#like when they entered the temple on korriban

[ronnierosest]

Mmmprogressmmmm

[crystalshined]

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

Tru Veld after the mission to Korriban. Told in a series of short scenes. — crossposted to ao3 words: 4.6k

i.

Ferus disappears down the temple’s stairs, and Tru Veld realizes he can do nothing to stop him. He watches the long shadow follow on the polished stone, and for a dizzying moment he thinks he might throw himself after it; he thinks he might drag Ferus by the shoulders, forcibly, selfishly. He thinks he might beg Ferus to not leave.

He doesn’t.

His throat fills with Korriban ashes, like on their mission, like an aftertaste of a curse.

So he doesn’t speak, and Ferus doesn’t speak either.

The long shadow vanishes down the temple stairs. The ancient stone statues stare holes into Tru’s back. 

Darra's death is his fault, not Ferus'. He has caused this, not Ferus. Indirectly, as directly as a weapon passes from one’s hand to another. As directly as a vow of silence, as a dirty promise whispered against a better judgement. If anyone should be leaving, it should be him. Him. Not Ferus.

Then leave.

His feet are like the statues. Frozen.

You're a coward, Veld. 

He watches the stairs for many long minutes, long enough for the golden glow of the sun to vanish under a cloud. Long enough for a thread to loosen in the force; unravel in the echoes of the galaxy. It snaps and falls and a certainty overcomes Tru so unshakeable and sudden it makes his chest clench. 

He will not see Ferus Olin again.

He turns away.

ii.

He wants nothing but to go back to his room. His gait is fast, and the elevator cannot come fast enough. When it mercifully opens it isn’t empty. Shoulder against frame, Lumas blocks the entrance. Tru recognizes him from diplomacy lessons.

 “Oi Veld” Lumas juts his chin up. “Cafeteria’s the other way.” 

Tru gives his best attempt at a smile, a fake thing, removed from the rest of his body. “I’m not hungry.” He is, but the unspoken questions between Lumas’ teeth make him ill. 

“Ask me another time, okay?” 

“What.”

“Your eyes. You want to ask about Korriban. It’s very obvious, you know.”

Lumas’ presence in the Force shrinks. It gives Tru an idea that he is right, but it gives him no satisfaction. 

Tru tugs his earlobe awkwardly. “Ferus just left.”

“You kriff me. He got expelled?”

“No... He left.” A silent moment passes. “I will miss him.”

Lumas stifles a snort. “I won’t”

Silver gaze flickers, and Tru is suddenly reminded that Lumas Etima possesses as much tact as a bantha letting one go on the street.

Lumas just pats Tru’s arm and moves past him. “Catch up ‘nother time, yeah?” 

Not if he can help it.

iii.

His room is exactly like he left it, with all the ghosts of friendships he just lost.

On his desk lay multiple holo books he borrowed from Ferus. The candy wrappings Darra tucked in the half open drawer, still there ever since the last time they had to scramble for their lectures, running late.

Tru recalls, Anakin tripped over his foot, and for a short moment the place doesn’t feel like his room. It belongs to someone different. A different Tru Veld. Different and dislocated.

He finds it horrifying.

With cold, numb fingers he pries the drawer open,  throws the wrappings at the garbage chute. 

By the chute, a dimensional printer gleams sadly. It’s a very old model. An antique. Tru and Anakin carried it from the junk heap on level 1000 a while back. They decided to fix it, and agreed to look for the parts in their spare time. They almost finished it.

Now, a childish urge to trash it overcomes Tru. Un-jedi like. Pointless. Perfectly aware of it he unclips his lightsaber. 

This time the blade doesn't even ignite.

Tru glances at it with a pursed lip, feeling ridiculous and betrayed. 

Slowly, he lets out a sigh.

iv.

Ry-Gaul doesn’t have to knock, but he does. 

He also enters before an answer is given.

Tru, crouched over the antique printer, turns to the tug of his master’s presence. Pale face like a marble mask.

His master, more than usual, regards him with gentle eyes, worried, old. He takes the lightsaber abandoned in the corner of the room, clips it to his belt, opposite side to his own hilt. Tru lets him.

“When I was your age,” Says Ry-Gaul. His height folds on the edge of the bed. “I too, lost someone close.”

Shame swells within Tru’s chest,

“I thought, like many do, that a hard mission will prove my fortes, but what it proved instead, was the lack of them.”

“I’m sorry.” 

Ry-Gaul sighs. “We aren’t machines, Tru. We make mistakes. All of us.”

They lapse into silence, and for a moment, the only noise is that of the printer running a scan on its parts.

“I shouldn’t have —” 

“Next time, you won’t.”

Tru tugs at his sleeve. Uncertain. He doesn’t trust himself with that.

v.

The scan finishes with a whirr of unfit cogs, which is not unexpected, but Tru wishes something at least something could go right. Ry-Gaul in silent agreement helps with the fixing, but it is Tru who slips his flexible hands into the machine’s innards.

He dares ask, “Did the council assign us?”

There is hope in the crack of his voice, perhaps too much hope, perhaps he just wishes to run from the ghosts.

“Not this time, I’m afraid.” Ry-Gaul brushes Tru’s broken lightsaber with his thumb, like holding a wounded child, sympathetically. 

Tru’s gaze slips away. Too transparent. Disappointed.

vi.

He wakes in cold sweat at the crack of dawn. Panting, he blinks away the dreams. He tastes ash on his tongue.

It’s Korriban’s curse. 

The Padawans whisper to each other. For real this time, not like in the bedtime tales.

They poke Tru in the refectory, curiously, anxiously, they ask of Darra.

But Darra is dead, and Tru decides he will not elaborate.

Something dark hangs in the clouds. 

It’s the curse, they say.

Everyone who left on that mission came back wrong.

Tru feels it too, feels wrong, like rust in water, like ash in his throat. Wrong.

vii.

He studies, attends lectures, reads Ferus’ books.

He falls asleep and wakes in cold sweat.

He studies, checks the printer, dreams the same awful dream.

He wakes up out of breath.

In the dojo at high noon, he thinks he sees a mane of red. Violet ribbon swaying in a breeze.

“You’re not focusing.” Ry-Gaul’s voice half registers. “Tru,” The master touches his collar bone, and Tru turns, dizzy, pale.

“I didn’t sleep good.” He says, shoulders arching down in defeat. “Can we stop?”

In agreement, Ry-Gaul puts his saber down and sits. Tru does the same. 

“Then, talk to me."

viii.

Silence.

He hesitates placing his hands in Ry-Gaul’s. Silver fingertips stubbornly hover above the calloused palms.

"Do you believe in curses, master?"

Ry-Gaul studies him, he can feel it.

"Only the ones we inflict on ourselves."

A sigh follows, resigned, unsatisfied. “I think I hoped you would tell me it’s hogwash.” But he gets a feeling that Ry-Gaul knows this already, and when Tru raises his gaze to meet Ry-Gaul, the expression on his master’s face only confirms it.

At last, he entrusts his hands and closes his eyes. They breathe slow, almost in sync. They slip into the Force. 

ix.

Breathe.

They stand in ancient soil, under billowing red clouds.

Breathe.

They descend into the Sith Valley, thick with death and decay.

Breathe.

They battle the droids, and Anakin leaves him.

Why did Anakin leave him.

Breathe.

They descend into the tombs.

Why did his lightsaber have to fail.

Breathe.

They battle Granta.

His wounded leg aches. His lightsaber breaks.

Why did it have to be Darra.

Tru shrinks.

“You mustn't.” Ry-Gaul squeezes his hands, but Tru jolts awake, breathless.

"You mustn't run.” A gentle hand lays on his shoulder. Comforting. 

“This mission.” Tru gasps. “I cannot forget it. When I close my eyes, I still see her.”

Eidetic memory. Tru can recall too much. Now he wishes he couldn’t. The image of his dying friend persists under closed eyelids, sharp like knives, sharp to every grain and every trickle of blood. He doesn’t want to remember Darra this way. Not this way.

”What you see is a part of you.” says Ry-Gaul. “This memory you may not forget, but Tru, you mustn't shut it out. Only then you can make peace with it."

A grimace tugs at the silver lips.

“It may sound harsh, but give yourself time."

x.

Why did it have to be Darra.

Careful movements straighten the edges of a flatprint. The four of them, goofy faces frozen in time.

A twinge of pain stings Tru's chest. He recalls the day Darra took these pictures, holding a flatcam with the force to fit all of them in the frame. She made such a sour face that they all copied it.

Tru never figured if Ferus joined them, or if he was simply annoyed. 

While Tru ponders sending the flatprints to the archives, he still doesn’t know.

Hot tears start falling down his cheeks. The ink smears.

xi.

“It didn’t feel right not to do so, but She would punt me for showing you.”

He curls one arm around another, and feels again, like a silly stammering child on his first visit to the Council room. Struggling to meet Soara’s eyes, he wonders, in secret, if she resents him for what he has caused.

Soara only browses the flatprints for a few silent moments. When she speaks, her voice is fond. “Thank you.”

He takes it as a clue to not disturb her further.

“One moment, Tru?” The master says, and he obliges. Soara presses a smooth strip of silk into his hands. Violet. Ironed. Tru stares at it numbly.

“Don’t give me that look. Please take it.”

“I don’t— I shouldn’t— ”

But Soara regards him with that no-bantha-poodo stare that she is famous for. “I don’t exactly have where to put it.” She indicates her closely chopped locks. “Items need to be used, or there is no point owning them.”

His lips part.

“I’d rather give it to you, than throw it out.”

She wouldn’t throw it out and Tru knows. Maybe Soara doesn’t. Maybe she says so to convince him.

It works. Tru accepts the gift.

xii.

For three weeks straight the violet ribbon lays in Tru’s pocket, undisturbed. 

On the fourth he ties it around his hair.

It doesn’t suit him.

xiii.

“You’re very bendy,” Comes a voice on a wide temple corridor. “You probably get this a lot but how do you stretch?”

Tan Yuster hurries behind him. Tru stops.

“Sorry” The boy throws vigorously. Hands clap together. ”I had to take a look. Master Kolar. says my footwork is lacking, and I noticed your maneuvers are very spot on.”

Tan Yuster is five years younger, so he and Tru don’t train together. Regardless, recognition pulls at Tru’s mind, much to his surprise.

"On the dojo’s balcony. It was you.” His reaction must be too much, because Yuster wavers. “Just a tiny look.”

Tru wants to laugh it off. A breath dies in his throat. “I thought I’d seen a ghost.” 

Yuster watches him, then brightens.

“I was shielding, duh!”

xiv.

He steers the younger padawan out of an alleyway crowd. 

“Hide your braid.”

They quicken their pace. The passersby send them glances.

Tru never had to wonder about the street smarts of his friends. Now he does. 

It makes him worry about getting Yuster in trouble, worse kind than he and Anakin used to find. He knows that he should not push for it, even so,

They descend twenty levels via an elevator, each stop less shiny than the last.

Under the blinding neons of the galactic capital, Tru can only feel gladness that he isn’t alone for another night.

xv.

Yuster regards the mismatched shelvings with a complicated expression, he decides on a polite inquiry. "What place is this actually?"

“Useful one, half price everything.”

“And it will help me stretch?” Tru snorts into the back of his hand.

“It will help me get plastoid filament. One sec.”

They browse various tools for half an hour. Tru spends his leftover credits. 

Like a cleansing, another kind of exorcism. 

What they don’t spend in the store they spend in a caf in the upper district. Bright neons and colorful streets. 

Yuster confesses he’s never eaten fidga, and this has to change tonight.

xvi.

They come back before the sun gets a chance to rise. Hurrying past the temple's side entrance like any of the pairs returning from an errand. All the glow lamps in the corridors are a dim warm yellow and the scene feels all too familiar. Like an echo in Tru’s bones. 

A boy in a brown tunic drags Yuster by the sleeve. Offended, or concerned, it’s hard to tell. “Where were you? Can’t believe you left like that.” 

“Ye, without us.” A girl with a haircut the color of flame tugs Yuster’s braid. Darra tugs Tru’s topknot.

“I was banned from holding credits, not from having fun.” She would tell him whenever he and Anakin snuck outside without her. Ferus would give them all a tired look of disapproval, pretending to be above the simple joys of ignoring a curfew.

“I had no idea you consider scrap yards so amusing.”

“— is fine, I was with Brother Veld” Tru blinks, brought to the present. “Hey Tru, next time let’s all get fidga. It will be my treat, okay!” Yuster grins at him, waving goodnight as his friends usher him towards the elevator.

“Yeah… Yeah.” He shrugs, returns the smile. “Why not.”

xvii.

Rain.

He wakes to the sound, and opens the window for the chilled air. Rain reminds Tru of Teeva, the silver ocean, abundant city canals. How he’d run home with water leaking into his shoes. 

It reminds him of spotting a boy on the temple roof, standing, mesmerized by the droplets pouring down from the sky.

“It’s just water” Tru tells the boy and the boy gets wound up in excess. Flushed and defensive and puzzling. 

Only later Tru would learn about the scorching sand planet where moisture is priceless, more precious than kyber. Only later, he’d learn the boy’s name.

xviii.

Morning. 

Life continues. The steady rhythm of the Temple seems to pull Tru along. Just like a leaf becomes snatched by the wind, pushed onwards regardless of its desire. In times of clarity Tru knows this is for the best, he lets himself be pulled, he thinks he may be healing.

Then something insignificant happens, like his comlink signaling a message, and like a fool he thinks it may be from Ferus.

It isn’t. 

Ferus doesn’t send messages, not even to his master.

But Tru is a fool, and he misses his friend. 

And life continues. It has to.

xix.

Afternoon.

The printer comes to life on the ninth attempt.

Tru is proud, and then he is hollow. He wishes Anakin was here. It was their project. Not even the weight of the machine seems made for one person. 

He brings it to the creche, helping himself with the Force to keep the bulk in place.

A young togrutan girl opens the door for him, but her eyes dim briefly.

"Sorry that i'm not who you look for?" Tru offers.

The togrutan girl shakes her head and makes way. "Master Sinube is over there, come, let me show you. Come!"

xx.

The initiates swarm them like moths swarm a flame. They watch Master Sinube connect the printer with his datapad, some other kind of antique.

“I’ve not seen one of those since the Battle of Cyclor,” says the master, cheerful, he pats the faux gold casing. “It’s in good condition too.”

Tru leans closer to observe the process.“I renovated it.”

He considers not saying more, but he shakes off the thought.  “With Anakin. It was actually his idea.” 

He observes the crowd of small hands poking on the clunky pad buttons. ”I think the younglings will like playing with it”

xxi. 

Night.

Again it rains.

And again, Tru listens to the sound until his very last thought washes away.

"You will grow mold if you don't move soon" laughs the rain. His mind’s eye fills the blanks, the features and smile lines on the freckled face. Darra smiles. Mischief in her honey colored eyes.

“I’m pulled backwards, when I go.” says Tru.

The warm breeze enters through the opened window, clinging to the skin. Coruscanti air. Ash. 

“Then move backwards.”

Hands press against his shoulders.

Tru snaps awake. It is still night.

xxii.

Ry-Gaul’s head tilts to the side in the crack of the door. Freshly woken.

"I'd like my lightsaber back, master."

"Now?"

"Now."

The door opens wider. The master smiles in deep relief.

"I began to worry that you may not come for it. That… you lost your need.”

“In truth, I was glad that you took it” Yes, glad to not face the reminder of his mistakes.

“Something changed.” The master observes.

“I can't outrun the ghosts. It is like you said. I must go seek them out… make peace.”

Ry-gaul nods.

“And master, permission to use your ship?”

xxiii.

Move backwards if you have to, but move.

In the darkened hangar of the jedi temple, a lone ship illuminates with the glow of its engines, rising towards the clouds of the atmosphere.

The navicomputer’s input history unfolds in front of the padawan. Tru’s attention stops on the latest entry on the list.  Horuset system. Korriban. 

The curse is in your mind.

He takes a deep breath and his head clears, and he knows instantly the place he needs to visit is elsewhere. Further back than his mission was, at the very source, where curses and ghosts come to life.

xxiv.

He brings nothing more but his utility tools, his broken lightsaber, and a warm coat. 

A heart too heavy for his liking.

The planet swallows him indifferently into tunnels of ice. Neither judging nor encouraging nor promising the relief he looks for. 

Inside the caves is a maze. It is said, one path for each Jedi that comes. 

Tru’s vision darkens the further he goes. Only when he can’t see where he came from does he stop in complete dark. He ignites his glow-rod and sits on the icy ground. He begins to pick his lightsaber apart. Piece by piece.

xxv.

The blade and the Jedi are intertwined. 

If that’s true, then what does it say about him? Tru peels aside the layers. The steel that got crushed by the droid, energy circuits that are marred from fruitless repairs.

What is a blade that cannot cut any good for?

What is a Jedi who cannot protect a life?

The various pieces soar in the air, unfolding, until the crystal at the center comes into view.

In the midst of concentration, a whisper, or perhaps only wind. “Be careful, you would not want to break it more.”

Tru lifts his head. The pieces fall.

"...Darra?"

"Why would it be Darra" speaks the voice, now too close to his ear. 

“You killed her, don't you remember."

Tru turns sharply, lifts the glow-rod, the dim light catches on a silhouette. One pale hair streak distinct in the dark. 

“You let her die, what does it make you?” The apparition pierces him with unworldly eyes, with open feeling, raw.

What does it make him.

“You're not real…" Tru decides. "But that still hurts. A lot ."

Not-Ferus steps closer, "I'm as real as you are" the wind howls across the cave, crisp and freezing. Then nothing.

xxvi.

The kyber is gone.

Pale hands that have turned red from sweeping the frozen snow clench in useless frustration. Gone is the steady pulse of energy, vanished, melted from existence. 

