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greencrusader13 · 4 years

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OC Fighting Style

I saw that @blitzindite did this, so I thought I would too! It looks like a lot of fun.

Tagging: @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @chubbyooo @dingoat @crqstalite @a-muirehen @roguescarlett @outcastcommander @commander-ralyle@shanfamilydrama @winterfrostlegacy @saph-y @anchanted-one @elaphaemourra @terrelian-inquisitor

Rules: bold what applies/always applies, italics for what somwhat/sometimes applies.

Eonur Bogra

fight honorably / fight dirty / prefer close-quarters / prefer range / chat during / go silent / low pain tolerance / high pain tolerance / attack in bursts / attack steadily / go for the kill / aim to disarm / fight defensively / bait an opponent’s first strike / strike first / provoked easily / provoke their opponent / tease / get visibly frustrated / shout while attacking / use strategy / focus on their battle / experience conflicting thoughts during battle / rush in recklessly / try to read their opponent before fighting / fight wildly/ fight calmly or apathetically / fight with anger / fight with excitement / fight because they have to / fight because they want to / fight without regard to wounds / run away when wounded / hide wounds / take a blow to protect another / prefer a blade / prefer a gun / prefer a bow / prefer a shield / prefer a spear or naginata / prefer a personalized weapon / prefer magic or spells / prefer brawling / their greatest weakness is physical / their greatest weakness is mental / their greatest weakness is emotional / transform for battle / fight as they appear / rely on strength / rely on speed / use everything they have / hide their full potential / exhaust quickly / high stamina / doubt their strength / proceed with caution / behave arrogantly / brag after landing a hit / belittle their abilities / use psychological tactics / use brute strength / avoid civilians / strike down civilians / damage surroundings / avoid damaging surroundings / signature fighting style / making it up as they go / mastered skillset / learning their skillset / fancy footwork / sloppy footwork / messy fighter / elegant fighter / accept defeat / refuse defeat / beg for mercy / compliment their opponent / insult their opponent / use unnecessary movements / move efficiently / barely move / prefer to dodge / prefer to block / defend their blindside / has no blindside / use all available advantages / strictly use one main method / play around / hold back / fight ruthlessly / show mercy / wait for opponent to be ready / strike when opponent isn’t ready / fear death / fear pain / fear killing / has PTSD / avoid fighting / has lost a fight / has won a fight / has killed / refuses to kill / want to die standing / would succumb slowly

Cirak Kiht

Tyar Kiht

Greylam Cormat

Gonna do one of these for my D&D/Pathfinder characters later too.

#swtor #my swtor #swtor oc #eonur bogra #cirak kiht #tyar kiht #greylam cormat #fighting style

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greencrusader13 · 4 years

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Daily Random Character Facts: Day 186

IT’S BACK!

Early on when I first began planning out my characters, it was Greylam that I planned on giving a violet lightsaber. I changed my mind upon realizing that such a vibrant color didn’t match his more muted personality, and therefore it was given over to Tyar.

#daily random character facts #swtor #my swtor #swtor oc #star wars #awio #swtor fanfiction #greylam #greylam cormat #jedi consular #tyar #tyar kiht #sith warrior

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greencrusader13 · 5 years

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All Were Innocent Once: Chapter 10 - Knights in Training

Yay! At long last another chapter done! As evidenced by the year stamp at the start of the chapter, this one takes place after a time skip from when we last saw these characters, eight years in fact. The kiddos are growing up!

As always please like and reblog if you’ve been enjoying this fic! It’s been a real pleasure writing it.

3653 BBY…

There was blood in the air, the copper-like scent intertwined with smoke and chaos and fear. Eonur felt it thick in his lungs, strangling him as he coughed, pushing his way through the haze. The blue glow of his lightsaber provided what little additional sight it could, but it wasn’t much. All around him he could feel the terror of the other Jedi permeating through the temple halls, the younger ones’ emotions running rampant. Their home was in ruins, the main hall aflame. The great statues and pillars situated there were nothing more than mounds of rubble. Overhead starfighters, Republic and Empire alike, screamed as they pursued one another across Coruscant’s sky.

And all the while he felt it, something he hadn’t felt since he was first rescued by the Jedi years ago. Hatred, a thick miasma in the air. The dark side of the Force.

As he continued down the hall a hand gripped his shoulder from behind. “Hey! Boy! Get back to work!” the voice said in Huttese.

Huttese?

Eonur jolted awake, launching himself upright while seizing his sheets tighter. His scrambling nearly sent him tumbling to the floor, but he caught himself in time. No sooner had he fully come to consciousness than he realized he heard laughter, the light cackling sound of a cathar boy perched across from him. Tyar grinned playfully as he balanced at the foot of Eonur’s bed, his hands planted between his feet as he crouched, looking borderline feral, and his red eyes sparked with mirth.

