer to the ground, his brow furrowed with concern. Don’t trust them. Don’t trust…who?

    He did not need to ponder that question for long. As if on cue, two shimmering specters materialized before them. One emerged beast-like with a towering headpiece and chains adorning his elaborate robes; the other remained hidden behind an impenetrable mask. Both appeared god-like.

    Aryan did not recognize either one, which only exacerbated his distress. He felt his pulse quicken as a rush of adrenaline shot through his veins, triggering a fight-or-flight response. Without so much as a thought, he staggered to his feet in an awkward display that kicked up a fair amount of dust in his desperation. As he stumbled forward, he reached out for the Holocron that had tumbled to the ground and replaced it to its hiding place within the folds of his jacket.

    It was at this point that Linnett had recovered from the mental assault that had beset her. She now stood tall with her lightsaber in hand, the crimson blade shimmering brightly against the bleak landscape. As she moved to confront the two ghoulish creatures, she canted her head and winked at Aryan. “It's time you learned what a real Sith can do."

    The Force stirred perceptively at that comment, prompting him to inwardly frown. He wasn’t exactly thrilled at that proposition, though he forced a small smile on his face all the same. Fortunately, he didn’t have to suffer through the embarrassment of trying to explain himself further.

    The skies above suddenly thundered with the shockwave of an approaching X-Wing. The pilot angled low to the ground – perhaps a little too low, and unleashed a barrage of torpedoes that lit up the entire area in a fiery explosion.

    Aryan did not wait around to appraise the aftermath. With his ears still ringing from the detonation, he took this opportunity to flee. He did not look back; he simply ran.

    In his inhibited state, he did not perceive the frantic Feyna calling for her companion, Pascale Rouser. Nevertheless, he continued to move away from the cloister and in their general direction.

    TAG: @Sinrebirth; @TheSilentInfluence @Jerjerrod-Lennox; @JediMasterAnne
    Last edited: Mar 11, 2020
  3. Sinrebirth

    Sinrebirth Mod-Emperor of the EUC, Lit, RPF and SWC star 9 Staff Member Manager

    Nov 15, 2004
    IC: The Narrator
    Unknown Who, Unknown When, Unknown Why, Unknown How

    GM Post

    Vergere connected two parts in time.

    In another story, Palpatine died at the hands of Anakin Skywalker, his transformation into Darth Vader now a stillbirth.

    Mace Windu lived.

    Order 66 occurred, but it was incomplete.

    To mirror this, the galaxy did not change either.

    The Empire was part created, the Republic and Jedi did not die.

    Nineteen years passed.

    The galaxy resisted, and a New Republic was born, thanks to the Heroes of the Galaxy, be they Light or Dark, and another fourteen years passed without incident (it could be said).

    Feyna, Madelyn, Ka'rta, Han, Luke, Aryan, Qi'ra...

    But it could have turned out differently for them all.

    In this galaxy, where Vader was born, and the Empire with it, until the Battle of Endor nearly twenty five years later, when the New Republic rose and fought for another ten years to drive the Sith to a corner of the galaxy... before the Disciples of Ragnos arose and struck at Korriban...

    A battle they were all ensnared in.

    Today they will find out how their lives could have been.


    IC: Isolder
    Coruscant, shuttle, on it's way to Hesperidium

    "Lead the way."

    As the Hapan Prince smuggled Feyna out of her room by way of the aforementioned secret entrances that were concealed in the Senate at the sly request of Isolder.

    They were in their shuttle, not a Hapan design, to throw off pursuit, but Isolder insisted that he pilot, and she relax.

    In the lounge, there was little else to do, until the room was suddenly not just her own.

    Another Feyna was here, her last words echoing into the room.


    There she was.

    Feyna Morrow on Korriban, looking for a man that Feyna Organa knew as a war criminal.

    There she was.

    Feyna Organa on Coruscant, looking for some peace and quiet.

    Isolder simply smoothly turned the shuttle through the spacelanes of Coruscant, heading for its moon. He regarded its orderly lines, ships passing between defence platforms and patrolled by New Republic capital ships, the double-shields down to enable traffic to move freely.

    Notwithstanding the drama earlier today, Isolder allowed himself a moment to relax.

    TAG: @JediMasterAnne x 2
    IC: Beaumont Kin

    Rendezvous point, deep space, not far from the Core

    The yacht had to find a way into New Republic space, for it wouldn't do them any good to be captured en route. Beaumont dwelt on what they intended to do. Use him to tell Coruscant about Yomin Carr, and do something suitably nefarious. Well. Arb might. Beaumont found himself believing Rouser; he could have pushed Beaumont out the airlock the moment he woke... Arb certainly would have, after all.

    Beaumont shook his head, and laid his head back down.

    It was night on Criton's Point, and he remained acclimatised to those sleep patterns. With that in mind, he simply closed his eyes... and tried not to think of the small statue that Arb had hidden from him.

    Arb, for his part, had spent the entire of Rouser's recovery cycle keeping watch, and, with a wink of his sole eye, turned in. Rouser would be best suited to rest, but Arb had no desire to tell him that. An unrested Rouser was one that he could more easily manipulate when cranky.

    Qwi did't matter to Arb, but she did to Rouser, so that was good enough.

    Rouser, of course, mattered, so.

    That left Rouser to his own devices for the next four or six hours.

    Well, it had, until another Rouser, hurled into the air by a torpedo detonation in the Valley of the Dark Lords, rolled into view, battered, bruised, bloodied.

    The Echo resonated against that; hard.

    Uncomfortably so.

    TAG: @Jerjerrod-Lennox x 2 (combo so I may Echo)
    IC: Foreteller

    Korriban, by the Cloister of XoXaan, and then, Mandalore, by New Keldabe

    "I just hope we know where they went. I'm going to call Arthur
    ," she had said, as she went to find a private place to make her call.

    The woman that was Madelyn Linnett, had two diverging tales from Order 66.

    Today those two tales met.

    As Madelyn, former Emperor's Hand, spurned the suggestion of the two spirits bound to her, Foreteller and Darth Voren, she reached for the Holocron that glittered in Aryan Graul's hand.

    She had reached for her lightsaber and nodded to Aryan. Winked at him. "It's time you learned what a real Sith can do." Madelyn turned to the opposition; to the spirit of Tulak Hord, but instead she would see Mandalore Madelyn Linnett, who was standing, darksaber on her belt, comm in her hand, looking at what could only be described as a crazed and monstrous version of herself.

    Her lightsaber was lit and red.

    They had a moment, and Foreteller was in awe.

    How did I make this happen...?

    But of course, that would not be heard by either Mandelyn.

    TAG: @TheSilentInfluence x 2 (combo for me as Foreteller and Darth Voren)
    IC: Kenix[/B]
    Korriban, there, but not here, on Mandalore

    "Get some barricades set up on the top of the stairs, if we have any heavy weapons set them up here. Until I know what the situation in the sky is we'll need to be careful out in the open." Looking off into the distance she tried to lock down where the Jedi were landing and figure out the course they would take to get to the temple.

    The leader of the Sun Guard, Kenix, saluted, and went to go, but by the time Ka'rta looked back, she was looking at another version of herself, who was just finishing her sentence to Linnett.

    "Madelyn, I would like to go retrieve our daughters from an di'kut I once called a friend."

    "I just hope we know where they went. I'm going to call Arthur
    ," she had said, as she went to find a private place to make her call.

    would be unable to reply to Madelyn, and indeed, Ka'rta would be unable to reply to Kenix.

    It was just them, standing by a dead body, with the other Mandalorians having dispersed after the death of the Prophet, who simply remained there.

    They were two very different versions... and were both in the middle of various moments that saw this interruption to be just that.

    TAG: @galactic-vagabond422 x 2
    IC: An'ya Kuro

    Aryan Graul's suite, Bakura

    With a vexed sniff, the Jedi Master nodded. "Fine, Aryan. But don't say I didn't warn you," she went to step back into the shadows, and Gaeriel shook her head. "No way. You're walking out here, with me, and I want to see you leave. I don't want you listening in on us discuss strategies to deal with his father, or -"

    For a moment the terrible thought of An'ya watching them together in bed eclipsed her ability to speak, and her cheeks blushed. "Or."

    With a soft chuckle, An'ya nodded. "Of course... but it'll be nothing I've not seen before..."

    Lifting a finger to silence Aryan, Gaeriel scowled. "I'm going to pretend you never said that." Promptly, she took An'ya by the wrist, and led her out. The Jedi Master smiled slightly, but there was a hint of approval to it - an expression that Aryan would recognise.

    In short order, he was alone in his room -

    No, wait.

    The other Aryan, grasping the Holocron for dear live, was suddenly there, having ran, tripped, and was now scrabbling on the floor for he had momentarily been surrounded by two Sith spirits, ostensibly defended by a mad Dark Jedi of some kind -

    But now he was here, a disjoint and jolt to his mind, and two Aryan's were in the suite.

    The Force echoed between them, pressing even more strongly upon both of them; one, trained, one, not.

    TAG: @HanSolo29 x 2
    IC: Braata
    combo with QueenSabe7
    The Malachor Temple, now Qi'ra's home base, Malachor

    Qi’ra, no longer confined to the limitations of a Dark Lord of the Sith, watched her companion without the faintest hint of emotion. Braata had been her only constant over the last decade and (nearly) a half, dare she say the presence had become a friend – but that would be incorrect. Someone like her did not have friends, could not… she was as she was, on her own.

    Independent. In control.

    Her eyes flicked over to the newest addition to her collection beside her first – the oddly-shaped holocron she had originally come back to Malachor for at Braata’s behest. Of all the control she had regained and newly assumed, this curious little device had not bent to her will even in the smallest way, which had become a point of growing frustration. For all the secrets she knew it held, it had remained quiet both to the eye and in the Force, refusing to speak to her or even simply acknowledge her.

    It had been years of this constant rejection, and she had developed a dark fantasy in which she would crush the silent holocron with her bare hands, reducing it to finely ground sand that slipped away between her fingers.

    Braata made a sudden shift and Qi’ra broke free of her annoyance to watch the faceless woman disappear, in her place the object itself opening at one side of the cube. The former Sith leaned forward, interest growing in her features as her eyes narrowed, her posture stiffening. And there, something began to peek through the open end, recognition dawning on her only a second later.

    “How,” she whispered, reaching for the intricate hilt and slowly, cautiously pulling it free of its otherworldly cage. A long blade came into view, a grim smile turning up the corners of her mouth as she angled it vertically before her.

    The Dagger of Mortis, a weapon she last laid eyes on back on the Island, the place with The Man in Black, where she had seen many things still not understood. It stirred a restless darkness within her that had laid silent since that event, always reminding her there was much yet to be discovered…

    "I have found the words that you require in my memories; we have plumbed the dark depths together and our heresy has born what we always knew it would; the name of the title that we truly seek for you, Qi'ra." Braata’s voice seemed to come not from the holocron any longer, but from inside her own mind. Yet, she felt they had become one a long time ago.

    "We shall remake you as Destructor, and all shall burn before you."

    She had felt something else then, the smallest ripple in the Force when Braata said that word; Destructor. Qi’ra eyed the red holocron, sensing its prickling awareness at the same moment.

    "Do you accept?"

    The Dagger came to rest on her lap, her fingers caressing the blade along its sharp end, as if daring it to slice into her skin. “I’ve yet to find a name, title, more in line with my desires than this one,” she replied confidently, intrigue and need dripping from her tone. “Destructor – a destroyer…”

    Qi’ra rose her eyes back to Braata’s cube though she had yet to reappear. “I accept.”

    Braata came back into being, a smile booming into the Force. This was the goal they sought; to destroy, and End. Qi’ra was no Sith obsessed with taking and power, just destruction and chaos.

    Her pursuit for power had caused her to walk the corridors of Coruscant and the former Sith had felt smaller for it. She was no politician or shadow puppeteer, but a force of nature; nothing more or less.

    It was she who had had burned down that Coruscant; had the blood of billions on her hands; her who had killed and killed and killed. Lando, Medrit, Beviin, Ahsoka... and more besides.

    Now they sought other things; ways to crush all in their path.

    Braata was about to continue when the crystal Holocron glowed, and a vision finally appeared. After so many years; it spoke.

    “Destructor?” A petulant tone rippled. “The galaxy pivots on my death, and you propose destruction?” A gloating laugh. “This galaxy is already finished.”

    For the gatekeeper was a young man with flame-red hair.

    And his name was Palpatine.

    Qi'ra straightened further at the abrupt change in the crystal holocron, her hand reflexively tightening over the blade of the dagger just enough to draw blood. It left a crimson smear as she released her grip just as quickly. The figure that had appeared, mocking tone and demeanor, haughty, it took a moment for her mind to work out the vague recognition there. He wasn't like she had remembered, but once she connected with a certain feature or two - eyes, mouth - she knew exactly who it was that spoke.

    "Palpatine," she called him aloud, though there was no overt shock present in her voice. Only a mere statement of fact. "Surprised you stayed quiet for this long."

    Qi'ra looked down at him, scrutinizing gaze examining the projection of a very young man that had yet to come into his own as the great evil he would later become. What game was this device playing at? Was this holocron... his?

    “Well, I am merely the latest owner of this device, I couldn’t speak for just myself, when I’m very much dead, I gather,” the man seethed aloud.

    “But how do I look? I know how boring it is to listen to old teachers, so I adopted a younger look; I still have my red hair, and I was quite a looker back in the day, before I went to Nouane.” There was that haughtiness, and snideness, all again.

    “You placed your personality over that of the one before?” Braata replied, cutting across the taunting.

    “As have I and the Sith for the last seven millennia, I gather,” Palpatine shrugged.

    “And before that?”

    “Who knows? You’d have to ask Ajunta Pall, the first Dark Lord of the Sith.”

    Braata looked to Ananke. “This poses a problem... I didn’t expect the Holocron of Prophecy to have been overlaid...”

    “... what madman would have done that? It contained the entirety of the future... until the End of Time, he said.” Braata trailed off. “You know, don’t you?”

    Palpatine snorted. “To dive deep into a Holocron you would need to risk your self; if you lose to a gatekeeper, they can take your body. Do you think I did it more than once?”

    Braata huffed.

    “A Holocron of Prophecy, eh?” Palpatine mused. “As opposed, perhaps, to Heresies?” He lazily gestured at Braata. “Darth Bane had possession one of those, once, another red pyramid taken by Darth Andeddu. The Jedi had an ancient Holocron of Prophecy, too. A blue-cube...”

    There was a faint stirring in Ananke at that, and Braata bowed her head in rage. It didn’t provide them with the direction she had hoped, and instead offered more unhelpfulness. Braata eyed the Dagger of Mortis in Ananke’s hand. “It is said to be a key...”

    Qi'ra bristled at the banter between the two holographs, simply re-grabbing the hilt of the dagger and standing at Braata's suggestion.

    "A key," she reiterated. "How? Tell me how." The last part was definitely not a question.

    "There is a risk; you might not be able to come out; come back... Palpatine might even fillet you out, and take your body as his own..." Braata said, lightly, but knowing that Qi'ra had no patience for this. After fourteen years, she needed to know, and she needed to know now.

    "Stab the Holocron and focus yourself along the Dagger; you'll dive in, and through, and Palpatine..." Braata glowered at him, who was devilishly smiling. "He'll try to win."

    "But the secrets of the past, they're within that Holocron. The truth behind what has happened to our future..." Braata intoned. "And what will become of our present."

    Palpatine's Holocron shut-off, vanishing into silence to hide; to prepare defences; to prepare traps.

    But the moment between the Holocron of Heresies that now belonged to a young Palpatine and Qi'ra Ananke was interrupted, and, well, surprisingly so.

    There was another Qi'ra standing before Braata and Ananke and the silent Holocron; a woman who called herself Syren, her Sith name.

    She had been at a feast, surrounded by Sith she did not recognise, though another Syren had been present.

    Did she see her future?

    No, wait, now she stood in the dark shadows of a different world.

    She stood with herself.

    And a pair of Holocrons, one active.

    What did the Force show her now?

    Would patience snap, and blood be spilled?

    TAG: @QueenSabe7 (combo, so I may Braata)
    QueenSabe7 and HanSolo29 like this.
  4. Jerjerrod-Lennox

    Jerjerrod-Lennox Jedi Grand Master star 7

    Mar 9, 2005
    OOC:A combo with @Sinrebirth

    IC: Pascale Rouser, The Echo
    Location: Outside the Tomb of Tulak Hord, Korriban


    That was the sweetest sound he could ever hear in this universe. Feyna was alive and well, he didn't know if she was as battered as he was but he had to get to her and fast. Even though his body was protesting and his head was feeling like he had been on a particularly nasty drinking bender.

    His vision was beginning to clear, and he could see somebody moving towards them both, to him it looked like the man trying to look as inconspicuous as possible on board the Resurrection.

    “Hold on Feyna” he called, his voice sounding croaky “I’m coming!”

    His rifle was nowhere to be seen so he was back down to his vibroknives again. As he tried to move towards the sound of her voice he could see something in front of him. Was that? It looked like him but dressed in his normal suit and hat.

    I think I might be hallucinating…

    The hallucination spoke as if an echo, wobbling into history. "You appear to be me, though decidedly more dishevelled than I am at the moment. An interesting trick of the Force...another version of me? I heard a theory once that my life has been changed by events beyond my control, and that things could have turned out very differently."

    The other Rouser smiled sardonically; a grin which was all rogue. "From the looks of things I would hardly consider it to be better."

    The Force that had filled Rouser rippled, connecting, tying, caught between two possibilities that should not have been.

    Whatever on Korriban hadbridged them was heretical and dark, but happened it had.

    His brain was playing tricks on him, either that or his conscience was popping in to say hello as he was injured. Or this was a darker version of him, the devil that sat on your shoulder. Or that the planet had decided to throw a bit of the old dark side of the Force at him and had projected a sort of different version of him to stop him getting to Feyna.

    It was going to fail miserably. Although looking at it he had his voice and behaviour down to a T.

    He shook his head "Well this is what you get when you decide to do business with a crazy Sith lady who prefers skimpy clothing , crashing on a Sith planet and nearly getting blown up by a torpedo" he snorted "Plus trying to keep a certain lady safe and making sure she gets back to her boss in one piece and not in bits"

    He narrowed his blue eyes at the other version of him "So, you may be me or it may just be a trick of my mind or the Force deciding it wants to play games. But whoever you are if you are indeed a different version of me, I see that you look like you have no problems at all. Maybe you should try being blown up by a torpedo, it's not fun"

    “Duly noted,” the other Rouser said.

    There was a third voice that intruded, and it belonged to someone distant. “I was forcibly removed by my sin... and my lingering will resonated through time, tragically so...”

    “But I was nothing more than my echoing vengeance, following what was left of my bloodline through history.” A grimace ripples between them. “But now the two of you are here, I have shape, and form, and I remember my true name - not the name I was given.”