Tru feels his unease settle like a hand clamping on his throat.  

He pleads the cave to return his crystal. He receives no answer, no guidance from the howling wind. 

Another blizzard must be starting on the surface, he notes, and he can only hope that his master’s ship survives the awful weather.

And he still has no crystal.

As if the planet itself tells him — You don’t deserve it .

xxvii.

Why did you come here Tru Veld.

The padawan walks, grows cold, grows hungry.

You should have left when you had the chance.

He grows weary, slips on ice, loses his glow-rod.

You should have left like Ferus left. You should have died in the sith tombs. You.

The padawan spreads his limbs on the ground, exhausted. One second he gazes at the cave walls, another, the solid rock becomes a deep valley, dry and hot from the sun. He sees Darra lay in the ash beside him. Their fingers almost touching.

It does not seem proper to suddenly be struck with so much gladness to be alive. It feels dirty, unfair. His chest heaves. 

“I’m so sorry Darra. If I could swap places with you… I wouldn’t.” 

He turns his head to take a good look at her. “I won't leave.” He says. “I will better myself so nobody pays for my mistakes again."

He places his hand on hers, it seems almost real. Warm and freezing at once. Then the illusion breaks into multitudes of light. Tru squints, shields his eyes.

The dark walls glimmer and Kyber sings. He realizes the crystal is in his palm.

xxviii.

To construct a lightsaber is an extremely personal thing. It’s a show of skill, and an ultimate exercise of patience. In the process a bond is formed  The crystal becomes part of the Jedi. Something of the Jedi transcends the boundaries of the body. A separate existence, yet one and the same. Intertwined.

Elevated to greatness, the Kyber ignites as if the Force itself burst from the fabric of the universe.

And thus, the lightsaber bathes the cave in blue, singing a song of its newfound purpose, vibrant with energy. Two hearts beating in unison. Oh how he missed it.

xxix.

The sight of pristine white snow gives Tru a vertigo worse than somersaults in Aataru. He thinks he might fall, but something grabs him. 

“Master…. For how long are you here?” 

“From the beginning.” Ry-Gaul steers Tru down the mountain path trail that’s barely visible to the naked eye — So the blizzard was real.

“You followed after me.” Tru should have noticed the ship tracking him, but Ry-Gaul doesn’t seem to mind it. He only studies the padawan thoughtfully.

“How are you feeling?”

“... Like I could sleep for a week.” Tru smiles in what feels like ages, and means it.

xxx.

The padawan wakes from dreamless slumber, watching in silence how the hyperspace shimmers outside the ship. It almost lulls him back to sleep, but mostly gives him motion sickness.

“I received a message from the council.” Ry-Gaul speaks from the pilot seat. Tru straightens, suddenly alert. “We are to depart for Dakuyl. Senator Larar believes her political opposition planned a coup ” 

“Dakuyl is not Republic space.” Tru blinks. It’s just a hunch. “ — but it will be soon.”

“Unless the opposition gets what it wants."

The padawan joins his master in the front. “They want to stay isolated?”

“Such strange times.”

xxxi.

They’re to supervise a session of the legislature, the assembly deciding the extent of the Republic's involvement on the planet. In a few days, all prominent local leaders will gather to take a vote.

“Most will be in favour” Mutters the old woman, a roomkeeper who passes Ry-Gaul the key to their lodging. "Republic will sponsor our Xoorzi farms that’s why.“

“Yet, it seems not everyone’s pleased.”

The roomkeeper shrugs. “A minority. What can they do?''

Indeed, their mission would go smoothly if they knew.

“She didn’t say everything” Tru locks their door.

Ry-Gaul brings a finger to his lips.

xxxii.

The padawan throws a piece of power cord on the floor, stepping on it until he hears a sound of crushed electronics. He motions to Ry-gaul to pass him the other ones. Two signal tappers, one holo bug.

“This kind of amateur work in a high grade hotel? Can’t be official security.”

“That is unlikely, or we'd not find it so easy.”

Only when they are sure their room is clean of spyware do they make plans. Tru realizes for the first time in a while that he feels like his old self again.

It feels good to be back.

xxxiii.

They’re to supervise a voting session of the legislature, but the session itself is fake. The real event has been rescheduled since the moment Dakuyl’s soon-to-be senator, Larar, had suspicions of danger.

But even with the fake voting, the protest and the violence are real.

In the midst of the mission, this violence seems to radiate even from the depth of space, from the very stars themselves, until they burn so bright that they vanish, taking Tru’s breath away with them.

“Are there any casualties?” Tru would ask, and receive a negative answer

“Not here, no. This happened far away.”

xxxiv.

Many beings died. Jedi. Tru doesn’t entirely understand it, not until the padawan and the master return from Dakuyl two days later. The significance of their successful quest seems to vanish the moment they step into the Temple halls. Fragrance of burned incense follows their steps, thick, almost choking.

Many Jedi died.

Just like Darra before.

Crowds trickle into the Pyre room, all hoods up, all the same funerary rites.

“What has happened?”

“Terrible things Padawan Veld... Unthinkable.” Master Ekim’s voice is husky and tired. One of his hands bandaged under the robe’s sleeve. “There is going to be war.”

xxxv.

Fire.

Some bodies are burned, and some could not be recovered. The names echo from the grandmaster’s speech, carefully, tenderly, all one hundred eighty six who have joined the Force.

Among them Lumas, and he and Tru never caught up.

Among them Yuster, and all their plans end in fire.

Unfathomable

Tru feels Ry-Gaul's hand on his shoulder, until he doesn’t. He is surrounded by a crowd of other Jedi, until he isn’t. The fire that begins to dim is the only indicator how long he has stayed in the room. At the verge of his awareness, he isn’t alone.

xxxvi.

There is something less of Anakin, some kind of injury, some wound trickling metaphorical blood into the force, but Tru decides he does not want to ask.

You’ve changed.

Does he mean Anakin or does he mean himself? Or perhaps he means all of them. The temple. The galaxy. Again, everything feels wrong.

“... You were there?” He steps closer, almost bumping elbows but he stops himself in the act. Anakin nods absently, not even looking his way.

“I was first…” he trails off and doesn’t finish, doesn’t have the words. Tru frowns, observing his cloaked profile.

“First? What do you mean first?” 

The whole mission was to rescue a single Jedi team. A hundred lives traded for two.

“I was there okay? —” Anakin turns sharply, the dying fire reflects on his furrowed face. He, too, looks tired like never before. “What do you want me to say? I was there. You weren’t . Be glad for it.”

"I can’t believe this” Tru hears himself speak, as if he is somewhere far away, out of his own skin. “Tell me Anakin, how many times will someone have to die because of you?”

There is no reply, and Tru doesn’t wait for it.

xxxvi.

The white helmets come and go and fight and die no matter what he does. No matter how careful they all are, how much intel they collect. Jedi die. Clones die. Planets become reduced to gravel and bones. No matter how many battles are won, one ends and another begins.

Sometimes Tru can’t believe his thoughts.

— In the midst of grueling combat, he remembers Darra traversing the red Korriban sands, remembers her smile, and feels almost glad that she passed away. At least she was saved from this heartbreaking war. At least, she doesn’t have to witness the galaxy burn.

[sith-shenanigans]

So I… apparently forgot to link the last two Liminality chapters, whoops.

The House of the Dead, Part One (wherein there are post-Skotia briefings):

“Even in my time,” said Khem, “the minor Sith were too proud, scuttling about their small domains like the insect-creatures of Korriban. But they were not so pettily… civilized.”

It was still hard to imagine a version of the Sith that hadn’t authored civilization, invented politeness, and so stripped it away from everyone else like gravel in a mine. She didn’t believe Khem when he said there had been one. They had just written rules he approved of. “Less talking, more blood feuds?” Ahene asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Yes. Your master and theirs would have come to blades long ago, in that Empire. If mine did not force them both to their knees instead. There would be no respect for a Sith who claimed her enemy had been killed by another. Especially if it were true.”

And there would have been no place at all, of course, for little trash apprentices who would rather sneak through an enemy base than lay waste to it. “I feel like there are downsides,” said Ahene, “to having people openly murder each other.”

“There was a Dark Lord to oversee it, then,” rumbled Khem, “and pass judgement on those who tried to take what they did not deserve. Now you have a sleeping Emperor in his place, and a Council that schemes and squabbles like masterless advisors.” He gave a snort of soft derision. “Tulak Hord’s inner circle was bitter enough. Twelve people cannot act together as Jen’ari.”

Ahene felt that this logic was questionable, but had no desire to defend the Council, either. Her idea of a proper government included ‘not being run by Sith,’ and that wouldn’t be a productive argument even if they weren’t in the middle of the Citadel. “Probably not, no,” she said. “I still don’t think more blood feuding would help.” And there was the right door, thank the Void. Zash had apparently already had a banner made up; it showed about two-thirds of an Imperial logo, pale red outlined in silver, with silver leaves covering the final third and crawling up from there. A black wreath, also with silver lines, hovered in a wide semicircle above. Below was a holocron-like triangle in the same colors, pointing down.

It was… very Zash. A snake probably would have been too on-the-nose.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16797919/chapters/93437941#workskin

The House of the Dead, Part Two (wherein Ahene finally enters the Dark Temple):

“—has to be some shielded droid that wouldn’t fail,” Alaric was saying when he broke off. He looked over at them, hands still raised in exhortation. “Yes, soldier? What? Oh, glorious.” That, he said with apparently sincere relief, his lips splitting in a sharp, hopeful grin. “Finally. I’ve sent a thousand petitions—I had little hope Darth Arctis would ever read them. Are you one of his apprentices, then? You seem like a fine young Sith. Hard to get a read on how powerful you might be, through those shields, but I suppose that’s why you were sent. Here, come over, let the sergeant get back to his work. Sergeant Stonepour, you’re dismissed!”

Ahene came forward, trying to recover her mental footing. “Darth Arctis didn’t send me, my lord,” she said, with a shallow bow. “I’m Ahene, apprentice to Darth Zash. It’s an honor.”

“Darth Zash?” He waved a hand at Fizik as she moved to offer him the flimsi, and the captain reached out to take it instead. “Well, good for her getting promoted, I suppose, but Skotia’s not going to be happy if—” He pressed his lips together. “Oh. No. Skotia was her liege too, and Arctis doesn’t really like to sidelong-promote. Darth Skotia is dead, isn’t he?”

“Yes, my lord,” said Ahene. How can you not know that someone killed your liege?

Alaric grinned again, this time with vicious glee. “I suppose he got caught in that mess with Darth Jadus somehow? Well! It couldn’t happen to a better Sith. He handed me this mess, with no manpower, no resources, no response to any of my damn mail—I warned him this was serious, more serious than his political embarrassment, but he still wanted me to fail. To take the fall for his scheme, as if I didn’t tell every utter fool he gathered that this was a bad idea, and he’d only clean up once the last person who knew what he’d done was safely gone. Well, now I’ve outlived him, haven’t I?” He pressed his fingers together for a moment, clearly suppressing an undignified spate of laughter. The Force swirled around him, murderous and vicarious and elated. “Still. Still. I knew I’d been put in disgrace, I wouldn’t have full-exiled myself to this miserable camp if Skotia hadn’t wanted me dead—I’ve sent three assassins careening into ghost-madness by tearing them exempt from my wards, I have no illusions—but I feel like I should have heard of a chunk of dreadnought falling on him.”

Fizik cleared his throat. “My lord,” he said.

“Oh,” Alaric said. “Right.” He sighed and combed a hand through his remaining hair, looking… disturbingly abashed, for a Sith. His mouth twisted into a grimace. “Alright, yes, you did say there was mail on the terminal, but it was from the sphere admin address. Nothing important ever comes in from the sphere admin address. All that effort getting a holonet terminal working out here, and it’s all—here, some Dark Lord working in some fringe region died collapsing a cavern on herself, and here are three museum openings you can’t go to and a wedding you wouldn’t want to, and Lord So-and-So has taken his seventy-seventh apprentice, good for him, he’s probably going to fuse them all into one giant apprentice and put all the Biotics lords out of a job any day now. Why didn’t Zash send a holomail?”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16797919/chapters/94887016#workskin

[shabre-legacy]

what I’ve got so far for my Jedi Vaylin AU

a recently knighted guardian is requested to do some scouting in Sith space, testing their strength around their central planets. The Jedi want to send a rescue mission to Korriban after hearing about the training methods used by an acolyte who escaped Korriban and stumbled across the Jedi on Taris. She’s also been requested to help the shadows in the area with locating some old jedi holocrons and any other lost history of the area. 

As she travels past DK and furthur out, she feels a disturbance in the force. She meditates to find clarity and as she connects more completely and gets closer to Nathema. the disturbance becomes screaming force echoes. The sound of someone in great suffering, but muffled as though heard through water. 

Of course, being a Jedi, she lets the echoes and the force guide her to the source. It isn’t until she is above Nathema that she understands why the echoes are so muffled. And of course being clearer now, she can recognize that it’s a child that’s suffering

She begins to trek across the planet, struggling to maintain her composure and sanity in the face of a force dead world. 

Eventually she finds Vitiate’s sanctum and after entering it and making her way past the remains of his experiments and the insane zealots, finds poor vaylin. She leaps into action, defending the girl from the creatures attacking her and pulling her to her side, wrapping her in the light side as much as she can. The touch of the force from someone who isn’t hurting her, nearly makes Vaylin hysterical but after a few moments of the Jedi fighting the creatures and comforting her, she calms down. It helps that the guardian is a Twi’lek and Vaylin has never seen a twi’lek before and is really curious. (what we have of her preNathema indicates a curious, happy and compassionate child. She may not be happy on Nathema, but the other traits would still be there. Specifically since some of the recordings we see indicate that a large part of her “training” aka torture was designed to destroy her compassion)

when asked Vaylin tells the Jedi that her father made her come here and while normally taking a child from the place and guardians their parents intrusted them to is against the rules for Jedi, the guardian is unwilling to leave a child to such torments or a force-sensitive on a world like this. So she takes Vaylin and protects her as she fights her way past the guards and zealots, eventually making it back to her ship and setting course for Tython. 

Once there it takes Vaylin weeks to recover from her ordeal, even in the temple. the council is concerned. they basically set her up near the meditation rooms once she’s allowed out of the medcenter. Trying to surround her in as much of the Force as they can to help her mind and spirit heal from the complete absence of Nathema.

Eventually, Vaylin heals and when asked what she wants to do now, she says she wants to be a Jedi and the guardian who first found her takes her as her padawan. 

Somewhere along the way, she tells the Jedi about her father, but being a child who’s been on Nathema for awhile, she doesn’t know much. 

the republic and jedi end up knowing that there is another empire that uses the force differently then jedi and sith, that has an emperor and two princes and supposedly no interest in the rest of the galaxy, so they decide to ignore it to focus on bigger, more immediate concerns. Kaedan isn’t sure about that decision, but accepts it. 

[rainofaugustsith]

Rain Plays SWTOR: Rest Up!

When I first started playing SWTOR, a friend advised me that I should always log out in a cantina or a stronghold. I didn't understand why, so sometimes I did, and sometimes I didn't. What that friend was telling me was that rest areas are really, really helpful. This is another "in case someone doesn't know this" post, since I didn't when I started playing.   If you log out or spend time in a rest area, you accumulate rest time. When your character is rested they gain experience at an accelerated pace, so you level up faster.   Rest bonuses don’t work during double XP events, but since that is over as of June 16, you can now use this tactic again.  If your character is rested and under level 75, their experience bar will be green (it will also be green during double XP events, as it is here in the image). The amount of rest time you have is directly related to the time they've spent in a rest area. So if you leave a character for, say, a week in your stronghold, you're going to return to find them really well rested.

Rest areas include:   - Cantinas - Strongholds - Your ship - Occasionally a base or outpost, but don't count on this. This is usually the case when a planet does not contain an area that would sustain a cantina, like post-destruction Ziost.   When you enter or leave a rest area you will be informed.

Caption: You have entered a rest zone.  You are leaving a rest zone.    And when you try to log out somewhere that is not a rest area, you will also be informed. There's nothing "unsafe" about logging out anywhere, in the sense that nobody's going to smack your character or anything; it just means you're not earning rest points there.

Caption: You are in an unsafe area and will log out shortly. Choices: [immediate] [cancel]  But I'm questing on a planet. I don't have time to go back to my stronghold or ship, and I don't want to have to go through that damned orbital station again!

Use the cantina. If you pay attention, you will notice that on almost every map, even on planets like Taris, at least one of your Quicktravel points is a cantina. And while there are a few maps where you have to unlock these travel points, like Nar Shaddaa and Rishi, on many maps the cantina will be located at or near the very first outpost you visit, or the spaceport. When you're ready to log out, QT into that cantina.   On Tython and Korriban you cannot directly QT into the cantinas, but they are located within the Sith Academy and Jedi Temple, and you do have QT points for those. 

Caption: Map of Imperial Taris showing Quick Travel point for Command Center Cantina.    Map of Nar Shaddaa showing Quick Travel point for Slippery Slopes Cantina.  BONUS: You will find Paxton Rall and his crew hanging out in the cantina on most of the class story planets, plus Rishi and Zakuul (except Belsavis, Quesh and the four starter planets). You'll see him with his crew somewhere in the room. If you click on Paxton on every planet, you'll get a Cantina Crawl achievement. You will find this achievement under Companions ---> General. 

Caption:  Cantina Crawl 08/24/2018 9:41:28 AM Talk to Paxton Rall in cantinas.  - Chat with Paxton on a Balmorra cantina - Chat with Paxton on a capital planet cantina - Chat with Paxton on a Corellia cantina - Chat with Paxton on a fleet cantina - Chat with Paxton on a Hoth cantina (not all planets are being shown - others include Rishi, Zakuul, Tatooine, Taris, Alderaan, Nar Shaddaa)

[lonewolfel]

Fictober 2020, Day 21

Prompt: 9 - “will you look at this?”