“What’s the matter Eonur? Did I frighten you?” he said, once again speaking fluent Huttese.

“Jerk.” Eonur reached behind him for his pillow, which he promptly hurled at his friend with the Force, who ducked out of the way with ease. Tyar rolled back, pushed himself to a handstand, and then vaulted from Eonur’s bed. Though he lacked Eonur’s innate strength, the cathar had been blessed with agility unlike any of the other initiates they’d encountered, and was prone to showing it off. With a sigh Eonur shook his head and swung out his legs. “Is everything okay?” His eyes flicked to the window, where golden sunlight was just beginning to crack along Coruscant’s skyline. “Did something happen?”

Tyar shook his head. “Nah you’re fine. Besides, Greylam would be the one at your door right now if you had overslept. Probably would chastise you with one of the Order’s philosophies or something.”

Eonur chuckled despite himself. “He’s been reading The Collected Writings of Master Dorak again. I don’t think he can help it.” He stopped, then shot a blank glance at his friend. “What are you doing in my room anyhow? For that matter, how did you even get in here?”

“Used a security spike that I made.” Tyar shrugged, as though the act of breaking into any part of the Jedi Temple was a frivolity.

“But…why?”

“In part because I can, but mostly because there’s something I want to show you.”

“Ominous.”

Tyar rolled his eyes and, with the flick of his wrist, flung Eonur’s duvet off over the end of his bed using the Force. “Just get dressed and meet me in five minutes.” Still facing Eonur he started to leave, exiting backwards through the door. “And if I have to break in here again because you decided to get some more shut eye then I’m dragging you down the halls.” The door slid open at his approach, and then Tyar was gone.

“Yeah, I’d like to see you try,” he mumbled, though Tyar was well gone by the time the words left his mouth. Eonur didn’t doubt that his friend would make some vain attempt should he go back to sleep. It was for both their sakes that he decided to get up.

How could he go back to sleep anyhow, with the dream still fresh in his head? Everything about it – up until Tyar’s disruption – had felt so real, as though he lived it. A chill ran up his back as he recalled the nightmare. In all his years at the temple, he couldn’t picture it so devastated, that the war would reach the very heart of the Jedi Order in all its terrifying chaos. Yet here he was, safe in his own bed, the Jedi Temple assuredly safe.

It was just a dream.

He dressed quickly, not wanting to keep Tyar waiting any longer. His robes, the standard faire for an initiate, was his fourth set in the past three years. The sudden onset of adolescence had caused Eonur to grow significantly in that time after spending most of his time at the academy as a smaller-than-average youth. His first he’d simply outgrown. The other two he’d tried preserving as long as possible, but they both tore despite his best efforts. He was growing still, and fast at that.

Tyar had his arms crossed when Eonur stepped outside. The cathar tapped his foot impatiently against the opposite wall, ignorant of the other initiates likely trying to sleep at this early hour. He was up far earlier than most of their peers, aside from Greylam of course, who most often awoke before dawn to meditate in the gardens. Most mornings they would both be asleep at this particular hour, yet Tyar was already his robes, but they were covered in light patches of dirt and grime smears. His black hair had been tied back into his usual topknot, but stray strands of hair stuck out on parts of his head. He’d been out – again – and something had him excited.

“You ready? Let’s go,” Tyar said, waving Eonur along down the hall without even giving him a moment’s pause.

Eonur quickened his pace to match his friend’s stride. “Where are we even going?” He kept his voice low, though they were nearly out of earshot of the nearby rooms.

“You’re pretty jumpy this morning,” Tyar replied, flashing another playful grin. “I didn’t mean to scare you that badly. All in good fun.” He rounded the corner to the elevators and pressed the “up” button, which glowed red in response.

“It’s not that, just…” he paused, watching the unlit arrow on the wall above them. “I had a dream. A bad one. Right before you woke me up, actually.”

“So?”

“So, it felt real. It wasn’t like other dreams I’ve had that only felt real while I was having them. This one felt different, like it could actually happen. I’ve heard some masters talking about how sometimes the Force gives us visions of things yet to come, and I was thinking-”

“It’s not real,” Tyar said, his voice softer now, sympathetic even. The elevator opened before them, and he waved Eonur inside. Outside the glass Coruscant’s cityscape lay sprawling across the horizon. A golden sun rose just beyond the skyline, setting the morning sky ablaze with beautiful color, and they too rose with it as the elevator ascended. He could hardly stand to picture what the skies would look like ablaze, though he knew from history it had been several times before.

“I used to have dreams that I was flying with Cirak.”