    “To my descendant who died, I saved you from death but without me I cannot say what will happen. To my descendant who lives, I can now pass on if you let me. I can return to myself, and the Echo ends... but I will likely take the Force with me.”

    The voice sighed, and the hallucinations of Rouser started, absorbing the consequences. Of course, to the Rouser on Korriban, it would all make little sense, but there it was. “But I must return to my body, and stop the Twilight Wars.”

    “May I?”

    What the bloody hell was going on?

    A third person or entity, whatever it was had decided to join this conversation and it was all starting to get a bit weird. It was talking about people dying, people surviving , having to go back to stop a war of some kind and taking away the Force. It was all a bit surreal and maybe something to document to his personal archive.

    He spoke to the entity first "I don't know who or what you are, but if you need to stop this war, then you do it if it means stripping me of the Force. I prefer to rely on my brain to get me out of situations. I don't know if the other me knows much about the Force but I have heard, seen and read about what these people can do. And I do not deserve this power, only those that can wield it responsibly do and you seem like the type that can do it"

    He turned to the other him "All I can see from you is darkness, all I can see is a man who may have become a monster. I may be a mercenary, I may be only interested in money but I do care about Feyna, and I care about getting off this planet alive so I can still travel this galaxy. And you are not going to stop me"

    He spoke to the voice "You have my permission".

    But the other could only frown. “I needed the Echo to repulse Typhojem; if I don’t have it -“

    “You should never have had it,” the Echo intoned. “Your Existence is a perversion of the Force, and I am sorry that you lived for so long as a lie.”

    The voice seemed to reorient on Rouser. “Thank you. You do the family name well. You look so much like Ven, even after all this time. May the Force be with you, even as I take it.”

    “Wait -“

    With that, the Force was stripped from Rouser... and it carried on its journey, no longer trapped in a body but passing down to where it had been placed all that time ago.

    Of course - it made absolutely no sense to the Rouser on Korriban... but it made the Sith spirits disinterested in him... and may even save his life.

    I can’t say what became of the other, the one with Arb and Beaumont Kin.

    What should have happened all those years ago, no doubt.

    It felt like a light had been switched off.

    He could no longer feel all around him, the Sith spirits whispers, the tingling had gone and the thoughts and feelings he could sense all around had disappeared. But it had been at the expense of the other man's life. But to save himself he had to do it, to not become the darkness he had seen.

    "Good luck" he said to the voice and he meant it. The entity could rest in peace knowing it could stop a war with his powers. Pascale knew the darker him needed to go, hopefully wherever he came from would be better for it.

    Typhojem though sounded familiar. A Sith God from the ancient age. He was going nowhere near him if he was going to end up like his counterpart.

    He sighed. Well I became a murderer when I killed that stormtrooper, now i've essentially killed myself. Might as well call me a criminal right now.

    The other him had gone, now it was time to grab Feyna and get away from whatever was happening in that cave.

    Pascale gritted his teeth and began to crawl over to where Feyna was.

    TAG: @Sinrebirth , @JediMasterAnne , @HanSolo29 , @TheSilentInfluence
    Last edited: Mar 14, 2020
    HanSolo29 likes this.
  5. JediMasterAnne

    JediMasterAnne Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Apr 24, 2004
    IC: NRI Agent Feyna Morrow and Chancellor Feyna Organa
    Korriban, 14 ABY/Shuttle to Hesperidium, 14 ATA

    Feyna's head was still hurting, but aside from that, and the overall soreness and bruising from being thrown around so much (the blast from the X-wing, right on top of the earlier crash), she didn't seem to have acquired any new injuries. Her ears were ringing, too; it was hard to hear her own voice, maybe Rouser couldn't, either.

    She needed to find him fast, and they needed to get away from here.

    She started to pull herself up, still looking for him. "Come on, where—“

    Something shifted, and suddenly she was looking not at the dark wasteland of Korriban, but what appeared to be the interior of a ship. And it wasn't the nondescript functionalism of a military ship, either, but the kind of pristine comfort she'd expect to find in a high-level diplomatic vessel. There seemed to be only one passenger, a woman, and she was staring at Feyna like she was seeing a ghost.

    Perhaps she was, because the passenger was Feyna.

    Granted, a more tidy and regal version of her. This other Feyna was wearing an elegant dress of dusky purple, much nicer than anything Feyna Morrow had ever owned or worn, and her hair was arranged into an intricate braided up-do that she'd never have had the patience for.

    I'm dead. I've died and this is some bizarre afterlife. The ship was a metaphor, to take her into the spirit realm and this other Feyna was...what, her guide? But then why did she look so shocked? And if she was dead, why did everything still hurt?

    Okay, maybe she wasn't dead. Perhaps this was the concussion, making her see things.

    Since Isolder was busy piloting, he'd had to leave Feyna to her own devices in the shuttle's lounge, and he'd told her to try to relax.

    Easier said than done, but she was trying. Most other times, she would have used the downtime between departure and destination to catch up on some of the news or read a few reports, but the point of this little trip was to get away from work and politics, just for the night. So no HoloNet, and her comlink and data pad were stowed away in her bag. Just solitude, and the sounds of the ship.


    Her eyes snapped open, to be met with the strangest sight, and a strange woman--no, not a stranger, she was so, so, familiar...

    I'm going mad. I'm over-stressed and now I'm hallucinating. Or maybe it was a weird vision, perhaps. She'd heard of Force-sensitives having visions of the future; Grandmaster Bnar had once mentioned that Anakin had nearly Fallen after a vision of Padme dying. But Feyna wasn't Force-sensitive, and she'd never heard of a vision that could see you, too. And if this was a premonition of events to come, then it couldn't be very far off; they appeared to be the same age.

    Her double was bloodied and dirty, with a gash across her forehead in the exact same place as Feyna's scar from Mandalore, fourteen years earlier. She could see a dismal wasteland beyond her, but it didn't look like Mandalore. Her hair was in a simple, mussed braid, and her plain clothes were rumpled and torn by whatever chaos she'd been in the middle of.

    They stared at each other for a long moment, wearing identical expressions of shock and confusion, clearly trying to puzzle out what was going on.

    Chancellor Feyna finally broke out of the trance that seemed to have seized them both.

    "Okay, this is very strange, and very confusing..."

    Agent Feyna gave a small "no kidding" nod in agreement.

    Chancellor Feyna thought she might have seen her roll her eyes a bit as well, but she ignored it. "...but just sitting here isn't going to help us figure this out.

    "We're the same 'who.'"
    Again, the second Feyna gave her a "that's pretty obvious" look, but didn't argue. It was a starting point.

    "I don't know the 'why' or 'how' this is happening."

    Agent Feyna was shaking her head. She didn't know, either.

    "So the next question seems to be 'when.' I don't recognize where you are, so I don't think you are in my past, nor am I in your future."

    Agent Feyna frowned. "You aren't my past, either, though," she pointed out. "What year is it, to you?"

    Chancellor Feyna adopted a similar expression. "It is fourteen years after the destruction of Alderaan, the Galactic Civil War, and the fall of the Empire."

    Agent Feyna's scowl deepened. Some of it matched, some didn't. "Alderaan is right, but to me, the Empire fell ten years ago, when Emperor Palpatine died on the second Death Star."

    Chancellor Feyna's expression reverted back to one of surprised confusion. "Palpatine? Palpatine died before I was born..."

    Realization began to set in. "We're the same person, but different versions." They were both Feyna, but they were not the same Feyna; they existed in different timelines from each other, two sides of the same coin. Something different had happened in their respective pasts to significantly alter certain events and something, somehow, had caused the two planes to intersect.

    Crazy as it sounded, the Feyna on Korriban couldn't think of a better explanation--though it created more questions than it answered. "Wait, if Palpatine died, who was Emperor? Vader?"

    Chancellor Feyna shook her head. "I've never heard of a 'Vader.' Mas Amedda was the Emperor, he was killed just a few days after Alderaan was destroyed."

    Now it was Agent Feyna's turn to be surprised again. In her world, Amedda had been on Palpatine's council, and, as best she could recall, had been reduced to little more than a figurehead leader of a provisional government on Coruscant after surrendering to the New Republic about a year after Endor. Her impression of him was as a weak underling of the Emperor, and not much more.

    But this other Feyna lived in a galaxy where Palpatine was never Emperor, and... "No Darth Vader? Your galaxy was lucky, Vader was Palpatine's second-in-command, he was horrible.

    "Did Anakin Skywalker not fall, then? That's who Vader was, before he was Vader."

    Chancellor Feyna froze, and went quite pale. "Anakin...fell?" She knew that it had almost happened, before he and Master Windu had killed Palpatine, all those years ago.

    Apparently, in this other universe, he'd crossed all the way over.

    Agent Feyna regarded her counterpart, startled by her alarmed reaction, suddenly wondering if she'd said too much. Was it safe to be sharing information like this across timelines?

    Probably too late to be asking ourselves that now

    “What about Luke, and Leia?” Chancellor Feyna asked. “And their mother, Padme, what happened to them?”

    Agent Feyna’s eyes narrowed slightly, before realizing…she knows them. There was a familiarity in the way she spoke, she hadn’t just heard of them, but actually knew the twins on a personal level. Possibly, she knew Anakin, too, but only as Anakin.

    “I guess Luke and Leia were separated when they were born? Their mother must have died, all I really know is that Luke grew up on Tatooine and Leia was adopted by the Organas, I don’t think they even knew they were related ‘til around the end of the war…”

    Leia was adopted by the Organas. Leia was adopted by the Organas. A cold, sinking feeling was beginning to settle over the Chancellor. “What’s your last name?” she suddenly asked the other, cutting off whatever else she’d been saying.

    Agent Feyna was caught off guard by the interruption, and the question. “What?”

    “Your last name?”

    Her eyes narrowed again. “It’s Morrow. You know that. We’re the same person, remember?”


    Morrow was the surname she’d been born under. Feyna’s full name was Feyna Julee Morrow Organa; when she’d been adopted, Bail and Breha had only added their last name after hers, keeping her birth name otherwise intact. When she was older, some time after learning of her adoption, she’d asked why they’d left it; her father had answered that it was so she would still have that connection to her birth family, to where she’d come from. And according to the information from the orphanage, her birth mother’s name had been Julee. You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her, Feyna. And we wouldn’t have you, so we honor her by keeping the name she gave you.

    “Morrow…” Chancellor Feyna repeated softly, slowly meeting the other’s eyes. “You were never adopted, were you?”

    “No, I wasn’t—“ Agent Feyna started to retort, irritated at first, her tone again saying ‘you should know this.’ Until it hit her. “…Wait, you were?

    Chancellor Feyna nodded slowly. “Anakin Skywalker never fell. He and his wife Padme raised the twins together on Naboo. Leia didn’t need the Organas to adopt her, so they adopted a different child, a couple of years later…” She held out her hand; in it was a brooch that Agent Feyna recognized as being made of chalcedony, in a shape she knew to be the crest of the Alderaanian Royal Family. “...Me.”

    Agent Feyna’s eyes widened, her gaze shifting back and forth between the pin, and the other Feyna, for a long moment, too stunned to speak.

    She’d had parents, in this other galaxy. She’d had a family, a place to belong. Something she’d never had, in this version of the universe.

    But hadn’t Bail Organa and his wife died when Alderaan was destroyed? Maybe in this other timeline… “Are they…?”

    “They died when Alderaan blew. Leia and Padme, and Mon Mothma, too. Luke…” Chancellor Feyna realized that she didn’t want to talk about what had happened with Luke, or Anakin. “No one’s seen Luke or Anakin since.”

    Agent Feyna’s expression was equally somber, and it took a few seconds before she spoke again, shifting the subject. “So what do you do now? I went to the Rebellion after Alderaan and now I work in New Repbulic Intelligence.”

    Chancellor Feyna’s expression seemed to be something between amused and impressed. Actually, in some ways, her other self reminded her of Jyn. “Chancellor of the New Republic.”

    Agent Feyna’s brows shot up, and she even chuckled a bit. “Yeah, no thanks. My job is dangerous and stressful, but I still wouldn’t trade it for that.”

    Would she have traded it, though, if it meant a life where she would have had a family? It was hard to miss what she’d never really had. But she would admit that she was a little envious of this other Feyna.

    “Leia is Chancellor, over here, but we call it Chief of State,” she added, remembering that Leia had died in the other timeline. “Luke is training new Jedi. Vader died the same time as Palpatine, but they say that Luke actually turned him back to the Light, and Anakin was the one who killed the Emperor.”

    Chancellor Feyna’s brow furrowed, curious. “He turned back?”

    Agent Feyna shrugged. “Luke says so.”

    Somewhere behind her, on Korriban, she heard a voice calling for her. “Hold on Feyna, I’m coming!” Rouser.

    Apparently Chancellor Feyna heard it, too. “I think this is where we part. Wherever you are, it doesn’t look safe, and I’m distracting you.”

    A last question occurred to her. “You were calling for a ‘Rouser,’ earlier—did you mean Pascale Rouser?”

    Agent Feyna started to pick herself up. “Yeah, why?”

    The Chancellor gave her head a little shake, a tiny smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Just wondering. He’s a war criminal, in this galaxy.” She gave her other self a small nod of good-bye. “Good luck, and be careful.”

    Agent Feyna nodded back. “You, too.”

    Whatever had connected them broke apart, and their other selves disappeared, leaving Feyna Morrow back on Korriban, and Feyna Organa, back on her shuttle.

    TAG: @Jerjerrod-Lennox @HanSolo29 @TheSilentInfluence @Sinrebirth
  6. TheSilentInfluence

    TheSilentInfluence Silent and Friendly Mod of SWTV and SWC star 6 Staff Member Manager

    Jul 15, 2014
    IC: Madelyn Linnett
    Korriban, by the Cloister of XoXaan, and then, Mandalore, by New Keldabe

    Madelyn wasn't sure what was happening. The force felt strange, and then she saw herself. Healthier, stronger. Staring back at her with what looked like a lightsaber on her hip. Dressed in Mandalorian armor.

    Who's Arthur? Madelyn wondered briefly. And why am I dressed like that?

    "Who are you?" Madelyn asked. "What do you want with me?"

    "I'm Mandalore Madelyn Linnett," she said, drawing her darksaber hilt without hesitation. The woman before her stank of the dark side, and had called herself a Sith. "Who are you?"


    She ignited the blade, a black one bursting free.


    "I think you're mistaken. I'm Emperors Hand Madelyn Linnett." Madelyn made no move to attack the other Madelyn. She kept her red blade to her side, "Are you a Jedi?" Madelyn asked, feeling something flare up with the force.

    "I was a Jedi Padawan; I became a Mandalorian and claimed the Darksaber," she indicated with the blade, but let it drop to her side. "Master Zey took me as his Padawan after Order 66, when the surviving Jedi retreated to Ossus with Masters Yoda, Windu and Skywalker."

    Madelyn frowned. "How do you not know what am I? Are you a dark side clone?" Madelyn had no idea. This was up there with the strange events that had happened on Mimban, fourteen years ago.

    Madelyn looked confused, and shook her head. "I was one too, but it was Emperor Palpatine that took me in and trained me to be an Emperors Hand after Darth Vader spared my life during order 66." She regarded the other woman curiously and added, "But you look like I used to when I was healthy and not on the run." Madelyn paused and smiled a little.

    The Mandalorian Madelyn smiled a little, and then remembered herself. "You were a Hand?" She lifted the Darksaber hilt up. "And you're now a Sith?" Madelyn steeled herself, remembering that darksiders were able to lie and manipulate. "I faced a Sith spirit once; they nearly killed me."

    The blade ignited. "I must stop you from doing harm to others."

    "I'm not a spirit." Madelyn protested. "I'm a person. I'm you." She stressed. "We're just two sides of the same coin Mand'alor." Madelyn shook her head. "Perhaps things would have been different, had we not been chosen for the lives we lead."

    She made no move to attack the other Madelyn, but was also ready to defend herself. "You are showing me what I could have been. And I am showing you what you could have been, had you fallen to the darkside."

    Madelyn lowered her Darksaber. "My dark side..."

    She deactivated the blade. "If you are a warning; I shall remember it, and fight back against my despair. I will trust that the Force has sent me this vision to prepare me for the way forward." A little shrug. "That's all I can do."

    "But what will you learn from me?"

    Madelyn looked at the ground. "That I can start my life over, and maybe survive without fear." She admitted quietly. She looked at the other Madelyn. "I don't remember the last time I was happy."

    Madelyn stared at her for a time, and the Foreteller and Darth Voren were silent too.

    "I'm glad I got to meet you, then, Madelyn Linnett, former Dark Jedi and Emperor's Hand."

    Madelyn looked up, met the other Madelyn's eyes. "I'm glad I got to meet you too, Mand'alor." She hesitated. "Thank you."

    There was a ripple, and Mand'alor Madelyn held out a hand to bid goodbye.

    "May the Force with you."

    Madelyn was hesitant, but reached out and shook her hand with confusion. "And also with you." She replied automatically, as if something from her brief Jedi past had made it's way to the surface. There was another ripple and Madelyn let go of Mand'alor Madelyn's hand.

    The two parted from their celestially ordained moment, the Force released from the moment. What they could have been was revealed; their path made both more certain and less unclear.

    Each Madelyn Linnett had her trials to face, and here they would begin.

  7. HanSolo29

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

    Apr 13, 2001
    The following is a combo with Sinrebirth – thank you so much! :D

    IC: Senator Aryan Graul, Aryan Graul, and the Echo

    Private Suite, Senate District, Coruscant

    An impish smirk pulled up one corner of Aryan’s mouth as Gaeriel expressed her dismay and escorted An’ya from their suite. It had been an awkward meeting that could have easily turned disastrous, though that all changed when he spotted Master Kuro’s knowing smile before she had departed. It was a relatively small gesture, but it was enough to put his mind at ease. Despite her reservations, she had given him her seal of approval to pursue a personal relationship with Gaeriel.

    Aryan exhaled heavily at that thought. He had generally adopted a carefree attitude about how the public viewed their relationship, but perhaps that perception – or lack thereof – had caused him more undue stress than he realized. Now that An’ya had finally acknowledged their arrangement, he could relax and focus his full attention on other matters. Most notably, the issue with his father and how his presence would undoubtedly affect his time in the Senate and eventually, his investigation.

    Clenching his jaw, Aryan ran a hand through his hair and began to saunter over toward the wet bar. He quickly decided that he needed a drink to help him unwind. But before he reached the wood-paneled counter, he paused when the Force rippled and caused the air around him to buzz as if electrically charged. It sent an icy chill down his spine and set the hair on his arms on edge.

    There was another presence here. A very familiar presence. He couldn’t quite pinpoint it, and yet…

    Pressing his lips together tightly, Aryan cautiously reached for the lightsaber hilt hidden safely within a sheath inside the folds of his shirt. He then honed in on the strange disturbance and stepped forward to snuff it out. As he inched around the bar to enter the main living area, he saw the source – a man huddled in the fetal position with something clenched tightly within his grasp.