Fandom: SWTOR (Star Wars the Old Republic)

Rating: G (slavery, mentions of death, racism[against alien races], and violence) 

Dromund Kaas was a dreary planet. The storms were dangerous and the air was always thick. Whether or not it was the humidity or its darkness was something that no slave bothered with. They were currently working on a large project to build more buildings on the outskirts of the city. Most of them were private residences for the Sith. This caused them to seem more like a temple. It was just like any other day on Dromund Kaas it was pouring rain, yet Meva couldn’t shake this feeling dread. It clouded her mind and distracted her. Distractions were a dangerous game. Yet she couldn’t help but drift off and hold on to the feeling. Something was going to happen. She knew that much. There was a loud crack and pain shot through her back. This broke Meva out of her thoughts. 

“Focus, slave.” One of the overseers snarled at her. Meva hung her head and ground her teeth against the pain. She would have thought that she would be immune to it now.

“Sorry, Master.” Meva said and he snarled. He shoved her infront of him.

“Start working alien, else you will have a matching burn.” The overseer snarled and Meva put a hand up to the right side of her face. “Take this up to the sky group.” He handed her a bag and Meva bowed her head.

“Yes, Master.” Meva said and she ran towards the building that they were working on. The sky group was tasked with working on the top layer and her father was one of the slaves stationed there. There were no lifts, you had to climb the metal supports and walk across metal poles and columns. The only place that had something akin to a floor was a wooden board that was laid out where they worked to avoid things being dropped and lost. It was highly dangerous, but what was the life of a slave worth.

Meva got to the building and swung the bag onto her back. She began to climb, noticing that the heavy rain made the metal slicker than normal. Meva bit her lip and continued to climb. It took her a couple moments but she reached the top. Her foot nearly slid off one of the poles. She carefully steadied herself and made sure that she was steady. A fall from this height would kill someone instantly. She carefully made her way across the poles and columns. There was a sudden shout and Meva rushed towards the noise. She didn’t even notice the slick metal beneath her feet. 

As Meva approached she realized what had happened. Her father had been working away from the wooden plank. He had gotten up to retrieve some more supplies and had slipped. Now he was falling to his death.

“Father!” Meva screamed unable to keep silent. She kneeled down where he fell and she reached out one of her hands as if to grab him. It was pointless he had already fallen from her reach, but that didn’t stop her instinct. Suddenly before he could hit the ground he stopped. Nothing had snagged him; he just levitated. All the slaves seemed to stop their work to look at the floating man. 

“What is going on here?” One of the overseers yelled and Meva froze. Everyone looked directly at her and her father. She ducked her head and pulled back her hand. The best way to survive was to avoid being the center of attention. She felt tears sting her eyes. She had no idea what was going on. The rain viciously beat against her back and head causing her to shiver. “Come down here girl.” Meva began the climb down unfazed by the rain falling on her face. Her only concern was what was going to happen to her and her father. She finally reached the muddy ground of Dromund Kaas.

“Meva.” Her father said and Meva looked over at him. He had a look of concern on his face from where he sat in the mud. She knew what was going on. This was her death. She turned towards the overseer and walked towards him. The overseer grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the site. She entered a building that she had only seen from the outside. He threw her into an empty room and locked the door. 

Meva was stuck in the empty room for the rest of the day and part of the next. She hugged her legs. When the door opened she immediately stood up. She kept her head down. 

“Are you sure this is the one who used the Force.” A new man that Meva didn’t recognize demanded

“Yes, my Lord.” The overseer said and Meva’s eyes widened. She was dealing with a Sith. This was bad.

“Then show us, slave.” The Sith snarled and Meva looked up at him. She knew that her face displayed her panic and fear.

“My Lord...I…” Meva started in a panic

“The alien has displayed no prior use of the Force and considering her age. It is possible that it was another slave, but considering her emotional attachment.” The overseer said 

“Then perhaps we will make her use it.” The Sith said and he put out an arm. Suddenly, Meva felt something close around her neck and cut off her air way. She put her hands around her neck trying to relieve the pressure, but it did nothing. She also felt her feet leave the ground. She struggled and fought against it. Then black began to encroach on her vision and the pressure disappeared. She collapsed onto the ground coughing and gagging. 

“Perhaps, my Lord, we use the slave that she saved.” The overseer said fear clearly in his voice.

“You better not be wasting my time.” The Sith snarled and the overseer ran out like a slave obeying his master. Meva didn’t bother standing up nor bother speaking. She continued to rub her neck. Not a moment later did the Overseer return with her father. He had a look of pure horror on his face. The Sith looked over at him and a wicked smile appeared on his face. It caused Meva to shiver in fear. He outstretched a hand to her father and lightning hit him. Her father screamed and fell to the floor. His body convulsed as the energy moved through him.

“STOP!” Meva screamed and both the overseer and the Sith were thrown back. Her father laid on the floor limp no longer convulsing with energy. She ran towards him and kneeled next to him. Tears were streaming down her face. She couldn’t contain her fear. The Sith stood up and walked towards her.

“You are stronger than I thought, alien. You have done well to hide yourself.” The Sith said and Meva didn’t dare speak in fear of bringing his wrath upon her father.  “Your emotions bring you great power, but the Sith could teach you more.” Meva froze in horror. She was going to become a Sith, a mindless cruel beast that devours whoever it pleases. She didn’t want that, but it wasn’t a choice, they would kill her and her father if she refused. Her father grabbed her hand and she wanted nothing more than to stay with him. She stood up allowing his hand to fall away from hers. She turned towards the Sith keeping her head down. The overseer removed her collar, but she didn’t dare run. The Sith led her out of the slave camp. The other slaves watched and her cheeks burned in shame. They stared with looks of hatred and fear on their faces. She didn’t know if they were aimed at her, the Sith, or both. 

He led her to a speeder and he took her to the spaceport. Once there he took her to a shuttle. There she saw about 15 other people. They looked to be in their late teens and early twenties and the vast majority of them were Sith Purebloods and some were humans. They stared at her when she entered the shuttle. Meva  found herself shifting uncomfortably at the looks. One of the female Purebloods smirked evilly at her. 

“Will you look at this someone got a slave.” The female pureblood said from where she leaned against the wall of the shuttle.

“No one has gotten a slave. She is to be taken to Korriban to become an acolyte.” The Sith said and others all voiced their outrage. “Enough this is not up to you.”

“You can’t be serious, it won't make it a day in the academy.” The female pureblood said

“Then that is her fate.” The Sith snarled and he left Meva with the group of angry people. The female stood up and walked over to her. She punched her in the stomach. Meva collapsed onto one knee and the pureblood kicked her legs out from underneath her. Meva collapsed onto her stomach and she felt a weight between her shoulder blades that felt like a boot. 

“Will you look at this? It thinks it can join us.” The pureblood said towards the others and she turned her attention back to Meva. “You may have the Force freak, but you will never be one of us.” She spat on Meva’s face. “You will always be filth beneath our shoes. All you people are good for is serving the strong the pure.” With that she removed her foot and walked away. Meva looked up and saw the other people grinning evilly. What are the chances I’ll make it to Korriban alive, Meva wondered.

[greyias]

FIC: Smoke and Mirrors - Chapter 8

Title: Smoke and Mirrors Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T Genre: Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn Synopsis: Something’s rotten on Carrick Station, and Theron won’t rest until he finds out what. But picking at the frayed threads of suspicion quickly unravels a conspiracy much larger than even the Republic’s top spy can handle on his own. (A mostly canon-compliant retelling of the Forged Alliances storyline, as seen through the eyes of Theron Shan.) Author’s Notes and Spoilers: See Chapter 1.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 |  Chapter 7 | Crossposted to AO3

The strike team’s flight back from Korriban was just long enough to take a sizable break and get some rest. Theron had meant to leave the operations room that Darok had commandeered for their mission. Maybe stretch his legs and unwind a bit, but he’d gotten distracted with sorting through the data he’d absconded from the Sith Academy. He wasn’t really doing more than giving it a cursory look, just double and triple checking to make sure there were no nasty surprises in the code before he took any of it out of quarantine. It may have been paranoid to think that Sith would try and set a digital booby trap in their closed system — but better safe than sorry.

Darok had spent a majority of the time pacing, coordinating between the team left on Korriban and checking on the status of the package as it zipped its way across the galaxy. Theron had seemingly become invisible to him at this point, and hardly a word had passed between them since the strike team had entered hyperspace. It was just as well, since Theron preferred getting lost in the endless flow of data rather than having to listen to the strident tones of the colonel.

He hadn’t even really noticed the passage of time, until the door swished open, and Highwind strode in, cape fluttering behind her. Theron’s shoulders protested as he stood back up straight, a knot having formed from his hunched position. That round of celebration drinks was sounding really tempting right now — although it was difficult to tell if the guest-of-honor was still up for that. She had the carefully composed neutral facade typical of a Jedi in place as she met both his and Darok’s eye.

“Welcome back, Master Jedi,” Darok intoned, “I’ve heard congratulations are in order.”

“I don’t know about that, Colonel,” she said cautiously, pulling out a datacore, “but I retrieved the data from the Dark Council chambers as requested.”

“Excellent,” he accepted the item in question. “Do you realize that you just succeeded in a mission that many people never dared to dream was possible?”

A keen blue gaze studied the much larger man, although Theron wasn’t quite sure how to interpret the guarded expression. Whatever meditation she had done over the course of her flight, it was unclear if she had found the answers she’d been seeking.

“Anything is possible with the Force,” she said smoothly, and Theron quirked a brow. She glanced his way. From his position behind the console, it was impossible to read the expression. “But sometimes extra assistance goes a long way.”

He didn’t quite know what to make of that. “You’re welcome… I think.”

The neutral expression slipped for just a moment, and he thought he saw her lips twitch as if she were suppressing a smile.

Darok paid the silent byplay no mind, instead stowing away the datacore as he turned his full attention back to the Jedi. “Today we just proved that victory—true victory—is within our grasp. We’ve proven that Korriban is not an impenetrable fortress, and may have just retrieved the key to ending this war once and for all.”

“That is a nice thought,” Highwind said cautiously, “but the Sith have proven to be quite tenacious. It does not pay to underestimate them, despite whatever knowledge is contained within that datacore.”

“That’s very practical thinking, but it’s still a great day for the Republic nonetheless.”

A light on the console in front of Theron began to flash, pulling his attention from the conversation. It was from an auxiliary comm channel. He frowned. Usually those were reserved for emergency broadcasts and distress signals. It was odd for it to be routed to Carrick Station. He pulled up the feed and began to scan through it — and his stomach dropped.

It was from Tython. The message was short, and consisted only of several clipped phrases as if whoever had sent it had just barely had time to get their message through before it was cut off. 

Iso-5 bombs — strike team — Jedi Temple under attack — need help

A face immediately flashed through Theron’s mind — an older woman valiantly trying to protect her home and students. That face shouldn’t have mattered to him, and yet still it felt as if someone had begun to tighten a vice around his chest. His mind should have immediately focused on the problem, but it took him a few more moments to process everything before his brain suddenly kicked back in. Without hesitation, he keyed in the code to sound the alarm.

“What the devil is that?” Darok demanded.

“It’s Tython,” Theron snapped, “they’re under attack!”

“They’re what?” Somehow the Jedi Master’s quiet voice cut through the loud whoop of the alarms, eyes wide with shock.

“Imperials forces just hit — they’re ransacking the temple.” Unbidden Satele’s image flashed through Theron’s mind again before he quickly banished it. “They need our support now.”

Darok gave a curt nod, immediately keying in his comm channel. ��Blue Squadron, I need you to finish refueling and launch immediately with any troops not injured from Korriban.”

“How is this possible?” Highwind asked.

“We can find out when we get there,” Darok said, “if you and your team are still willing to help.”

“Of course we are, but I think we need to—”

“Shan,” he barked, “you gather whatever sensor data we can get and forward it to all forces. Everyone needs to be en route in five minutes. Now move!”

Theron gave a curt nod, fingers already dancing across the keys as he pulled in every node and scrap of data in. His brain was already racing, trying to map out what relays were available, what was compromised. Knowing Imperial protocols, they would have knocked out all communications. It was a miracle that someone had managed to get a distress signal out at all—

“Hold on, Colonel,” Highwind’s voice cut through tension in the room like a durasteel blade, “something about this isn’t right. We need to take a moment to think before rushing in.”

“Think? This is your home base being attacked, Master Jedi, and you want to sit around think? Let the Empire capture and ransack your people’s temple again?”

“We just attacked Korriban,” she shot back, “at the exact same time the Empire chooses to strike Tython?”

It was as if her words had thrown a bucket of cold water over Theron. His head snapped up and watched the byplay between the two commanding presences in the room. His fingers on the keys stilled as the panic that had been tightening around him dissipated. Now that it had been pointed out, Theron couldn’t not see the connection. This. This was what had been off about the whole mission — and he hadn’t figured it out until too late. He almost cursed aloud, but caught himself at the last moment.

“This cannot be a coincidence,” she insisted.

“You can meditate about coincidences later,” Darok snarled, “but my people and ships will be leaving in five minutes. That is, if you would like to join them.”

Her perfect mask of calm slipped, and for just a moment Theron caught a glimpse of the real woman underneath. Raw determination and anger bubbling just underneath the surface as she didn’t bother to hide her suspicion or indignation at the colonel’s words.

“I cannot stand by while others suffer,” she said firmly, meeting Darok’s eye, but there was an unspoken sentiment hanging in the air. Something else was going on here, and she wasn’t going to rest until she figured out what it was.

And she wasn’t the only one.

“I’ll pull up every scrap of data we’ve got,” Theron cut in, deliberately catching her eye and giving her just the barest of nods, “and talk you through the whole way.”

For a moment he wasn’t sure if she had caught his signal, but she paused, frowning ever-so-slightly before returning the tight nod. It was impossible to ignore the crisis at hand, and of the two of them she had the better chance at retaking Tython. But Theron could keep an eye on things here — especially the surly SpecOps officer shouting out orders over the comm.

“I will gather my crew and meet your men at the shuttle, Colonel,” she said tightly.

“Good. I’ll arrange for every available resource while you’re in transit.”

She let her gaze slip from Darok back to Theron, the severe expression lightening some. “I will be in touch.”

“I’ve sliced into every available sensor,” he said, not breaking eye contact with her as he added, “I should be able to keep an eye on everything from here.”

“We will get Tython back,” she promised, tone so fierce and filled with determination, that not even Theron could doubt that she meant it. “I promise.”

A brief thought of his mother flashed through his mind, but he quickly banished it. He had to focus right now, not get distracted by thoughts of his estranged family. Instead he gave her what he hoped was a confident smile, although it felt too tight and uncomfortable to be real. “Watch your back.”

[defend-the-empire]

Centra Malvyst

"There is nothing poetic about clawing at your chest, trying to empty yourself of these poisonous words, coming up with nothing in your palms but blood."

Full Name: Centra Aethera Malvyst Preferred Name: Centra, Malvyst Aliases: N/A Titles: Dominion Acolyte, Archivist, Curator Gender: Female Race: Human Appearance: Stoic, with classically-attractive features. High cheekbones, tanned skin, with raven-dark hair that falls to her shoulders. Holds a very active physique, with heavy scarring over her back from what appears to be a greivous wound inflicted in her mid-teenage years. Height: Tall, 5'10 Weight: 125 Lbs Player class: Sith Acolyte Occupation(s): Sith Acolyte Language: Basic, Huttese, Droidspeak Religion: The Force Organizations: N/A Relatives: Saev Malvyst (Mother, Deceased), Drimu Malvyst (Father, Alive), Unnamed Brother (Alive) Allies: N/A Adversaries: Zev Syros (Alive, Jedi Knight), Arstos Velroc (Alive, Jedi Exile)

Biographical Summary: Centra Aethera Malvyst was born on the neutral-aligned world of Cotrim IV, an agri-world with sparse urban centers that fell under more Republic-aligned interests, near the Mid Rim. Her mother, Saev Malvyst, was a scholar and professor of galactic antiquital history at a nearby university, while her father was a commercial pilot that flew often to the Core Worlds. Growing up, Centra had a budding curiosity and a desire to learn about the enigmatic Jedi Order, who had a temple dedicated to training outside the city of Agora, where she lived. She worked in a museum dedicated to Jedi history since the age of twelve, becoming very proficient in curating and archiving history and artifacts. Her best friend was a Human male by the name of Zev Syros, who worked alongside Centra in the museum. The Museum caretaker was a former Jedi by the name of Arstos Velroc, who was cast out of the Order for extremism and a failure to adhere to the Jedi Code. Centra was often abused by Arstos for her love and adoration for the Jedi, both physical and emotionally. She was often corrected about the Jedi and their hubris, slapped and otherwise despised by Arstos constantly for his deep-set hatred for the Jedi after what he considered to be a betrayal of the soul. Centra reacted poorly to his mistreatment, and continued to work at the museum, quietly going about her curious fascination with the Jedi and their history. One day, at the height of the great war, a Republic Fleet entered the space above Cotrim IV. Separtist activity had skyrocketed since the Republic had been failing to protect worlds from the invasion of the Sith and their Imperial armies, and they decided it best to begin lashing out at their alleged defenders. Agora held a large separtist number, though the cell was mostly inactive and content with merely supplying the extremists with weapons and supplies. This inevitably caused the Republic to open fire on a mostly-civilian and non-combatant urban center, massacring thousands in the opening barrage. The Jedi came from their training temple to aid in what way they could, coming across the ruins of the museum that Centra and Zev worked at. The mass bombardment caused the ceiling to collapse, trapping the two teens beneath the rubble. The Jedi found Zev, and sensed a connection in the Force with him, and whisked him away to be trained before the Sith arrived, as their warfleet had just entered the system. They left Centra to die beneath the rubble, Arstos even coming across her, and leaving her to her fate. Centra Malvyst spent days beneath the ruined structure of the Jedi museum, unaware that her mother had been killed by the orbital bombardment as well. She could only fixate on the pain that coursed through her shattered body, the deep-set hatred that coursed through her veins like molten fire. After six days of agonizing pain, sustaining herself only through sheer hatred and willpower, did the Imperial Army discover her when they swept through the city. Darth Vestis sensed within the teen an innate connection with the Darkside, festering and developing through her pain and betrayal. Impressed with her survival and sheer conviction, he had her immediately treated by Imperial Doctors as they occupied the city, and then shipped straight to Korriban to the Sith Academy. Centra’s time on Korriban was full of hatred and bloodshed. She picked up with a class of sixteen students, all of which were stronger, and more powerful than her with the Force. One of them was even the son of a prominent Darth by the name of Darth Castora, of the Sphere of Diplomacy and Expansion. Centra, whose survival instincts were unmatched by any of the students, had the most difficult time progressing through the Academy, yet was the only one of her peers to survive the grueling trials and challenges. Though nothing was proven, the Overseers watched Centra methodically and systematically murdered each of the other students with tactful success, with the ability to seemingly be in two places at once, or even orchestrate what appeared to be a completely unlikely, yet fatal accident. Having graduated from the Sith Academy with high marks and recommendations from her Overseers, she was then picked up by Lord Murmora of the Novus Dominion, attending yet another grueling and harrowing experience on the planet of Ashass Ree.