Eonur blinked back his surprise. It had been some time since he’d heard Tyar mention his older brother. The name seemed heavy on his lips, and it took several moments before he spoke again. “We’d be back on Nar Shaddaa in an old speeder he fixed up, and he was driving so fast that all the lights blended together as they passed. It felt so real that I still remember the smoky air in my lungs and the rush of the wind and my big brother’s smile.” He shrugged. “I was nine when I had that dream, and I was the same age in it. I had it again seven more times. Four years later and not much has changed. I’m not on Nar Shaddaa, and I haven’t seen my brother since I was five. Don’t put too much stock in dreams.”

Eonur frowned, but nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Tyar said. Crossing his arms, he added, “Ugh, now you’ve gone and soured the mood. I was real’ excited for this too.”

Somewhere beneath them those remaining at the Jedi Temple were beginning to wake. There were some older Jedi already stirring, initiates and padawans who hadn’t yet left, but they were few in number. War had hollowed out the temple’s halls, and every day it seemed as though more left to fight for the Republic. It had raged on since he before was first brought to Coruscant, back on the day Orgus Din rescued him from Imperial captivity. If it was to ever end, Eonur doubted that such a day would occur in his lifetime.

Eonur hoped that perhaps by some stroke of luck he’d see the Jedi Master roaming the Great Hall one of these days, but it never happened. He’d only seen his rescuer once in the years following his liberation, just as he was boarding a starfighter with Bengel Morr. Too often he was away in battle. He’d hear stories of his valor, his heroism, and from personal experience Eonur knew they were all true. There’d been no opportunity to thank him, let alone for him to see the Jedi Eonur was becoming in large part to him. Even if it was once, a single exchange even, Eonur wished he could express the gratitude he held that words could not begin to capture.

Upon reaching the upper dormitories of the Jedi Temple, Tyar guided Eonur over to his room. His friend’s fingers danced along the keypad so quickly that he entered his own password incorrectly twice, and he barely waited for the door to slide open before pulling Eonur along with him inside. Tyar’s room was no different from his own, sharing the same simplicity, but it was due to this fact that the medium-sized lump under a black tarp by his desk became more readily apparent, even with the room still coated in dark. Eonur stopped in his tracks as Tyar dramatically gripped the tarp, poised for the unveiling.

“Okay, promise to be quiet?”

“What is that?”

“That,” Tyar started, “is not a yes. Promise to be quiet?”

Eonur waved him off. “Yeah, yeah I promise. Just show me!”

Without another word Tyar ripped off the tarp. An astromech droid lay on its side, just barely short enough to fit underneath Tyar’s desk. No lights blinked, and the droid did not whir or shake as most did when placed in such a position. In fact, it appeared as though it hadn’t been active for some time. Its metal plating was rusted in places along its dome, and its whole body was covered in dents and scratches. Several emitters had been smashed, and from a basic lookover it seemed impossible that the droid would ever be able to play holorecordings in its current state. Eonur ran his hand down the length of the droid, incurring a light film of dust and ash on his fingertips. Even the model seemed older, decades old at least.

“Where did you find this?” Eonur asked. He could barely mask the amazement in his voice.

“I was down in the lower city again-”

Eonur pressed his palm to his face. “Tyar…”

“No, I was careful! Nobody even saw me go. Anyways, I was exploring, and I came across this part of a wrecked cruiser. Somehow scrappers never got around to tearing it up.

“But that’s not the best part,” Tyar continued. He rolled the droid over onto its face. There, on its back, was a painted sigil of a horned creature, an icon all Jedi had become familiar with in the years past. Years ago, before his or Tyar’s own time at the Temple, ships bearing that emblem had torn Coruscant’s skies asunder.

Eonur met Tyar’s eyes. “It’s Mandalorian?”

His friend nodded excitedly. “Looks like. I heard that Mandos don’t even use droids all that often, so whatever they had this one for it must’ve been important.”

“Do you think it was shot down during Hydian Way?”

“That’s what makes the most amount of sense to me.”

“This is incredible,” Eonur breathed. “I can’t believe it survived crashing from orbit.”

“Can you fix it?”

Eonur shot Tyar a sideways glance. “Fix it?”

“Yeah. It might have some old recordings on it that the Republic never found. Even if not the droid’s in good enough shape that we could probably pry loose its memory core if need be. So, do you think you can?”

The last time he’d worked on droid maintenance was as a small child, but the skills he’d learned as a slave hadn’t left him either. Threats of beatings – often fulfilled – instilled that knowledge within him for life. Astromech droids were simple, at least compared to some war droids one of his masters possessed. They’d been armed with plasma and a self-destruct sequence in case of irreparable damage; a “parting gift” for his master’s enemies. Eonur doubted the little tin can would be carrying that same destructive capability.

“Sure, I can, but am I really the best one to have work on this? I mean, have you even told the council about it yet?”

