[IC] Star Wars: Forged By Fire (KOTOR)

[Gwynbleidd]

The Prelude

Destiny Speaks In Soft Tones

Whispers in the dark. Faint voices speak from the pitch-black nothingness. Their words are garbled, unintelligible. They echo from a long distance, miles and miles away. Silence. The voices begin again, but the noise is closer; a buzzing chatter, like radio static all mixed together. Closer. Closer. Closer. The noise becomes deafening, yet complete darkness remains and there seems to be no escape. Trapped inside a cramped box until the whispers become clear. They weren’t whispers after all.

They were screams.

Horrible shrieks of terror coming from all sides. The dark box lifted and flashes of violence stormed in waves. Armored men charged across the plains with their blades raised. Prisoners with feline faces were lined up and men with blasters aimed at their backs and gunned them down. Many fled in horror, wailing as they ran with the roars of the victorious dread behind them. Mechanical beasts crawled with multiple durasteel legs. The robotic monster spat fire and death in all directions. Craters in the dirt. Fire bloomed upon homes and the smoke rose to the skies.

Blaster bolts, fire, smoke, screams, death, blood… And then, silence. A lone figure stood amongst the corpses littered across the battlefield. Dark robes and an unseen face. The figures head rose and looked directly ahead, and a blood-curdling voice whispered with words that dripped onto the air and coiled around the listener with the cold touch of a serpent.

“Rise.”

-----------

With a piercing scream Aria burst out from underneath her sheets with cold sweat pouring down her skin. She breathed hard, glancing back and forth from one side of her room to the other. Lights out, no one there, just her in her room back on Dantooine. She pressed the button next to her bed and the lights flickered on. Again, she scanned every inch of her living space. Aria’s breathing began to relent, her heaving chest slowed down.

“Just a dream.” She said to herself softly.

But, it didn’t feel like just a dream. It wasn’t like any normal nightmare that woke her up and then faded away into nonexistence as she passed back into a comfortable sleep. No. The terror felt real, tangible, so powerful that the horror still lingered inside of her mind. She could still hear the screams of the slaughtered echoing around her. The walls of her room felt too close and too tight, so the young Jedi stood up from her bed and threw on a pair of robes before going outside.

The cool night air of Dantooine’s gentle breeze brushed her with a welcoming touch. Walking through the Enclave alone during the late night hours made her feel better, but even as she finally stood on a balcony overlooking the farmland fields; the ghost of her dream still lingered. Not as loud, but still and present. A spectre of death standing alone with ghostly presence. She leaned against the railing and looked up. Was it all a dream?

She stared at the vast expanse of stars, uncertain.

---

Aria Blair
Dantooine

Master,

I know that it’s been a while since we’ve last spoke, but despite the abrupt ending of our training together and my own harsh words: I cannot apologize for deciding to learn from other masters. It’s something I as an individual must do. Listening to only those I agree with would be like living inside of an echo chamber closed off to any new piece of knowledge. But, I am sorry for the things I did not mean.

This message is not sent for this only…

I had a dream last night. Not of the screaming kath pups, this was different. It’s hard to put in words what it was that I saw but it didn’t feel like a manifestation of my own mind. This felt real. I’ve read small pieces about visions and premonitions, but it’s hard for me to believe that I would have one so strong. I’m nothing but a padawan learner.

It was death that I witnessed. Endless death and so much fire and screaming. Men with blades and hard armor. Even now I’m shaking at the thought because the sounds still linger. I can taste the smoke, still. I’m not sure how to interpret this dream, or vision. Everything about it leaves me restless and uncertain. I know you are at Couruscant, but if you would allow it I would love to see you here on Dantooine. If I must go to Coruscant, I will. I wish to continue my training with Zhar, Dorak, Vrook, and Vandar but I still seek to learn from you as always. There was more to the things you said then, things I didn’t understand or could not until now perhaps.

Anyway, I must be going. Take care, I hope to see you soon.

Sincerely,
Your Padawan
Aria Blair

Aria pressed the send button at the Enclave library terminal, the message sent to her first Jedi Master Arren Kae. Being trained by more than one master was an unusual thing for most Jedi. They tended to learn from a single master until they were ready to become knights and eventually be apart of the council. Aria, however, sought a new master in the aftermath of her original training. She did not always see eye to eye with Arren, and the cryptic messages were hard to solve though at points she felt empowered the days her master’s words were understood; a rewarding feeling that she hadn’t felt since under any other master.

Even so, Aria needed to expose herself to different viewpoints. Sentinels and Consulars, and even Guardians despite her aversion to combat. All topics of learning were important to her as they created a well-rounded Jedi with a full understanding of the force and the universe she inhabited. A healer, a champion of protection and nurturing; that’s how she always viewed herself. For the first time, Aria wondered if her positioning in this world was correct after all. She never dreamed that a simple nightmare could knock her off of her balance.