"I remember who I used to be before I became who I had to be to survive."

[essays-for-breakfast]

Battle of Stars

Melizabeth Week Day 7: AU

Author’s note: This is a Star Wars AU - for self-indulgent reasons - with almost no semblance of the original plot, and the author flexed all her nerd muscles while writing this. Forgive me!

The Manta class troop transporter tilted sideways as the pilot battled against the harsh winds of Ruusan’s upper hemispheres, and Elizabeth swallowed a wave of nausea from the sudden jolt. Her hands found their way to the lightsaber at her side all on their own, and the cool metal calmed her stained nerves. Fear was an unnecessary emotion for a Jedi to harbor, especially for a newly appointed Jedi Knight. Elizabeth had earned this title through hard years of training and field missions on the most outlandish terrains the galaxy had to offer, always under the guiding hand of her master, Hendrickson.

If her master could see her frightened face, he would surely remind her of the pure light of the Force that protected every Jedi and led them through even the most difficult times.

The Force is with you, Padawan, even when your fear prevents you from seeing it, was his favorite mantra, and he had made sure Elizabeth could recite his teachings in every situation, no matter how precarious. Including the smoldering battlefields of Ruusan.

But despite the calm stream of the Force inside of her, Elizabeth tensed when a projectile exploded a mere armlength away from the outer shell of the transporter as the shields absorbed the bulk of the damage. The ship tumbled sideways like a confused Aiwa, and Elizabeth dug her fingers into the leather handle above her head. In the cockpit, separated from the troop compartment by an open bulkhead, an alarm howled, a warning that the shields had dropped under twenty percent. Another hit and they were done for.

And despite the cacophony of nearby explosions and the constant up and down of the troop compartment, Jedi Master Diane stood unmoving between the Republic soldiers, as firm as a rock in the raging seas of Glee Anselm.

The older Jedi offered Elizabeth a reassuring smile. “There is little to worry about,” she said, “the Sith don’t have the resources to hold a crossfire like this up for long. Their troops will need to spare their blaster fire if they want to stand any chance during the ground assault.”

As if on command, the sound of laser artillery penetrating the sky and the handful of republican transporters faded to be replaced by the buzzing of engines as their unit continued their descent without further troubles.

“I wish I had your confidence, Master,” Elizabeth said.

“It is all a matter of experience,” Diane said. “The more battles you fight, the better you will learn to understand the nuances of warfare and what aspects you should focus on to gain the upper hand. Didn’t Master Hendrickson teach you these things?”

“He did, and we assisted our troops in a few skirmishes along the Tingel Arm. But Master Hendrickson values the role as peacekeeper more than that of a general. Whenever possible, he dragged me to some distant planet to study the local fauna and help those in need.”

At the time, Elizabeth had found these trips into the Outer Rim boring and unfitting for a Jedi, after all, the war with the Sith threatened to destroy stability all throughout the galaxy. And as soon as Elizabeth had traded the Padawan plait for the title of Jedi Knight, she had volunteered to join the constant stream of supply units headed for Ruusan, one of the most heated and most crucial battlefields, to support her fellow Jedi in the fight against the Dark Side. But the grueling minutes before the fight, during which she could do nothing other than trust in the pilot’s ability to land his vessel safely, almost made her miss the peaceful fields of Dantooine.

Diane nodded thoughtfully. “Your master is a wise man. With priorities that are sadly becoming more and more rare among the ranks of the Jedi. Even the council grants Master Ludociel more freedom to carry out his feud with the Sith than necessary.”

“But aren’t the Sith and especially the Emperor an evil that must be destroyed to bring peace to the galaxy?” Elizabeth asked. The Jedi temple was filled with nightmarish stories about the Sith and their dark arts, and she had been warned of the tempting yet destructive nature of the Dark Side since her days as a Youngling.

“Some Jedi would say that, yes. But fighting for the sake of fighting is meaningless – I would rather avoid the path that leads to more conflict.”

A jolt went through the transporter that made Elizabeth’s teeth smack against one another, and a second later, the bulkheads opened to allow Rusaan’s sandstorms to enter.

Elizabeth squinted but jumped into the open as the first hail shower of blaster bolts rained onto the transporter to leave smoldering marks on its shell. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me, Elizabeth recited the ancient saying of the Guardians of the Whills, and activated her lightsaber. The blue bolt of pure light sent the blaster fire back to its marksmen; one Sith trooper went limp behind the makeshift trench he had used as cover.

Diane was leading her troops forward, green lightsaber in hand, and soon their unit advanced through the enemy lines and towards the goal of their mission: the ancient temple embedded into the mountain range ahead. Before the war had come to Rusaan, the stone structures had represented a shrine to the local population sited amidst a prospering forest, but the Sith had since burned down the trees and had turned the temple into one of their strongholds – where the forces of the Republic planned to secure crucial data about the enemy’s plans and tactics. Elizabeth had garnered this information from the official report handed out during the mission briefing, but the burned earth in the mountains’ shadow still turned her stomach upside-down. Master Hendrickson would have shed a silent tear had he been tortured with this view.

Elizabeth silenced the cries of injustice in her heart and filled her mind with a feeling of peace the way she had been taught. Guided by the Force, she pathed her way through the enemy defenses and the dunes of sulfur-heavy sand, swung her lightsaber in a perfect display of Soresu, the third form of lightsaber combat, and never halted until she reached the entrance of the temple, a gaping chasm filled with the stench of the Dark Side.

When she failed to detect enemy presences in the immediate area, Elizabeth turned to meet Diane’s eyes across the battle field. The Jedi Master briefly paused her chain of heavy-hitting attacks, and called out to Elizabeth over the buzz of laser artillery that announced the arrival of enemy reinforcement.

“Take a few of my men and advance into the temple. We will join you shortly.”

Elizabeth waited for three heavily armed republican soldiers to catch up and offered them a nod, before they climbed the final steps and entered the shadows. Inside, the howling of the storm faded to distant background stereo, like interference on a flawed comm channel.

A chill befell Elizabeth in her light Jedi tunic, but she fought the unease with a few calming breaths. Water dripped from the detailed reliefs on the wall, hinting at an underground spring located deep within the mountain that collected Russan’s sparse rainwater. The tiny streams reflected the glow from Elizabeth’s lightsaber and the small search lights attached to the soldiers’ helmets, but apart from that, the hallway with its high ceiling was cast in shadows. Somewhere in the dark, a stream of water gurgled along. Always in expectation of an ambush, their squad crept forward.

“No heat signals up ahead,” one of the soldiers informed after performing a scan via his HUD. With the anonymous helmet, Elizabeth had difficulties identifying the soldier, but she believed the voice to belong to a man named Howzer, one of Master Diane’s top commandos. “Thanks to the storm, the comm’s already dead. The sand could’ve messed with the scanners too.”  

“Stay on guard,” Elizabeth said and followed her own advice by dropping into a defensive pose as she placed step by step forward.

The Sith were well known for their traps designed to take out unexperienced Jedi. One of her training partners during her temple days, a kid named Mael, had run into such a trap on one of his first field missions, and he was declared missing by his master ever since. In all likelihood, the Sith had long disposed of his corpse. Or they had taken him to their outpost on Korriban to use him in their experiments. Separate mind and body, mutate the flesh of their victims, or turn them into weak-willed puppets to add to their army; Elizabeth had read reports on these and crueler methods of torture when her master hadn’t been around to see.

She shook the thought off and concentrated on her environment. The Force might offer you glimpses into the future, but you can only use this advantage if you remain in the present, as Master Hendrickson liked to say.

Her crono confirmed only a few minutes had passed, but the walk through the dark felt like hours before Elizabeth and her squad came across a durasteel gate too technological advanced to fit into the old hallways and high-rising pillars around.

Howzer ordered his men to take cover with clipped gestures before he tapped the control panel embedded into the stone next to the gate. The bulkhead protested with a shrill squeal as the opening mechanism pulled the durasteel aside to reveal the chamber beyond. A multitude of screens enlightened the room to give the impression of a control center, but before Elizabeth fully realized the situation, a shadow rushed past her, followed by one and then a second outcry.

Elizabeth spun and skidded on the polished floor tiles as she caught a glimpse at their attacker. Two of her men had slumped lifeless to the ground, and above them towered a male human with a cold grin on his face. The red of his lightsaber painted bloody hues onto the walls. He was no doubt a Sith, his poisoned aura like a nexus of evil appalled Elizabeth to the core.

She had never faced a Sith before, and all her passionate preaches about fighting and destroying the scoundrels of the galaxy vanished, washed away by the cold imprint this man left in the current of the Force around her.

The blaster bolts hurrying past her head tore Elizabeth out of her paralysis as Howzer targeted the Sith with mechanical precision. The Sith’s face remained unflinching, and he deflected the shots with arrogant ease until the play bored him and he reached out with his unarmed right hand. Elizabeth could almost see the Force as it twisted between his clawed fingers. Howzer gargled but still managed to pull the trigger while the air was ripped out of his lungs by the hands of the Dark Side. His efforts amused the Sith more than anything, and he sidestepped the laser bolt without a change in expression.

Elizabeth finally regained her sense of self and jumped into the fray with a parade of swings aimed at the Sith’s head. His green eyes widened for less then a second before he raised his weapon to deflect. A mix of red and blue danced across his boyish features.

“Send for reinforcements, I’ll hold him off,” Elizabeth yelled, and Howzer, who had dropped to his knees as soon as the Sith’s attention no longer rested on him, obeyed and staggered towards the exit.

Elizabeth and the Sith parted, and his lips twister into a malicious grin. “How bold of you, Jedi, to think you can hold out until your unit arrives.” In his mouth, the word Jedi sounded like an insult rather than a title to command respect.

Instead of an answer, Elizabeth dove into the stream of the Force and allowed its wise hands to guide her next moves. She charged and turned her forward momentum into a chain of short swings with varied angles but minimal countermovement. Despite his smaller statute, he parried her attacks with enough physical strength to sent a quiver down her arm muscles every time their blades clashed. He retreated with quick steps that always allowed him to meet her with the advantage of a strong stance. Elizabeth’s best chance of victory was to pin him down and prevent him from dealing out hits himself. A small hope at best.

While she had trained all variants of combat her teachers at the temple and later Hendrickson had to offer, Elizabeth had never battled an opponent as versed with their lightsaber as this Sith. Each movement was a perfectly calculated effort, each shift in stance a display of uncounted practice sessions. More than one with the Force, he became one with his lightsaber the longer the duel proceeded. Elizabeth had seen Jedi Masters enter a fighting trance that reduced their reaction time to a fraction of a heartbeat, and the speed of this Sith rivalled the best of them.

If he had intended to end the fight, he could have done so numerous times over. But for some reason, Elizabeth’s efforts seemed to entertain him.

He allowed her to push him back with an endless loop of the same hits in slight variation, amused by her inability to alter from the patterns she had learned at the beginning of her training; his dark aura had disabled Elizabeth’s ability to strategize, and those fight patterns ingrained into her muscles were the only tactic she could rely on.

But apart from a physical and speed benefit, her opponent had another advantage to use in his favor: knowledge about the terrain. And as Elizabeth dared to hope she might corner him between the wall and her blade, he dropped low, struck for her legs, and stood behind her in one single motion. Elizabeth evaded the hit but tripped on the slippery tiles. She expected to stumble into the wall, but the ground beneath her suddenly vanished and she fell into the canal hugging the wall that had been obscured by shadows. The water didn’t run deep, and Elizabeth’s joints protested as she absorbed the impact with a roll.

Soaked and on wobbly legs, Elizabeth met the eyes of her opponent standing several meters above with a relaxed posture that screamed victory.

“Don’t try it if you want to make it out alive,” the Sith said, and Elizabeth gritted her teeth. With the aid of the Force, she could have catapulted herself back to ground level, but he had a point, he would cut her down if she tried.

“You fought valiantly, Jedi,” he continued, “but I’m afraid your efforts were in vain. Thanks to our little dance, my troops have gained enough time to destroy any information you and your pathetic ensemble of light bringers could have used against us.”

“You never intended to uphold this base.”

The Sith grinned. “No, my master generously surrenders these empty halls to the Republic. There are far more interesting targets worth pursuing. I look forward to face you on another day on a different battlefield, Jedi. For the time being, I must take my leave. My master is not a man of patience.”

Disheartened, Elizabeth lowered her lightsaber. The entire operation had been a failure from the start; the Sith had anticipated the advancements of the Republican army. But if Elizabeth stroked her opponent’s ego, perhaps she could gain at least some information of value.

“Your master must be a great figure in the war if he polished your skills with a lightsaber to these impressive degrees.”

The twitch of amusement in the corners of his eyes showed he had seen through her charade. But he stooped to an answer regardless. “You might have heard of him as the one who stands above the Ten Commandments, the elite of the Sith Empire. I merely carry out his plans. So long, Jedi.”

He saluted mockingly and disappeared out of view. Elizabeth remained in the canal while the water brushed past her boots, too shocked to speak or move. The man she had fought was no ordinary Sith, no distant servant of the Dark Side without prowess or knowledge of the enemy’s plans. The man with the blond hair and the excellent footwork was Meliodas, apprentice of the Emperor himself.

By the time Master Diane and her men arrived, Elizabeth had regained her composure and confirmed the failure of the mission and the destruction of valuable data. But her thoughts kept circling around Meliodas and the ease with which he had defeated her; he thought so little of her he had revealed his identity for the sole purpose of his amusement.

And while the soldiers searched the control center for minute clues the Sith might have overlooked in the haste of their departure, Elizabeth swore to herself to train harder and learn the fighting trance technique.

The next time she would face Meliodas, she would best him. To bring the galaxy one step closer to peace. So that the light of the Jedi might withstand and cast away the darkness of the Sith Empire.