Tyar’s grin faded as the question reached his ears, his mouth flattening into a taciturn line. The sudden grimness startled Eonur, but he remained quiet for his response. “If I told them they’d probably just confiscate it and we wouldn’t get to learn anything. I’d probably even get in trouble for going out on my own again. I just want this to remain between us.” His eyes carried the plea with a greater volume than his words could carry.

“What about Greylam?” Eonur asked, but he knew from Tyar’s scoffing that it would essentially be the same as telling the Jedi Council. Even he – Greylam’s most staunch advocate when it came to these matters – couldn’t deny that their friend’s first instinct would be to run and tell one of the Jedi Masters about Tyar’s discovery. He likely wouldn’t even understand what the problem would be.

“Think about it Eonur: we don’t know what kind of data this droid might have stored on it. If it has some battle plans, or schematics for Mando ships-”

“They would be outdated.”

“But it could give us insight to their strategies.” Tyar’s tone shifted, foregoing his grim seriousness in favor of the enthusiasm he’d held when he first unveiled the droid. “It’s possible we could even prevent another blockade. We’d be heroes!”

Heroics aside, Eonur couldn’t deny the appeal of Tyar’s reasoning. If the droid did carry any sensitive information it could be critical in the Republic’s war effort. The Mandalorian blockade had nearly cost them the war back before he’d even had the opportunity to join the Jedi Order, and it had cost countless soldiers their lives restoring peace to Coruscant. Without the smuggler Hylo Visz, the toll could’ve been even worse. This droid could prevent something like that from ever happening again; Jedi were as much the shields of the Republic as their swords.

They could prevent his nightmare from becoming a reality.

“Okay, I’ll help.”

Tyar pumped his fist, flashing a toothy and fanged smile. “Yes! I knew I could count on you.”

“We’ll need some tools before we get to work on it, but they shouldn’t be too hard to-”

A knock interrupted Eonur’s instruction, and both their heads turned towards the door. “Hide it!” Eonur whispered. Tyar threw the tarp back over the droid as Eonur backed himself up against the wall, attempting to lean against it nonchalantly. He knew without even a mirror that he was failing spectacularly at that.

The doors slid open at Tyar’s beckoning. “Oh, I really should’ve expected it to be you.”

Greylam Cormat stood in the doorway, his posture straight and narrow and completely emotionless, like always. Eonur didn’t even need to see his face – silhouetted against the hallway lights against Tyar’s dark room – to know that his expression too was devoid of any expression. It was a fact about Greylam that Eonur had never fully understood, how to heart he took the Jedi teaching of “there is no emotion; there is peace.” Perfect tranquility accompanied him in every activity, more so than some masters in the Order. Eonur was as awed by his devotion to the teachings as he was troubled by how unnatural it all seemed.

“You’re here early,” Tyar continued, crossing his arms as he braced himself against the doorframe. “How were the gardens? Successful meditation?”

“Meditation isn’t something that is successful or not. That is not the point of it.”

“That’s not…argh, never mind. Still, I’m surprised to see you Grey. For all you know I could’ve still been sleeping.”

“But you weren’t, not unless you and Eonur have begun cohabitating, but I know you haven’t. There are policies against such arrangements.” Greylam’s gaze tilted towards Eonur is the slightest of movements. “Good morning my friend. I checked your room first but did not find you there. You must have left minutes before my arrival.”

“Morning Greylam,” Eonur said. He crossed the room, hoping to block Greylam’s view of the desk from the door. “Is everything all right?”

“Of course,” Greylam replied, “There is nothing to be concerned over, but I was just curious if you two would actually remember today or not. It would appear not.”

“What in the heck are you talking about?” Tyar asked.

Eonur broke his gaze away from his friends as he wracked his brain for some earthly idea of what Greylam might be referring to. It wasn’t a holiday, and they’d made no plans for the day to spend together. Lessons wouldn’t start for a few more hours unless under special circumstances such as…

“Oh!” Eonur exclaimed, pushing himself up from against the desk. “Oh that’s right!”

“What?”

Excitement barred Eonur’s mind from processing all the words needed to convey what they were missing. “Master Melara! Training grounds!” How could they have possibly forgotten? They had talked about it on end since they were first told.

Understanding glinted in Tyar’s red eyes as they widened in a look of equal parts joy and horror. Without a word he bolted out the door past Greylam, who in turn watched quietly as the cathar sprinted down the hallway towards the elevators.

Eonur stopped beside Greylam, patting him on the shoulder. “Thanks for getting us.”

“You were late,” Greylam said, “And I was asked.”

“I owe you,” Eonur said, quickening his pace to catch up with Tyar, already down the hall. “At dinner tonight would you like my dessert?”