    Aryan was about to ignite his blade and deal with the intruder when he suddenly understood why this man’s presence had felt so familiar to him. He was gazing upon himself.

    Or rather, he thought it was himself. He certainly wasn’t in the best of shape.

    The man appeared battered and dirty, his hair unkempt with silvery stubble lining his jaw and cheeks. He also noted several blood spots and other various lacerations littered across his hands and forehead. As if his physical appearance wasn’t enough to perceive his fragile state, the emotional turmoil that rolled off of the man in waves made it very clear. It brought a sinking feeling to Aryan’s stomach, causing him to feel ill.

    For a moment, he wondered if maybe he had fallen asleep, or if this was a vision of some kind, but he quickly brushed that notion from his mind. There was a tangible line that connected them to this moment; this was real. Very real.

    “Something tells me you’re incredibly lost, friend,” Aryan called evenly, removing his hand from the lightsaber hilt and stepping into the other man’s line of sight. “Although, at this point, I’m not sure where or when exactly you belong.”

    There was a reverberation between them, and the Force shuddered as the two of them met and their respective frequencies resonated. What is little known is that minds of the same make-up occupy the same wavelength in the Force, and while an adult wouldn't notice, such as Feyna, for example, a Force user or a younger mind would, in the form of pressure upon them.

    That connection between the two of them birthed a frown, lopsided but apparent.

    But it was silent for the moment because it wished to wonder about the two men before him; one, a disheveled and wounded version, and the other, a calm and collected one. The former was a mess within the Force, ill-prepared and stressed, while the latter was firm and trained, reminding the Echo of himself before things went awry.

    But for now, he was silent.

    He was, after all, an academic.

    Aryan, in his disheveled state, scraped across the ground in a rather pathetic manner. The aforementioned pressure that had suddenly pressed upon him had caused him to lose his balance and fall. Even now, in this vulnerable position, it did not relent. If anything, it only increased in its intensity, seeming to crush him against the dusty earth. With a sharp gasp, his fingers grasped desperately for the gravel and stone beneath him as he struggled to find purchase...

    No, wait.

    It wasn’t gravel and stone any longer.

    Something had shifted. The ground felt plush and soft, almost as if a fine carpet had been unfurled below him. But he knew that was absurd. How could--

    Opening his eyes slowly, Aryan glanced down at the impossible sight before him – a finely woven rug with intricate patterns and colors. It reminded him of something that he had observed a long time ago, back when his life was more substantive and elaborate. It was a symbol of the rich and powerful – of those who had the kind of influence to decide the fate of the galaxy.

    Was it another hallucination of this dark place? Another trick?

    He wished that were so, though it was difficult to focus on that possibility when a deep, gravelly voice broke into his awareness and taunted him in a way that was all-too-familiar. Of course, the timbre of your own voice always sounded distorted when perceived through alternative means, but in this case, there was no mistaking the truth.

    As if to confirm his suspicions, Aryan lifted his chin and forced himself to make eye contact with his doppelganger. In many ways, it was like peering through a twisted mirror – he was looking upon himself, but it was a version that never truly existed. Or perhaps, could have existed if he had followed a very different path after the Senate had dissolved all those years ago. This variant of himself was finely dressed in a conservative suit and tie; he was clean-cut and presentable. He noted the gray in his hair, particularly around the temples, and how it was beginning to become quite prominent, even from a distance. It made him look more distinguished and served as an indication that they were roughly the same age.

    And yet, none of this helped to ease his mind. That terrible pressure continued to weigh down on him, making it extremely difficult to breathe. The Force only exacerbated this problem by needling at the back of his mind, almost as if warning him of the imminent danger he faced. Or was it a thrill of excitement? It was hard to differentiate between the two at this juncture, especially when he was still reeling after confronting the Sith spirits of Korriban.

    Either way, Aryan was not taking a chance this time.

    Securing the Holocron into his jacket, he clenched his jaw and launched himself at the Graul doppelganger with a feral yell, his arms outstretched for the man’s throat.

    Senator Graul’s eyes widened marginally before he calmly sidestepped out of the way – as if he had anticipated the action. He then reached out to pacify the agitated Aryan by enveloping his arms around his torso, pulling him close. “Whoa, hey,” he soothed as he wrestled with his double. “Take it easy, ok? I’m not going to hurt you.”

    Aryan eventually felt the doppelganger’s hand upon his forehead, followed by an overwhelming sense of calm. It washed over his body in waves, relaxing his tense muscles and forcing him back into the other man’s lap. He felt helpless as he stared up into his own familiar features. “You’re...not real,” he muttered breathlessly.

    The Echo could only subtly add to the soothing that was pouring into the Force. Gently, he reached out and sought to reinforce the pieces of the broken one’s mind, of the one he had seen, so they could discuss their place in time itself.

    This moment would not last forever, but clearly it was necessary. He did his best to ignore his Holocron; fate would decree where it went. But he could hope.

    The Senator did not immediately respond to his double’s comment. He was too distracted by the rhythmic pulsing within the Force; it resonated inside his head, tapping into every facet of his being, almost as if a great big pressure was bearing down on him. It was intoxicating, and he couldn’t help but latch onto that sensation and explore it on a more intimate level. He wanted to understand what was happening and why.

    As if on cue, his mind wandered back fourteen years ago, to the Dark Man and their whimsical meeting on Ach-to in the mirror cave. He recalled the man’s confession about altering the course of time to conduct some twisted experiment. Aryan had not believed him at the time, but was this incident proof of the man’s claim? Was this rumpled version of Aryan Graul from the proper timeline – the unaltered timeline? And if so, did that mean that in some reality, Arek was still alive?

    Pressing his lips together, the Senator leaned forward and scrutinized the other man’s face, idly wondering if he had come from a time where his son was well; where he was still happily married to Lyz; where there was no pain and adversity. What did that feel like?

    His heart was now beating rapidly within his chest. Aryan wanted to desperately ask those questions to satisfy his curiosity, but he quickly clamped down on that thought and suppressed it. Despite his fervor, the Senator could clearly feel the other man’s distress through the Force. It would be inappropriate to beat him when he was down. Although, that wasn’t the only deciding factor. He also wasn’t sure if he was fully prepared to reopen those old wounds; if he was strong enough to confront the truth.

    Fortunately, he didn't have to dwell on that notion for long. His mind began to drift when he felt another odd impression brush across his awareness. It was subtle at first, like a gentle tap to the shoulder, but it soon consumed every waking thought. In short order, it became an insatiable hunger that he could not ignore. He needed to gratify this urge – this unquenchable fire.

    His search to identify the source ultimately led Aryan back to his double, or rather to something hidden on the man’s person. It practically called to him from its resting place within the folds of his tattered jacket. If he could just…

    Shifting his eyes to meet the other Graul’s gaze, he knew what he had to do. It wasn’t the most ethical solution, but he had no other choice. Once again, he called upon the Force and pushed forth with a sense of calm. “You’re right,” he replied softly, his hand moving down from the man’s forehead to caress his stubbled cheek. The goal was to lull him off to sleep and make him forget. It would be easier that way. “I’m not real. I’m just a dream. A simple apparition.”

    As the man’s eyes began to flutter, Aryan carefully brought his other arm around and reached into Graul’s jacket to retrieve his prize. The object pulsed within his palm as he brought it out into the light.

    “You won’t need to remember that I was ever here.”

    The ripple within the Force, conscious as it was, mused on the fickle trickery that the offshoot Aryan had employed. His original was mentally compromised, so the effort was an impressive and almost underhanded one - but also appropriate and appreciated.

    Had the offshoot perhaps known more, he would have done more to the original to alleviate his symptoms. But alas their coming together would only last so long.

    But at the same time, the ripples doubled down on its hiding within the Force - as part of it, and yet not, surfing a current or perhaps a sound through the medium of the Force, to keep to the metaphor of him as an echo. He did so because it was clear the offshoot could detect the Holocron; and if he could that, he was closer to detecting the Echo than not, of course, for they were arguably one and the same...

    ... but neither Aryan would like that.

    For now, however, the Echo could travel no further. Without a son, he was bound from continuing on to his inevitable meeting. And so he said nothing, hid everything, and through his connection to what could be said to be his Holocron, gave his blessing for it to pass over.

    The more that was known of what should have been - the better.

    But already the space between them faltered and fell apart; the moment was over. The heresy was over; Prophecy would resume.

    As his double began to fade away into oblivion, the Senator lowered his hand to give the man’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. It was his way of releasing him from this moment – as if he was granting him permission to let go. “There’s no need for concern,” Aryan continued as he leaned back to disengage. “When you wake up, everything will be as it was. Now, rest.”

    Graul complied with one final push, and things soon shifted back to how they were.

    The Senator was alone in his suite once more.

    And all became silent.

    For a long moment, Aryan could only sit pensively and ruminate over the strange encounter he had just experienced. It seemed more and more likely that the Dark Man had told them the truth – he had altered the timeline and allowed for a sort of convergence to occur. In this case, he had witnessed a singularity that had afforded him a brief glimpse of himself in an alternate reality, though he was no closer to finding the answers he craved. He still didn’t understand why or how.

    But perhaps more concerning was the mental state of his altered self. He hadn’t been well. Aryan had felt the disparity in the man’s mind; something had happened to upset the fragile balance that separated the sane from the insane. The Aryan Graul he had met was teetering precariously close to the latter.

    What had caused him to break?

    And was he in danger of following the same path? Could they even be considered the same person at this point?

    “Maybe you have the answers,” Aryan surmised softly, his blue-gray eyes shifting back to the object of his desire. The red, pyramidal artifact seemed to respond to the sound of his voice by emitting a soft, ethereal glow as it pulsed in the palm of his hand. While he had never personally seen one before, he was quite certain he had just uncovered his first Holocron.

    “I’m curious to know your story.”

    The moment drifted and both Aryans were separated, but the Holocron remained. The Echo drifted into its Holocron, and the Holocron stayed silent at his behest. He donned the robes and hid.

    There was noise outside the room, of Gaeriel returning and grumbling as she did. “Damn Jedi Masters with their mystery and shadows.”

    TAG: @Sinrebirth
  8. galactic-vagabond422

    galactic-vagabond422 Force Ghost star 4

    Jul 11, 2009

    The pair of warriors locked eyes across the universes. They both knew right away who they were. Only they had armor of that color, only they would have that clan patch on their shoulder. They pause for a moment looking at each other. One in armor much more scraped and used up…though that fact was likely only known to mandalorians and to the women themselves. One bore more injuries, more pain. One had armor shined and clean. One had a light in her eyes. They were women on very different sides of things, and they could tell.

    One lived in peace, one lived in constant war. One had a family, one only had credits.

    There was nothing to say, they knew everything they needed to just by looking. A what could have been, though neither woman knew how it happened they both could feel it. This was what they could have been had fate twisted different, if the powers that be chose different paths. In the end, their fate wasn't their own, they were alway pushed and tossed about by those more powerful and more willful than them. They were warriors, they rarely change the tides of fate...put they are the tool that sees fates change.

    Both women understand this. Their place was to fight, and fight and fight until there was nothing left of them. To give all that they are to the business of war, be it at the side of the Mandalor, or as a hired blaster. They both fought.

    Just for different reasons.

    One had found a place in a family where her skills could be put to use preserving peace.

    One survived years and years of fighting, spreading war for profit wherever she went.

    Though they both had a mission, a mission that was waiting for them…

    As if on cue they both turned on their heels moving back into their worlds, an understanding.

    While they had a mission they lived, while they had a goal and anger in their hearts, they would always survive.

    TAG: @Sinrebirth
    Sinrebirth likes this.
  9. QueenSabe7

    QueenSabe7 Chosen One star 6

    Mar 23, 2001
    Combo with Sinre

    IC: Braata, Qi'ra Ananke, Dark Apprentice Syren, w/ special mentions to Lumiya & Holocron-Palpatine

    While Qi’ra did heed Braata’s advice, she was also confident in her prowess and abilities to handle the defenses of a stubborn holocron. Not arrogant, but proven ready.

    The Force churned about the device as it went silent once more, its gatekeeper retreating to prepare for her intrusion, surely, because there was no doubt now that she would break in and take what she wanted. Smiling darkly, her head canted to one side as she stared down at where the crystalline object was perched.

    Braata continued.

    "Stab the Holocron and focus yourself along the Dagger; you'll dive in, and through, and Palpatine... He'll try to win."

    “He will try,” she emphasized, bringing the dagger out straight before her, pointing it across the room. Taking a single, deep breath, Qi’ra’s grip readjusted so that the weapon was now pointed directly down, hovering right above the apex of the holocron she sought to invade.

    "But the secrets of the past, they're within that Holocron. The truth behind what has happened to our future... And what will become of our present." Braata grew quiet then, having said all she was meant to, it seemed. Qi’ra felt it in the energies abounding around her, a push and pull between her two possessions, and her own added power to the mix. The air became practically electric, sparks in the Force igniting here and there as it built towards her dangerous act.

    She wound into it, folding in and savoring, her hand lifting slightly. Her muscles tensed, coiling in anticipation. Then, without another consideration of how this all might go wrong – because why waste time on what will never happen? – she thrust downward with augmented force, already envisioning the holocron splintering on impact and her essence being whisked away into the unknown.

    Facing an obstacle she would dismantle piece by piece, until she had everything she needed.

    Only, that fight never came to be.

    The Force shifted so massively and so abruptly that it froze Qi’ra in her tracks, the tip of the dagger stopping mere millimeters away from the highest red crystal. In the breadth of that instant, she recognized an additional signature in the room with her – appearing out of thin air, having not been there seconds prior.


    Qi’ra Ananke snapped straight up like the crack of a whip, the dagger drug backwards and held tight in her grasp, now at her hip. And sure enough, there was someone else here. Her eyes had found her immediately - a woman, though she briefly wondered if she was hallucinating the woman she saw.

    Herself. Altered, distorted, but she was looking at herself.

    A version, rather. Not identical.

    Her eyes flicked down to Palpatine’s holocron, then over to Braata. What game is this? She snarled into an unseen connection.

    Was this part of her challenge? Was she already… inside? It was too chaotic in the Force to decipher...

    “You are not real,” she followed matter-of-factly, aloud and towards the imitation. Her gaze slowly returned to openly scrutinize the other with a scowl. Of course, she was telling herself that this was not reality, but… seeing as she was literally facing herself as well, she was telling them both.

    Braata paused, sensing, tasting, rippling, into the Force.

    "No, it is both real and not. She," a stretched moment in time as Braata sorted through what heresy she sensed, and realised what it was, "Is a version of you, in a differing time... perhaps the time that I saw in the Holocron of Prophecy; the way things were supposed to be for you."

    Braata peered, sensing from Qi'ra - from Syren - a much smaller darkness, though a strong personality and sense of self. She was adept, there was no doubt of that, but she was no Destructor and heir to all of heresy itself.

    The Holocron of Palpatine merely sat in silence; observing, of that there was no doubt, but Braata felt the increasing set of layers that was being assembled and forged and created in this moment by the creature. Braata snorted; the Dagger of Mortis would not care; it was the ultimate tool.

    But this moment?

    It was an opportunity, but Braata could not immediately ascertain how.

    Qi'ra's eyes narrowed as Braata assessed this curious situation, she in turn still assessing this other woman.

    "The way I was supposed to be?" she repeated, though with venom on her tongue. She walked forward slowly, but without a hint of cowardice, moving to circle her counterpart as she continued. "You are mistaken, my friend. I am exactly how and where I should have always been." Chin raised, her disgust growing, the former Sith sensed what Braata did - a darkened strength in the Force, but one that was nowhere near being able to contest her own. This was something untamed, wild perhaps. Lacking training and refinement.

    How could this shell of a dark side user be any part of her.

    Stopping directly in front of the woman that wore her face - a little less defined by the lines that marked hers - Qi'ra kept her holocrons to her back. A barrier between this stranger and her most treasured possessions.

    "Are you mute? Or do you have anything you'd like to say before I make you speak?"

    Her knuckles whitened, skin stretching over bone as her grip grew more firm over the dagger's hilt.

    Qi'ra-Syren frowned at the woman. "Supposed to be?" She echoed.

    Braata looked apologetic, if at all possible for a woman who wouldn't show her face. "Things were changed, albeit for the better, because the Jedi and Sith will be ended by Ananke's hand."

    "Ananke, not Syren?"


    The words stirred across the depths of space and time. Their surroundings became the banquet that the New Sith Order had led after their victory at Coruscant; the dead Empress hanging above them. The galaxy was theirs, as far as they knew. It was after, though, when everyone was asleep, and a cloaked figure walked the bodies on the floor, clucking over impossible personal details; even their real names.

    Qi’ra whirled on Braata just as the familiar scene of her starship melted away, replaced with something foreign and unrecognizable.

    A grand hall filled with a variety of species, all them certainly of the dark side, as she could sense like a smack to the face. It was powerful, but also somehow hollow, which she immediately knew indicated that this was nothing more than a vision – or a memory of another.

    She did not react save for her gaze traveling through the faces nearest her, all those present feasting and preparing. A celebration? She honed in one an individual on a dias at the far end, his presence drawing the eyes of most of the others towards him. Clearly, this was a leader…

    Were these… Sith? Of long ago?

    The vision fell away.

    Qi'ra-Syren brandished her weapons, frustration mounting. "I don't care about realities, and the past, and the future. I care about my Master, and my power."

    Braata snorted. "Maul is no master."

    "No, not Maul; Lumiya, the Dark Lady of the Sith." Qi'ra-Syren tensed.

    The holocron did not know that name.

    Qi’ra brought her dagger up to eye height of the other woman, snarling in the Force. “Never mention… that name… in my presence again.”

    She re-positioned herself to better defend should this stranger choose to attack. It did not go unnoticed that her weapons were in plain sight.

    “And there is no Lumiya here,” she continued, gauging her twin’s reaction. I was the only Dark Lord of the Sith, until I grew beyond that meaningless title. The Sith… are no more.

    Qi’ra-Syren bristled visibly. “Liar…” she whispered, settling.

    Braata looked from one to the other, and glanced at the silent Holocron of Palpatine. She could sense it reinforcing, digging down hard on its defences from Ananke’s anticipated breach. Perplexed, Braata looked to Ananke and back to Syren.

    “If you intend to kill her, my lady Destructor,” Braata opined. “I would ask that we move on; her flame in the Force is minuscule. She is nothing to your power.”

    "Oh will you shut UP," Qi'ra-Syren snapped towards Braata's holographed form, just as Ananke dismissed the gatekeeper with a hand. She shook off her rising rage, misplaced as it came from a place of uncertainty... and fear. This other woman... this woman wore her face. There were differences, yes, slight but there. Also not enough for her to think this was simply a doppelganger, someone with similar features. No, this was far more disturbing than that. Too close. Too exact. And...