[flipthescreen]

I figured I’d write down the full story of Galactis properly so here is it (part 1)

Born towards the end of the first great galactic war, Ja’ Ko was Born to a Notorious sith lord known as Darth Mayhem, who was renound among her peers for her powerbase and power, and an unnamed sith lord. Naturally it wouldn’t take long for the childs affinity with the force to take shape, thanks to his mother he was able to stay out of the sith Academy on korriban until she deemed him ready. During his childhood Darth Mayhem wouldn’t let her son out of her sight, thought he will never admit he has any memory of it as the 2 didn’t actually speak much, being left to his own devices he would try to copy what his mother and her apprentices did with the force, eventually being able to throw soldiers long distances by the time he was 12. Entering into his teen years Darth Mayhem moved him back to her estate on ziost in a bid to stop her main rival, Darth Malgus, from finding out about him and trying to use him as some kind of bargaining chip against her forces and herself. During this time he would find himself messing with the guard droids around the estate whenever he wasn’t trying to copy the various apprentices and loyal sith that also lived at the estate, and due to his aggressive, distant and child like nature a lot of people considered him a nuisance, one of which tried to rat out his existence to Malgus before imperial intelligence stopped him. Eventually at the sith academy overseer tremel was under pressure and threat to find someone to outmatch Vemrin, who was becoming a threat to his continued existence, eventually hearing about Darth Mayhem’s son from one of her apprentices. Running out of options Tremel approached the dark lord about the prospect of her son going through the trials the become sith, now Darth Mayhem had always planned to send him to the academy before he became an adult in order to make sure he excelled when he became sith. After the situation at the Academy with Vemrin being explained to her she begrudgingly allowed her son to be put through to trials, but not before warning Tremel that if Ja’ Ko died she would do much worse than whatever  Vemrin would do to him. Ja’ Ko, now taking on the name of Galactis to represent his desire to be known across the galaxy, soon arrived on Korriban going through the trials, and it didn’t take long for Darth Baras to know of his presence, he may have been unaware for a little longer regardless of Galactis’ actions due to his massive ego and Vemrin’s sudden distaste for basically everyone now. Baras sent Galactis on very unorthodox tasks around Korriban, in order to test his skill against the other powerful acolytes, over the next few days. Galactis eventually became very popular among acolytes who had been pushed around by Vemrin, which was nearly everyone. around this time Vemrin’s girlfriend was finally getting fed up with his shit and decided she wanted to spite him, and approached Galactis and after explaining her own issues with Vemrin and Galactis egar to always get one over on him, and eventually Vemrins Girlfriend cheated on him with Galactis, and Vemrin found out quickly enough and was pissed, only fueling Galactis’ ego with the ability to get under his rivals skin. soon enough Galactis and Vemrin were sent on their final trial, to enter the tomb of Naga sadow and claim a lightsaber in order to become Baras’ apprentice, at this time Galactis had been given the option to have a twi’lek prisoner, vette, help him find where the lightsaber was hidden, whilst in the tombs Galactis’ forcibly removed the shock collar on his companion, his reason being that his own mother didn’t like the idea of owning slaves, as in her words “A slaves loyalty is never guaranteed, a free being serves far more loyally than one that isn’t” and Galactis was just raised in that way. Eventually making their way into the tomb of where the lightsaber Galactis sought was kept they found Vemrin to be tailing them, who Galactis quickly disposed of because Vemrin would not shut up even when he was outmatched. Returning to Baras succesful Galactis was apointed his apprentice and given ownership of Vette, which he quickly renounced, this caught his master’s curiosity. (Baras knew Darth Mayhem had a child due to his close ties with the Dark council but was never aware of their identity) However despite not owning her, on Carrick station Galactis asked her to join him too Dromund kaas, his motivation at the time being an attempt to start up his own power base at the time, vette agreed to the offer as despite not really wanting to hang around a sith, Galactis was her only way of staying safe among the empire’s anti-alien policies. Upon arriving on Dromund kaas Galactis decided to take advantage of his mothers name and introduced himself as “Galactis Mayhem” at Kaas city in order to get passed certain restrictions and get some armour tailored for himself and Vette. Once meeting up with Baras in his office he was sent on a variety of tasks, dealing with a slave revlolt, orchestating an attack against the rogue sith lord Gratham, going as far as to kill him and eventually ventured into the dark temple to help Baras get infomation out of a republic agent. The agent revealed infomation regarding Baras’ personal enemy, Jedi Master Nomen karr, and his new padawan who posed a threat to baras’ agents spread across the republic and galaxy. Without a name or anymore infomation on Nomen Karr and his padawan, Baras sent Galactis and vette to choke out his agents at risk of being exposed, first sending them to balmora to meet up with one of his most loyal servants, Malivai Quinn. With Quinn’s help the 2 dispossed of the first of Baras’ agents with ease and took care of a jedi spy who was on her way to inform Nomen Karr that his padawan was at risk, Baras deemed that his apprentice would need more than quick thinking and power to deal with Nomen Karr, and his own plans to expose Baras, and thus reassigned Quinn to Galactis’ crew. The next stop was Nar Shaddaa to stop an agent under the protection of a sith lord called Rathari, with the help of another one of Baras’ loyal servants, Halidrell Setsyn, Galactis located a quarry with repblic soldiers, right before he took his strike at the soldiers, Quinn stopped him advising to spare the soldiers in order to receive help in a fight against Rathari, to Galactis’ surprise, Quinn’s idea worked, this began giving him some power hungry ideas about his confrontation with Rathari. After besting Rathari in combat, Rathari struck down the agent Galactis was sent to kill, at first he was upset Galactis didn’t take the agent’s life, but the idea to have a reputable sith Lord in his arsenal quickly changed his mood, in exchange for his loyalty, Galactis spared Rathari’s life, Rathari, respecting his power and in no position to try anything, agreed to his terms, warning Galactis of Baras’ history with his apprentices before departing. After taking a moment to breath Baras contacted Galactis and his crew informing them to head to tatooine and seek out a jedi master who could reveal important infomation on the padawan that was causing such a threat to his plans, Galactis suggested the idea of trying to turn the padawan to the dark side instead of destroying them, this caused Baras to point out that Vette and Quinn were growing on Galactis too much and he should bite his tongue when making a suggestion like that before hanging up, this comment pissed Galactis off a lot and he headed out to tatooine feeling very angry. At one point on Tatooine Galactis was forced to view his light side reflection, and struck it down, denouncing the light side of the force, claiming sith or not that the galaxy would fear his power. Upon finding the Jedi master he sought out, he was able to get a name before striking them, and the jedi knight with them down, Jaesa willsaam. After informing Baras of the name, he tracked down her parents to Alderaan, but before Galactis could make it there he had to deal with a republic ship that had been evesdropping on him for Nomen Karr, who had been made aware they were closing in on reaching his padawan, however to his disappointment, Galactis could not confront Karr face to face and left the ship with it’s crew massacred, feeling even more angry than he had been on tatooine. On Alderaan Galactis hunted down Jaesa Willsaam’s parents and killed them off, with no further leads he returned to his ship to relax for once.

And for about 5 minutes he came up with the idea of learning how to cook for himself and right before he was about to try making a pizza the ships holocom began beeping, letting the pizza stay in the oven to answer it, and to his surprise he wasn’t about to be speaking with his master, but rather, Jaesa Willsaam offered a meeting between the 2 in an attempt to stop his rampage across the galaxy, however he left quinn and vette to organize a location because he set his pizza on fire. At the meeting Galactis found out that his luck was not turning out to be very good, as instead of finding Jaesa Willsaam was 2 jedi knights, stationed there after Nomen Karr found out about Jaesa’s plan to meet Galactis, which he promptly murdered. Back on his ship Baras called informing that Nomen Karr had challenged him to a duel to the death on Hutta, Baras took a “cowardly move” as Galactis put it, by sending him instead of going himself. However in yet another idea to expand his power base he could go against Baras’ wishes and turn Jaesa to the dark side. Upon meeting Nomen Karr things went down less than plesant, Nomen Karr became infuriated that Baras didn’t show up himself and with the experience to outmatch Galactis’ raw power, beat the apprentice to a bloody pulp, prepared to kill him in order to force Baras’ hand, however Karr made a mistake and began to monologue about what would happen to the empire once Baras’ network was exposed, and gave Galactis the chance to get back up and knock Nomen Karr out, some soldiers sent by Baras soon showed up to tie up Karr and heal Galactis in preparation for Jaesa’s arrival. After about an hour she did and felt saw Nomen karr’s true self, and began begging Galactis to explain what had happened, which he did, explaining Karr didn’t uphold his jedi code and nearly killed him (to this day Jaesa is the only person who knows this happened) and convinced her the only way to stop jedi from lying through their teeth to the galaxy was to join him, ultimately turning her to the dark side, however he realised he may have made a mistake the second she beheaded Nomen Karr the second he tried to convince Jaesa not to join Galactis. Baras finally took note of his apprentices skill and power despite his oddities and behaviour and made him a sith lord allowing Jaesa to become his apprentice, however Galactis was not prepared by any means to train Jaesa, who, without the restrictions of the jedi code turned out to be a handful, however Galactis saw a lot of himself in her so he let her behaviour slide. One day on Carrick station he was approached by a droid, claiming it had an important transmission for him, Galactis agreed to hear things out and was greeted by a holo of Darth Malgus, who luckily didn’t know who Galactis was outside of being the sith who defeated Nomen Karr, inviting Galactis to help find someone known as the emperors jedi prisoner and to meet with a moff, the champion of the great hunt, Lord Kallig and his Dashade, Khem Val and an agent from imperial intelligence to infiltrate a republic capital ship and take control of it, which they did. Afterwards they were sent to a place called the foundry to take care of the escaped prisoner, finding droids commanded by a unique droid that called itself HK-47, the 5 made quick work, of it, the agent from intelligence, Cipher 9, began going through files to find out who this prisoner was, the only name he could find was Revan, this peaking the attention of the 2 other sith Lords who said they had heard that name from a cult on dromund kaas, The bounty hunter and Galactis had no clue what they were on about of course, eventually the 5 became face to face with Revan himself, Galactis, not a fan of monologues made a pre-emptive strike and was sent flying backwards, and Revan continued his monologue, and the 5 engaged the mad jedi master in combat eventually however they weren’t sure if he died or not as he disappeared in a blinding light. Revan had certainly left a bad taste in Galactis’ mouth, returning to his ship he explained what had happened to his crew members, which prompted Quinn to start lecturing everyone about imperial history (end of part 1)

[brokeco]

Far-Flung Hopes, ch1

I posted this on AO3, thought I would post it here too.

Summary: The force had two children, six thousand years apart. Dooku imagined it was about time these children meet, whether they liked it or not. ---------- The fic where Revan possesses Anakin.

Anakin knew he only had himself to blame for his capture.

He hadn’t expected, when he reached Dathomir, to be blindsided by Dooku while fighting some Nightsisters. He knew that by now, his dear Obi-Wan, Rex, and Ahsoka would be looking for him. Would probably be close to finding him too. But for some reason, this felt different.

For one, he expected Dooku to torture him for troop movements or strategies. Or even just for fun. But the Count didn’t, had even made sure that the droids guiding him to his cell didn’t “damage” him. Secondly, Dooku seemed to be moving on a timeline. Cell transfers were exactly on the hour from prison to Separatist base to underground prison. The Count also took particular care to make sure that everything on Anakin was “only of the highest quality”. His robes were replaced with something that looked traditional for Sith, his hand repaired before cuffing him with Force-blockers. They had even washed the dirt off his face and out of his hair. They tried to feed him, but he refused food and drink. If Dooku and his forces wanted Anakin well-fed, he’d starve himself. That seemed to upset the Count, but he didn’t say anything about it. Didn’t try to force-feed him, which Anakin was almost sure he would do.

At the time of Dathomir’s late night, Anakin could hear two sets of feet outside of his cell. Then voices. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but one of them was definitely Dooku and the other sounded female. He doesn’t know if he recognized the voice, but he certainly didn’t like the sound of it.

The door opened, showing Anakin that he was right: Dooku stood before him with a woman who looked like the holos of Mother Talzin, the leader of the Nightsisters. While Dooku approached Anakin, lifting from where he sat in his cell, Talzin seemed to regard him, looking into his soul.

“It is, indeed, as you say.” Talzin finally said to Dooku, both of them completely ignoring Anakin’s cursing. “Don’t mark him.” She commanded, looking intently at where Dooku grabbed his arm.

“It’s metal, my dear. It won’t be damaged.” Dooku supplied.

“It won’t be damaged, but you will be!” Anakin yelled, kicking his feet. It didn’t stop or slow Dooku’s dragging him however. “What in the Seven Hells are you doing?”

“If you really are the Chosen One, you’ll find out.” Dooku answered shortly, opening a door to the outside, a shuttle waiting for them. There were guards around it too, both Nightsisters and droids. No further words were exchanged through the three excluding Anakin’s grunts of frustration and the sounds of his feet hitting the durasteel beneath him.

Suddenly, he heard the sounds of another ship rapidly approaching. Dooku, Talzin, and Anakin all moved simultaneously to see a Republic ship flying straight to them. Anakin already knew it was Obi-Wan. It had to be.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it, as he was gently thrown into the transport, Dooku taking the pilot’s seat and Talzin keeping an eye on him in the back. They lift off quickly, but Anakin could see from the way Dooku was flying that Obi-Wan was right on his tail.

“So want to tell me where we’re going?” Anakin snarkily asked, not truly expecting an answer.

“We are taking you to Korriban, Force-child.” Talzin answered. Her voice seemed meant to soothe him, but it just made his stomach sink.

Anakin scowled. “Why?”

“You must fulfill your destiny.” She answered as if it were obvious. Anakin decided not to ask anything else, just so that he wouldn’t hear her voice anymore. By then, they had left the atmosphere and Dooku took a sharp left.

“Strap him in. We’re going to go through an asteroid field.” Dooku called behind him. Anakin almost felt nauseated when he felt Talzin’s long and bony fingers grab him to put him in a seat.

Skywalker had to give it to Dooku: he was a good pilot. His nausea grew when he realized that Dooku was a better pilot than Obi-Wan. They emerged from the field and Anakin could practically taste Dooku’s satisfaction in the air. “That shall delay them. But not for long.”

“Nightsisters are on Korriban, and shall delay them further once they have arrived.” Talzin replied serenely. Dooku nodded before turning his attention to Anakin, an eyebrow raising at the sight of the Jedi.

“You’ve paled considerably.” Dooku said to Anakin, resting his hand on Anakin’s forehead, checking the younger’s temperature. Anakin almost recoiled at the cold feel of the hand on his face. “You feel fine. Did you have a problem leaving the atmosphere, I wonder?”

“He is a Force-child. He’s had those Force-blockers on for hours now. It must be affecting him physically.” Talzin dismissed when Anakin growled at Dooku instead of answering him.

Dooku hummed at that. “Indeed.” The Count returned to steering them, still at the fastest speed he could get the shuttle without entering hyperspeed. Anakin blanched again when Korriban entered their sight. “Are you quite sure he’s alright?”

“I didn’t say he was alright, Count. I simply explained why he isn’t.” Talzin responded with a grin, watching humorously as the Sith’s frown deepened.

“Indeed.” The Count repeated gruffly. When they landed, Anakin pressed himself into his seat, even as Dooku grabbed at him. He made sure he wasn’t so easily dragged, entire body limp in Dooku’s hands. It took the combined effort of Talzin and Dooku to drag him out of the shuttle and into the near-destroyed Sith temple. Before the doors closed behind them, however, Anakin could see Obi-Wan’s shuttle entering the atmosphere. With a smile, he began to kick again, ignoring the slowly-growing nauseous feeling in his throat and stomach. Dooku huffed at the action, but made no attempt to stop him, just continuing to drag the younger down a spacious hallway.

They entered a large, barely-lit room swarming with Nightsisters. At the center of the room was a stone coffin, embellished with carvings and gold figures of all kinds. Two stone stands stood on either side of the room, both of which with lightsabers presented on top. A couple of Nightsisters sat in a circle around the room’s edge, each on some Sith symbol on the ground. The others seemed to be there entirely for protection, weapons in their hands. Just as Anakin was about to say something, he was lifted suddenly, laid onto the coffin, chains quickly replacing the Force-cuffs.

Dooku turned to Talzin from where she seemed to set herself up in the circle on the ground. “I do believe we should start this ritual quickly, if we have any hope if it working.”

She nodded at him, watching as he stood at the doorway, ready for the Jedi that would show up at any moment. “The mask.” Talzin commanded a Nightsister who approached Anakin quickly. As soon as she entered his sight, he recognized the mask from his studies as a child in the temple.

Darth Revan’s mask, thought lost to the sands of time.

Anakin fought against his restraints, but the mask was strapped onto him quickly. His breath came in deeply, echoing in his ears. Talzin and some of the other Nightsisters began some chanting, but Anakin couldn’t focus on what they were saying, a purple fog suddenly covering him. Panic almost gripped him before he realized that he could feel Obi-Wan and Ahsoka and an entire squad lead by Rex and Cody were all making their way down the hall.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin yelled, trying to see passed the fog. “Obi-Wan!”

“Can’t you shut him up?” Dooku asked, not receiving an answer from the still-chanting Talzin. Soon enough, Obi-Wan was in-sight, Ahsoka and Rex hot on his tail, weapons at the ready. “Your timing, as usual, is impeccable.” Dooku drawled as he shot lightning at the group. Obi-Wan quickly blocked it with his saber, but was pushed back. Ahsoka ran passed him, jumping behind Dooku, only to have Nightsisters jump at her and the troopers trying to run in.

Anakin, meanwhile, felt his head swim, something slowly making itself at home in his mind. “Obi!” He called pathetically. He couldn’t see any of them. He could feel them fighting, but they weren’t fast enough. “Master, please!” His voice wasn’t completely his own, hearing the deep voice of someone that wasn’t there before. Immediately, he felt Obi-Wan push himself into the room, trying desperately to make it past Dooku in order to free Skywalker.

“Hold on, Anakin!” Obi-Wan called to him. “I’ll be right there!”

As the fog finally completely covered his body, mind numb, Anakin whispered. “I can’t.”

The fog exploded outwards as Force-lightning struck the tall ceiling and traveled along the symbols there before striking Anakin, who wasn’t himself anymore. The lightsabers on either side of him flew towards the coffin and were caught by suddenly-free hands. Obi-Wan could feel that there was a new presence as they all stopped fighting to marvel at the event before them.

The fog lifted, revealing the now-free body of Anakin, possessed by the shattered heart of the Force themself, Darth Revan. The ancient spirit seemed to size them all up, gaze lingering on Obi-Wan.

They lifted their hand, and as suddenly as their fighting stopped, the Nightsisters, Talzin included, went limp, their unconscious bodies hitting the ground. “It most certainly wasn’t their idea to raise me from my slumber.” Revan spoke, deep voice carrying and piercing the hearts of the clones and Jedi.

Dooku merely smirked. “It was mine, my Lord.” Dooku approached the ancient being, bowing respectfully. “Another war calls to you --” He was cut short, Revan’s red blade burning through his heart.

“I never asked to wake.” Revan explained simply as Dooku’s body fell before him. Revan looked to who was left, only one person not raising their weapon at the slight movement. “Jedi.” Revan addressed Obi-Wan, approaching him despite the weapons trained on them. “Are you not afraid?”

“No.” Obi-Wan answered dully.

“Why is that?” They asked, head cocking in confusion.

“The body that you are currently inhabiting is a very good friend of mine. I could never be afraid of him.” Obi-Wan looked Revan up and down, their form familiar but so different. “I doubt anyone in his body would attempt to hurt me.”

Revan hummed, body close to Obi-Wan’s as they looked to the others, gaze first resting on Ahsoka. “You’re a child.” They stated simply.

“No!” Ahsoka pouted, weapons still ready.

“How old are you?” They asked simply.

When Ahsoka didn’t answer, Obi-Wan did. “She’s 16.” Revan hummed again at Obi-Wan.