“That would be nice.” Although his face didn’t contain any hint of it, Eonur knew Greylam’s words were the closest he’d come to expressing any sort of excitement.

“Come on let’s go!” Tyar shouted from the end of the corridor. If other students weren’t awake yet, they were now.

It was hard not to feel excited, for today they started a pivotal step towards becoming Jedi Knights. They’d known the day was coming, and now it had finally arrived. Today, at long last, they were going to learn how to wield a lightsaber.

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greencrusader13 · 5 years

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Daily Random Character Facts: Day 183

Greylam Cormat was designed to look vaguely like Luke Skywalker, hence the blond hair and the class. I kept his features more angular because I thought they conveyed someone hawkish and more stoic. The hair I also aimed to make look more Jedi-like than what Luke had.

#daily character facts #swtor #my swtor #swtor oc #greylam #greylam cormat #jedi #jedi consular #awio #all were innocent once

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greencrusader13 · 5 years

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Haha, now I want to know what your OC's would think of Lelu (and Raz...I mean my Raz, haha).

Haha sure!

Lelu

I think Eonur would be cautious of her ruthlessness, but admire that she is ruthless for the people she cares about in her life. It would probably take awhile before they become friends, but if they were to both be part of the Eternal Alliance I can see them bonding over time as they work together and as Eonur sees more of her intentions. Hell, he might even try to sway her over to the light, not that it would go well haha.

Greylam and Lelu would not get along well. There would be so much mistrust, and they would just be better off sticking to their own separate corners.

Tyar would have oodles of respect for Lelu. She strikes him as very Sith-y: graceful but deadly, manipulative to get what she wants (despite her often good reasons, from what I gather). She exemplifies the passion side of the Sith Code. Again, similar to what I said to @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond , he would be baffled by her romance decisions and believe she could do better than a weakling Republic spy and a two-bit pirate (his words, not mine).

Cirak is hard to place. I can see him having fun with her in whatever form that takes, but I don’t think they’d ever form a friendship or anything else. I think they’d have a good working relationship, be amicable acquaintances, etc.

Raz (yours not mine :P)

Eonur and Raz would get along great. I think they’d train together as Jedi, and from what I’ve gathered from your posts Raz has a very loose view of the Jedi Code, assuming she follows it at all. Eonur in his later days would relate well to that. He puts much more emphasis on justice and being a force (no pun intended) for good in the galaxy, and so long as Raz was acted such they’d get along fine.

Greylam would be very confused by Raz. She doesn’t exactly act like a Jedi should, and Greylam is the archetypal Jedi and all their ideals rolled into a human-shaped blob. He’d probably see her the same way one might see a disruptive-but-bright pupil and try to get her to meditate with him, calm her down, and just be generally confused when none of it works.

Tyar would hate Raz. Not only is she a Jedi - which earns automatic hatred for him - she’s too fun loving. Her happiness would be something he’d seek to destroy. He’d hate her for turning Lord Scourge against the Emperor, but would also appreciate her getting him out of the way so that he could assume his rightful position as the Emperor’s Wrath.

Cirak and Raz...oh god. Fast forward to the Original Trilogy, and the Empire never would’ve needed a Death Star. Just set these two loose on a planet with a few drinks and unlimited credits and their adventures would end in chaos for sure. Cirak and Raz would be the best of friends. They’d joke well together, enjoy life together, and just take things chill. Who knows what might happen when they go out on the town.

Thanks for the ask! :D

#ask my ocs #cirak #eonur #eonur bogra #cirak kiht #tyar kiht #tyar #greylam #greylam cormat #melissagt #lelu kallig #not my raz by melissa's #we both have raz ocs #which is awesome

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greencrusader13 · 5 years

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Somebody is heading to Makeb!

#swtor #Star Wars The Old Republic #makeb #star wars #rise of the hutt cartel #jedi consular #my canon #my swtor #jedi #the old republic #awio #all were innocent once #greylam cormat

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greencrusader13 · 5 years

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Daily Random Character Facts: Day 176

Greylam Cormat was the first of his friends to pass the Jedi Trials, and he did so with ease. At the time he underwent them he was the youngest initiate in the process.

#daily character facts #greylam #greylam cormat #swtor #swtor oc #my swtor #jedi #jedi consular

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greencrusader13 · 5 years

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@terrelian-inquisitor I’m still not over how similar our Jedi Consulars look xD

#swtor #star wars #Star Wars The Old Republic #OC: Rai Neytila #greylam cormat #jedi consular #swtor oc #my swtor #terrelian-inquisitor #doppleganger

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greencrusader13 · 5 years

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Daily Random Character Facts: Day 159

Since I rolled a 20, and Eonur and Greylam’s numbers came up afterwards, I’ll do a shared fact!