The girl sighed. “Get a grip of yourself, Aria. There is no emotion, there is peace…” She breathed out the Jedi Code to calm herself down. Surrounding her terminal there were stacks of datapads, and after her message closed down it revealed numerous entries on dreams and visions from the force. With tired eyes and ruffled hair, Aria raised a fist to her mouth as she yawned loudly. It was morning as the sun peered through the window of the library, and she hadn’t gotten more than an hour of sleep.

“I’d tell you to get some rest, but you wouldn’t listen to me.” The tender voice of the old chronicler, Master Dorak spoke from behind her. Aria turned in her seat and gave the strongest smile she could muster. “What has you stirring like this, padawan?” He took a seat next to her.

“I… I couldn’t sleep. I’m in here a lot and I wanted to know more about dreams and premonitions. I find it hard to believe that some Jedi and other figures have been able to witness events far before their closing.” Aria stated.

“One thing for sure is true. You couldn’t sleep.” Dorak gave her a grin that made her sigh and shake her head.

“Am I that easy to read?”

“The force stirs in you, padawan. And your face is rather expressive when you’re lying, though only slightly so. I’m still young as being a master goes, but I can tell a lie from the truth. What’s bothering you, Aria?”

“I apologize for not being truthful. I thought I could handle it myself. It’s, it’s a dream I had last night. More of a nightmare.”

“Go on.”

“I saw a battlefield. Fire, explosions, death, screaming. Men in armor. They spoke in a language I didn’t know. All I know is that it wasn’t a normal dream I’ve had.”

“Hmmm. Can you describe these men?”

“Heavily armored. Warrior-like, they didn’t run from anything. It’s like they enjoyed the rush of battle.” Aria felt like she was re-living the dream, seeing the vivid faces and the ghastly terror of it all.

Dorak opened up a window on the terminal and entered something in. “Did they look like this?”

Aria looked, her eyes widened. “Yes, that’s them!”

“You dreamt of Mandalorian warriors. One of the fiercest groups in the entire galaxy. They live for fighting and war as it’s a code to their honor. The Jedi have fought them before. Ulic Qel Droma fought and defeated Mandalore the Indomitable, and the Mandalorians have since been defeated. It was an impressive feat, what he did. He was one of the tragedies of our order, but it is nonetheless important to learn from his mistakes and victories.”

“So, if I’ve never seen a Mandalorian in my entire life why would I know what they look like? How could I dream of them?”

“The force works in mysterious ways. It connects us all, flows through all living things. I believe the wounds of wars past drift around and can still affect us now.”

“A dream from the past.”

“Very good, yes.”

“But, why was it so strong? Why can I still feel it now?”

“An indication of your connection with the force, perhaps. Dreams have been known to be terribly strong in times past. I would not trouble yourself over it too much. If it comforts you to continue reading, I more than welcome it. It makes me happy to see a student so willing to traverse through this library. Read more on the Mandalorians, I’d love to share a conversation about what your opinions are on the histories of the Jedi and the galaxy. I know you read often about the Echani; the Mandalorians are quite similar in certain aspects. Considering visions, you might also be interested in battle precognition.”

“Battle precognition?”

“An ability intertwined with visions. You’d enjoy it. If you read further into Ulic Qel Droma, however, there are certain pieces of information that are restricted to padawans and knights. I cannot help you there.”

Aria nodded in understanding, though she’d been able to read restricted materials before. “Thank you Master Dorak. Your words have been comforting.”

“You are my apprentice as much as Zhar’s, it’s always a pleasure to speak with you Aria. I wish more students were as dedicated as you. I suggest you pour yourself a cup of caffa, though.”

“Oh, I intend to. If I fell asleep during a lightsaber training exam with Zhar I don’t think I’d hear the end of it.”

Dorak laughed. “Certainly not. I’ll leave you be, I’ll see you soon.” The master turned and went on his way, leaving Aria to her silence by the terminals and datapads. She wrote down many of the things Dorak said and kept in mind to return to reading about them later.

An hour went by and Aria found herself having finished the food she received from the cafeteria resting upon stone foundation that enclosed a bed of flowers by one of the doorways. Her back leaned against the wall, and her datapad was in her lap opened to her favorite piece of reading she recorded. Echani battle practices and how the race communicated through hand to hand fighting. There was something incredibly intimate and enticing about the concept. She brought a warm cup of caffa to her lips and smelled the fresh brew. Taking a sip, she let out a sigh of relief.

Here she avoided the bustling traffic of students to the cafeteria and remain thoughtful of the words Dorak had shared with her. Aria wanted him to be right, wanted to be calm and relaxed about the situation. But, the presence remained. She stared blankly across the room and zoned out, completely lost within her own mind. And, if she didn’t break out of it soon; she potentially could miss Zhar’s scheduled teaching exam for the day.