“She’s very short and thin for a Togruta of her age.” Revan noted. Suddenly, they took off their cloak, handing it to Ahsoka. “It’s very cold in the desert at night. And you are very small. You’ll need something to warm you.” Ahsoka hesitantly accepted after Obi-Wan nodded to her.

“Thanks?” Ahsoka said, even as she no longer held Revan’s attention.

Revan looked towards Cody and Rex, who still held their blasters up, but not necessarily at the ready. “There is something odd about and your fellow troopers.” They stated.

“They’re clones.” Obi-Wan supplemented, finally regaining Revan’s attention. “That’s what’s odd.”

“And yet, they are different in the eyes of the Force.” Revan wondered aloud. “We should leave before this miserable group awakens.” Revan nodded towards the Nightsisters, slipping quickly past Obi-Wan, walking down the hall. The others looked between themselves before quickly following Revan out.

[spectraspecs-writes]

Dantooine - Chapter 49

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 48. Chapter 50.

I feel a little silly for picking which door to go through first, which is why I only do it in my head - “Eenie meanie miney moe, catch a kath hound by the toe, if he bites you let him go, eenie meanie miney moe, my mother told me to pick the very best one and you are it.” The east door. Okay. Here goes. I open the door and a blaster bolt comes out. Droid. “Cover me, guys.” And then another blaster bolt flies and the droid blows up. Carth puts his blaster back in its holster. “Nice shot,” I say, stunned a bit, “You hit the power module dead on.”

“Can we keep going please?” I would bask in the astonishment a bit longer but, hey, dude, it’s up to you. 

I slide past the fallen beam that divides the room in two, towards a computer terminal. If it speaks in ancient Selkath, too, this should be interesting to say the least. The computer, I guess, senses me coming, and turns on before I even touch it. The screen lights up and shows me a stream of pretty-looking but unintelligible characters. “Alright, buddy, what are you trying to tell me?”

“Rena, are you… talking to the computer?” Bastila asks me, looking a bit weirded out. 

“Hey, you never know, it could work.”

“Has it ever worked before?”

“Well, no, but that’s no reason to stop.”

She rolls her eyes and mumbles something that I can’t understand so I turn back to the computer. It stops humming and the screen goes blank. Then it starts beeping, emitting a bunch of tones until it stops. From my datapad, I hear one of the same tones. My datapad doesn’t generally beep. Then a slot opens up on the terminal, just the right size for my datapad. So I pull it out of my back pocket. “Is this what you want?”

“You’re seriously going to give your datapad to a strange computer?” Bastila asks. (And at the same time, Carth asks, “You keep your datapad in your back pocket?” I can’t believe everybody doesn’t do that.)

“It’s not like I can’t get another datapad,” I say with a shrug, “Besides, I’ve got a hunch.” And I put my datapad into the slot. It hums and beeps some more, before some characters I recognize appear on the screen.. if not in a comprehensible order.

“Hrsiki? Jsoofs oiuwn so h itasoo'khf?” is what the screen displays.

“Keep trying, bud, you’ll get there,” I say to the computer. It hums again, and the gibberish disappears from the screen. Then it ejects my datapad and a comprehensible sentence appears on the screen. “Data Interpretation – Complete. Language Analysis – Complete. Interrogative: Identify the three primary life-giving seed world types.” I think I understood that. It displays a list of six habitat types - oceanic, grassland, desert, volcanic, arboreal, and barren. Well, only three of them have much life on them, oceanic, arboreal, and grassland, so those are the ones I go with. “Breaking life seal,” the computer says, and it shuts off.

“Well, that was simple enough,” I say, “Let’s hope the second is just as simple.”

We head for the west door, and the exact same thing happens - a droid fires a bolt off at us, and we duck out of sight against the wall. “Carth, any chance at another good shot?”

He takes a look very quickly, and dodges another bolt. “No, there’s an energy shield up, it won’t do a damn thing.”

Okay. Deep breath, deep breath. “Bastila, Carth, I’m going to jump over the droid right to the computer…”

“You can do that?” Carth interrupts.

“I know, surprised me, too,” I say quickly before getting back to my plan, “I jump over, you two cover me. Sound good?”

Both nod and say something to the affirmative. “Okay, one… two… three… go!” And like a well-orchestrated piece, we all spring into action. As I jump over the droid, Bastila and Carth rush the droid. Working well together - it’s neat to look at but I don’t have the time. The computer is what I should focus on right now. It spits out the same unintelligible characters the other one did. “Come on, buddy, work with me,” I mutter at it quickly, hearing the sounds of Carth and Bastila fighting behind me. (“The shield’s down!” I hear Bastila shout. Great, maybe the battle will end fairly quickly.) A slot opens up for my datapad just like before, and I put it in, getting the same nonsense as before. “Keep going, figure out the language.” And after another moment to process, it spits my datapad back out, having completed language analysis.

“Interrogative: Identify the three primary death-giving seed world types.” It gives me the same list of six as the other computer did, and I put in the three that I didn’t use before - barren, volcanic, and desert. “Breaking death seal.” The sounds of the battle stop with a final slice from Bastila’s lightsaber, cutting the droid’s head unit off from the rest of its body. Well, okay, I was thinking that getting the computer out of the way would shut the droid down, but I guess now we’ll never know.

“I guess that means we’re worthy,” I say. And we head back and open the south door, behind the Guardian droid. 

In the center of the room is a strange spire. But as we step closer, it opens with a loud mechanical whir. I see a big ball spin, and then a star chart appears, illuminating the cold, dark room. “This…” Bastila starts to say softly, “this must be what Revan and Malak found when they entered this temple. This must be where their journey down the Dark Side began.”

“I don’t get it,” I say, “I mean, it’s just a star chart.”

“Yes, you’re right,” she says, “Revan and Malak must have used this to lead them to the Star Forge. We could use this map to follow their path and find the Star Forge ourselves. But we must be wary… they may have laid traps or concealed what they found.”

“We don’t even have any idea what the Star Forge does, though,” I say, “Or even why they wanted to find it.”

“No, but they obviously did want to find it,” Bastila says, “It must be a tool of some type... or maybe a weapon. Perhaps the Council can tell us more. But I think this map might be the key to finding the Star Forge, whatever it is. See this world here?” I look where she points. This looks like Korriban, a Sith world.” I have to take her word for it there - it’s been a while since I studied the charts for anything closer than the Outer Rim. “And if that's Korriban, then this is... Kashyyyk... and Tatooine... and here's Manaan.” Again, I trust her. “But there are pieces missing: incomplete hyperspace coordinates, corrupted data... and there doesn't seem to be anything indicating where the Star Forge itself might be.”

I take a look at the map. “Maybe there are clues on those worlds - maps like this one with more complete data.”

“My thoughts precisely,” she says, “This map can't take us to the Star Forge, but I know that Revan and Malak visited Korriban at least once. Perhaps they discovered something more there. They may have found something on each of the other worlds that completed this map. Maybe if we find all the pieces they will lead us to the Star Forge… and some way to destroy it.”

“That sounds like quite a supposition,” Carth says, “What if you’re wrong?”

“What if I'm right?” Bastila says, coming off harsher than she probably meant, “We can't ignore this. Finding the Star Forge might very well be the key to defeating the Sith! We must inform the Council of what we have discovered. They must decide our next course of action, though I suspect our task has only just begun…”

------

The Council takes us right into their Chambers, again leaving Carth outside. Honestly, if I were him I’d hate that. Master Vandar sees us first. “Ah,” he says, “you have returned, young Padawan. Have you discovered what it was that Revan and Malak sought in those ruins?”

“We found a Star Map, incomplete, and a droid that kept talking about something called the Star Forge,” I say, “The droid’s memory and processing units were in good shape, so it wasn’t babbling, and it gave the impression that this Star Forge is pretty serious business.”

“This news of a Star Forge is disturbing,” Master Vandar says, “Action is required, but we must not do so in haste. We must discuss recent events in light of this new information.”

“We should consult the Jedi archives to see if there is any mention of this 'Star Forge' and what it might do,” Master Vrook says, “We must learn why Revan and Malak sought it out.”

“Return to your ship with Bastila,” Master Vandar says, “and we will summon you when we are done.”

It’s several hours and several hands of Pazaak before the Council calls us back. Again, Vandar is the first to speak. “Padawan,” he says, “you have done well in discovering the Star Map hidden within the ancient ruins. But there is more you must do in the battle against Malak and the Sith. We Jedi know victory over the Sith will not come through martial might. The Council has a mission for you, Padawan.”

Master Dorak, looking frazzled, tells us, “I have consulted our vast archives in an effort to discover the nature of this 'Star Forge', but all my efforts have been in vain.”

“Still,” Vrook says, “the Council are in agreement: the Star Forge must be found! Revan and Malak sought it out when they began their tragic fall; the Star Forge is surely a powerful tool of the Dark Side.”

“The Star Map in the ruins showed you four planets, but it was incomplete,” Master Vandar says, “It did not show the location of the Star Forge itself. We believe there may be similar Star Maps on other planets. Each Star Map is likely a small piece of a larger puzzle. Find the Star Maps on Kashyyyk, Tatooine, Manaan and Korriban and we believe they will lead you to the Star Forge.”

“I’ll do my best,” I say.

“The Jedi numbers have been ravaged by this war,” Vandar says, “by defections to Malak's cause and by Sith assassins. But we realize the importance of this mission. Yet if we sent a company of Jedi Knights with you we would surely draw the full attention of Malak and the Sith, dooming your efforts to failure.”

“But I don’t think I’d be well off alone, either.”

“Secrecy is our best defense against the Sith, but it would be foolish to send you on this quest without someone to aid you, young Padawan. Bastila will accompany you, for there is a powerful connection between you two… a connection that might be the key to unravelling the mysteries uncovered by Revan. And Juhani has also asked to accompany you. After long deliberation we have granted her request.” Juhani! I'll be glad to spend time with her!

“Juhani nearly fell to the dark side,” Vrook says, ever the downer, “Perhaps her presence will serve as a reminder to you of the dangers of that path.”

“I would like my friends from Taris to come as well.” I’d be lost with my best friends Carth and Mission, Canderous’ stories, T3’s skills, Zaalbar’s… Zaalbar.

“Of course,” Vandar says, “They possess skills you may find useful in your quest. Remember that secrecy and discretion are paramount to your success. You will not be able to hide the fact that you are Jedi, nor should you. But the true nature of your mission must not reach Malak's ears. You may return here at any time. Dantooine will be a sanctuary for you, a safe haven. Here you can find supplies and whatever advice or other aid we may give you.”

“I won’t disappoint you,” I say.

“You can leave whenever you wish; the sooner the better,” Vrook says, “The longer you wait the stronger Malak becomes. But first a warning, young Padawan: The lure of the Dark Side is difficult to resist. I fear this quest to find the Star Forge could lead you down an all too familiar path.”

“The fate of the galaxy is in your hands, young Padawan,” Vandar concludes, “We pray you are up to the challenge. May the Force be with you.”

[shabre-legacy]

Nyaisa Shabre

Nyaisa was born on Ord Mantell in the tiny village of Krosstoen, which was mostly Mirialan and Cathar, with a few human families who liked the quiet. She was the oldest of triplets and the second child/first daughter of Nezva Shabre (may or may not be her actual name, Nyaisa becomes unsure) and Jedi Knight Riqr (she doesn’ t know this until her brother finds out and tells her.) When she’s 3 her mother marries her stepfather, who then brings them into his farm equipment repair shop. When she is 5, they go on a trip to another part of Ord for her stepfathers work. During this time, her younger sister disappears for about a day and a half before they find her. She doesn’t really remember this, but finds the situation funny whenever it’s brought up again with her siblings as adults. When she’s 6, a group of slavers hit Krosstoen Village, using the chaos of the war everywhere to cover their tracks and distract most soldiers so they can grab more people. Nyaisa sees her sisters, the other 2 triplets, thrown into a shuttle that takes off, before she is grabbed herself. 

Before the shuttle she’s in can take off, she is dragged out and set on the ground by a Republic soldier. They arrived and started fighting the slavers, trying to rescue as many people as they could. She ran out of the village and ended up meeting the refugee shuttle that took her over to Fort Garnik. She ended up living in the refugee camp set up outside the fort for a year, during which time she found her mother who’ d been severely injured in the fighting and wasn’t capable of caring for her anymore. A year later, a representative from Mirial showed up. Her mother was sent to Coruscant for medical treatment and Nyaisa, her cousins, and the other Mirialan children were taken to Mirial and placed into one of the large academies on the planet. While most students attended during the day, heading back to their families after school. The kids from Ord and a few others who lived far from the academy they were attending lived at the academy full time. 

She studies at the academy for years. When the treaty is signed, Mirial is one of many planets that are turned over to the empire. However due to the fact that the planet doesn’t have a lot in terms of resources the empire values and the climate isn’t suitable for a food planet. They are mostly allowed to keep their own culture for a time. But as imperial laws get imposed, tensions increase. Force sensitive children who would have either held a place in their society or joined the Jedi are smuggled out early alongside the force sensitive members of the society which leaves the people shaken from their loss. Whether they escaped or went to Korriban it didn’t matter. The communities lost most of their guides. Like on other planets, everything of value was shipped to the empire and the refugees living there found an attempt at rebuilding their lives destroyed with the incoming imperial troops. While most stayed loyal to the republic, some blamed them for taking large numbers of their people as soldiers and keeping them away from their home when the republic, in their eyes, abandoned the system. Others viewed it as a punishment by the republic for the side Mirial choose when they backed the empire and Malak. An organized resistance was established, trying to push the imperials off the planet, regardless of the feelings toward the republic,, which varied widely, it was pretty well accepted that the empire didn’t respect them or their culture and were going to destroy it. 

This caused Nyaisa to stop going to the academy and instead enlist in the resistance at 15. This is where she got her basic combat training and guerilla experience. She served ‘til she was 18 when she realized that even if they pushed the imperials off, without trade, they’d starve, especially with their still very very large refugees population already straining the food supply and the increased taxes taking almost everything, so the only future they had was in the republic, and for that to happen they had to push the empire to the side of the planet away from the trade routes. So to protect her people’s future, she enlisted in the republic military and entered their academy. Her time in the resistance is something she guards carefully. Not speaking off it often or without thought. 

She moves quickly through the academy, she excels as a soldier, testing into an accelerated program, graduating and moving into the field. While she is in the academy, she almost has a thing with a cathar named Ikhirr, but it doesn’t go anywhere. Later she ends up dating a soldier about to graduate, Nordan Allgard, despite occasional rocky patches, they end up sticking it out through her graduation and both their deployments. She starts out being transferred between units every few months. Her longest posting is as a specialist when she is assigned to a squad lead by Lt. Eddgar Jessoul. It wasn’t long after she’d joined that they were assigned a high risk mission with Jedi assistance which wasn’t common after the war. This was when she was reunited with her older brother Jedi Padawan Tyrenic. She believed that he had died during the Sacking of Coruscant when the temple fell. She also believes that her sisters died not long after they were taken. The only family she knows are a few cousins that she doesn’t keep close contact with. A few weeks later, Ikhirr Jhasis, who she knew from the academy, they served together for a while until she’s transferred again.

When she’s 23, she’s promoted to Sergeant, and receives a Transfer into Special Forces Havoc Squad, which despite her difficulties with Nordan, is something she thinks will make him proud of her success. She is quite proud of herself and is determined to be the best soldier possible and uphold the republic, for all people, but also for her people and her home. 

[ryder-s-block]

Jaig Eyes (Ch 40)

Jaig Eyes (40/?)

A Clone Wars Fanfic

Summary:

Kida, a former slave who now thrives as a bounty hunter, finds herself sucked into the war she advised Jango Fett against. Now that she's involved, she has to finally mourn the loss of Jango, seeing his face in the clones that man the GAR. What happens when she allows herself to get attached to one, not for his resemblance to her former mentor, but for his heart?

----------------------------------------

Chapter Forty: The Valley of the Sleeping Kings

Sweat poured down my face as I went through the moves Darth Bane had instructed me through for what felt like the thousandth time. My ancestor’s blade laid atop the sarcophagus at the end of the room. Bane had been pleased with my discovery, though I had removed the talisman before approaching my master again. I also didn’t mention the Kissai who had shown me the way.

Maybe it was because I feared sharing in this little victory. Then again, I think it was more fear that my master would be displeased that I needed help.

Yet, despite his pleasure in my finding the saber, he had yet to let me use it. For three days, he had trained me in physical maneuvers and acrobatics. I had known how to fight for most of my life, but never before had I incorporated the Force in my movements. 

Bane instructed me on how to leap higher. Move faster. Hit harder. All using the Force to propel myself. I was clumsy at it, at best, despite Bane’s insistence that my lineage was one of power. 

I fell after my final spin through a move, panting hard against the floor.

“Get up,” Darth Bane growled above me, his form hovering in the darkness. 

“I’ve done this a thousand times,” I argued, feeling angry and worn. “I’m not getting any better.”

“You must keep yourself strong. The purest expression of victory is through combat.”

“I’m not fighting anything!” I yelled angrily, feeling my own Force signature strengthen through my rage, darkening the room. 

“You’re unfocused,” my master insisted. “I feel your mind wandering to your curiosities about your past. About this planet.”

“I-” I thought about arguing against that, but in the end, he was right. I felt him in my mind anyways. He knew the truth. “I’m sorry,” I finally offered. 

“Rest, my apprentice,” Bane assured, though I could feel his frustration ripple in the Force. He floated over to his sarcophagus, gesturing to the lightsaber that laid there. “Your questions will be answered in time.”

“When?” I asked, knowing it was out of turn but not really caring. Being in Bane’s presence made me so...angry. 