As a slave, Eonur had very few opportunities to learn how to read, and what little he did know he learned on the fly. When he came to the academy, Greylam played an instrumental role in teaching him. His patience made him a good peer mentor.

#swtor #swtor oc #my swtor #daily character facts #awio #eonur #eonur bogra #greylam #greylam cormat #jedi #jedi knight #jedi consular

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greencrusader13 · 5 years

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All Were Innocent Once: Chapter 8 - Coruscant Sunset

Finally! It’s done, just like I said it would be. Thank you to everyone who waited so patiently for this next chapter. Hopefully the next one won’t take nearly as long.

If you like this fic please like and reblog it! Feedback is greatly appreciated as well.

You can read here, FF.net, or AO3.

“Master Shan,” Greylam called, hurrying down the steps of the Jedi Temple. The hem of his robes threatened to trip him mid-gait, and Greylam remained mindful of them as he tried closing the distance between Satele Shan and himself. The senior Jedi was still several paces ahead of him, but she’d stopped and turned at his call. Her expression remained calm, serene, not even curious in the least. Ahead a Republic transport craft waited for her along with a handful of soldiers Greylam presumed she’d been assigned.

Another Jedi off to war. Unlike most others, though, Satele Shan had already distinguished herself as a capable warrior. She’d been on Korriban when the war first started, survived it. She was the sort of hero the Republic wished to follow, as did he. Restraint possessed wisdom of its own, but not when it turned into sloth. He did no good sitting around the temple, not when Greylam knew what he himself was capable of. Perhaps Satele would see it as well.

It was not a decision he’d reached arbitrarily. Each day since hearing of Master Paddoq’s fall he’d meditated on the wisdom of joining the war himself. The idea gnawed at his mind, seizing thoughts normally dedicated to studies and quiet reflection. His nights had been filled with tossing and turning and thinking, pondering. He knew pride was yet another path to the dark side of the Force, especially when viewing oneself with an overinflated sense of self, and he’d made sure that he wasn’t pursuing this out of a misplaced ego. He just wanted to help.

Greylam slowed to a stop ahead of her, panting. He hadn’t thought himself running all that quickly, and yet he found himself out of breath as he reached her. Although he’d recited his appeal within his head on repeat since leaving the library, something about her presence now cowed him into forgetting it entirely. Satele Shan was not an imposing Jedi, far from it in fact. Her blue eyes held a distinct calm obtained from years of training within the Jedi Order. She’d fixed him with an expression of muted concern, her lips pursed as though to tell him everything he thought she’d say without any words.

Still, even under her gaze, Greylam straightened himself and bowed. “Master Shan,” he repeated, meeting her eyes again. It took all the conviction he possessed to keep himself from crumbling under her presence. “I hear that you are heading for the battlefront. Is it true?”

“It is,” she replied. Satele then cocked an eyebrow. “But I’m guessing you did not run all this way just to ask me something you already know, are you?”

“Master Shan, I would humbly petition that you allow me to accompany you wherever you are heading.”

As he spoke Satele Shan turned and waved to her charge of Republic soldiers lingering by the shuttle. Their commander – his face obscured by a helmet, Republic standard issue – nodded and signaled his contingent to board. Greylam watched them file into the ship with a lackadaisical pace, far less regimented and orderly than what he’d expected. Yet their commander didn’t bark orders at them, didn’t press. Perhaps having a Jedi with them shifted their perspective of the mission.

After the soldiers had boarded Satele lowered herself to a knee, meeting Greylam at eye-level. This time he did not look away. “Greylam, war is no place for children. I couldn’t bring you out there in good conscience, not knowing that you could get hurt or killed.”

There is no death; there is the Force. “But Master Shan-”

“You humble me, Greylam, but I am no Jedi Master. You can just call me Satele.”

“Satele,” Greylam repeated hesitantly. Her name felt weird in his mouth, and he almost regretted addressing her without her due respect. “I don’t understand. We’re taught that our only limits are what the Force allows. My age shouldn’t diminish how I could aid the Republic. I do not presume my own abilities, and I know I have much to learn, but I want…”

His voice trailed off at that word: want. He wasn’t supposed to want anything. It was unbecoming of a Jedi to want, to allow his own emotions to get in the way of the Order’s wisdom. As he realized this he felt a pang of regret, which he then dismissed with a deep breath.

“I understand what you want Greylam, but all things come in time. Your place is here at the temple. It’s what Master Paddoq would’ve wanted for you as well, no?”

The thought of his old master stirred pain within him. When he’d heard that Paddoq and the rest of the garrison fell it had taken all the meditations he knew to prevent grief from overwhelming him. Even now the loss hurt, although he knew that it was another thing he had to let go. Paddoq was with the Force now. There was comfort in that. No death. It was not all right that some part of him still grieved.