    Lumiya. Her Master. Not here? No Sith?

    She remembered the voices suddenly - their laughs and snickers of twisted glee. She remembered... falling. Sinking.

    The vision. The banquet. The woman from that time; red of hair and stormy eyes, she called herself Syren, too.

    This Syren staggered back a step, her mind disoriented as it was flooded with too much nonsensical pieces to make a coherent puzzle.

    A snigger from the Holocron. Braata ignored it, but she mused slightly. “I never saw Qi’ra in the Holocron of Prophecy - it’s one of the reasons I’ve found our time together so curious.” She nearly tripped over Lumiya’s name. Her next known apprentice was Darth Caedus... and the name Darth Syren was tied to the Twilight Wars and the End of Time... as one of the three Keys to the Apoptosis Gate hidden beneath the Well of the Dark Side... over a century after Caedus himself was defeated.”




    In another realm, perhaps.

    Here, Lumiya was dead. Here, Jacen Solo would never be born to become Darth Caedus. Here... the Gate remained hidden. Here... Darth Syren still slept, actually.

    Braata was handing out information which would make no difference to Ananke... but she was curious to see if it would Syren... and yet similarly content if Ananke chose to do what she did best.


    More than anything, Braata wanted to see what she could change.

    Qi'ra Ananke composed herself, watching her mirror squirm under the strain of the unknown. She, too, was growing increasingly unnerved by what was unfolding here and the Force only reinforced the fact that what was taking place was an anomaly. Something perhaps unplanned and spontaneous, and she was at the epicenter. She and her.

    "I.... no..." Qi'ra-Syren stammered, shaking herself back into a rigid stance with her petars gripped tight in each hand. The small red laser had yet to be activated across each blade. "My Master IS the Dark Lady of the Sith. She..." Syren stopped, an unexpected lump forming in her throat that impeded her speech. Her cheeks grew hot, pulse racing, a slight tremor in her hands.

    As if the prospect of losing Lumiya... hurt.

    "You are lying."

    "Why would I lie?" Ananke retorted without hesitation. She paced back towards Braata and Palpatine - who curiously enough chose to stay buried in his crystalline fortress. She cast a casual hand towards the former. "This one knows more than most... a holocron, if you understand what that means. Why would it lie?"

    Syren knew exactly what a holocron was and what powerful devices they could be. It did nothing to curb her accelerating panic. And she was well aware that this... other Qi'ra would pick up on that. She was sucker-punched by her darkness the moment she had laid eyes on her. In truth, she had been straining against its constant ebb and flow since then.

    It was like the changing tides of the ocean, only this ocean was in the throws of a hurricane.

    "You say you are apprenticed to this... Lumiya," Ananke pushed on, her tone one of casual conversation but her expression was one of calculated extraction to the keen observer. "But as my friend has said, your Lumiya is not here. However, something tells me that the other name is also of importance to you."

    Qi'ra Syren remained silent, heart hammering so loudly behind her rib cage she was sure it was audible to others.

    Ananke glanced back down to the female-guarded holocron. "Who is this Darth Syren?"

    "A Sith Lord, who went on to do great and terrible things in the future..." Braata said, with a shrug. "I didn't get a full bio when I saw the Holocron of Prophecy, but she was involved in the End of Time. As a key of some kind. One of three that could unleash the Twilight Wars."

    Braata sounded apologetic. "I don't know much, but I know enough that this woman is not that Darth Syren. The one who became a key, she was from the distant past, trapped in stasis for millennia until Darth Heresy... or Haresy... Haretisch?" Braata sounded as if she was straining her memory. "Either way, until she was awoke and infused with said key nearly two centuries from now."

    "But if you are to master the Change," Braata said, with some firmness, "we will need access to a full Holocron of Prophecy. I know some of what has been changed, but not all. And this woman," Braata indicated Qi'ra Syren. "She is a reflection of what you could have been, perhaps what you should have been, I am sad to say."

    "If that dead woman is your Dark Lady,"
    Braata said, firmly. "Then you are a mere footnote who will be forgotten. You will not be remembered as Darth Syren; your master already has eyes for another, and you will be a placeholder until then." A grin. "As all the apprentices of the late Emperor Palpatine were until he sought to turn Anakin Skywalker."

    The other Holocron growled.

    The current Syren was growing more agitated by the second, the whiplash of scenery changes finally catching up to her. She slowly backed away to give herself space from this... this... well what the hell was she? And with two holocrons in her possession... Qi'ra-Syren wasn't daft, she knew she was in over her head. Without Lumiya by her side in a situation such as this, how long would she last?

    Yes, she was strong-willed and cunning. But in the Force? Very much still learning.

    Watching the apprentice put distance between them, Ananke took in Braata's knowledge and then considered it a non-starter. A Sith from long ago, that wouldn't have an affect on the galaxy until just as long ahead into the future? It didn't warrant her attention at this juncture.

    "A shame," the former Dark Lord sighed, loosening her stance and giving Syren a look that only showed pity. "If you truly are any piece of me, you should have been something much more memorable than a forgotten apprentice of a meant-for-nothing Sith Master." A gloved hand rose by her side, her hand gesturing too quickly to catch and in that moment the Force extended her reach, wrapping its dark energies around her twin's neck. "Instead, you insult me."

    She began to squeeze.

    Syren gasped as soon as she felt the pressure, but it was on her in an instant and she could not block the attack in time. "Whaaurrg..." she stammered as her weapons fell from her grasp and fingers reached up to began clawing at her throat. Staring down Ananke as tears streamed from her bulging eyes, she didn't panic more than that, refusing to give this woman the satisfaction - if she wanted that sort of thing.

    Ananke did not strain nor look as though she were making much effort at all, stepping closer to the woman while she finally collapsed to her knees. "You do not exist."

    The connection between the two of them was faltering, Braata could feel it. It was finally over, and the lessons had been imparted on the other Qi'ra, and not Ananke. But Braata was also curious as to what they had just wrought. Both of them were becoming translucent to the other...

    Braata knew that if Ananke wanted to, she could kill Qi'ra-Syren... who was, to them, not really Qi'ra or Syren, not at all, but some cast-off that needed to find her own place in the galaxy, and now knew she would make minimal impression on the future to come...

    Interesting, to Braata, even if she would never see the outcome.

    But it was Ananke's call. Even if Braata cautioned her that she would require much of her strength to safely navigate the Holocron's depths, Ananke would still decide to crush Qi'ra-Syren. She would; it was her nature.

    So, as Qi'ra-Syren's breath caught, and the two of them all but vanished from each other, Braata waited to see what Ananke would do.

    Or, perhaps Qi'ra-Syren would surprise them all.

    Ananke felt the shimmer in the Force the longer she held Syren in her mental grasp. She continued applying pressure and the further she went into their connection, the Force seemed to bend and fold around the other woman; the time and space that separated them showing the strain of keeping them together.

    Still, she persisted. Such a poor reflection of herself, an abomination, could not be allowed to exist in any timeline.

    Syren began to see blackness creep into her field of vision, no longer able to gasp for air as the pressure had completely cut off her lungs. Her mouth simply moved with the gesture, her body beginning to go slack though her mind remained. She thought over her life - her struggles and triumphs, how she had only just begun to tap into her true potential, how confusing yet exhilarating Lumiya had been to her emotions. Through the most impossible of circumstances it had lead her here, to what seemed to be her death at the hands of a more powerful, vengeful version of herself. Was it the rage that was flowing through her counterpart? A palpable hate she could feel without even trying to sense it? She had moved on from most of her troubled youth long ago - was this what would have happened had she not?

    The Sith apprentice began to slip away into unconsciousness at that notion, struggling weakly to stay awake. Try as she might, the face of Ananke was quickly becoming the very last thing she might see...


    A slight tug and Qi'ra-Syren felt an uptick in awareness, giving her one last coherent moment... with her Master's voice.

    "Syren, you need to make yourself strong in the Force; a wall, before this world consumes you whole."

    A wall.

    It wasn't much to go on, but this Qi'ra had at least one thing in common with the other - an unwavering will to survive.

    Syren quickly recalled the first lesson Lumiya had given her - building the mental walls needed to shield herself from unseen attacks that could, would, do great harm. While the vice grip around her throat was not exactly what the skill was intended for... could it still be thwarted with what little she knew? She already began to build brick by mental brick the moment it occurred to her to do so, fighting with every ounce she had left.

    Ananke in turn could feel a soft push back but did not think much of it, knowing the impostor would be dead in mere seconds, sensing the wisps of her life force vanishing one by one. It did not occur to her that she could be bested, not when Syren was lying on her side with veins bulging in her throat and eyes, her skin carrying a greyish hue due to lack of oxygen. It would all be over soon-

    Like an elastic band snapping because it was pulled too tight, Ananke's connection to Syren severed so abruptly that the former Sith Lord recoiled as if jolted by an electric charge. With a startling swiftness that caused her brow to furrow in curiosity, she watched as her prey shot up to a knee and launched one of her hand-held weapons directly at her, using the Force to guide and shove the dagger along its intended trajectory.

    Moving to side-step at the last possible moment, Ananke allowed a smirk, finally seeing something in the other woman that did belong to her. Grabbing her saber and igniting it, she bowed her head once towards her. "Now this will be worth it."

    The dagger hadn't hit the floor nor had Syren had the time to keep moving before Ananke once more reached out with her free hand to ensnare the apprentice's throat. Once her grip was firm, instead of squeezing, she pulled.

    A howl erupted in the room, a sort of wet, crunching shriek that bubbled into nonsense as a good portion of Syren's lower jaw was wrenched free from her face. Blood burst from the gaping wound, muscle and teeth tearing to splatter out on the carpet at her knees. The pain was so sharp and immense that it nearly caused her to pass out, unable to control her shock at what had just happened. It was enough to stall her again, a brutal lesson that could only be learned in such horrible way.

    Ananke bore down on the woman and with a pair of slashes, her crimson blade severed the arm that was held up as protection, crossing down and removing the leg on the same side just above the knee. In the process she had grazed her abdomen just off center, exposing a deep gash that would have bled her out had the saber not cauterized the wound.

    The Force took Syren into darkness then, her wounds too much for her strength and mind to bear. She was half a person now, what was the point in fighting back against a storm like Ananke? The one she was supposed to have become...

    TAG: @Sinrebirth
  10. Sinrebirth

    Sinrebirth Mod-Emperor of the EUC, Lit, RPF and SWC star 9 Staff Member Manager

    Nov 15, 2004
    IC: The Narrator
    The Moment Passed

    For some, it passed without note.

    For Ka'rta; a shrug.

    For Aryan; a memory lost.

    For Linnett; a different answer shown.

    For Feyna; a discourse, an exchange, a wry acknowledgement, perhaps.

    For Rouser; a hallucination, a departure, a giving, a gain, a loss, a freedom.

    For Syren, or, rather, Qi'ra, but not yet Darth Syren, there was pain.

    So much pain.

    Lumiya felt it almost immediately, and turned aside, and was hit with a Force push for her distraction, her lightwhip dropping to the courtyard floor and switching off, shortly thereafter silenced by being abandoned.

    The attack sent her to the edge of the cloister entrance, sliding to the feet of Madelyn Linnett. They might recognise each other, from their joint time serving Emperor Palpatine... though Lumiya had not served the madman for a decade now... and been instrumental in the death of his clones. Linnett had perhaps served him more recently.

    The two Sith, Refined Voice and Rasping Voice, stepped to the edge of the cloister - shadows still draped them. But their shapes implied a man as elegant as Count Dooku, and the other, as craven as the wretched and pale Vizier's of the Empire. They did not step into the light of Korriban, merely holding their crimson lightsabers, noting Linnett.

    "Ah," Refined Voice said. "An Emperor's Hand. Summoned home, yes?"

    He was referencing the instructions given to Linnett and Lumiya before, as Hands, to return to the Old Folk's Home.

    This was the Old Folk's Home, they would have discovered, had either of them investigated further.

    The Sith didn't care, though they did notice Aryan, madly coming to consciousness.

    He no longer has the Holocron, Foreteller noticed.

    snorted. Why was it so important?

    It contained a record of everything to happen between now and the End of Time. It's the reason the Sith have been investigating the Echo... a sound resonating through the Force, but from the past, to that point in the future. One of the Sith... he was trusted with a fragment of the Truth, and he took it; tried to make it his own.

    Voren scowled. How do you know this?

    Because I trusted him.

    They silenced themselves, and the Refined Voice gestured a dignified hand, and yanked Aryan into the shadows of the cloister, depositing him behind them in the sand upon the stone floor. He glanced to Rasping Voice who spoke. "She knows too much."

    The two Sith attacked, swinging high and low - Refined Voice for Linnett's neck, and Rasping Voice for her ankles.

    TAG: @QueenSabe7 (in part, see below), @TheSilentInfluence (in full), @HanSolo29 (in part, see below)
    Aboard their shuttle

    While the fight began, Lumiya, one arm missing, rolled away, the Sith uncaring for her any longer. Their interest in Madelyn - who she did remember from their joint lessons before the Emperor, so many years ago - and the random dishevelled man simply did not intrigue her right now.

    She had the deep breathing her Master in her mind, Darth Vader.

    I will remake you in my image, he had said, intoning.

    Those were the words he had spoken when he saw her, after her injuries.

    Now the same applied to her apprentice. To the woman she had bedded mere hours ago. Lumiya summoned the Force, using all the dark side techniques she could think of to sustain Syren, drawing deep on what little lore she had about healing... which was not a skill the dark often bequeathed. Grimacing, Lumiya levitated her to their stolen shuttle, the two male Sith ignoring her.

    She would have been slighted, but for now she was focused.

    An apprentice was a rare find; if Syren died, she might not find another for decades.

    In the shuttle, she kicked the medkit loose from the wall, trying to find painkillers, conscious that Syren had cauterised wounds. Had Madelyn done this? The two Sith were near to her, nowhere near Syren -

    Lumiya bridged their connection, the one formed as master and apprentice, of two made one by the carnality of flesh -

    What happened, Syren. Tell me what happened.

    TAG: @QueenSabe7 (combo)
    In the Cloister

    the balcony above occupied by the black-cloaked man with White Eyes.


    The thought smashed into Aryan's psyche as if a fist.

    You will give me...

    A shudder of insidious pleasure, and a hand reached out, yanking Aryan from the floor, lying him out flat as if upon an invisible stretcher -


    There was a shudder in the Force, another kind of parallel moment that Aryan and White Eyes had fallen into...

    A man in golden robes flinging a teenager into the air, holding her suspended, while she screamed -

    Aryan would suddenly have a surge of memories, from his past, from his youth - to the torture in the shadows, to Sentan gloating, to the funerals, to the Senate, and all his glory - even to the point of cradling Arek as a newborn, a tired Lyz looking at him. Then, a moment where his father, Norin, helped him bandage his knee after falling off his hoverbike. To his mother, holding him -

    The man with White Eyes was rifling through his mind without a care for the damage he wrought.

    The pain was excruciating -

    He pushed, absorbing everything, pushed through -

    It was happening again, but all slightly differently.

    A different Senate, a man in Kuati robes besides him, looking carnivorously down upon... was that Princess Leia? The moment pushed even harder through a murkiness, then again, to an older version of himself, crippled, wounded... then floating in space... then commanding, delegating... then a crimson lightsaber flashing against a silver one... then a woman, with a violent sneer, and a softness to her, a hunger... and then another man, with the same look as the Kuati, but this time taller, bald head, tattooed - then arms, he had more arms than he should - then there was a battle, a violence... another woman, with a white streak in her hair -

    It was becoming impossible to sort out.

    The rummaging continued, and continued, and continued.

    TAG: @HanSolo29

    Outside this fray

    Rouser and Feyna returned to this world on the edge of the confrontation that was on-going, atop the sands of the hill up from the Valley where they had been thrown by Corran's torpedo attack. They would both fall, sliding down the bank in an almost soft manner, notwithstanding that the sand was indeed rough, coarse, and got everywhere.

    It was also hot.

    They came to a slow stop at the base of the incline, violence on-going above them atop the hill, the snap-hiss of blades, but they were no longer present, and beside them were caved in tombs that offered a slight amount of cover. They were not dangers, insofar as much as they were open tombs that would unleash hounds of death upon them.

    If anything, for the first time since they had made planet-fall, they had chance for a breather and a break.

    Maybe even to compare notes.

    TAG: @JediMasterAnne, @Jerjerrod-Lennox (combo)

    In Marka Ragnos' tomb

    Though Ka'rta's moment was short-lived, it saw the Sun Guard shouting for her attention. There was a snap-hiss and a Jedi appeared in the entrance to the tunnel, blue blade cavorting, and making easy work of the first Guards present. Kenix Jir slapped her arm and pulled a blaster rifle, opening fire on full-auto.

    The Jedi deflected the first bolts into the ground and then leapt up over the front troop, and as Kenix tracked the man there was more than enough space for the Jedi to survive the attacks and reflect them. Two bolts caught Kenix in the armoured chest, sending him rolling away.

    Boots firmly, planted, the Jedi spun, blade slashing apart the blasters of three Guards as they turned back, each of them crying out as he took fingers with them -

    The Jedi turned to face Ka'rta and stab his blade through her thigh, to incapacitate, not kill -

    And Ka'rta would feel the eye of Marka Ragnos leering at her from the tomb behind her.

    TAG: @galactic-vagabond422 (combo?)
    IC: Tulak Hord


    The spectre of the armoured Dark Lord of the Sith noted the conflict coming to a hand.

    The Jedi were advancing, with many of their battles with the Disciples that served Ragnos coming to a head.

    The Sith numbers had given them parity with the Jedi skill, but now Jaden Korr was cutting his way through the stalemates and whole corridors and chambers of the Tomb of Marka Ragnos... soon the Jedi apprentice, skilled enough to be a Knight, undoubtedly, would reach the final chamber... though Tavion was nearly there, in pursuit of a Jedi who had managed to get by her troopers and make a run for the main chamber. A Jedi that Ka’rta now faced.

    Tulak Hord didn't care.

    He found the confrontation by the Cloister of XoXaan simply too curious for words. Because there were none to describe the complexity of the confrontation there.

    Ah, yes.


    He was bringing his X-wing to the surface, drawn by the disturbances. He wasn't quite visible yet to the Valley occupants.

    In a few moments he would be.

    Tulak Hord remained on the periphery of the moment.

    Lumiya and Syren would be too busy to notice; Aryan too tortured; Organa and Rouser too mute in the Force...

    But Linnett, she would know he was still there.

    She would also know that these two Sith before her were simply more powerful than her.

    To have defeated Lumiya?

    She was renowned as the Dark Lady of the Sith; the greatest traitor to the Emperor of all, up there with Mara Jade and Darth Vader himself.

    Foreteller didn't feel the need to remind her that she could take Tulak Hord's power if she used the Force Walk technique again.

    Another spirit, perhaps a final one.