[Sohtem]

Xeviiy Sinclair
Coruscant

Xeviiy 'stared' out the window, well what could be counted as sight for her species which was through the force; the blue sky seeming peaceful as the vehicles and ships in the air what about their day, traveling to wherever they needed too on Coruscant. She spent a lot of her free time just relaxing and enjoying the scenery when she could, well aside from spending time with her friends, but she equally enjoyed time to herself.

“Hey, you there?” A woman spoke as she waved her hand in front of Xeviiy. Shaking her head she looked to the woman who was handing her some warm tea, “Oh, sorry mom, just got distracted by the scenery.” She responded as she took a sip from the cup, her mother taking a seat next to her.

Savmari smiled softly as she took a sip from her own cup, “Well that's not the demanding little girl I remember, I guess the Jedi have mellowed you out a little and instilled some manners into you, huh?” She teased. “Yeah, they locked me in my room a lot of the time till I learned how to behave properly.” Xeviiy teased back with a smile as she took another sip of her drink.

It had been five years since she had last seen her adoptive parents, though Jedi were meant to be detached from such things, she couldn't help but try to visit them whenever possible, they were the only ones she had, aside from the order, but at times that felt like a prison to her with all the rules they had, but she would never say anything like that to any of the masters.

“So is dad going to be back soon? I don't think I have much time left to be away.” She added, knowing that her master would be calling any moment to tell her to return; Xeviiy was actually sort of lucky when she got her master, she was someone who wasn't so strict and would let her do things such as visit her folks on rare occasions, but didn't make a habit of it so Xeviiy wouldn't think that she could do whatever she wanted and her master felt that was a good balance.

Savmari shook her head, “No, he said he didn't know when he'd be back and most likely it'd be late tonight.”

Xeviiy's head lowered a little, it had been an even longer time that she hadn't seen her father than she had her mother, not that she didn't enjoy spending time with her, she just wanted to spend some time with the both of them, “Oh, I see, well he does have that big corporation to run, so I guess that's to be expected.” She answered with a false smile.

“Now don't worry, I'm sure he'll make it up to you if he misses you today.” Savmari responded, placing her hand on Xeviiy's in a comforting manner.

She was about to answer back to her mother when a man came in through the door, panting a little and Xeviiy's face grew a big grin when she turned around to see who it was, quickly running to the man and wrapping her arms around him, tightly.

“Dad, I thought you wouldn't make it home to see me!” Xeviiy exclaimed as she looked up at the man.

“Now do you think I'd miss my daughter's visit? Woo it's been a long time, you sure have grown since I last saw you.” He smirked to her as he rubbed her head, adding, “I managed to get an extended lunch break, so how have you been? How's your training going?”

“It's going alright, I'm learning a lot, though sometimes it can be a bit challenging, but I'm managing.” She grinned to him, unable to help but enjoy his company.

It was about twenty minutes before her master called on her communicator, “Xeviiy, it's time for you to return.” A woman's voice spoke, “Yes master, I'm on my way.” She responded before putting it away and then looking back to her parents, “Well it looks like I got to head back, it was nice seeing you guys again.” Giving both of her parents one last hug before she headed out of the house, back to the Jedi Temple.

“It was nice seeing you again sweetie, try to visit again soon.” Her mother shouted to her as her parents waved goodbye, Xeviiy making a dash back towards the temple.

It didn't take her long to return back, tall, dirty blonde haired woman was waiting outside for her, waiving her over, “Hello Padawan, did you enjoy your visit to your parents?” The woman asked as Xeviiy made her way over to her.

“Yeah, even got to see my dad, though I thought I would've missed him because of his work, but he managed to surprise me, though I wish I could've stayed a bit longer with them.”

“I understand padawan, but I just don't want to see you get into trouble with the other masters, so better safe than sorry you return a little earlier so as to not be noticed missing.” Her master responded.

They continued to chat a little more as they walked until her master lead them to a training area, “Master Kasari, what are we doing here?” She couldn't help but inquire, though she had a pretty good suspicion.

“We're here to practice your lightsaber combat, it's...” she was in the middle of speaking before being interrupted, “Oh master, do we have too? I'm pretty decent at it already.”

“Yes, you are, but you need to be an expert at it...and I know you wish to remain peaceful and not fight, but sometimes a Jedi must fight in order to protect those that would harm others, even taking your opponent's life if you have too.”

“What? I could never do that, no matter what.” Xeviiy interjected, she knew that the order did try to protect all life, but they would kill if they had too, that's something she couldn't really agree with and always tried to avoid it. She worried a little however, that she wouldn't be able to avoid it forever.

“That's enough, now let's get started.” Kasari spoke with a stricter tone, understanding Xeviiy's opinion on the matter, but knew that it was sometimes an unavoidable option.

Xeviiy sighed, going into the training room with her master, both of them drawing their hilts using the force, her master's on her hip and Xeviiy's on her lower back. The blades ejected out of their hilts, a deep blue for Kasari's and a turqoise color on Xeviiy's.