“It was. I apologize for my brashness. I should’ve taken more time to consider the wisdom in staying,” Greylam said, bowing. “My purpose is wherever the Force guides me. I’ll not try to compel it to my own desires.”

“You are still young Greylam,” Satele said. Her faced warmed a little, a small smile forming at the edge of her lips. “There’s much you’ve yet to learn about being a Jedi, and many of these lessons cannot be taught in books. Calm yourself; there’s nothing out beyond the Temple that requires your diligence.

“Perhaps if you’re looking for some way to occupy yourself you could seek out Master Yuon Par. I happen to know that she is always looking for some aid on her archaeology projects.”

The offer intrigued him. He’d heard of Yuon Par and her exploits with the history of the Order, read about them, but he’d never met her. Archaeology happened to be one of the subjects he’d taken a liking to reading during his many hours in the library. “I’ll do that,” he said, turning around to head back to the Jedi Temple.

“Greylam?” Satele called, a note of confusion audible in her tone.

He stopped. “Yes?”

Satele Shan’s expression tempered as he looked back at her. “Things will work out eventually. Trust in the Force, and may it be with you.”

“May the Force be with you too.”

Greylam didn’t remain for the departure of her shuttle, only hearing it depart behind him as he made his way up the steps towards the central ziggurat. A gust of warm wind rippled his robes, and for a moment he hesitated. Glancing back, Greylam watched as the ship became silhouetted against the gold-orange hue of Coruscant’s sun before disappearing altogether.

Night had fully set by the time Greylam reached the archives, and few Jedi remained in its halls. His steps echoed faintly off the marble floor as he made his way down the rows. A stray initiate or two sat at spaces along the table at the repository’s center, their weary eyes struggling to focus on the texts in front of them. A nearby Nautolan girl hadn’t even managed that. Her face remained pressed down against the holopad before her. She snored, and on occasion an initiate would shoot her an annoyed glance.

Greylam had always loved the archives. He’d spent more than his fair share of time there, and if he was lucky he’d spend all the much more. If the Temple Spire was the heart of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, then the archives were its mind. The space was filled with the faint glow of blue light emanating from the infinite number of texts on shelves around the rotunda. Each of the four wings held different texts, different mysteries. Sometimes searching for them was worth more than what he’d gleamed from the texts at all. From the balconies on the second floor he could look down and watch those in pursuit of knowledge peruse the rows for it. Behind the railings cone-shaped windows would pour natural light into the chamber on clear days. It felt paradoxically open and closed; a world of endless knowledge on an impossible scale so neatly and organically fit within the ziggurat.

Greylam braced himself along the balcony. No one matching Yuon Par’s description remained in the library. She’d likely retired for the night, as was common sense. He couldn’t help but feel mildly disappointed. Although it was late, Greylam could still feel his mind racing, stirring, thinking. If he tried to fall asleep now he’d be up for several more hours, that much Greylam knew.

I’m already here, he thought, shrugging to himself. I might as well brush up on the topics Yuon Par will want to cover with me. He scanned the chamber again. From his vantage point he could not see the Chief Librarian, but several analysis droids clanked below as they clumsily moved about the shelves. Perhaps with a quick look he could find what texts she’d browsed recently.

“Come on, you shouldn’t stay up anymore,” a young voice said behind him.

It’s not that late, Greylam thought, then paused. He turned, confused, only to find that the speaker wasn’t speaking to him at all. A Zabrak male roughly around his own age sat crouched by the window across a similarly aged Cathar, the latter of whom’s head remained planted against his knees in a seated fetal position. At the Zabrak’s continued urging the Cathar only shook his head and pulled himself tighter. The fur around his eyes was damp, ruffled from being rubbed at repeatedly. Greylam couldn’t help but feel taken aback. Was he really…crying? Had he no control over his emotions?

The Zabrak glanced over and noticed Greylam staring mutely. “Could you give me some help? Please? Tyar isn’t going to sleep.”

“I don’t wanna,” the Cathar – Tyar – mumbled through his folded arms.

Greylam looked over the boys again. Not long ago he had overheard Master Nomris mentioning that the Order had found two more potential initiates, one from Nar Shaddaa and another a rescued slave. Red rings of chaffed dry skin marked the Zabrak boy’s neck and wrists. “You must be the slave Master Din liberated from the Sith,” Greylam said.

Concern flashed in the boy’s amber eyes, and he stopped his approach. “How did you know that?” Before Greylam could explain his deduction the Zabrak boy touched at his neck and glanced away in shame. It was an odd response, one that he hadn’t expected.

“There’s nothing you need to feel ashamed of,” Greylam replied. “Nobody will think less of you for it. Looking down on others for their background is not the Jedi way, and slavery is an injustice the Republic does not tolerate. I hope they treat you with kindness.” It seemed like something Master Paddoq would’ve said, and Greylam hoped he’d emulated him well.