    TAG: No-one, all mentioned, especially @TheSilentInfluence
    Last edited: Apr 9, 2020
  11. TheSilentInfluence

    TheSilentInfluence Silent and Friendly Mod of SWTV and SWC star 6 Staff Member Manager

    Jul 15, 2014
    IC: Madelyn Linnett
    The Moment Passed

    It had been a fleeting moment where Madelyn had discussed with her other self, what she wanted. But she didn't need another spirit. I don't know what kind of person I would become if I follow that path. Thought Madelyn, as she shook her head only to find her neck and legs in the process of trying to be grabbed by the ghosts.


    Madelyn struggled slightly, briefly sensing Lumiya, and wondered for a moment why she was here before she called out to Voren and Foreteller again. I know you want me to take on one more, but I cannot do that. I don't want to lose myself for the sake of that thing. You know I'm powerful enough to defeat Tavion, Emperors Hand or not; and I can defeat these two if you give me time.

    I need someone else that isn't a ghost to help me.

    Madelyn grabbed for her lightsaber, and it fell from her grip. She had not idea where Aryan was but she felt at least for now he was safe; and she struggled again. Madelyn knew that she had been called here; but part of her was starting to wonder how different things would have been if she had stayed away. If she hadn't joined the Emperor at all.

    I am one with the force and the force is with me.

    Madelyn felt the Jedi prayer on her lips and continued to struggle. She needed help.

    Tag: @Sinrebirth @QueenSabe7 @HanSolo29
  12. Jerjerrod-Lennox

    Jerjerrod-Lennox Jedi Grand Master star 7

    Mar 9, 2005
    OOC: A rather fun combo, with @JediMasterAnne a pleasure!:D

    IC: Pascale Rouser, Feyna Morrow
    Location: Sandpit, Korriban

    It was weird having a conversation with yourself. It was even weirder to know that you had caused another man's death in another timeline, just because you wanted to not have the Force anymore.

    Pascale wondered if Feyna had had the same experience as he had. Either that or she would think he was going insane.

    As he crawled over to her position which made it a bit more difficult with only one arm working he felt the ground begin to shift unceremoniously beneath him…

    It was sand.

    Oh not good-

    Instead of unceremoniously flying this time it was a slide down a sandbank although it was softer at least. And unfortunately sand was getting everywhere.

    At least I'm wearing my safari gear and not one of my suits.

    He looked around. Yes they were near some caves but no doubt they held more of those nasty beasts. And he wouldn't have the Force to help him this time. But it was hot outside. Best to check up on Feyna before they moved on.

    He looked over at Feyna where she had come to a stop "Are you alright?" he asked.

    The ship was gone, as was her other self, and Feyna was jarred back into her own timeline by unceremoniously falling down a sandbank.

    Rouser was nearby, moving toward her, asking if she was all right, still holding his injured arm at an odd angle.

    She sat up and started to dust herself off, wondering to herself if she was okay. Had that really happened, or had she hit her head worse than she'd thought?

    Korriban was steeped in dark-Force energy, maybe the planet was playing with her head…

    But he'd probably think she was crazy if she told him."...Yeah, I think so," she replied, though she sounded unsure even to her own ears.

    They'd fallen away from the fighting, and for the moment, they seemed to have found a somewhat safe spot. "Let's fix that arm, while we're in a lull. Before something else blows up in front of us"

    Feyna sounded unsure when she answered Pascale's question but he would take the answer, at least they weren't dead.

    He moved close to her so she could get to work at fixing his arm but not so close as to invade her personal space. He cared for her but he didn't want to make any bad moves.

    "Thank you" he said with a smile "I'm sure we would both not go for another flight again. I don't think our bodies could take much more of those gymnastics"

    He had to concentrate on something else whilst Feyna worked, this was going to be painful….

    "Did you.." he stopped then started again "I may sound completely bonkers but at the top there I spoke to myself. I thought I was seeing things but he was me. A darker me from another timeline. And I could sense the nastiness emanating off him, a man whom I hope never to become."

    "But it seemed someone else decided to join the party, I think it was linked to my ancestors as it mentioned I looked like someone from it's past. Back at the Temple, I think I used the Force to turn the big hound on the small ones. I decided to have myself be stripped of the Force because I saw that other me and I didn't want to be him. The Force should be used by those who can wield it responsibly"

    "As I said to the other me, I may be a mercenary, I may only care about money but I thought that he was going to stop me getting to you. But I care about you Feyna, I want to make sure we both get off this planet alive. And to do so, I think I might have killed the other me"

    Pascale shook his head. She might as well commit him to an asylum right now.

    At first, she was only passively listening while she examined his arm, but then he said that he'd seen himself--another version of himself, from another time.

    So she wasn't losing her mind--unless maybe they both were. But it was comforting, in a strange way, that at least she wasn't the only one who'd had this bizarre encounter. Were there others besides them?

    Rouser didn't sound like he'd liked his other self though--apparently he had the Force, but he'd asked to have it...stripped from him? avoid becoming like his other self. And he'd killed him somehow? That was even possible? Here she'd been worried about talking too much.

    She didn't know what to say,about that he might have killed the other Rouser, or that he'd done it to make sure he'd survive the encounter so he'd still be able to help her. Maybe it wasn't for her to judge--what would she have done, or what would the other Feyna have done, if one had felt threatened by the other?

    "Here goes--" she warned, before popping his shoulder back into place. "Sorry," she added after knowing that it had to hurt, but at least his shoulder was back where it should be. "We should probably put it in a sling, and you should still get a medic to look at it when we get picked up." If they got picked up, but she was trying to stay optimistic. "I'm no professional."

    She sat back, looking for her blaster and her comlink, then reaching up to check if her head was still bleeding. "And thanks, by the way." She lightly tapped the wound. He'd cleaned her up, looked after her, stuck by her ,though he had absolutely no obligation to do so.

    "And I don't think you're crazy. Or if you are, so am I. Happened to me, too. I saw another me."

    "We just talked; some things were different, some the same. Some things I wouldn't want--definitely don't want her job--but I envy her for some things, too."

    Feyna Organa had grown up with parents, probably surrounded by people who cared about her--what did that feel like? Feyna Morrow had never had that, and she'd thought she was okay with it, but after getting a glimpse of what her life could have been, she wasn't so sure.

    Pascale grunted and tried not to yell out as Feyna reset his shoulder. At least he had both arms back now but it would still be not as good as the other until it healed properly.

    "I'm no medic either" he said with a smile "But hopefully your head wound isn't too bad. And thank you for fixing my shoulder at least if we do have to fight our way out I will have both hands" and they probably would have to judging by the sounds from above. "A true gentleman makes sure that a lady gets everything she needs"

    He placed one of his hands on her shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly "If we work together we will get through this, and I must say we have become quite a team. I made a promise to you Feyna that I would get you back in one piece and I intend to honour it. We stick together we have a better chance of survival, plus you are quite handy with a blaster" he chuckled at that.

    He turned serious this time looking at her right in the eyes and keeping his hand on her shoulder " And if we both saw what we saw then then either as you say, we are both crazy or we both are not. And I tell you this now, if the other Feyna knew the other me whatever she told you it's not the me here. I've been called a scoundrel, a thief and other particularly nasty things but I won't be as dark as he was. I'm not a monster, I despise violence, well even though it seems I have killed two people already".

    "We always look at the past and think about what we could have changed, but there is one thing we can change and that is the future. I don't know what the other Rouser did, maybe he did the same job as me, maybe the other Feyna had everything you did not. But we can decide what we want for our futures. Me? I still want to travel the galaxy, find artefacts and treasures and travel to exotic places. Hopefully settle down with someone and enjoy retirement"

    He smiled then "You choose your own destiny. Maybe you'll find someone who cares and loves you, maybe you'll save the galaxy by doing your job. Maybe you could come join me in my adventures if you don't fancy still being an agent. It's up to you"

    Feyna gave a tiny shake of her head. "I'm not going to judge you for what another Rouser did in a completely different universe," she told him. "Just like I wouldn't want people holding me to the expectations that the other Feyna probably has to live up to.

    "I don't know if the Rouser you met was from the same timeline as the Feyna that I saw, but she did mention that he's a war criminal in her time."

    She didn't like to make light of killing anyone, and killing your other self in a different timeline maybe wasn't a great thing to do in the grand scheme of things, but this Rouser might have done the other Feyna a favor, by bringing an end to the dark Rouser.

    As to forging her own future, "I don't think I'm ready to give up Intelligence work, but maybe I do need to change some things in my life."

    He removed his hand from her shoulder, keeping a smile on his face "Well whatever you decide to do in the future, i'm sure you will do what is best for you. You are a beautiful and intelligent woman and you deserve the best"

    He turned serious again "It sounds like the other me and the other you were probably from the same timeline, and I wouldn't have been surprised if he was a war criminal, he seemed like the nasty type. But thank you for trusting me and let's make sure we get off this planet alive. Afterwards i'll probably get arrested on some trumped up charges, I don't know if you or your boss can help with that…."

    He then shook his head "I don't think i'll be coming back here ever again, and I fancy that this will not be on your places to visit again either. But let's see what we can do about getting out of here. Any ideas?"

    Her brow furrowed when he mentioned the possibility of his arrest. He had started out this adventure in Tavion's employ, but perhaps he'd gotten in over his head, and he'd been helping Feyna ever since their accidental escape from the Resurrection.

    "I'll make sure to put in a good word for you with Drayson." She owed him at least that much, but she didn't want to make any promises. "Hopefully he won't come down on you too hard."

    As to getting out of here...well, neither of them were fighting fit, so heading back toward the battle was probably not a good idea. There appeared to be some more tombs nearby, but after the run-in with the hounds in the last one, Feyna wasn't too keen on that option, either.

    But the only other alternative was to set off in any other direction, in the heat, both of them tired and injured. As much as they should stay out of the fighting, it wasn't a good idea to wander too far from it either.

    She picked up her blaster and comlink--she probably could try to contact Drayson, but she didn't want to distract him from the battle, and he'd said they would find her, so she would wait for him to call her--and started getting other feet. "If we stay here,either the fighting will get us, or the heat will. I guess we could give those caves a peek, at least there's shade--but if I hear so much as a growl in there, I'm taking my chances with the heat."

    TAG: @Sinrebirth , @JediMasterAnne
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  13. QueenSabe7

    QueenSabe7 Chosen One star 6

    Mar 23, 2001
    Combo with Sinre

    IC: Lumiya & Syren


    Pain, such a simple word. Far too simple for what was pulsating, grinding, tearing through every limb, every vein, every bone and cell in Syren's body. What was left of it.

    Was there a word to describe what it was she was feeling? Hot and cold, ripped apart, beaten, abused, brutalized in the span of mere seconds. It had been too quick, too overwhelming... how could she have possibly stood against... against...


    She blinked and reality dropped in on her with violence, the Force having cocooned her against the worst now dissipating to allow the Sith apprentice to nearly be consumed with agony - still not the right term for it. The scene of her demise was gone, and what her frantically searching eyes saw now did not register. It wouldn't even be noticed that her Master was suddenly nearby, Lumiya having been curiously absent from her vivid experience. No, nothing would come to Syren's attention beyond the sudden realization she was no longer physically whole, a sharp lift of her head as tears streamed from her eyes and she saw the missing arm, the partial leg, the deep and invasive gash in her abdomen. A wave hit her and she threw her head back, arching her body and wailing, though the sound that left her exposed throat wouldn't come across as more than a wet, whistling noise.

    Kill me, she pleaded as Lumiya came into view above her. Kill me... PLEASE.

    Peripherally aware she was at least being moved, she didn't care where. If her Master were wise, she would discard her now. Giving her what she wanted.

    Her mind dipped and she lost time for a few moments, abruptly finding herself in a durasteel-made room. She shuddered against new bouts of anguish, some of which grew more subtle to varying degrees.... perhaps she was finally dying.

    What happened, Syren. Tell me what happened.

    Her chest was rising rapidly and she couldn't remain still. To be still was to give in.

    Me... she.... did this... I was someplace... else.

    Kill me...

    Lumiya felt Syren's wish beating at her like a drum.

    Like a march of a hundred thousand troopers.

    Like her own heart.

    The Dark Lady of the Sith shook her head, firmly, pouring her will into Syren, demanding that she survive, and triumph. Never. She slipped an arm under hers, and drew her lips to her upper jawline, to make the connection of flesh-upon-flesh to connect them as they had been mere hours ago.

    Lumiya filled Syren with her memory.

    Of when she lost all of her limbs... her own jaw... of floating in the stars, willing herself to die.

    Of him coming.

    Of his breathing, relentless, and inevitable.

    The moment that Shira Brie died, and became Lumiya.

    The change, the sacrifice - it is a necessary final step to become what you were meant to, Syren. Without personal loss, you can only be mad, and broken... you would be a force of destruction without loss... you are perfected in this moment, Syren... if you wish to take the power that you will now receive.

    Death is merely a matter of will for a True Sith.

    The Force worked between them; their ship activated, lifting off the ground, heading back into the air as the Jedi deployment was by and large grounded to stop the Disciples - the Star Destroyer Resurrection hung in orbit, stripped of fighter craft and shuttles by the battle.

    Until it saw them, they were alone, untouched, unnoticed, trapped in this moment until Syren moved forward... or died.

    She felt Lumiya's will reawaken her own, but the agony flooding her body wouldn't allow it to remain steady for long. She didn't want to die, she wanted to fight.... this savagery, however, was overwhelming her resolve to its core. Syren had dealt this card to others may times over as Qi'ra of Crimson Dawn, but none had gotten close enough to deal it back to her.

    How kriffing insane that it happened now.

    I... want...

    Her body began to suddenly stiffen from her writhing, a coldness setting in from her furthest points and creeping slowly inward. Syren's eyes held onto her Master's like a lifeline as she stilled - in truth that was exactly what they were. They were what was keeping her alive. Within them she could feel the conviction in her words, the power behind them and their meaning. The darkness was pulling at her to take it, to allow it to fill her missing parts now, but did she have the strength to withstand allowing it to?

    The only hand she had left reached out and took hold of whatever part of Lumiya should could grab on to, her fingers squeezing desperately.

    I want... to live.

    Eyes brimming over with tears went dry then, her mind surprising herself in becoming clear with intent. She could feel the Force in a way she had never had before, this close to death. It was reaching for her, but not to take her. It was reaching to sustain her.

    Lumiya gasped, felt the durasteel grip of Syren on her soul, and Lumiya reached into the ship.

    The knowledge of living metal - mechu-deru - it was something that she had learned in the care of Palpatine and his other Hands - Cronal, the Sith Prophet and Rhandite Sorceror, foremost among them.

    But here she used it more akin to Talzin when she resurrected Darth Maul, and Lumiya reached out for every unnecessary and unessential part of their ship she could - even parts of herself were sacrificied, metal becoming liquid, carried upon a streaming wind of energy as it filled into Syren and sealed her wounds, wove her arms, and legs, and a jawline.

    As Lumiya did, she shared with her apprentice her recovery at the command of her master, her pained and terrible recovery; her desire for vengeance, and to destroy Luke Skywalker, the man who had shot her down; the man she had loved.



    She remembered her training on Ziost with the Sith spirits, the forging of her lightwhip, and when she lured Skywalker to Kinooine, to her trap, with an invasion of the galaxy her legacy and plan, after Vader - her master and father and savior - died.


    Their first duel as Sith and Jedi

    Her triumph, her success, in defeating the Jedi Master, shortlived when he escaped his imprisonment and confronted her again with two blades instead of one; one, a red shorter blade - a shoto.


    Unmasked, undone, defeated

    She hadn't been finished, retreating, gathering her forces again, but was caught in the twists and turns of her allies, the Nagai, being revealed to not be invaders but refugees, and the Tofs, more terrors from the Unknown Regions, their pursuers... joining the new aliens, the tide turned and -


    Shot, treacherously, by Leia in her moment of triumph

    Into the shadows she withdrew, nursing her vengeance. Nursing her revenge... until she left it be, let it go, and rose to a higher purpose as the Dark Lady of the Sith in truth, not just as an assumed title. She had rivals to destroy before she could claim ascendancy in the dark side.


    The Emperor's clone, sabotaged by her will

    Syren could see that Lumiya had told her the truth, and her fear; that Syren would lose herself to vengeance as she had once, and nearly died for it. Lumiya did not want this for her. She wanted her to be greater than that.

    To be Reborn in truth, no longer holding onto what she had been.

    Qi'ra was dead.

    Much like Shira Brie was.

    As her gaze never wavered from her Master, Syren gave into the sorcery she began to weave - peripherally aware of molten streams of silver coiling around the pair, convalescing into molds of various parts of her body. The cold she had felt before was gone, replaced with a growing sensation of warmth, though her skin trembled as the dark side remade her.

    The physical agony of her wounds decreased but did not disappear entirely, her mind focusing inward on managing where she placed that pain now. Dwelling on it was a distraction, using it was a tool. She had known this for years and yet somehow, it felt more as if she was just learning this fact at this very second. Like she had never fully realized what this lesson was for...

    All the while as she was being rebuilt, the apprentice drank in Lumiya's story of healing and overcoming, having only been given the faintest pieces before. This time it was visceral, real... the whole truth. Her body screamed with the desire to react but the Force would not allow it. The fire of vengeance never took hold of her in part because of that, and because of what her Master was choosing to teach her in this raw, intimate bonding of them both.

    The process slowed after some time, which Syren couldn't be sure just how long a time it was. It was measured by the opening of her mouth, which now had a top and a bottom to it, her lower jaw reconstructed enough for her to try and speak. The new part felt alien, but it was there.

    "Mas-" a small gasp for air to adjust. "Master..."

    Lumiya eased herself free of Syren, becoming herself again. In the process she’d wove herself an arm too, but the shuttle was definitely thinner for it - in the moment, she’d stripped apart consoles and bulkheads and even the metal in the floor.

    As much as she was separate, she was also connected to Syren more than ever, but the process had taxed her terribly. Bursting forth with a husky breath - a sigh and exhalation and release all in one - she whispered.


    TAG: @Sinrebirth
  14. HanSolo29

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

    Apr 13, 2001
    IC: Aryan Graul

    It started as a dream – or at least, he had perceived it as a dream. Maybe in actuality, he was somewhere within that nebulous state that existed halfway between sleep and wakefulness. He was groggy and disoriented, but he had seen a light. No doubt, that was the way out of this nightmare. Without a second thought, he had begun to crawl toward it as he fought through the haze that clouded his mind.

    And then…



    Something sharp and unrelenting – powerful, had slammed into his psyche. It was so intense that Aryan quickly lost all sense of self-awareness. He might have screamed, squirmed, or clutched at his head to ease his suffering – any number of things, and yet he had no recollection of those acts. Everything blurred together. There was nothing else except a single feeling, a single form of being…

    And one voice.


    The voice bellowed inside his head, seeming to thrum in time with the rapid beating of his own heart. It echoed in his ears and added to his physical pain in the form of a severe headache.