They both took their own stances, her master going with a more aggressive one just for the training, Xeviiy herself using Soresu with a reverse grip, it was what she was best with. “Now make sure not to hold back, okay?” Kasari asked, a nod simply given back as she readied herself.

Quickly, Kasari started to sprint towards Xeviiy, the first strike coming down above her head, the crackling of the blades as they made and held contact with one another before Kasari began a flurry of light attacks, “Don't just block me, be on the offensive as well.” She spoke to her student, seeing that she wasn't trying to go for any purposeful openings that she left open.

Xeviiy followed her master's word, pushing away the attacks and started to be a bit more aggressive, shedding off the attacks and then making ones of her own, not as much as Kasari would have liked however. When Xeviiy blocked once more, Kasari used that opportunity to allow herself to be disarmed, just to see what her padawan would do.

“Well, looks like I win master.” She grinned, Kasari lowering her head with a sigh before quickly reaching out with her hand to retrieve her weapon, igniting it and then with haste, sprinted towards Xeviiy. The weapons crackled once more before her master's blade curved around her own as her feet were swept from under her, the blade easily flying from her hand and then caught by her master, Kasari pointing her weapon a few short feet away from her.

“Remember that just because an opponent is disarmed doesn't mean the battle is finished, they could easily retrieve their weapon and disarm you from yours.” Soon turning off her weapon and returning it to her waist as she helped Xeviiy up, returning her own weapon to her.

“I know master, I'll do better next time.”

Kasari smiled before rubbing her student's head, “Come on, it's time to head to your next lesson.”

The both of them beginning to heading towards the library, at least Xeviiy wouldn't have to do any more fighting for the day, at least she hoped not, but she never knew what her master had in store for her and could always end up surprising her.

[vancexentan]

Ken felt the force around him, in him, flowing through the world of Dantooine like a river flowing into the ocean. He was sitting down on the floor of a training room his hands held outward his fingers curled up but not held into a fist or a ball. He could hear the young learners mumbling among themselves as they watched him hold up four crates and a chair with the force. Spinning them around him slowly was something he had long since been able to do with ease. It was in this state of mind that Ken could really find peace with his life. Using the force, flowing with it, and letting it envelope him was beyond description that best feeling that Ken had ever felt in his life. He wasn't showing off, many people had trouble with telekinetic force powers which came naturally to him, he was merely showing the younglings how they could better perfect the technique of mediation. The stance, the way you breath, the simple act of tuning out distractions were all a key part of meditation and he hoped that by doing this he would teach them something.

In all honesty Ken was a bad teacher. He was a natural and his abilities came just as naturally too him as swimming would to a fish. The force was not strong with him but he had a connection with it that few had. He could pull on it, and mold it and shape it to amazing effect. Ken wasn't smiling but he felt like he wanted to do so. His journeys had been long ones and his long time friends had all considered him an excellent jedi. Pride wasn't something that jedi should feel but he knew that he was proud of what he was but he always knew there was room for improvement. What person wouldn't feel proud after becoming a jedi knight? It was something that many padawans and trainees dreamt of and he had achieved it and now he could help others go on their way towards the future. He hoped he could prove to be worthy of the title master.

The kids laughed as one of the crates floated over his head and his friends said they wanted to try that. Ken simply said, "You will in time my young friends. Train and you can become just as capable as I am." as he kept his concentration. He wondered if Master Gle would be coming to see him later today. He hadn't seen his old master for a couple weeks he had been off on missions and diplomatic meetings for the republic. Nothing special just standard things jedi were expected to do. His old friend Nim Zhos was off on a mission hunting a dark side creature somewhere on some distant planet. Chances are they were just old rumors but Nim was not one to let rumors go by without investigation and Master Vandar had asked Nim to go and investigate. He missed his time with Nim but he had long since grown out of the need for him to constant look over his shoulder. Ken had often remembered times of his youth where he would seek the Duros Jedi Master out for learning and for stories. He was the closest thing he had to a family since Master Gle had taken him under his wing.

Ken breathed out deeply as he expanded his senses more around towards the planes where he felt kath hounds roaming doing their hunting. The small insects moving around. The small streams and waterfalls flowing. It was the calm nature of Dantooine that he was grateful for. It let him clean his mind. It let him...feel the life around him like it should feel. Pure, primal, and instinctive. The force was a truly beautiful thing.

[boomlover]

A COLLAB BETWEEN ME AND THE GM


He could still hear the screams of the incocent he'd slain. The blood of younglings on his hand. He heard there screams over and over again like a wave smashing against the shore. He saw his master's face before him as she fell to the ground, her eyes becoming lifeless. This dream he had dreamed a hundred times and the dream he would dream a hundred times again. Like a never ending cycle of pain and regrets. 19 years he had been alone and for 19 years he had seen the true horrors of the galaxy. He had seen slaves kill each other for a few credits. He had seen men do things he would not wish upon his worst enemies. So you would wonder how Markus, after all the things he went through would not have fallen to the darkside.