I felt my master’s own rage billow and darken the room. I recoiled only slightly, feeding off of his energy. “When I say you’re ready,” he replied with menace. “Now get out.”

I bowed my head immediately before retreating from the chamber. 

Over a week had passed since I’d first arrived on the desolate planet of Korriban. Over a week that I had been officially training as a Sith apprentice. At least...supposedly I was a Sith apprentice. I didn’t feel very...sith-like. I was angry a lot, sure. But I always had been. It wasn’t like I wanted to run around slicing the heads off of everyone who ever wronged me.

But maybe that wasn’t what the sith was.

Bane had been instructing me on the ancient styles of fighting. Apparently the jedi taught six styles of fighting, but Bane only believed in two. Well...three...but he insisted that Juyo was too advanced for me at this time. At my prodding, he’d only told me that I’d likely tapped into the style a little when battling Dooku, since it allows emotions to drive ones movements, making them unpredictable. Apparently it can be dangerous. It was surprising really, that despite Bane’s teachings surrounding emotion and passion...he also insisted on never completely succumbing to them. He had said, “You’re a Sith, not an animal.”

Of course, none of this was helpful to me if he wouldn’t let me use a damned lightsaber. I grumpily kicked at the ground as I exited the temple, making my way through the fading light of the setting sun back towards my shuttle. 

My anger fell away upon exiting, though my frustration remained. He’d helped me use the Force to an extent, though it made me a bit uncomfortable. When I’d used it in the past, it had always been desperate situations. Or if I was trying to do it, the Force was almost...gentle. 

Under Bane’s tutelage, it was far more powerful, but angry and writhing. Difficult to control.

It made me nervous.

I figured that Bane could sense that. Maybe that was why he hadn’t let me use my ancestor’s lightsaber yet. I chewed my lips grumpily at my confusion. I was frustrated with everything. Frustrated with my new master. Frustrated that I couldn’t move smoothly through the forms like he wanted. Frustrated that the jedi didn’t trust me. Frustrated that Rex wasn’t there.

And frustrated that I’d expected him to be.

I was nearly to my shuttle when my senses sparked to life. I mentally scolded myself for leaving my pistols aboard my shuttle. I mean...what use were they to me in training with my master? For starters, he was my teacher, not my enemy. And even if he did try to hurt me, I had a feeling a blaster wasn’t going to help against a Sith Lord that was basically undead.

Thus, instead of drawing a weapon, I placed myself in a ready stance as I neared my shuttle, eyes vigilant. I hoped the Force training Bane had given me thus far would be enough. Whatever it was...felt dark.

When I rounded the side of the shuttle however, there was nothing there. Nervous, with the hairs on my neck raised, I slowly entered my shuttle. I didn’t close the door behind me, since I continued to hold out hope that Yilria would return and answer some questions. Not that I was sure if she even needed the door open, but I guess it was the thought that counted. She hadn’t come in yet, but I’d seen her outside my shuttle a few times, regarding me with an unreadable expression. Whenever I raced outside to speak with her, though, she was always gone.

I went about cleaning myself off from the day’s training, changing my clothes to looser fitting pants and shirt. As I wiped away the wetness from my hair, I moved to cut the strands that were beginning to grow longer, curling over my ears.

“Nu kais zhol anas qo.”

“Osi’kyr!” I cursed, whirling to see Yilria standing behind me in the cargo bay. She wore the same robes she had worn when I first saw her. I suppose that made sense, considering she was a ghost. “You scared me,” I followed more calmly.

She cocked her head at me, her bone spurs shifting slightly when she scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. I put down the cutters to rummage in my drawer to find the amulet. Placing the Sith Abattar around my neck, I immediately felt its weight fall over me.

“I said that I liked your hair like this,” Yilria said immediately. “It would look nice longer.”

“Umm...thanks?” 

She didn’t respond, nor seem bothered by my confused state. She merely turned and walked out of the shuttle. “Come on,” the Pureblood called over her shoulder.

I followed immediately, only to find a rather empty courtyard around me. During my time cleaning myself up, night had fallen over Korriban, bathing it in a murky darkness. “Yilria?” I called in a soft whisper. I wasn’t sure why I was whispering. It’s not like anyone else was—

“AH!”

I fell back hard against the gangway of my shuttle, a snarling black muzzle in my face. The creature was massive with glowing red eyes and a spined back. Its razor-like claws scraped against the metal of the gangway beside my head. I breathed hard, trying to control my fear as the creature regarded me. Its gaping jaws drew closer to my face as it snarled, but before it did anything, it sniffed quickly. 

Its demeanor changed slightly. Still guarded, but almost curious looking. Confused. It backed off only slightly, its jaws giving me some room but its claws yielding nothing. I reflected the confusion I felt in the dark creature. “Why aren’t you…” I breathed aloud.

“The tuk’ata are guardians of these tombs and companions to Sith Kings,” a strong male voice spoke from somewhere behind the creature. “He can feel your royal lineage.”

“My...what?” Nothing this voice was saying was making sense. Still, as I felt the owner of the voice approach, the creature--the tuk’ata--moved away. The imposing figure that stood at the end of my gangway was clad in heavy-looking armor. The being was massive, the skin beneath his helmet looking charcoal-like in color.

“Who are you?” I asked, still sitting on my shuttle.

“Many once knew me as the Sith’ari. Though my given name was Adas, King of Korriban.”

I breathed out slowly in understanding. “You were a Sith,” I surmised. “Is your tomb here, too? Like Yilria?”

“You speak of the priestess,” he mused. “No, while my tomb is laid within the Valley of the Sleeping Kings,” he said as he gestured to the valley lined with temples and statues. “Yilria is not laid to rest here.”

“How can she be here then?”

King Adas, though I couldn’t see his whole face, seemed wistful. My people died in many parts of the galaxy, whether it was during our crusades of expansion or under the tyrannical rule of the fallen jedi. No matter where they fall, though, we often find our way back here.” He gestured to the barren planet, the tuk’ata sitting patiently behind him. “It is our homeworld, after all. She calls to us, even after death.”

I cleared my throat, my mind reeling with questions. “You called yourself the...Sith’ari?” He nodded once. “What is that?”

“Perhaps you can ask your new master that,” he sneered, turning away to walk with the tuk’ata.

My eyebrow rose as I scurried to follow him. “Wait, what is that about?”

The king regarded me with the yellow eyes of his species. “Our kind is not meant to bow before another. Especially one of your lineage.”

I scoffed angrily. “Everyone keeps talking about my lineage but I don’t even know what that is!”

King Adas was silent for a moment while he stopped in the dark moonlight of Korriban. My anger, though stronger and more wild on this planet, dissipated under his almost sad gaze. “Your lineage is my own.”

“W-what?”

“You are a descendent of the first Sith’ari. An overlord praised by my people for generations after my death.”

“I-” I struggled to find words. “Woah.”

To my surprise, the king chuckled lowly as he continued walking, his tuk’ata dutifully at his side. I fell in stride with them, my fear of the creature waning under the shock of this new information. 

“The Sith’ari will be free of limits,” Adas said suddenly, speaking as if reciting a mantra. “The Sith’ari will lead the Sith and destroy them. The Sith’ari will raise the Sith from death and make them stronger than before.”

He said nothing else, letting me absorb the words. “I don’t understand how you can be the Sith’ari,” I commented finally. “You didn’t destroy the Sith.”

“No,” he allowed. “Nor did I raise them from death. I made us strong. Defended us from conquerors who sought to enslave us. But in doing so, I proved the prophecy wrong. I died defending my people. The Sith’ari was supposed to be...invincible.” 

I hummed. “That’s unfair. No one is invincible.”

“No, child. They are not.”

“It’s honorable of a ruler to die defending his people,” I tried, truly believing the words. Adas glanced sideways at me, looking unsure, but gave me a nod nonetheless.

“Though many still regard me as the first Sith’ari, there have been others that believed they fit the role. Your new master is one of them.”

I shifted uncomfortably under the piercing gaze of my ancestor. “In a way, he did save the Sith, didn’t he? He kept it alive by making the rule of two.”

Adas billowed slightly with anger. I felt the Force flowing through him, but it felt different somehow. I briefly remembered how the Republic scholar had mentioned that the Sith had called their use of the Force...magic. Was it really actually different?

“Your new master is not a true sith. He is a usurper who assisted in the enslavement of my people. Our people. The Sith’ari is supposed to be a true descendant of the Sith lineage.”

I shuffled my feet over the sand-covered stones. “Bane is dead now...does it matter? There is no Sith’ari left.”

“A new power--one that has sat in hiding for centuries--is rising again in the galaxy. And it is very much alive. Can’t you feel it?” I shook my head in response. Adas hummed at me in thought. “You are young,” he mused. “I am a part of the galaxy in a new way now. In touch with its energies more than any living being. As is your new master.”

He spit the word master like it was sour on his tongue.

“Bane is teaching me to be strong,” I countered lightly. “You act as if I am his slave.”

My ancestor glanced sideways at me. “You have experienced slavery before, have you not?” I started, but nodded slowly at the king’s digging in my mind. “The people Bane descends from enslaved the Sith race. He is a slaver. Nothing more.”

“The Sith had slaves too,” I tried again. “That’s not something to be proud of.”

“And why not? We were strong. We are meant to be masters.”

I recoiled slightly at that sentiment, but said nothing. I could tell when I was about to start fighting a battle neither of us would win. Besides, Adas was talking. He was answering my questions--something Bane had yet to do. I wasn’t about to lose this opportunity for knowledge by starting a moral battle.

“You think that Bane is just using me?” I asked slowly.

“I think that Bane feels this new power growing and senses the weaknesses there. He wishes to prolong the life of the Sith ways as he sees them. He wants a new Sith’ari.”

I swallowed. “That’s not...me, right?”

“You are a true descendant of the Sith. Strong in our bloodline. Strong in the dark side. But you are conflicted. I can feel it within you. Your new master does as well.” Adas stepped closer to me. “Beware girl. Bane is a seducer. He will warp and control you until there is nothing left of you but what he wants.”

Adas moved to walk away, but I called after him, making him pause. “It’s just a prophecy, right?” I asked. “It’s not real.”

“There are some who call the jedi and the sith as zealots and imposters. Believing their beliefs to be falsified and mere tricks, rather than real power.” Adas turned to me fully, regarding me with his piercing gaze. “So I ask you, girl, who are you to say what is real and not real? You have great power, but you understand very little.”

“I want to understand. That’s why I’m learning from Darth Bane.”

His charcoal brow raised. “Continue your training if you feel you must. But if you truly wish to learn, you should learn from your ancestor.”

“You?” I asked, earning an incredulous laugh. I scowled in return. “What? It’s not like you’re doing anything.”

“Watch your tone, girl. You may be my descendant, but I am still a king. No. I meant your other ancestor who is far closer to you in time. She is where your bloodline first split.” I stood in silence as Adas’ image began to fade. “I speak of the priestess. Yilria. She was one of the first to mix blood with the fallen jedi.”

—————————————————-

MANDO’A

Osi’kyr— oh, shit!

[anchanted-one]

Eternal War. 28. The Alliance

The Gravestone docked at one of the larger hangars. Stepping out into the sun, Arro took a deep breath of the fresh forest air. He hadn’t been prepared for how beautiful the planet would be; the most azure of blue skies, rugged cliffs, blue and silver streams, and emerald forests. Reaching out with the Force, he was pleased to find that this world held a deep natural affinity for it; it was vibrant and strong. He stretched out his senses and felt the vast river of light that was the Force energize him and lift his spirits. 

“This is a beautiful world!” Arro sighed happily.

“I’m glad you approve,” Lana said with a chuckle. “It certainly is a good honeymoon destination. And speaking of which, we never really got the chance for ours. We’re going to Spira the first chance we get!”

“For you my Heart, we could leave right now!”

“Oh no we don’t! We’re waiting until you’re nice and recovered before you do anything too strenuous.”

Read on AO3

Arro joined the others in looking around interestedly. Parts of the base were still under construction but the essentials stood strong: several hangars for ships of up to three hundred meters’ length, a Command Center, Heavy Turbolaser Turrets for both air and ground defense, long-range sensors, Shield Generators, and power generators—geothermal and hydroelectric. 

“I like what you’ve done with the place!” Theron Shan nodded approvingly. “So we’re working on the Cantinas and barracks complexes next before we expand training facilities, right?”. 

“And that’s not even where it ends,” Lana said proudly. “We will be building farming and industrial settlements as well, to aim for some self-sufficiency. We had planned to make this a mid- or even long-term settlement in case this turned into a long war. We hadn’t counted on the Gravestone yet.”

“You’ve established a permanent colony here!” Arro was impressed. “A stronghold, even!”

“Why here?” Koth asked. 

“It’s remote, undiscovered, away from most Zakuulan hyper lanes, unsettled, and strong in the Force. But unlike Tython or Korriban, this world is balanced—it doesn’t lean Light or Dark, not even a bit.”

Farya nodded, impressed. “How’d you find it?”

Lana shrugged modestly. “The Force guided me here. I’ve always had a strong connection to it.”

Senya barked a laugh. “That would have sounded more impressive if Arro hadn’t uncovered the Gravestone like it was nothing!”

Chuckling again, Lana gestured to the people gathering around them. They seemed to come from all walks of life; Imperial, Republic, and even some Zakuulans; Soldiers, Jedi, Sith, mercenaries, engineers, scientists, and pilots; all from dozens of species. “This is our new Alliance now.”

“We need to give it a name,” Arro said. “The ‘Odessen Alliance’ sounds right!”

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Koth nodded impatiently, nudging Arro forward. “Now show them what you’re made of.”

“Hello!” Arro nervously smiled at everyone. “My name is Arro. Err- I’m a Jedi.”

**

Arro was increasingly impressed by his tour of the different enclaves; Military, Logistics and Information, Science and Technology, and Force. Each were getting beyond optimal levels of output with limited resources. The Smuggler hero Hylo Visz just winked when asked where they were getting their funds from, though she did sober up and explain that they would need to find a better sponsor fast. “I have someone looking into that though,” she said, expression between fond and irritated. “He and his partners are working on getting us a large slush-fund that should help us keep the doors open for the next few years.”

The respected Hutt scientist, Doctor Illip Oggurobb, was just as enthusiastic about his research as Arro remembered. “While we are ahead in some ways, in others we are outclassed. In this hallowed temple of science, I aim to reduce that gap, eliminate it entirely, then widen it again but in our favor this time. To that end I will need to gather the best minds the galaxy has to offer, and get us all creating together.”

Arro grinned. “I expect nothing less, Doctor. And with you as Head of our Science Enclave I think we stand a very real chance of accomplishing that goal.”

Oggurobb nodded approvingly. Arro continued. “I have another little riddle for you; the riddle of the Carbonite Poisoning.”

“Aah yes!” The Hutt boomed delightedly. “As we discussed during the holocall, it would be my pleasure to study your symptoms to study the effect of long term Carbonite imprisonment on your mental faculties, in addition to that rare poisoning.”

“You’re in luck since I’m still suffering from hibernation sickness. I need to rest and recover anyways, so I won’t be doing anything too stressful for the next few weeks. You should have me to yourself for a while. Just don’t do anything invasive without my approval.”

“‘Without my approval’, he says!” Oggurobb laughed. “Not to worry, I am not one of those hacks who needs to cut open his patients to study their symptoms. A few interviews, and blood and tissue samples are all I need.”

The Military Enclave was led by Admiral Bey’wan Aygo, and consisted of professional soldiers of all specialties from all sides of the war, as well as beings that had served with local militias and police forces. There were many more present than Arro had expected, and despite their different origins, saluted as one when he arrived to inspect them. They wore their old uniforms, but their chestplates were striped blue and red, and the insignias on their shoulders bore a fused Republic and Sith device. “Amazing recruitment efforts, eh, Jedi?” The Bothan Admiral grinned. “Many soldiers here who, uh, disagree with the tyranny of Arcann’s rule, seen the tributes slowly sucking the life out of countless worlds. And ever since the Battle of Asylum, our feelers are picking up more and more recruits every hour. Within a few weeks, we should have a force numbering in the tens of thousands! With these numbers we can maintain a decent garrison here, while also forming special units for surgical strikes.”

“I am most impressed, Admiral.” Arro bowed. Aygo’s Second in command, Commodore Pardex called a command and the troops dispersed in good order.

“There is one thing, however.” The Bothan brought Arro’s attention to a holoprojector displaying an Orbital station. “These are what Zakuulans call ‘Star Fortresses’. They’ve been built around dozens of key worlds like Corellia, Dromund Kaas, Coruscant, and many others. These are heavily armed bases that are meant to keep these worlds in line—and to punish them if they rebel. We will need to destroy as many of these as we can, in as short a timespan as possible. Trouble is, they’re shielded and armored. They have turrets and missile launchers to defend against air raids, and sizable garrisons under command of an elite bunch called ‘Exarchs’. We still know next to nothing about them, but during your rescue, Lana secured a lot of data, including schematics of the Star Fortresses. These are still being decrypted though. I recommend they be our first priority as soon as they’re decrypted.”

“Very Well, Admiral.” Arro nodded. “Once you know what you need, let me know, we can begin putting together a concrete plan.”

The Force Enclave was what Arro had been looking forward to—and apprehensive about the—most. Both Jedi and Sith had been hit hard by Zakuul’s war. There weren’t supposed to be many of either Order left. Certainly not enough for a Round Two. And led by a Voss Mystic, who for all their gifts in foresight, knew nothing of Jedi or Sith. Add to that their ancient rivalry and he was worried about them working together. It had taken the combined wills of Darth Marr and Grand Master Satele to keep the alliance at Yavin IV together.