The boy smiled meekly. Perhaps it was the right thing to say.

“I don’t want to be here,” Tyar moaned as he pressed his weight harder against the glass. “Eonur I want to go home. I want my brother.” He sniffled again before exhaling sharply. Fog formed on the glass inches from his mouth, and Tyar drew a line through it with his finger.

Greylam crouched down to the Cathar boy, who looked up at him with big red eyes. “What you’re feeling right now is just from being in a new place that’s very different for you. It’s not a rational one. As Jedi we need to learn how to control our emotions instead of letting them control us. Does that make sense? If you calm them you might find you like it here.”

Tyar shook his head and looked up at him with large red eyes. “I don’t want to like it here! I just want Dad and Cirak.”

He had once heard from Master Paddoq that some Jedi were like pottery. Some needed more time on the wheel with gentle hands to give them more shape. Others needed time to cool after being in the kiln. Patience and a guiding hand would eventually yield a beautiful creation, regardless of what step you started with. Looking over these two new initiates it was clear that Greylam had lumps of clay.

“Let’s just try a breathing exercise. Eonur I’d like you to try this as well.” Once the Zabrak boy had joined them, Greylam kneeled down on both knees in front of Tyar. The Cathar boy turned in his seat, but did not loose the tension in his posture. “First, we breathe in.” Greylam demonstrated, inhaling slowly through his nose while guiding his right hand up in motion with the breath. Eonur copied him from Greylam’s peripheral. “Then, we just breathe out the same way.” He exhaled from his mouth, letting his hand fall at the same pace down the length of his chest.

Tyar’s first breath was rough, coarse and still embroiled in unchecked fear and anguish. When he exhaled the release of air was more like a huff than a meditative technique, but Greylam saw his shoulders relax all the same. Greylam repeated the technique. Soon Tyar’s chest rose and fell at a normal rhythm, and the crying stopped.

“Are you calm?”

The boy rubbed at his eyes. “I just really miss home.”

He needs something else to think about, Greylam thought. There were hundreds of thousands of texts here in the library, but Tyar did not appear to be in a studious state, and they were unlikely to provide any peace for him. He needed something tranquil that did not require any active focus.

“Would you like to see my favorite place in the entire temple?” Greylam asked.

A hopeful light sparkled in Tyar’s eyes, and he nodded fervently. Greylam offered his hand and helped the boy up as Eonur watched. Tyar’s grip remained firm in Greylam’s even after reaching his feet, and although he wasn’t much smaller than him Tyar still held his hand with the same sort of craving for protection a child would seek from their parent. Greylam wanted to wriggle his hand free, but he could not. The boy would have an emotional reaction again if he did.

Once they were out of the archives Eonur quickened his pace up to Greylam’s side. After a few moments of decided silence he spoke. “Thank you. He was fine for most of the day, but it’s like once it started getting later he started getting really sad, and I couldn’t do anything.”

“It was nothing really,” Greylam replied. “All I did was show him a rudimentary breathing technique for relaxation.”

“Well it worked. Even I felt calmer afterwards, and I wasn’t even the one you were trying to help.”

Greylam struggled to think of an appropriate Jedi teaching or saying to repeat back to him. He had received many over his years at the temple, but in the moment they seemed to vanish from his mind. It would’ve just confused him anyhow. Greylam instead opted for the simpler response. “You are welcome.”

The gardens were empty when the three arrived, much to Greylam’s relief. The smell of fresh greenery rushed into his nose, amplified by the cool humidity from the small streams running over rock formation that misted on contact. Once again, he felt serene, and all remaining thoughts of following Satele Shan to war vanished from his mind. Beside him he heard Tyar and Eonur gasp in awe.

“I didn’t know there was this much green in the whole galaxy,” Eonur muttered.

“Me neither.”

“This place is wonderful for quiet reflection and study. You can truly feel the Force at work within the garden,” Greylam said. He took a seat cross-legged on a knoll across from a still pond and closed his eyes. “I often come here to practice my meditations and-”

“There’s fish!”

Greylam opened a single eye. The boys had rushed over to the water’s edge and were now peering over it, pointing at the swimming creatures beneath the pond’s surface. They were laughing, reveling, but calm. He could feel that peace through the Force.

They were new, and had much to learn. As he reached out to the Force in quiet meditation, Greylam thought back to Master Paddoq’s instruction and guidance, that making friends would help him become a better Jedi, that there was good in friendship. Perhaps this is what he meant. He would teach them. They would be his friends.

#all were innocent once #swtor #swtor fanfiction #my swtor #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #AO3 fanfic #ao3 #ff.net #greylam cormat #eonur bogra #tyar kiht

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