There is no emotion; there is peace.
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
There is no passion; there is serenity.
There is no chaos; there is harmony.
There is no death; there is the Force.

This was the code that kept him walking, breathing and fighting for the 19 pathetic years. Walking without purpouse through a dark hallway without end. And then he saw salvation not through a sign in his dreams. Not to a sudden realization in his mind. But through blood, sweat and violence. He had seen the Mandalorion menance first hand. Hell he had even fought it. But it was then he realized that he himself did not have the power to defeat this evil. And now he journeys to a place he had thought he would never lay his eyes on again. Dantooine, his home.

He finally awoke the nightmares falling back into the corners of his mind. the sweat falling of his brow. He stood up from his bed and made himself proper. For years he had waited for this moment, For years he had feared it and yet loved it. And now it was time. He heard the warp drive turning of as he extited warp space. He knew he was home. And yet he wonderd how his home would greet him. With kindess and open arms? or with arms closed and eyes of disapointment staring him down. He ponderd it as he enterd the cockpit of his ship and looked down at the swirrling plains. He then send a signle message down to the enclave simple and open. " This is Jedi Knight Markus Bionte. Asking premission to land."

The workers at the landing pad of the enclave looked up at the sound of a ship's engine in the distance, the ship itself making its way toward the enclave. One of the workers received the message and looked at it. "Markus Bionte?" He scrolled through the archives of names, not finding anything. "But, it says here he was killed. Dead." The worker looked to the man next to him with question-filled eyes.

"Don't look at me, I don't know what to do in this situation. Let me go down to Vrook. He'll know more about this mess than us." He proceeded to step up from his seat and quickly leave the control room.

Now alone, the dock controller sent a quick message back to Markus. "Give us a moment. Our information says that you're dead. We're looking to remedy the situation."

Makrus raised a brow when he saw the message.

" Well isn't that a bit rude?"

"It's an embarrassing mistake. Wait, we may be able to solve this. The landing codes! What are your landing codes?"

Markus sighed a deep and stressfull sigh.

" Now i remeber why i didn't come back in the first place". He mumbeld to himself as he send the codes to whatever idiot was down there.

"And... One moment. Aha! You're cleared to land." The worker stated, looking out the window and noticing his partner returning with Master Vrook. "You can land in zone three, you'll be met with Master Vrook. Boy, would I hate to be you right now."

As the ship started to aproach the landing path the ships desgin would be described as simply.. Mandalorian. Markus stood up from his flight seat looking at master Vrook as he walked towards the ship. Markus hated being the bearer of bad news. Sadly he would not be spared this.

Vrook Lamar was beginning to reach the stages of an older man's life, his hair already balding, but he seeemed to have judgmental anger much quicker considering the hard look in his eyes and his slanted brows. His robe trailed against the stone floor of the enclave as he moved toward Markus's ship and awaited the lost knight's appearance.

As the ships docking port opened up to him he looked straight in the eyes of the old master. Even after all those years the old's man's eyes where still as strong as all those years before. And yet with all the annoying memories he felt when he saw this man he also felt the feeling of home washing over him. And as he brought his hood down he knew he was home." Hello master Vrook it's been a long time hasn't it?"

There was a cold silence between the two as Vrook stared Markus down. His thoughts were his own until he opened his mouth. "Some might say it hasn't been long enough. Nineteen years and thought dead along with your master. Tell me, what brings you back to the order now?"

Markus chukkeld a little as he opened his robe and lifted a small holotape. Slwoly drifting it towards Vrook." Being the bearer of bad news of course. And to mabey serve the order i once called home and familly."

The old master glanced at the tape Markus presented and slowly unclasped his hands to reach out and take it. An inexperienced observer might have missed certain things, but Vrook had already looked over the Mandalorian make of Markus' ship. Vrook remained silent as he turned away from Markus to view the tape.

On the tape he witnessed a first person view of someone atop a giant mechanical beast. A droid, it seemed. The thing screamed, and Vrook began noticing that it looked like a helmet view. A droid plummeting out of orbit with a single rider on top of it straight into the midst of battle on a planet. A planet as it seemd that was completely unaware of the sudden assault. Hundreds and hundreds of armored men, no, Mandalorians storming unready people. Butchering them. Those that managed to draw their weapons were not capable of standing against them. The view shocked him, and he wondered if something like this had happened; why wasn't anyone talking about it? In the end, he saw a fleet of ships being loaded with soldiers to take off with no known destination. But, a Mandalorian mass of this number was stunning enough. Vrook closed the tape and turned back around.

"You're fortunate to have brought this tape with you. If we had heard of Mandalorian raids without this, you coming with that ship would raise suspicion. Personally, I'd have arrested you and thrown you in a cell." Vrook stated, pausing. "How did you get this tape, and how did you escape?"