    But that’s not why he didn’t answer the question. He found that...he couldn’t remember. Or more accurately, he didn’t know what the voice was referring to. A...holocron? He had never possessed an object of that nature.

    Apparently, that was the wrong response.

    Another tumultuous wave washed over him, and this time, Aryan felt his body grow rigid as he became suspended in the air. His muscles contracted painfully, and he could not move...not even to cry out and give voice to his suffering.

    You will give me…EVERYTHING!

    There was a perceptible tremor in the Force as the voice spoke again, one that Aryan was able to feel in his weakened state, and then he lost himself to the myriad of images and emotions that suddenly assaulted him. Memories. They flashed by his mind’s eye in rapid succession; some vivid and painful, while others were so distant and obscure that he had completely forgotten that they had occurred in the first place. He saw his childhood, his rise to fame, his incarceration at the hands of the Empire, and even the more intimate moments. It was as if someone had pulled back the curtain to casually flip through the highlights of his life.


    It wasn’t only the highlights. It was virtually…everything. There was no filter.

    And it continued at a relentless pace.

    On, and on, and…

    No, something shifted. Something was happening.

    This was no longer his life. He saw himself, but…

    It was different.

    Different places, different people.

    The events. He no longer remembered having lived them.

    But you have. You are there.


    Aryan finally managed to break through the mental fog – if temporarily, and heard himself unleash a horrendous scream.

    “Stop...make it--STOP!”

    TAG: @Sinrebirth
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  15. Sinrebirth

    Sinrebirth Mod-Emperor of the EUC, Lit, RPF and SWC star 9 Staff Member Manager

    Nov 15, 2004
    IC: Arek Graul
    On foot, hot, Valley

    The Battle of Korriban was not going especially well for Arek.

    He had engaged a Jedi, a Zabrak named Raltharan, but the battle had ended in a tie and he had fled into the catacombs of Marka Ragnos' tomb when other Jedi Knights - Kam Solusar and Kyp Durron among them - had arrived and intervened with Arek's team. Inevitably, this pursuit drove him out of the tomb, away from Tavion's retinue. Along the way a swarm of Shyrack had tried to kill him, and Arek had drawn deep on the skills Tavion had shown him - and conjured lightning for the first time.

    His hands still ached with the power that had rushed through him, but he was alive, though detached from the battle. He had been about to return, and attempt to assault the Jedi positions advancing into the Tomb from the rear, when he felt his father, Aryan, die.

    No, not die - the place that his father in his heart was being shredded, in intense, incredible pain.

    Arek barely managed to stay on his feet from the wound, and the only way he retained his consciousness was by unlocking the furnace of anger in his heart. Igniting his crimson blade, he had charged into the Valley of the Dark Lords, his rage seething, beating against the desert heat.

    He came to the dune leading up to the Cloister of XoXaan - the dark side whispering to him with glee - sliding to a halt in the sand. In his Disciples of Ragnos outfit, he was indistinguishable from other Sith cultists that Feyna and Pascale had seen, and in his anger, he hadn't seen them yet, but they would from their little shaded hidey-hole, a man with lightning crackling up his arm.

    Then he noticed them, snarling at them for all he saw right then was red.

    Just as they heard a scream from the Cloister atop the dune.

    "What is happening to my father!"

    TAG: @Jerjerrod-Lennox, @JediMasterAnne

    Cloister entrance, violence

    There was that scream.

    While the Force filled with the pain of the man who had been dragged into the cloister, Madelyn Linnett stood at the threshold, with Foreteller wincing at the trauma of Aryan as it hammered upon them. Sorry, was all he could say.

    Darth Voren sneered as Madelyn drew deep upon a Jedi prayer to act. He leaned on her, filling her with doubt and malice. You can't win with Jedi platitudes. They failed me, and the other Revanchists; and we took the dark side as our own. How dare you defile the Valley of the Dark Lords, Dark Jedi!

    Foreteller snorted. So you're coming out the Sith closet are you.

    You knew anyway,
    Voren said. Though how I could not say.

    My eye sees all, Sith

    Madelyn of course would not be concentrating on them, but the fight before her. They didn't correct her; that she could face Tavion but not with her Master to hand; that these two seemed to be drawing on some darker strength than even her; that whoever was torturing Aryan in the cloister itself was power incarnate. She would be able to tell.

    But the first exchange of the fight went well, and not so well, at the same time.

    Refined Voice scored a hit on her upper shoulder, cutting through her robe and removing a chunk from her off-hand. Rasping Voice had to leap up to avoid a swing which should have run him through the heart. Alone, Refined Voice demonstrated mastery of Makashi, the lightsaber Form specifically invented for duels of this kind. If anything, he was more capable without a partner, and a feint and riposte lifted a burn welt from her chin. Rasping Voice, panting at his close call, was cautious to return to the fight.

    But here, on Korriban, even with the New Jedi Order bleating against the dark, it was a dark world.

    And that dark amusement, flavoured by Tulak Hord, drummed down on Madelyn as he watched her slow and inevitable defeat.

    TAG: @TheSilentInfluence

    Inside the Cloister, hell

    “Stop...make it--STOP!”

    White Eyes was rebuffed by the man's panic, by his pain, by his anguish, the balcony shaking as Aryan's emotions translated into a tremor in the Force. With a snort, White
    Eyes fluttered his free hand and dispelled the notion, before diving back in, rifling away.

    Ah yes.

    A woman, with a white streak in her hair, a butchering, a violence, a love, secret, an assignation hidden from husband and wife - a growing, growling, groaning greed, the feeling of self-satisfaction on the Senate floor, something White Eyes approved of - a moment of triumph, a success from which it all sprang from - a ship, and a Stormtrooper with an unfamiliar design, and a Jedi, and an... Anzati? The Anzati, he growled... scraping deeper into the mind to see a wife, a son, parents, an injury, a war, another war of X-wings and TIE fighters of differing shapes, White Eyes snorted... but none of this was what he wanted... he pushed harder, his irritating growing...

    An echo... an echo that, upon the Forces surface, was a map... if you had the map, you could find the Prophecy.

    That was what the Professor had said.

    His attention wavered, as he thought of his collection; of the Sith statues he had in his possession, painfully collected along his Dark Road to become.

    Those thoughts were open to Aryan Graul, adding to the jumble of thoughts that he didn't have, that didn't belong to him, that were of him but not this him -

    TAG: @HanSolo29
    IC: Lumiya
    Making orbit, release

    There was a kind of hormonal euphoria at this point, a kind of release none too dissimilar to that to that which they had shared together beforehand. Lumiya breathed in, and out, absorbing her effort and acknowledging that she had burned through much of her remaining potential to save Syren, to manipulate metal, to pour her will into that bond and the Force itself. No, she hadn't interfered with the flow of events - she had not that power.

    But she could feel the lingering connection, the intensity of it, the passion and agony of it.

    Another breath in, breath out.

    Lumiya idly sorted through what their bond had poured into Syren, and she sought the same openness; Lumiya had shown her all, and she wanted it to be reciprocated. She wanted to know about Crimson Dawn, about Maul, about... Han Solo? Lumiya felt curiosity flood within her, not forcing their bond, just allowing it to fill her between breathes like a cup overfilling.

    The Dark Lady of the Sith was the most open, and vulnerable, she had ever been.

    Across the exhalation of their connection, Syren would hear the fateful words from Lumiya's mind.

    The voice rang out, loud and clear, and she recognized it, impossibly, knew it belonged to Jeng Droga, a former Emperors Hand like her Master.

    “Rendezvous at the Old Folks Home. The Emperor has been reborn.”

    That was a memory from Lumiya's recent future, she would sense it was the moment just before they met, what probably seemed like a lifetime ago now.

    Back when she had been Qi'ra, back when she had been an entirely different person, in body and soul.

    TAG: @QueenSabe7

    TAG: @galactic-vagabond422, outstanding TAG, please respond this round and if early enough I will provide a new TAG!
  16. galactic-vagabond422

    galactic-vagabond422 Force Ghost star 4

    Jul 11, 2009
    (A combo post between @Sinrebirth and myself)

    IC Ka'rta

    Her moment of seeing across the veil past Ka'rta snapped into action. A brave jedi lept into combat quickly dispatching three Sun Guards Jir did what he could but nothing could stop this mad man. Only a well placed bolt and full auto wasn't the way to handle it. As the jedi moved in closer to her and stabbed at her leg she took a fast step back drawing one pistol and pulling her vibro-kinfe. It would be more use in close fights. Though she never had the coin to get one made of beskar like her armor, it would do well enough. Without waiting for the jedi to recover she rushed him being careful not to get too close to his jeti'kad.

    Stepping inside his reach she thrust her kinfe while firing her blaster to keep him off guard. All she needed was an opening.

    With three foes down, the Jedi could be forgiven for his overconfidence, notwithstanding how swiftly his foe took that-fast step down. A thrust of his hand and Kenix was down, slammed into a wall, even as the woman launched her attack.

    The Jedi spun his lightsaber defensively, catching bolts and scowling in concentration to have the blade also intercept the knife - and took a bolt to the shoulder. Crying out in pain, he dropped his weapon, and threw out his hand to yank free the weapons from Ka'rta's hands and send them clattering away -

    Wincing through the pain, the surge of adrenaline passing, he turned his hand back, to reach for his lightsaber and call it to back to his grasp -

    With a snarl, she gave no quarter. Stepping forward she threw her fist into the man's wound while grabbing his wrist and twisting it. He was disarmed and she would keep it that way. As she turned his arm she hit him with a solid armored knee to the gut.

    That should keep him distracted.

    The Jedi released a very-un-Jedi-like snarl as her fist connected with his wound, his wrist twisting and him turning -

    He took the hit in the gut, coughing and doubling over, trying to get his mind back under control -

    Allowing muscle memory to take over, he embraced his training and threw a fist at Ka'rta's throat, a relatively wildly aimed blow but a targeted one -

    Just who is this woman?!

    Ka'rta saw the punch coming and took action. Lowering her chin she threw a short straight punch catching the Jedi on the chin at the same time his fist connected with her helmet. Her teeth chattered and her head rung but it wouldn't slow her down. Turning slightly she brought her foot up then slammed it down on the outside of her assailant's knee, looking to break the leg off.

    The Jedi turned his leg, the blow hurting but sliding off, but the blow on his chin drew blood, possibly chipped the bone beneath, with it's power. As his fist met the helmet he put the Force behind his fist, intending to break the visor and send the woman hurtling -

    But his knee gave way and he dropped down to one leg, cutting short at least half the power he had sought to put into the blow -

    Turning her hip she swung her armored leg full into the jedi's chest. Drawing her other pistol she aimed it at his head and pulled the trigger.

    The Jedi took the blow to his chest and fell back, gritting his teeth and turning it into a roll. He gestured a hand, slightly pushing aside the shot so it 'merely' creased the side of his head and removed an ear, and the Jedi howled again. He sagged, the pain from the multiple wounds starting to drain his ability to continue, and made another effort to yank his lightsaber back to his palm through her legs, igniting as it leapt from the floor, desperation in his eyes as he intended to cut through the backs of her knees -


    He had already released her blaster from his mental touch -

    The mandalorian could taste her own blood, her lip split open by the hard punch to her chin. Gritting her teeth she tried to bring her blaster back in line with the Jedi's chest, to finally end this. His hand shot forward again and she felt the pressure on her pistol lessen. This was her chance. That was when she heard the dreaded sound of a lightsaber. With split second decision making she fired her jetpack getting up into the sky bringing her legs up to get them out of the way.

    With three quick pulls of her trigger she sent three golden bolts aimed squarely at his chest.

    The bolts drilled in, through, and the lightsaber hit his hand as he gasped out his last breath, slumping to the floor. The blade switched off, its owner not able to keep his hand on the deadman switch... because he was dead.

    Kenix, breathing heavily, could only look at the woman in awe.

    Ka'rta came back down with a heavy thud letting out a panting breath. With little ceremony, or pomp, she collected her pistol and knife putting them back in their place. She stomped her way over to the fallen Jedi taking up his lightsaber. An idea came to her...Grabbing the dead body she dragged it towards the front towards the men and women continuing to fight a losing battle.

    "Close your mouth, you'll let flies in." She growled at Kenix dragging the body of her kill behind her. As she came close to the rest of the Sun Guard she ignited the blue saber. Lifting up the limb body of the man she'd killed, then throwing it onto the steps.

    "That's one for many have you all killed?" She challenged the remaining Sun Guard. "If a single mandalorian can kill one how many more could the vaunted Sun Guard kill."

    Kenix grunted with admiration. "We're not out of this yet, Ka'rta. I'm killing the next one." He quickly checked his weapons, and checked over the ones his colleagues hadn't been quick enough to make use of.

    There was a humming of a lightsaber, and a clash of another and a scream.

    He grinned back to her, showing false bravado. "Watch this."

    "Lead the way." Was all she said moving forward with a lightsaber on her hip, and both blasters in her hands.

    TAG: @Sinrebirth
    Jerjerrod-Lennox likes this.
  17. TheSilentInfluence

    TheSilentInfluence Silent and Friendly Mod of SWTV and SWC star 6 Staff Member Manager

    Jul 15, 2014
    IC: Madelyn Linnett
    Cloister entrance, violence

    Madelyn screamed as she was struck and reached out to grab the wound. It was painful. It hurt more then any wound she could remember getting and she didn't know just how she was going to get out of this one. I should have just stayed hidden away and then I wouldn't have had to deal with any of this. Madelyn thought, as she ignored Voren again. You lied to me. Why should I trust you? At least Foreteller was upfront with who he was.

    She slowly, and painfully stood up to face her foes. "I know you think you've beaten me. And maybe you could. But I am not afraid of you Sith. I was raised to be stronger then any foe, an Emperors Hand. Tell me, before you try to kill me...what do you think you could obtain without my knowledge?" Madelyn gave them a firm look. "You do know who I really am don't you?"

    Voren was silenced by her words, though Foreteller took the opportunity to glower at the Sith.

    The two men chuckled. Refined Voice spoke first.

    "You're an Emperor's Hand, yes, but the Emperor had many other servants. He had a Voice, he had his Eyes, and many Hands." A snort. "The Emperor even had a Reach, and indeed, his Fist, Lord Vader."

    Rasping Voice chuckled. "So many Hands, I am afraid. He did not value all of his Hands equally, either. Some were mere Dark Jedi... others were Sith, as of his new interpretation of the Rule of Two."

    "Now it is the Rule of One; the New Sith Order, and it is us who run it for the Emperor, in his absence, or in anticipation of his inevitable return. It is us who will maintain the Empire Reborn, a Second Imperium that will tear down the New Republic and Jedi Order," the Refined Voice said, sermonising.

    "You should be standing here, beside us, not standing on holy Sith ground muttering Jedi platitudes."

    "But I was the first Emperors Hand. You know Darth Vader took me from the Temple. He saved me and then gave me to the Emperor. I was a child." Eleanor counters with a nod. "A second Empire sounds nice, but his majesty won't come back the same way...will he?" She inquires, wanting to know more before she commits to anything.

    Madelyn straightens herself out, and looks at the Rasping and Refined Voice, calculating. "There can be no darkness without light. There must always be a balance of the two. And there will always be people who fight against Sith. Be that a planet or people themselves." She sighed, and listened to the battle that raged around her. "Just as people are fighting here and now. Tell me..." Madelyn asked, "...if it is really the Rule of One then why are you allowing yourself to be used? Do you not desire freedom? To be of your own minds again?"

    Refined Voice and Rasping Voice looked at each other, and laughed. "We shall take our places at the table at the eventual victory," Refined Voice said, and gestured, his Force power reaching for the her blade; not to yank it from her hand, but merely to keep it occupied... while Rasping Voice stepped forward.

    "You are defeated, yield, Hand, and take your place by the Dark Lord's side."

    Madelyn kept the grip on her lightsaber and nodded her head, sighing as though she was defeated. "Well, you can't say I didn't try." She looked back at the scene before her, and wondered what would happen if she accepted. She wouldn't be free, but she could remain alive. But what if the Jedi came? What if this was worse then what was going to happen to her.

    Foreteller, know why I can't accept this. To follow another Sith doesn't work for me. They will not follow the basics rules of the Sith. If you really want to help me...and you mean it. Then you had better help me figure out something quick. Without me taking another person on.

    Darth Voren sneered. You're defeated. Yield, accept your fate.

    No, don't, but if you feign a surrender, then you can discover a way out? Foreteller shook his ethereal head. Or you absorb Hord. He's still watching... we can't win without his strength.

    That will kill her,
    Voren said, with a delicious tone to his voice.

    Not if I teach her how to bind spirits to her...

    Then you die, Foreteller...
    Voren said, more serious.

    Madelyn, I need you to trust me -

    Refined Voice gestured more firmly, moving her lightsaber out of the way to parry Rasping Voice's blade, forcing Madelyn to dodge or be divided in two.

    I will never yield to them. And I will not absorb any more of you. Madelyn thought back. But faking a surrender? That I can do.

    She nodded her head. I trust you Foreteller. We will resist together. And then Madelyn dodged the blade, just barely; winching as the blade nicked her in the side. It wasn't an awful wound, but it hurt. She knelt down on the ground and gripped her lightsaber. "If you really are going to bring the Emperor back. Then tell me what I need to do to help. I serve him, now and always."Or at least until I can find a way out of this.

    Surprise permeated the Force. The two Sith paused, glancing at each other, and then back. To Aryan and his screams. They are asking permission... Foreteller said. Voren growled.

    Rasping Voice spoke up. "If you are lying, our Master will see. He'll know."

    "Once he's done with Aryan, that is," Refined Voice said, sneering.

    He held out his hand for her weapon, keeping his weapon ignited. "Surrender your weapon and you may come inside the Cloister... and rejoin the Sith Order, Madelyn Linnett."

    Madelyn winched as she heard his screams.i have to help him somehow. "I have a better idea." Madelyn told them, looking up. "Why don't you let me finish Aryan as proof of my loyalty to the Sith Order?" She asked, bowing her head. "To prove that I can do what is asked of me."

    "Oh," Refined Voice said. "I like that."

    Rasping Voice grinned. "Me too."

    "Come, come," they kept their weapons ignited, and, giving her some distance, led her into the cloister to the Courtyard. The balcony ringing the square of the courtyard had other Sith in robes evident, their faces hidden. There was a tall Chagrian with his face exposed, turning to look down at Madelyn and bear his fangs in greeting; that was Mas Amedda, one of the two Grand Viziers of the Empire.

    The face of the central figure was concealed, though his White Eyes were evident as he held his hand out -

    And Aryan writhed, floating in the air, clearly being tortured with a vicious mental probe.

    Refined Voice held up a hand to silence her for the moment, which gave her a chance to absorb what was happening.