But when he entered the enclave he was greeted by a sight that greatly lifted his spirits. The Jedi and Sith were each doing their own tasks—and some were even working together. There were even some Voss present. Among the Jedi there were many he recognized, including Jasme Shan, Theron’s twin sister. She bounced over to him with her typical enthusiasm when she saw him enter.

“Arro! Arro, you’re here, you’re really here!” She beamed, wringing his hands.

“So they tell me!” Arro smiled at her. “It’s good to see you again Jasme. I was happy to hear that you made it through the war alright.”

“Made it through alright?” Jasme repeated, amused. “I worked in the archives, remember?”

“That doesn’t automatically make you safe, remember?”

Jasme had been on Tython during the attack orchestrated by the Revanites. She had only narrowly escaped death—Darth Prowle had spared all unarmed personnel, including Force-wielders if they surrendered. Under any other Sith commander, the order would have been to kill.

“Well, that’s true,” she admitted, joy fading. Her angular features turned downcast as she recalled memories that no doubt haunted her dreams. “Zakuul attacked Tython as well. But unlike the Sith, their attack began with an orbital strike. Me, several other archivists, and Master Zoran secured our master Holocron and as many other sources and relics as possible and took shelter in the bunker when it started. There weren’t many of us left by then, so Master Zoran ordered everyone to just surrender without a fight when the Zakuulans landed. There was no ground attack, but there were casualties in the bombardment itself.”

“I’m so sorry you had to live through that,” Arro whispered, silently adding to himself Again.

“Well, after that the Zakuulans pulled back, and we that survived left with the relief force once it arrived. There was no Order left for us on Tython. Only ghosts.”

“But here on Odessen,” a gentle voice said. “We can begin anew.”  The voice belonged to the Voss Mystic who led this assorted bunch.

“Mystic Sana-Rae,” Arro bowed to her. “A pleasure to meet you in person. I see you’re off to a splendid start. I am most grateful for your talent.”

“Thank you. But your gratitude is not necessary,” she murmured. “The Mystics see; the Voss respond. We do what we must to protect Voss. In working with you, we serve the Galaxy, we serve Voss. It is we who are honored, Commander.”

**

In the Throne Room of the Eternal Empire, Akahte stood nearby as Emperor Arcann and his sister High Justice Vaylin watched a very disturbing Holorecording. A sped-up recording of just over a dozen technicians working desperately at their terminals. Right behind them stood the dreaded Outlander himself, he who had killed the Immortal Emperor. He stood with a look of intense concentration on his face, staring at everything through eyes half-closed. His eyeballs seemed a blur as they shifted focus across several different subjects every second. Flashing emergency beacons lighting the background hinted at the cacophony of alarms wailing in the background. As time passed, the signs that something was wrong started to disappear; there were fewer sparks and discharges, the smoke lessened, and machinery that looked ready to rupture from the stress began to settle down, their load having been apparently shunted. The recording slowed to normal time, and things in the feed returned to normal as well, before power was abruptly cut off and it went dark. The video dissolved to show an alien of the Zakuulan territories. A Khroovan.  

“My name is Caradha,” the woman spoke. “I have tried to process these events over the past week. Here are the facts. While chasing the Outlander, our High Justice Vaylin purposely damaged a reactor hoping to kill him. She was willing to allow hundreds of thousands of us to die in order to kill one man, the Outlander. Granted, this man is her father’s killer, but Princess Vaylin has made no secret of the fact that she despised her father. On the other hand, the Outlander. An enemy of Zakuul, imprisoned for five years and in near-critical condition from said imprisonment,  he chose to save me, save us. He could have run. He would have made it out, if only just. But he risked his life to save us. The people of the Eternal City. Who is friend, and who is foe, I wonder?”

She took a deep breath. “The more we of Zakuul tried to tell the Core worlders of what their ‘Hero’ had done, the stronger the voices of his support. The entire galaxy, including his enemies the Sith, refused to accept our voices of slander. And now I know why. Brothers, sisters, Gentlebeings of Zakuul. In the last five years, we have tried to ignore the tyranny of our Emperor Arcann, of his gluttonous Chimaera of a sister. But it has come time to stop. We cannot in good conscience bow down to them any longer. On the one hand I hesitate to ask an outsider to determine our fate, yet there is no one else strong enough to oppose Arcann. Gods have mercy on me, I cast my lot in with the Outlander, in the pursuit of a better society—the one Zakuul was meant to be. I am one of hundreds, already. Stand with us. Stand for Zakuul.” With that the recording ended.

Akahte was impressed. This woman boldly identified herself, practically daring a reprisal. Whether it came or not, she would win. She would either be a martyr or a leader. And she had wondered how that reactor hadn’t blown. She had chalked it up to the dumbest of luck, but to see that her one-time ally had in fact had a hand in this—had used the Force in some way that eluded even her—well, she always did know he was not to be taken lightly.

She didn’t see Arcann’s response. With a hiss like a charging leopard, Vaylin burst out of the room, and Akahte hastened to follow.

“A ‘Gluttonous Chimaera’,” she seethed. “That’s what she called me.”

“Oh Vaylin—”

“Mother used to tell me stories.” Vaylin’s eyes were bloodshot, tears welling up which she was refusing to shed. “When I was born, they called me the ‘Jewel of Zakuul’!” Her voice was cracking, emotion leaking through her ability to control them. “Now they call me a Chimaera!”

“They don’t know what Valkorion did to you,” Akahte murmured soothingly. “If you are a monster, it’s because He tried His hardest to turn you into one. But you can rise above that! Show yourself that you are better!”

Vaylin didn’t respond in words, but Akahte could feel the question burning white-hot within her. Am I really though?

[ooops-i-arted]

15 Day SWTOR OC Challenge

11. Canon divergence. Are there parts of their story that don’t line up with in-game information? Why? Where?

Definitely.  My opinion of KotFE/KotET and their bland, boring, pissy villains and their meandering plot and their gotsdamned railroading is barely above my opinion of Kyle Ron and the 3D Clone Wars, and y’all know how much I don’t like those lmao.

*cracks knuckles* I’m just gonna do Avei and Illi and everyone else together since it’s easier.  Let’s do this.  Under a cut because I know no one but me cares this much lol.  Another unnecessarily long post ahoy!

Skye Lir and her master, Derran Kanis, are asked to go on a joint Imp-Pub mission into Wild Space to hunt this ~mysterious threat ooooh~.  Skye asks her pal Avei along since she’s handy in a fight and has plenty of experience navigating galactic-level threats.  Avei is reluctant to leave her family, especially her three-year-old daughter, but agrees to just one more big-stakes mission.  The Jedi Knight crew goes along; the smuggler crew is off elsewhere in space.

Chapter 1 happens like in canon.  Derran, Skye, and Avei try to prevent the ship’s destruction but fail.  Skye instructs her crew to escape and warn the others and they do so.  Avei decides to buy time for the crew to escape, and they are all captured.

Right as the ship explodes, across the galaxy in Avei’s ship the whole smuggler crew is woken by Kiva screaming bloody murder.  They all come running; Kiva cries repeatedly for her mommy.  Corso finally gets out of her “Mommy’s ship blew up.”  He tells her it was just a bad dream and gets her back to sleep.

Chapter 1 continues.  Derran is the canon Outlander; Skye and Avei are treated as her accomplices.  Derran refuses Valkorion’s power but he still possesses her when she “kills” him.  Arcann has Derran, Skye, and Avei all carbonited.

Kiva is still upset and not herself the next day when the smuggler crew gets a call from Kira, who tells them what happened.  They book it to the site of the wreckage to help the Republic forces Kira also called comb the desert wreckage for survivors.  Kiva is distraught and keeps repeating that Mommy is gone.

At some point Kira and Corso talk and Kira mentions she can’t feel Skye or Derran in the Force anymore (I believe she mentions this in her letter to a romanced JK) and Corso mentions how weird Kiva was acting the night before they got the news.  They put their heads together and Kira tells him more about Force abilities and a whole puzzle Corso didn’t realize he was putting together falls into place - all the times Kiva nabbed a toy or treat supposed to be out of reach, her strange knack for getting through doors he could’ve sworn were locked, her uncanny ability to know which room he and Avei were in, and now her strange dream - and Kira confirms Kiva is very likely Force-sensitive.  She offers to bring Kiva to the Jedi Temple but Corso refuses; he’s lost enough family and he won’t send his daughter away.

The Republic and Empire go to war with the Eternal Empire, blah blah.  I refuse to believe they were instantly crushed by sooper speshul Zakuul so this goes on for a while, at least a year.

Risha leads smuggling jobs but Corso isn’t really involved with that, as his hands are full with a preschool child dealing with the loss of her mother with separation anxiety from hell, and also the fact that her now-frequent tantrums make things move around the room.

Kiva is three so her mindset is “Mommy left and didn’t come back, so if Daddy leaves he won’t come back either.”  Also one of her best skills with the Force is sensing emotions, so not only is she dealing with her own grief, she’s being bombarded by everyone else’s through the Force, and hasn’t learned to regulate any of her Force abilities yet.  (I majored in Early Childhood Education so the idea of how a Force-sensitive child would operate, so to speak, is endlessly fascinating to me.)

Corso reads everything he can on the Holonet about using the Force, and between him and Guss’s memories of his training, they are able to slowly teach Kiva how to at least not lose control during tantrums.

Over in the Empire Illivrin is having the time of her life.  Illi hates the Empire and her two goals as a Dark Council member were 1. self-preservation and 2. running the Empire into the ground.  She’s doing great at the second but not so much at the first, because her top subordinate Sali’ra is busy gathering every scrap of info she can to overthrow Illivrin before she gets them all killed.  Sali’ra is coordinating her efforts with her uncle, Av’en, and her cousin, Furi’sa, both who want Illivrin gone for the good of the Empire.  (My headcanon is that literally everyone else in the Empire looks at Illivrin as one of those crazy power-mad Sith who always die in a week from their own schemes, except she keeps not dying somehow.)

Vae’ra and Torian get married!  Yay!  It’s a Mandalorian ceremony.  Vae’ra bridesmaids or equivalent were Sali’ra, Mako, and Blizz.  Gault got ordained on the Holonet for the make-it-Empire-official part of the ceremony.

After the better part of a year Sali’ra has turned enough of Illivrin’s forces onto her side (and attending Dark Council meetings while Illi is off pointing the Silencer at everything she can, and showing the Council what a better option she would be) and is ready to make her move.  Furi’sa comes to the latest Dark Council meeting and accuses Illivrin of being an enemy of the Empire and not having the Empire’s interests in mind, etc.  When the Council backs Furi’sa, Illivrin - cornered, desperate, and dangerous - attacks Furi’sa.  Khem and Xalek back her while Sali’ra and Furi’sa’s father, Av’en, are on her team.  Team Illi vs Team Furi is brutal and vicious and very cinematic in my head.  Illivrin finally strikes Av’en a mortal blow with her lightning.  Enraged, Furi’sa beheads Xalek and tosses his head at Illivrin’s feet.  The two fight fiercely but they’re burned out after the fight already.  Illivrin tries to kill Furi’sa with lightning but is too tired to make it a death blow; Khem barely saves her from Furi’sa’s killing strike.  Khem tells his master to run; Illivrin doesn’t want to leave him but ultimately decides on self-preservation and runs while Khem mows down the Sith guards that swarm him.  Khem is finally subdued and while Furi’sa almost kills him, she instead has him imprisoned back in the tomb of Naga Sadow.  Sali‘ra takes Illivrin’s Council seat as Darth Colubra.  Furi’sa mourns her father and swears she will have revenge on Illivrin.

Illivrin successfully escapes Korriban and flees into exile in the Outer Rim.  For the next decade-ish she’s gonna wear rags and eat whatever she kills with her bare hands in some desolate Outer Rim jungle.  She snatched Xalek’s mask before she ran and keeps it close, swearing she will avenge her murder son and her murder bro.

Vae’ra alerts Corso that Furi’sa and Illivrin are loose and on the warpath.  Wanting to hide his Force-sensitive daughter from the Sith and also give her a stable, normal childhood, he takes the ship and moves out to Dantooine, where they will be anonymous and fairly hidden, and takes a job on a farm.  Kiva gets to go to school like a normal kid.  Corso forbids her from doing any Force stuff in public (she has better control nowadays) but she’s always curious and there’s a convenient abandoned Jedi Temple not too far away, so he occasionally goes and raids the databanks for anything that will help her learn, and lets her practice her Force abilities in the privacy of Avei’s ship.

The rest of the crew sticks with Risha, who works on reclaiming Dubrillion.  By the time the five years are up, she is Queen like she should’ve been.  Guss also gets some Jedi training.

Vae’ra and Torian adopt an orphaned Chiss girl, Iseli, and a Zabrak boy, Jerro.

Seren has been in contact with Theron.  Together they try to piece together what happened and track down Skye’s sister.  With Lana and Koth they start setting down the foundations of the Alliance.

Eternal Empire conquers a lot of stuff.  Illivrin stays hidden.  Furi’sa hunts her and any other threat to the Empire.  Corso and Kiva stay on Dantooine.

Picking up with our unfortunate carbonite blocks, Derran is the one forced to chat with the Lamest Villain.  Affected by his presence, Skye has dark visions of the Republic’s fall, while Avei has terrible dreams of her crew and family dead.

KotFE picks up from there.  Lana and Koth rescue the trio.  They are suffering from carbonite poison but Avei most of all, because she couldn’t use the Force to enter a meditative, preserving state and also because she was bashed over the head to get her in the carbonite mold and she had an open, bleeding wound when frozen.

Blah blah KotFE continues.  (I was much more interested in the implications of the five year skip, can you tell?)  They flee, they meet Senya, find the Gravestone, etc.  Avei hits it off with Koth and suffers increasing symptoms from her carbonite poisoning and does not give a shit about anything but locating her family.  Nobody likes or trusts Lana.  Skye and Derran don’t like Senya much but Avei understands her Mom Vibes and gets along with her okay.  They make it to Asylum.  Skye recognizes that psycho murderbot her sister picked up.  Arcann and his Kyle Ron Knockoff Sister show up.  Derran gets stabbity stabbed and Avei finally succumbs to her carbonite poisoning.  I can’t be assed to remember all that stuff, it was mostly boring.  HK-55 doesn’t die because I love him, and remains Derran’s loyal bodyguard and friend, although he has a rivalry with her other HK droid, HK-51.  (Derran loves HK droids.  The Jedi politely look away as long as she keeps them under control.)

They make it to Odessen, where Seren and Theron have been overseeing the start of a base.  Seren is overjoyed to see her baby sister; Skye cannot handle this level of emotion and is awkward but glad Seren cares this much somewhere deep inside.  Avei is dragged to the medcenter, still very sick, and refuses to get in a kolto tank until Skye swears she will call Avei’s family now that they have secured communications and it is safe to do so.  Derran is named Alliance Commander.  She probably develops a drinking problem.

Skye calls Avei’s ship and finds Corso and a (now eight-year-old) Kiva and tells them Avei’s not dead.  Corso immediately flies the ship straight to Odessen.  (I refuse to believe that Corso, whose chief character trait is loyalty, waited a whole nother year to be reunited with his wife.  I REFUSE.)  Avei is out of the kolto tank and doing much better by the time he arrives and SHE FINALLY GETS TO SEE HER FAMILY AGAIN AND THEY ALL HUG AND IT’S ADORABLE.

Then Kiva says “HEY MOM WATCH THIS” and throws a rock with her mind and that’s how Avei finds out her daughter is Force-sensitive.

Skye gives Kiva some formal training but is mostly busy with helping her former Master run the Alliance.

Avei sticks around the Alliance for a month but decides screw you all, my family is more important, and leaves.  She continues to suffer lasting sickness from the carbonite poison, and it takes at least a year for her to truly recover.

I haven’t decided for sure how to manage it but basically KotFE and KoTET are condensed into one without all the nonsense like Iokath or whatever.  (Also, obviously they can’t recruit say, Torian because he’s off with his wife.  Or Vette, because she’s off with Furi’sa.  etc.)  Skye sticks with Derran; Seren is also a major player in the Alliance.  Arcann and Vaylin are both killed and no one misses them.

Derran finally kills Valkorion in her head (without any part of being Valkorion, because screw you for making me play your pretentious crappy villain sue oc) but the mental toll of having a pretentious college philosophy major in her head makes her decide to use her Jedi Exile Retirement plan, and she peaces out to a nice beach planet with her HK droid pals.  She hangs out there until years later, Kiva comes to pester her for training.

Seren takes over as Alliance commander.  The Iokath stuff probably doesn’t even happen because I didn’t like it.  The Theron’s-a-traitor arc does, but I haven’t played it all yet so I haven’t decided how much I want to tweak.  All I know is Seren is pregnant but doesn’t know it til after Umbara, because I enjoy maximizing angst with basic tropes.  She and Theron do stay together and name their daughter Caeles, after Theron’s ancestor Revan/Caele.

Idk about the rest but the Alliance does disband and its resources go to strengthen the Republic, but while Seren stays a free agent because of all the issues the Agent storyline gave her, she’s basically Republic at this point.  Skye is very proud.

Years later Illivrin shows back up and Furi’sa discovers Kiva is Force-sensitive and lures her into her van shuttle with candy the promise of Force training; Kiva escapes Furi’sa and goes to train with the Jedi.

Over the course of a lot of years the Valaris Legacy gradually teams up to finally kick Illivrin’s ass.  Kiva is the only one strong enough in the Force to challenge her and seals Illivrin inside a tomb on Yavin 4, where she remains trapped for all time, eternally separated from Khem Val, the only being she ever cared about.  (This is how you treat a villain, Rian Johnson, just saying.)  (Also Furi’sa kills Khem Val and avenges her father, though she dies doing it.)

All the post-Theron-traitor stuff is all more loosely sketched out and also it’s midnight rn and I need to go to bed, so let’s leave it at that.