" I was on the planet when the attacked, i was one of the few that was even able to draw weapons before the came down. It wasnt a simple raid master. It was an invasion. The mandalorian crashed into me. Being a Jedi gets the attention of Mandalorians for some reason. Anyways i was able to end the man's life destroying the beast he was on. I then realized he was recording the enitre time. I took the helmet with me stole one of there ships and made my way over here as soon as this bucket of bolts could fly. And now i once again stand before you old friend. War has come to the galaxy once again Master Vrook. And i am the messenger of it."

He had lied about stealing the ship. Considering it had been his for 19 years since he stole it from the dead mandalorians on Zyggeria. But he didn't want His old master to know such things.

Vrook pondered on the repercussions and consequences of things regarding the tape. "The evidence of war seems difficult to argue against. We will see in due time whether this is 'our' war to fight, or the Republic's. I'm going to take this to the council and the council will discuss matters, especially since this was not an invasion of the Republic." In truth, Vrook understood it was only a matter of time for a outer rim world to be struck that wasn't a neutral world. That planet was a launch point, a point of operation. "The Jedi haven't forgotten what war does and what happens to its students. Exar Kun and Ulic Qel Droma have left a scar that might never be erased. I assume you remember where the living quarters are, there are open rooms. You will be called upon to speak and answer questions to the council when the time is right."

Markus simply nodded and walked past the master not blinking once." Thank you". He then kept walking into the halls hearing the whispering of curious pawdawan and the suprised tones of jedi knights. He saw a few faces he still regognized from long ago. And also a lot he didn't recognize. It didn't matter anyway. Soon these faces would be lost in the war to come. Old faces and new faces alike.A single tear rolled of his cheeck at the tought of so much potential that would be wasted. So much glory that would never see the light. Then again live is simply a road you walk upon. Some are short and horrible others are long and full of regrets. And others are full of hope and succses. As he enterd the old sleeping chambers he walked towards the balcony it had. He looked out over the dark fields. And took a seat at one of the tables. Quickly sleep took him over and he would sleep. A deep and peacefull sleep. This time not full of nightmares. But of peace.

Zhar Lestin was on his way towards the combat training room to meet with his students, but he had multiple things to set in order first. He had just met with one of the newest students who transferred over from Coruscant, someone he was excited to see train. But, after that meeting he felt a familiar aura in the force. On his way down the hall he saw an open door and an exhausted Markus passed out with his head resting on the table.

He walked inside of the room and took note of how battered and tired the man seemed. Even in sleep, Zhar could feel his imbalance. Zhar grabbed a blanket from the bed and draped it over the man, even going so far as to slide a pillow under his face. "Rest easy, friend. We'll talk soon." The master left the room and went on his way.

[Gwynbleidd]

Zhar Lestin
Dantooine

Upon finishing up with Markus, Zhar made his way through the enclave. On his way there he saw many younglings looking in awe at one of the well-loved jedi knights in their order. Ken Grant. The Twi’lek lifted a hand to his lekkus and stroked them for one moment as he watched at the joy of the children witnessing the wonders of the force in front of them. Floating objects, chairs and crates lifted as if by nothing. In a state of weightlessness as they circled around the room. The younglings giggled or looked on with agape mouths, thoroughly impressed by Ken’s abilities. The sight brought a smile to Zhar’s face. He hated to interrupt the moment, but he stepped inside of the room.

“Excuse me my young friends. It’s time for you to head to the library. Master Dorak will be telling the tales of the brave Nomi Sunrider.” There were a litany of groans, protesting the idea of listening to the chronicler. The Twi’lek laughed. “I know history is not as entertaining as the force in action, but it’s an important part of our order. Knowledge and wisdom are essential to any Jedi, and if you want to be anything like our Knight here, you would do well to listen.” It seemed the master had struck the right chord with the younglings. Most of them eagerly ran out through the door, while others were dragging their feet against the floor.

“It’s a pleasure to witness a knight so in tune with the force, Ken. I can understand their reluctance to leave… I’ve come here for a favor. I’m running a saber dueling exam with one of my students and a student who recently arrived from Coruscant, I don’t know if you’ve had a chance to meet her yet. Her name is Aria, and she’s approaching the path of knighthood much faster than expected. Yet, she can still learn much. A different voice than mine may help guide her further, and I think it would be great for you to meet her. She’s truly a marvel. Would you do this for me?”

---

Master Kasari
Coruscant

Leading her padawan forward to the library, Kasari was unsure of what to do with Xeviiy. Her ways of peace were a novel ideal, and she respected that of her student. But, the galaxy was a grandiose place where the shades of morality intertwined and could no longer be black or white. The use of the lightsaber was a tool for defense as much as it was for offense. An extension of who the Jedi is. She wanted a way for Xeviiy to understand that, but she didn’t quite know which way to lead the lesson in such a direction. Kasari was a master, but a young master who still had much to learn to be on the level of the other council members.