    Madelyn followed the two into the cloister and felt shifts in the force as her gaze swept over everything. It was cold. Madelyn thought to herself, and then pain as she felt Aryan being tortured. She waited, knowing that she shouldn't speak or act just yet, but knew she had to find someway out of this for her and Aryan. Quickly.

    Tag: @Sinrebirth @HanSolo29

    Last edited by a moderator: Apr 29, 2020
  18. QueenSabe7

    QueenSabe7 Chosen One star 6

    Mar 23, 2001
    IC: Dark Apprentice Syren
    In orbit

    Syren, for the time, was only aware of one thing outside of her own self; Lumiya.

    Her Master was next to her, but also felt to be an actual part of her now. Inside her, binding her, making her, molding her, feeling more as one after the events that had saved her life. After the Dark Lord had saved her life. They remained separate as student and teacher, but mentally and emotionally so much of them was tangled together that it wasn't immediately clear that the words that started floating around her mind weren't her own. That they in fact, came from her fellow Sith.

    “Rendezvous at the Old Folks Home. The Emperor has been reborn.”

    Her thoughts sharpened the longer she focused on them and considered what they meant, allowing the rhythmic in-and-out breathing of her Master to be her center. Taking shape after several moments was that a strangely familiar voice had spoken them and only recently, though 'recent' seemed so far away to her now.

    A name appeared in her memories then. Jeng Droga. Yes, yes it was her. How did she know that? And how did she know she had been a Hand? Like Lumiya.

    The apprentice began to tremble again, a physical manifestation of her mental strain though it wasn't nearly as painful this time. It was more... like settling... into something new. What exposed skin that remained shone with sweat, several beads still dripping down from her forehead to disappear into her hairline, matting her singed and dirty locks. Syren's breathing was labored, if only because her lungs were now mechanically aided, metallic threads braiding through several major organs now. She would need to adjust to the sensations this created, most of which were oddly euphoric.

    Was it her new enhancements? Or perhaps her deepened bond with Lumiya. Or because she was so deeply immersed in darkness now that she couldn't truly recall how she had felt before this, as her former self.

    Slowly if a bit clumsily, Syren pulled herself up to a sitting position, leaning back slightly onto the one arm that was still her own flesh. Looking down at the woman next to her, she resisted reaching out to touch her. The impulse was consuming.

    "He is back then," she stated, her own voice slightly altered after her change but confusion and disbelief would still carry across in her tone. "The Emperor has returned?"

    TAG: @Sinrebirth
  19. JediMasterAnne

    JediMasterAnne Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Apr 24, 2004
    OOC Combo w/ Jerjerrod-Lennox and Sinrebirth

    IC: Pascale Rouser, Feyna Morrow, and Arek Graul

    Valley, Korriban

    It was good to get out of the heat.

    He had followed Feyna into a cave they had found, thankfully no howling noises yet. He had sat down again thankful for the coolness. And of course make sure Feyna stays safe.

    He, unlike Feyna, had unfortunately lost his blaster rifle and was back down to his vibroblades. Pascale would now have to rely on his knife and fighting skills if it came to it. Or perhaps Feyna could save him with some good shooting.

    Hopefully Feyna would be able to put in a good word about him to Drayson. Maybe he could get off lightly but who knew what would happen after this. Maybe he and Feyna would go their separate ways….or maybe he could try….

    A man appeared at the mouth of their cave. A familiar looking man….

    Well well, if it isn't Arek. Look what he's become. And lightning too, so he has become a fully fledged Sith.

    A painful scream sounded from where he and Feyna had been up above. Arek then demanded what was happening to his father.

    Pascale looked to Feyna as if to say remember this one? And then he wearily stood up and folded his arms.

    "Arek Graul" he said, giving him an icy stare with his blue eyes "If I remember correctly aboard the Resurrection, you were the one who shopped your father in. And now you are concerned about how he is?" He snorted "I think you know what's happening judging by that scream. And since when did you care since you are serving Tavion and her zealots. Your father if he could see you would be disappointed"

    Pascale kept close to Feyna to make sure he could push her out of the way of Arek's lightning if need be.

    Feyna winced at the scream they heard from above; was that Aryan?

    Taunting Arek maybe wasn't the approach she would have taken, given the lightning sparking along his arm; Feyna didn't need the Force to read the rage in his face.

    She readied her blaster, making sure it was set for 'stun'—she would kill Arek if she had to, if it came to choosing between sparing him or saving Rouser or herself. But considering that he used to work for the Republic, he might be valuable if they could take him alive.

    She also checked their positions, ensuring that they could take cover if he lashed out with another lightning attack.

    Arek snarled, putting a bolt by Rouser's head, his teeth gnashing visibly. "I have to kill Tavion or we will never be free!" He swung his blade erratically, snarling. "What am I supposed to do! She wanted him. She knew about him." Arek pointed his blade at him. "They knew about you, and this echo."

    He looked despairingly. "Maybe I can hand you in, and we'll be free."

    He was ignoring Feyna, such was his distress.

    Pascale ducked as the bolt shot past his head. How rude he thought. But what Arek said next made his heart sink.

    They knew that his father and I were Force sensitives. They wanted us all here. This screams of a trap. She didn't just hire me to do a job she wanted me for my Force sensitivity. Well she's going to be sorely disappointed….

    The plus point here was that he was ignoring Feyna and luckily Feyna was keeping quiet. If Pascale could keep him distracted, Feyna could do something. Or try to redirect him towards his father.

    "I hate to break it to you young Arek but I have been stripped of the Force by said Echo. It has retired in peace and I don't want this Force. Tavion will kill me anyway because I'm useless to her. And I don't think you want an innocent persons death on your conscience"

    His voice turned soothing " Go to your father, he needs you. Grab him and run away if you have to. I'm sure the New Republic will deal with Tavion. Taking me will solve nothing, she will kill us both"

    Pascale was making sure he was still covering Feyna. He didn't share any looks with her, he wanted Arek's focus to be set on him. So Feyna could strike if needed….

    Feyna flinched at the bolt that narrowly missed Rouser's head, drawing a little further back into the shadows of their cave. Arek didn't seem to be paying attention to her--he shouldn't be able to sense her, she was still wearing the taozin nodule, hidden under her collar. But had he even seen her?

    His focus for now was on Rouser, who seemed to try to keep it that way, as his manner switched to matter-of-fact to tell Arek that he no longer had the Force, then soothing as he suggested Arek go find his father. Feyna wondered though, if Arek was too angry to be rational, too erratic for reason.

    She didn't expect him to take Rouser's suggestion, but she waited to see. Just in case he didn't, if he did try to attack Rouser, she raised her blaster, aiming carefully and looking for an opening; once he was onto her, he'd block her shots with his saber, so she was only going to get one chance.

    The battle continued, filling the Force with deaths; Sith ones, that pounded upon Arek as more and more of his Disciples were killed... and a disturbance approached.

    Arek hissed, and clawed a hand, drawing for Rouser's throat and snarling. "Not all of us can surrender the Force, can they?" He squeezed, but when Feyna lifted the blaster to point at him, he released Rouser, turning to look at where he sensed the danger, roughly, though he could sense no foe -

    Pascale felt an invisible hand squeeze his throat and moved his hands to his throat, his blue eyes widening in surprise.

    I think he may be too far gone….he could kill us both.

    And Pascale was not going to let that happen.

    As quickly as he was being choked he was released and he dropped to one knee coughing slightly as his windpipe was released.

    But Arek was looking towards where Feyna was, he could see it in Arek's face that he could sense something. Had Feyna made a move? Was Arek going to go for her? Pascale had to act fast, Arek had attacked him, if he went for her…

    Oh no you don't…

    Pascale reached into his boot, withdrew his vibroblade…

    And threw it at Arek's head.

    Feyna saw Arek start to turn toward her, still not seeming to find her yet--she didn't wait, firing a stun bolt in the same moment that Rouser threw his knife.

    Arek saw Feyna, flicking his lightsaber to intercept the knife with a loud snap, but the stun boat caught him hard, sending him tumbling down, releasing Rouser fully. Drawing upon the Force, he reached for her blaster and, fighting off the fog of unconsciousness, tried to push her blaster up so she couldn't get a second shot in.

    The son of Aryan Graul narrowed his eyes, dropping to one knee as he tried to stop himself from embracing the dark, and for that moment, he was almost entirely vulnerable. He dropped his lightsaber, drawing hard on the Force and causing his eyes to burn yellow with rage as he screamed.

    "Nobody understands!"

    He is definitely too far gone…

    Feyna could try and talk him out of it but Pascale had already tried and failed. And now Arek had fully spotted her and was going after her. He had to save her, perhaps getting injured or dying in the process.

    The things we do for love….

    Normally he would do nothing as bonkers as he was about to do. But for Feyna, to get her safely back to the New Republic he would do anything.

    Because he loved her. Even if she did not love him back. Even if she did.

    And he would distract Arek again so she could get her to fire another shot off. He only had one vibroblade left and he had to use it well. Hopefully what he was about to do would enable Feyna to stun or kill him whatever she decided. And maybe he might get a lightsaber to add to his collection….

    He turned to Feyna behind him and smiled his most brightest smile and said the three words that he had been wanting to say….

    "I love you Feyna"

    He pulled his other vibroblade out and rose from his crouch and charged at Arek his face deadly serious, sprinting as fast as his forty two year old body would carry him and then dived towards Arek making sure he left enough space for Feyna to shoot his vibroknife heading towards his throat to slash it as he dived past….

    Wait, what?!

    He couldn't--he wasn't--that--that doesn't even make sense! They'd known each other for hours, he can't really--


    She didn't have time to make sense of his feelings, or figure out how she felt, Pascale was rushing at Arek, his vibroblade drawn.

    She could still try to take Arek down. She drew her blaster again, shifting it to its 'kill' setting, but she was aiming for his arm, or a leg; she wanted to try one more time to take him alive, she wanted a debilitating injury, but not a lethal one. Hopefully his earlier Force-grab attempt hadn't damaged the weapon beyond use.

    She checked her target--she didn't want to hit Pascale--and fired.

    Arek turned as Rouser rushed him, eyes blazing yellow. He flicked his hand out to take Pascale's feet out from under him, dropping him face first into the sand, as Feyna pointed her weapon again, Arek mentally wrestling with the weapon, shifting it's aim, hoping to have her hit Rouser, but he was a hair slow as her finger squeezed -

    The shot slammed into Arek's chest, and he was down, rolling to the floor and fetching up at the edge of one of the yawing tomb mouths, slack and clearly, well, clearly. He didn't move, and smoke rose from his form. Notwithstanding the moment, Feyna had killed the young man, who was clearly bent and broken by the dark side of the Force.

    Even in his pain, Aryan would feel the pain inflicted to his son by Feyna and Pascale.

    It left them to a quiet moment, only the noises of the distant battle, Aryan's screams, and a whining of an X-wing engine to contend with.

    She'd felt the invisible hand on her weapon, but she'd already pulled the trigger. For a horrifying second, she was afraid the shot would hit Pascale, but a moment later Arek was down, his body settling at the entrance to the cave, a hole in his chest.

    She hadn't meant to kill him, but it was done now. She'd only been trying to make sure he didn't kill Pascale.

    She went over to where Rouser had fallen, helping him sit up; she was pretty sure Arek had only knocked him off his feet.

    "Are you okay?"

    Pascale smiled as Feyna sat him up "I'm fine thank you. Although apart from feeling tired, my body feels like it has been run over a few times and needing a rather hot shower to get this sand off, I'm good. And we have both come out of this unscathed…"

    He pushed himself up looking at Areks' body. Such a shame a young life had been taken but Feyna had made sure they both stayed alive. He walked forward picking up the lightsaber and the vibroblade, sticking the blade back in his boot and Arek's lightsaber in his pocket. How the hell were they going to explain this to his father? And he was still screaming away.

    He turned back to Feyna turning serious and looking straight into her face "While we have a quick moment, I want to explain why I said what I said"

    "I know that we have only known each other for a few hours, but you are the most beautiful and intelligent woman I have ever met. And when our shuttle crashed all I wanted to do was look after you, make sure you were alright. I began to care for you, to make sure you got back to your boss in one piece"

    "Then I met the darker version of me and after that torpedo exploded I didn't know what had happened to you. I thought that he would try and hurt you or kill you. Then I realised I cared for you more than I thought, that I didn't want to lose you, if I did I don't know what I would do. I realised then that maybe I was falling in love with you that I wanted to get to know you more. And when Arek was using his powers I felt the same thing as I did back up there" at that he pointed up to where they were before.

    "I thought you deserved to know my true feelings about you in case one of us or both of us died. That you deserve someone who loves you and cares about you in this dangerous galaxy" he shook his head "You don't have to answer me now, if you want to think about things or don't reciprocate my feelings for you I understand completely and I will stop. Besides I don't know if agents are allowed to fraternize".

    He felt better after getting that off his chest. Maybe he was being stupid by revealing all and making himself look like a total idiot. But at least his conscience was clear.

    Feyna listened, but so much was happening so fast, and it was such a completely foreign situation to find herself in, she didn't know how to feel or what to do. No one had ever professed to loving her, romantically or otherwise; she'd never had any kind of family, none of her previous romantic relationships had ever lasted long enough or gotten serious enough--heck, she didn't even really have friends outside of work.

    Pascale wasn't looking for a response right this moment, though, lucky for her--but it helped, that he cared and respected her enough to give her time to figure things out. Feyna had heard all kinds of stories about men who became angry or even violent when rejected by women, but Pascale didn't seem like that type.

    "I'm glad you told me," she began, slowly. "And I respect your feelings, and I appreciate that you're willing to respect mine. This is just happening so fast...I don't know what I feel yet..."

    The moment felt so surreal to her, that they were talking about this literally right after she'd just killed someone (to protect herself and Pascale, but she still hadn't meant to, so that was something else she was trying to deal with), a battle still raging nearby, and Arek's father still screaming at the top of the hill.

    "There's no rule that says I can't date, agents are still allowed to have personal lives. Maybe...after we get out of this"—if they got out of this—"we could...see where it goes?"

    Pascale nodded, it was probably not the best time to discuss this but at least when they got out of this hell hole they could perhaps see where it went.

    "Agreed, let's see what happens after this. And I respect what you have said to me regarding your position. It was no doubt bad timing but let's make sure we get out of this madness alive. My promise still stands to get you back alive"

    He could still hear the elder Graul screaming "Now I don't know what you want to do next but I don't know whether we can help Arek's father. I don't know how he is being tortured, is it cultists? Is it Sith spirits? How can we defeat them?"

    Pascale fingered the lightsaber in his pocket "And the real unknown is how will he react once we tell him his son is dead? If he is as Force sensitive as his son is he could attempt to kill us…."

    Feyna picked up her blaster again, frowning. "If Aryan is Force-sensitive, he might already know," she pointed out. "They can feel death, can't they?" Though whether he'd notice, over whatever was happening to him, she did wonder.

    She realized that Arek's family had lost him twice now; he'd been assumed dead for the last few years, now he really was gone. And that was on her; that it had been a defensive kill didn't make her feel any better about it.

    "I don't know if we can help him, but we should probably check it out. If anything, we can get him picked up with us and he'll get seen to faster."

    "I'm no expert in the Force but from what I have gathered he may sense his son's death especially as it is a member of his family. And as I say it could complicate things. If we can help him and perhaps get him back to the Republic to receive medical attention then at least we will have saved someone today. I know that you tried to save Arek, but you did what you had to do. Because I would be dead and he would have turned his attention to you"

    He looked up to where the screams were coming from `Might as well check it out and see what we can do '' he looked back at her "When Arek fought us he didn't notice you until you fired your first shot. Did you do something so he wouldn't notice you?"

    Feyna tugged the taozin amulet out from underneath her tunic to show him. "It's a skin nodule from a taozin," she explained. "Drayson gave it to me before I started this assignment, it makes the wearer difficult to sense in the Force, so Tavion and the Disciples wouldn't notice my presence and realize that I didn't belong among them. It's how I managed to sneak onto Rosh Panin's ship to get to the Resurrection."

    Pascale smiled, this woman was impressive. Looks like she's got the tools for the job.

    "Very impressive, you got on to Tavion's ship unscathed and managed to board the shuttle with me whilst being unnoticed, as Drayson sent you in with it and thought it would be useful. It definitely has worked for you so far"

    He looked back up the hill again "Let's see if whomever is torturing Arek's father up there hopefully doesn't notice you. I'll keep their focus on me whilst you do the sneaky bits. Hopefully together we can try and get the elder Graul out of harm's way. And beat them together."

    Feyna smiled, tucking the nodule back into her clothes. "We do make a good team," came the wry response.

    She touched his arm, briefly. "I don't know what we may be dealing with up there, so whatever you do, just be careful."

    TAG: @Sinrebirth @Jerjerrod-Lennox @HanSolo29
    Last edited: May 1, 2020
  20. HanSolo29

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

    Apr 13, 2001
    The following is a very tense combo with Sinrebirth: [face_nail_biting]

    IC: Aryan Graul and White Eyes

    The Cloister, Korriban

    The images continued to flash by in rapid succession, painting a complex narrative that Aryan neither remembered or accepted as his own. Each new expression sent tendrils of pain hurtling through his system, like bolts of electricity that did not cease. His body writhed and convulsed of its own volition, and he might have heard himself screaming, though it was hard to tell at this point. It was impossible to discern between reality and mere illusion. Everything blurred together into one endless nightmare.

    And then almost as suddenly as it had begun, the images faded and the pain waned to something more tolerable.

    It allowed Aryan to open his eyes, if only to slits due to the tears brimming at their corners and blurring his vision. He was able to distinguish portions of his surroundings – a rocky face, something that resembled a cliff or a balcony, and...a phantom with white, burning eyes. This creature stood poised on the precipice above him, ready to attack. Or maybe he was only lost in thought.

    Aryan soon had his answer when he felt a ripple at the back of his mind, the sensation seeming to trigger a new onslaught of thoughts and emotions. They bombarded his already ravaged psyche, materializing into another series of visions that he could not immediately identify.

    The Force.

    A map.

    A Prophecy.

    A series of statues and ancient tomes.

    He unleashed another agonizing scream as he struggled to contain the deluge of information. It was simply too much, the new images now mingling with the memories that were present from earlier. The result was a tempest of conflicting realities that he had no hope of untangling. He was completely overwhelmed, gone...drowning…

    Wait, no. Not completely. One last spark ignited a wave of pain that took his breath away. It went down into his chest and caused it to clench tightly, almost maddeningly so, until he was gasping to draw breath from his lungs. It was as if this malignant force was sucking him dry, leaving a void in his very soul…

    But then that void personified itself as a face, a name.


    Despite his breathing difficulties, Aryan wailed pitifully until he was spent.

    There was a shudder as the Force flowed back into Aryan, and the Echo became a voice. As Sentan and Tavion had theorised, the Force was passing through Aryan, and not naturally so. Indeed, Aryan's latent Force sensitivity had been forced out of him to try and reveal what the Second Imperium believed would be revealed.