There was one option she hadn’t considered for a long time, but it seemed today was the day for it. Entering the library, Kasari moved through the many rows of terminals and datapads. The Jedi Archives of Coruscant were colossal. Five floors of knowledge that seemed practically endless, so much to learn that it felt it could take lifetimes to devour every word and another few to remember, and lastly to understand.

Kasari made her way to the door of one of the study rooms, pressing the panel on the wall for the door to slide open. “Come, Xeviiy. I have someone I want you to meet.” Once inside, Kasari moved to the corner of the room and stood alone, leaving the seat at the table for Xeviiy to take. Seated on the other side was Master Arren Kae. She was beautiful, with flowing silver hair and inquisitive eyes keenly taking apart young Xeviiy. Despite her beauty, there was a mystical presence about her. An unreadable nature, the way her force energy moved was like a storm behind clouds.

“You’ve come to an impasse. A block on your path.” Arren spoke. “Shall you sit, or shall you stand? I wonder.”

[vancexentan]

Ken had felt the jedi master coming before he had even entered the room. However he had kept up his act for the kids up until the master started to talk to the children and was about to dismiss them. Ken pulled back into himself slowly letting his connection to the force fade. The objects around him landed slowly without much more than a light bump on the ground around him. He felt slightly nauseous and felt his mind swirl as he breathed in and out deeply calming his body. He needed to stop getting so deep into the force that he felt that way afterward. Ken slowly got up and brushed off his pants and light tan robe that was common to the jedi knights in the enclave. He heard Master Zhar talk to the kids telling them that they were to go to the library for a history lesson on Nomi Sunrider. He remembered back at the grand temple on Coruscant where many of his own fellow students had expressed distaste for going to the library. Ken spoke up calmly and with a friendly tone as he nodded at the children, "Don't worry my young friends. Sunrider was an interesting jedi. Passionate and strong. You'll learn a thing or two I bet if you listen well enough. The more you know about the past and it's events the better you can understand yourselves and the galaxy." Ken said with a nod at the less reluctant jedi learners. He personally enjoyed history not as a hobby but because it was long history of people and events that shaped everything around him. People had to live those moments and understand them and by learning about them Ken too could become better for it.

Ken walked bowed his head to Master Zhar as a gesture of respect to the Twi'lek as he smiled at him. "Come now Master Zhar I practically came into myself here as a jedi. I merely do what comes naturally to me nothing more or less." Ken said as he smiled at the Twi’lek as he leaned against a wall. He listened to Master Zhar and he breathed in deeply once more and then breathed out. "I am not sure if I'm the man for the job sir. I'm no teacher, I simply do what I've been taught to do; surely there are those who are better than I at this." Ken had heard talk and rumors of the new young learner Aria from some of the younger jedi here. He had not met her personally to his knowledge nor did he believe they were ever introduced. "But Master if you insist then I will do as you ask. I simply do not believe that what I have is something that would be useful to young learners. In a sense of saber combat I may be a bit much for them. My niman style is not one so easily defeated. A versatile technique that can be used for many situations. In combination with my knowledge of Makashi may be too much for them. I do not say this out of a sense of superiority simply put that I don't want to discourage them." Ken's smile frowned slightly but only for a moment as he ran his hand over his curved lightsaber. A symbol of his status as a jedi. A part of him but he had all too well remembered stories from Master Org of jedi whom had grown a bit too 'fond' of their lightsabers. Those stories were among his least favorite from Org. He felt the cold silver of his blade. The comfortable leather grip of the saber. He visualized the bright white blade, pure as snow, that would emerge from it's hilt. He also remembered his old friend...and the awkward position he was in when he had found himself to be inferior to Ken and what had happened to him afterward. However his smile had only wavered for a moment. "Being embarrassed is something many younger jedi take heavily." Ken stated. He had been talking very kindly and respectfully towards his master. His tone was calm and serene and had only faltered into consideration when he had thought things over.

[Sohtem]

Xeviiy Sinclair
Coruscant

Xeviiy had no idea where her master was taking her in the library, she had studied a lot in there, though she was nowhere even close to having read even a fraction of the knowledge, still she felt like whatever her master was going to give, she most likely already read it. As they continued through the library, eventually going up multiple flights of stairs that seemed unending, glancing at other patrons at terminals and looking at datapads as they passed.

It seemed like this was taking forever and she was about to speak up when her master finally lead her to a study room, slowly approaching when Kasari beckoned her over.

“Okay?” She merely responded quizzically as she entered the room, not really sure who she was meeting nor why, but Kasari probably had a good reason.

Instantly she could feel the force flowing through the woman, it felt erratic, yet at the same time hidden, almost calm like, it was certainly a strange feeling to her, though not as strange as when the woman spoke, glancing at Kasari for a moment before back at the woman, finally deciding to go over to the seat and sat down on it.

“What block on my path?” She asked next, not really understanding the purpose of why she was here or what the mysterious woman was talking about, or if she was just was merely talking about sitting or standing, which if the latter seemed overly complex to her which could be phrased much more simply.