    A Holocron of Prophecy.

    Of course, where that now was, he couldn't say.

    So when Arek erupted into pain, it created a feedback of power and White Eyes glowered. He couldn't find what he wanted because it hadn't been there, he realised, he should have rummaged in the son’s mind. No matter; it was here now.

    He dug deeper, and deeper, through the man's memories as... Skelm, perhaps, through that...

    ... a man, not quite a scholar, not quite a warrior, not quite a... father, not yet. A woman, distrusting, who reminded White Eyes of Lumiya's apprentice, the one who was being ferried away... A man, a librarian, who reminded White Eyes of the man that Alora had hired... A nonhuman, a reptilian one, who watched his comrades sadly... and a Black Coated man, foretelling the future with lamentous tones... the Black Coat was watching him with one eye...

    White Eyes realised he had met that Black Coat...

    He rummaged through even that connection, to another, smaller, younger, Black Coat, in the dusk of Korriban, no, Pesegam - its ancient, ancient name. He spoke of Seven. He spoke of
    Resurrection. And that took him back here...

    To the Princess who wasn't Leia... to the Mandalorian woman who was harder than she ever should have been, screaming down the cosmos... to the woman who was a Jedi, a Mandalorian, and a Sith...

    To the Dark Man that wore Luke Skywalker's face.

    White Eyes was getting drawn into a causal loop, somehow, and he increased the pain and pressure upon Aryan Graul.

    He needed more.

    He was so close.

    Aryan's limbs began to contort, and break as if his body was being crushed in an enormous hand.

    As the phantom delved deeper, all Aryan saw was white. It was as if he existed within the boundless realm of a barren plain, meandering aimlessly in what he could only describe as purgatory. He could no longer perceive anything of importance about himself or his current surroundings. His suffering was so immense that his grief, pain, and anguish – all of his emotions and feelings, collectively failed to register in his mind. He had gone completely numb. In fact, he was ready to let go; to give in to this eternal torment and find the means to release himself from this life.

    He silently begged for oblivion. Perhaps things would get better.


    That thought dissipated and faded away, his consciousness suddenly flooded by a warm, soothing sensation that eventually washed over the rest of his battered body. It offered vitality and strength – a brief reprieve that afforded him a moment to finally catch his breath. He couldn’t resist the urge to reach out and touch it, to taste it, and savor in its stimulating qualities.

    That’s when he discovered that it felt…familiar somehow. It was like a distant memory coming back to the surface after being repressed; as if a part of himself had returned. He latched onto this feeling and allowed it to envelop him fully, its rejuvenating abilities instantly going to work.

    Only then did he feel strong enough to resist; only then did he have the confidence to…

    Aryan gasped and managed to lift his head from its prone position. A feral yell issued from his lips as he pulled on this new sensation and used it to repel the destructive force that continued to invade his mind.

    “G-Get out…” he stammered through clenched teeth, struggling to form the words, “...of--of my...HEAD!”

    White Eyes could feel resistance forming deeper in Aryan's mind, and he gathered himself to snuff it out - before pausing, as if listening to someone else in the distance. Another Force user was approaching... White Eyes dedicated himself to one, final push, to try and snatch sight of what he needed to find.

    A pyramidal red Holocron, another that was a blue cube, another a dipyramid... another a red crystalline, mutated and moulded in shape.


    White Eyes grinned to himself, and began to let Aryan, bolstered by the death of his son and their shared sensitivity returning to one, push him out.

    There was a break, as if the phantom had become distracted by something, and then one final flurry of images that renewed his agony. Aryan saw a series of objects, ancient artifacts with varying shapes and sizes that had no real context outside of this solemn hellscape. He could not distinguish one from the other, or specify their importance, except…

    Aryan felt his muscles tense, a jolt of adrenaline coursing through his body with sudden realization. That wasn’t entirely true.

    The red pyramid. He recognized that red pyramid. He remembered it now. It had been in his possession, albeit briefly, before…


    He saw himself – a more dignified version of himself stepping close, muttering platitudes into his ear as he lured him off to sleep. Perhaps to divert his attention so that he could claim the pyramid for his own? Had that really happened? Or was it another nightmare? Another reflection of this horrid experience?

    His frustration hit an apex with that thought. He was drowning, no longer able to determine fact from fiction; real or fantasy. That made him angry, and he instinctively sought the spark that had allowed him to momentarily repel the phantom. Before he realized what he was doing, he clamped down on it and surged back with as much force as he could muster.

    This strenuous effort was embodied and made manifest through a long, primal scream.

    TAG: @Sinrebirth; (@TheSilentInfluence; @Jerjerrod-Lennox; @JediMasterAnne – for proximity)
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  21. Sinrebirth

    Sinrebirth Mod-Emperor of the EUC, Lit, RPF and SWC star 9 Staff Member Manager

    Nov 15, 2004
    IC: Kenix Jir
    Tomb of Marka Ragnos, rearguard

    The next Jedi that rushed in was fending off an attack as he ran, but had killed the two pursuing Stormtroopers in plenty time to see Kenix coming. It didn't help. Kenix snapped off a shot of whip-chord, which the Jedi deflected, but Kenix was already turning, placing the emphasis on whip as he spun the burning part with a back-turn. The Jedi blocked again, and Kenix brought his free hand up to shoot as he drew back his whip-arm.

    The Jedi caught the blaster bolt, sending it back, and Kenix shot his own reflected bolt out the sky, adjusting his aim in advance, and fired a third time - the Force user blinked in confusion at his own shot being hit, and barely deflected the next, sending the bolt into the stone wall. The Rodian Jedi was still blinking his bulbous eyes as Kenix swung down, and the Jedi reacted rather than thought about it - the fourth shot hit him in the chest, and the whip, wrapped around the lightsaber hilt and tugged it free. The Rodian, holding a hand to his chest, let the weapon go and reach out for Kenix's blaster, yanking it free of his gloved hand. He fired, and Kenix caught it on his armour gauntlet, before grinning.

    The blaster exploded a full three seconds after it left his palm, and Kenix twirled around the disentangled whip to catch the Rodian by the throat. He stooped to pick up the Jedi's lightsaber, looking back to Ka'rta. "Do you want the pleasure."

    "No need."

    The female voice, commanding as it was sent, a shudder up Kenix's spine and the Jedi's throat snapped, sending him to the floor in a huddle of flesh and bones. Trailing a dead Jedi on a chain, was Tavion herself, the Sceptre of Ragnos in her other hand and a quartet of Sith disciples escorting her.

    "You have done very well, Kenix, and Ka'rta." She stepped close to the Sun Guard, close enough to smell her, and he blinked. She wandered over to Ka'rta, just as sultry, and continued to speak. "When the Dark Lord is risen, I will be sure to mention you. A shame about Sentan Moor, of course. He crashed at the start of the battle..." She angled her chin. "He's still alive, but severely wounded, I can sense that much. Dying, even."

    A dark chuckle. "Tell me, Kenix and Ka'rta... Ka'rta and Kenix, perhaps... what it is that you desire when the Sith Empire is resurrected?"

    Further behind them there was a sound of a lightsaber clash, and one of the Sith disciples ignited their own blade and rushed to intercept whatever was pursuing them. Tavion appeared nonplussed, and stared at Ka'rta.

    TAG: @galactic-vagabond422
    IC: White Eyes


    Dropping Aryan Graul to the stone floor, White Eyes glowered down at the Sith present, and, of course, Madelyn Linnett.

    "A former Emperors Hand, restored to me. I have a Voice," he said, directing a hand to the Chagrian standing besides him, who was definitely Mas Amedda. "And I have a Fist," he said, indicating the Dooku-lookalike, Refined Voice. "I even have a Vizier," he said, indicating Rasping Voice. "So there is an... opening for a Hand."

    White Eyes chuckled, his face still concealed, his eyes still glowing beneath the hood, the shadows surrounding the balcony hiding his identity.

    hissed quietly. You must not let him do what he did to Aryan to you. He will break you... he will discover me.

    Voren chuckled darkly. His oily presence sought to take control of Madelyn, to speak up. Perhaps I shall reveal the truth, that you are lying to buy time, perhaps, perhaps?

    While Aryan laid on the floor, barely conscious, the bones of his arms and legs broken, essentially a cripple in the moment, he would feel a resonance, as indeed his son was gone, and indeed the Echo was with him. Tell me... is Tera alright? Tera Moor?

    TAG: @HanSolo29, @TheSilentInfluence
    IC: Luke Skywalker
    Korriban, Valley of the Dark Lords

    The Jedi Master and leader of the Jedi attack had set down in the Valley, but he was following something else entirely. The miasma of the planet obscured the details of the battle, and indeed the number of Sith disciples his Knights and apprentices were facing. Kyle Katarn and Jaden Korr were leading the final charge on the tomb itself, hot on the heels of Tavion. If he knew the two of them, the battle would be over shortly.., though two Jedi had just died; he could feel it.

    Checking his chrono, he knew that the New Republic task force that Admiral Drayson had assembled would be here shortly. Luke looked up, spying by eye the distant Star Destroyer, the Resurrection. They had stripped it of its fighter defences and shuttles, but they didn't have the numbers to do a dent in the warship, so he'd sent all the Jedi to the surface, gambling that Tavion wouldn't order an orbital bombardment on herself until it was too late.

    Fifteen more minutes, and then Luke wouldn't need to worry about it.

    Luke had been the last X-wing to land, leaving Corran to defend the landing zone as he followed a collection of signals that had landed, or, in some cases, crash landed, elsewhere in the Valley - usually Imperial ships. He was jogging, personally daring the assorted Sith wildlife and animal creations to attack him, but they had already been cowed. He passed bodies, and a young man, Arek, who was lying in the mouth of a tomb. Luke focused forward, his heart upset with the loss but he had no time to check on him - he could see a shuttle had lifted off and he didn't want to miss out on what was happening at the other end of the Valley.

    With his lightsaber in hand but not yet activated, he eyed two humans who looked decidedly out of place. He called out to them, as they seemed to sneak up the sand dune. "Agent Morrow, it's Luke Skywalker. Admiral Drayson asked me to look out for you, but I am sure I heard screams from this direction." He trotted up to them. "We have killed most of the Disciples and I have two Jedi in pursuit of Tavion - she's not made it to the Tomb."

    Yet, whispered Korriban, and Luke ignored it.

    "Ah yes, Pascale Rouser, the infamous rogue who I have had the peripheral joy of tracking through Jedi memorabilia and artefacts that has turned up in the hands of private collectors. I am not surprised to find you here." Luke grinned somewhat, the Farmboy in him emerging.

    "So what are we looking at?"

    TAG: @JediMasterAnne, @Jerjerrod-Lennox
    IC: Lumiya

    In low orbit, Korriban

    "He is back then," she stated, her own voice slightly altered after her change but confusion and disbelief would still carry across in her tone. "The Emperor has returned?"

    "I doubt it; his last clones were destroyed and the Empire has no more secret reserves, or hidden caches, or missing superweapons... there is nothing to rebuild the Empire with, and Palpatine was smarter than that... and here, and now, the Sith number more than two; and they follow an alternate Dark Lord.... Palpatine wouldn't risk a rival Dark Lord rising up... and no rival Dark Lord would gamble without knowing Palpatine was dead; he hated them all, hated that there were others with successes that rivalled his."

    There was an openness to Lumiya right now, and she was not upset nor surprised that Syren had discovered the kernel of fear within her; that Jeng Droga had been telling the truth. "That was an Emperor's Hand you heard in my head, like I once was. He was a host for Palpatine, and it drove him mad..."

    She ached for Syren's touch; for her new touch. It would be as if rediscovering a lover all over again, tasting the new and the old parts of her, lapping up their combined pain and reaching a crescendo in spite of it - because of it. Pain was passion, and Sith mastered their passion.

    But not yet.

    "It is why I am here - why I am following the Disciples of Ragnos. The Old Mans Home - it's that cloister. Those two we faced - they aren't Palpatine. They aren't Droga, either." Lumiya sniffed. "They were nothing like the sycophants that usually trailed the Emperor around - they are something new, something separate. Irritants, and..." She smiled. "I can sense that Luke has their scent... but not ours."

    Former boyfriend.

    Those words fizzled across their bond, and Lumiya faintly smiled, curious as to Syren's jealousy; if any.

    "Han Solo isn't here, before you ask."

    Lumiya doubted that Syren would have, but it was tremendous fun to push their boundaries and antagonise them as the ship lifted to the surface, returning whence it came. The Dark Lady of the Sith felt a rightness to that, and nodded to herself.

    Whatever the connection was, it was aboard the Resurrection.

    TAG: @QueenSabe7
    Last edited: May 8, 2020
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  22. TheSilentInfluence

    TheSilentInfluence Silent and Friendly Mod of SWTV and SWC star 6 Staff Member Manager

    Jul 15, 2014
    IC: Madelyn Linnett

    Madelyn bowed to White Eyes as he greeted her, and nodded to each of his people in turn. "Yes." Madelyn said confidently, not casting a glance at Aryan. Not yet. "I was trained from the beginning of his majesty's reign. Darth Vader saved me from the Temple. From the Jedi. I finally had a purpose where I wasn't used." She looked troubled for a moment before adding, "But now I would like to prove my loyalty to you. A Sith Empire is the only way to fix this galaxy." I wouldn't. Because then you would die to Voren. Let me ask you, do you want him ruling the galaxy or do you want me to? Madelyn thought to Voren, shielding her thoughts, though not obviously. I need to defeat him first, and then we can save Aryan. He is my apprentice after all, and what kind of Master would I be if I let him suffer at the hands of White Eyes.

    Tag: @Sinrebirth @HanSolo29
  23. QueenSabe7

    QueenSabe7 Chosen One star 6

    Mar 23, 2001
    IC: Dark Apprentice Syren
    In orbit, Korriban

    Syren’s former self - Qi’ra - didn’t know jealousy in the manner of lovers or partners. She had kept so few over the years because she rarely had the time for it, though there was always the need. And in that sense, she would use as she saw fit and then discard; no attachments, no mess, no feelings.

    So thoroughly changed as she was now, fully embodying ‘Syren - Sith Apprentice,’ that trait still carried over and she felt nothing more than a flicker of curiosity when she sensed intimacy in the name “Luke” as Lumiya spoke it. The Dark Lord was her Master now, they had experienced more together in such a short time than she was certain she had with almost anyone else, let alone this ‘former boyfriend’. No need for jealously when you know you mean far more than the past, even if knowing that made her arrogant.

    A smirk actually flitted across her cracked lips, only to crease into a frown once her Lady managed to catch her off guard with the mention of Han Solo.

    Former boyfriends, indeed.

    “Solo means nothing to me,” she replied tensely, but the negative expression upon her face evaporated. It embarrassed her to know that just hearing his name could still conjure some sort of reaction in her, even if it was just a frown. He somehow remained her exception to the rule. Damn him.

    Cautiously and not without discomfort that was both painful and exhilarating, Syren climbed to her feet. Breathing in deeply, she immediately tested her artificial leg by leaning her weight upon it, not hiding how impressed she was at how…. natural her new parts already felt. Clenching the fist of her replacement arm, there was still a separation between what she had been born with and what had just been built within her, but the Force appeared to have welcomed her just the same. Though, with a decidedly darker nature that she welcomed wholly.

    Taking a few slow steps to the left, and then a few to her right, Syren grinned in satisfaction. “So you have no worries, not even the smallest concern that what we are chasing after now, could potentially lead to a truth you’re unwilling to face? That perhaps he did find a way?” She stayed conversational in tone and was careful not to be too assertive about things she didn’t know much about. She was unsettled by the mere idea of the return of a being of his magnitude, and why couldn’t it be possible? His abilities in the Force were unmatched, his strength beyond what she could personally fathom.

    Lumiya may want to disregard Jeng Droga as a mad man who spoke in delusions, but Qi’ra had always considered all options throughout her many journeys in life. Yet another part of her that carried over to Syren.

    TAG: @Sinrebirth
    Last edited: May 13, 2020
  24. Jerjerrod-Lennox

    Jerjerrod-Lennox Jedi Grand Master star 7

    Mar 9, 2005
    IC: Pascale Rouser
    Location:Meeting a Legend, Korriban

    “I’m always careful” he responded to Feyna with a smile and a wink. He understood her concern, she had nearly just seen him nearly get killed by the mad Arek Graul.

    As they made their way towards where the screams were coming from, Pascale fingered the lightsaber now in his possession safely in his trouser pocket. He would have never thought in his wildest dreams he would have a lightsaber in his possession. The weapon of choice of both the Jedi and Sith. This would take pride of place in his collection. Well if he ever got his yacht back anyway…

    The screams then seemed to stop which indicated that something had possibly happened to the elder Graul. Hopefully whomever had tortured him or whatever they had been doing to him had now stopped it or worse, he could be dead. Which would mean two Grauls dead in a day. And that was not going to be a good record.

    He heard a voice then speak to him and Feyna as they started to make their way up the dune. A very familiar voice…

    Pascale turned around and found he was looking at the one and only Luke Skywalker. The legendary farm boy himself.

    Well at least I know Feyna’s surname now Pascale thought with an inward smile And it seems my reputation does precede me.

    He gave Luke a bow “Master Skywalker. May I say it is a pleasure to meet with you finally in person. You are a legend even in underworld circles. I would have preferred to meet you looking rather better than I am now but sadly my wardrobe is currently sitting on my yacht aboard the Resurrection. Perhaps if we get out of this and my yacht remains in one piece I can show you my collection.”

    “Sadly it was not Jedi artefacts I was after this time but Sith ones. I didn't know Tavion had hired me until it was too late. Agent Morrow will no doubt fill you in on all the gory details but needless to say she and I have worked well together to make sure we both are still in one piece” and I fell in love with her he thought but did not say.

    He then nodded to Feyna with a smile for her to carry on.

    TAG: @JediMasterAnne , @Sinrebirth
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  25. JediMasterAnne

    JediMasterAnne Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Apr 24, 2004
    IC: Feyna Morrow
    Valley of the Dark Lords, Korriban

    Feyna stepped in where Pascale left off. "The screams were coming from Aryan Graul, Master Skywalker." The screaming had stopped now, but that may or may not be a good thing. "From what I saw on the Resurrection, and based on Arek Graul's own words, Arek lured his father to Tavion's ship; she wanted him for his Force-sensitivity, Arek said something about an 'echo?'"

    Tavion had wanted Pascale for that reason, too, but he didn't have the Force any more, and she felt that it wasn't for her to share that; Pascale could tell Skywalker that part, if he wanted to.

    "We were sheltering in the tombs nearby when Arek stumbled across us. Rouser tried talking to him, but he was in a volatile state and he attacked. I didn't mean to kill him, but I had to defend Rouser.

    "We were on our way to Aryan, to see if we can help him..."

    TAG: @Sinrebirth @Jerjerrod-Lennox