---

Leon Athos
Coruscant

“Ah, finally done.” A tall, dark haired man said to himself as he finished signing the last of what seemed like a thousand documents that needed his signature, that was until another stack of copies was planted onto his desk by a slim, red headed woman who smirked to him “Sorry Major Athos, afraid not.”

“Ugh, more paper work, you just love seeing me in pain, don't you, lieutenant?” He responded with a half smile, toying with the pen in his hand as he glanced over at the fresh pile of documents he felt he just finished.

“Well there is something entertaining about a war hero like you sitting behind a desk pushing papers.” She teased, though nothing that would seem disrespectful.

The man was Major Leon Athos, a decorated war hero and one of the youngest to fly through the ranks so quickly, the woman was Lieutenant Anna Sparvic, she had been assigned under him shortly after the end of the war, though she was his subordinate, often times from other people's perspective, it seemed like she was his boss, but after working together so long, they both developed a repertoire with one another and were used to it; the current peace time that they were experiencing was both a blessing and a curse, at least to Leon anyways. The blessing being that no one had to die and the Republic was still able to continue recovering from the war, the curse obviously being that there was so much paperwork coming in that it felt unending.

Leon let out a stretch before standing up, grabbing the jacket off the back of his chair, “Think I'm going to take a break, get some fresh air.” He spoke to her as he started for the exit.

“Sir, you can't slack this off, it needs to be done.” The Lieutenant responded in a slightly stern manner.

“Lieutenant Sparvic, it'll be there when I get back, plus I don't think a ten minute break is going to halt the process, yeah?” He smirked to her before heading out door, not soon far behind was Anna.

“So what? You going to babysit me now?” He added, glancing over at her as she faced forward, keeping with his pace.

“Well since you seem to like to disappear so much when you do take your 'breaks'...” She spoke, adding quotation marks to that last bit, Soon continuing her sentence “...I figured it'd be best if I made sure you didn't get lost...sir, plus the higher ups don't like you slacking off.”

“Alright Lieutenant, it's your call.” He responded, resting his hands behind his head, it was going to be a long day on Coruscant with all the paperwork he had to do, but at least the small reprieve he was giving himself would hopefully balance it out, one could hope anyways.

[Gwynbleidd]

Zhar Lestin
Dantooine

Zhar nodded his head in understanding to Ken’s comments, respecting the amount of thought and modesty the Jedi displayed. It pleased the master, though he recognized certain traits of perhaps… overconfidence? He paid it little attention as he moved away from the wall he leaned up against. The master made his way further into the room. “I respect and admire your modesty in this situation. But, I do insist on you being there for this. It’s an important exercise, and I’m not too worried about either of these students feeling discouraged. Who knows, perhaps you may learn things from them. I find that even padawans can remind knights and masters important lessons in the force.” The master paused before looking out one of the windows. “We have high expectations of you. One day you will become a master, I do not doubt it. This is a chance, an opportunity for you to see how you may handle teaching others. Passing on what we know is part of our duties to the order.”

It was difficult for the master not to be excited for this moment himself, although he was reserved about showing it. His best padawan pitted against one of the highest regarded knights. He wondered what Ken might make of Aria’s own connection to the force, and he was more than interested to see the other padawan with his own eyes. “Alek Garrus is one of the most talented saber duelists amongst all the padawans. A highly skilled offensive fighter, almost the epitome of where a true Jedi Guardian begins. And… Aria. Aria seems reluctant to understand that the use of a saber is a natural part of her self. She has the gift, a natural talent for it that’s remarkable. I think you can help make her understand that, and Alek seems to be one who must learn humility.” Zhar moved back to the entrance of the room and looked back to Ken. “So. Come, the exam won’t start for a few more minutes. You can help me prepare the room.”

[vancexentan]

"I will do my best but I make no promises Master. I hope I can become worthy of that praise." Ken stated simply as he moved to assist Zhar. He was sincerely hoping he wouldn't be put into this situation. But knowledge was an asset. The girl was skilled but she was lazy. The boy was a talented swordsman but he was a guardian and he wouldn't be ready for a dedicated Niman specialist. He hoped that they held no tricks up their robe sleeves. He would do his absolute best to show these two what was expected of them though what Zhar wanted him to teach them alluded him. Humility and restraint? Pride as a jedi? Simple control of the blade? He couldn't put his mind down on that he followed Zhar intent on doing his job. He hoped Master Org would forgive him for not seeing him sooner than he'd like. The Weequay was not very patient when it came down to it. After all he did insist on going through all sorts of harsh environment training in order for the young human to keep up with him. He didn't expect to win the upcoming sparring match, two on one was the most likely scenario unless there was someone else he was being paired up with. Or perhaps one on one was more of Zhar's way. In either case Ken wasn't too happy about engaging in a saber duel. He was a consular a jedi who specialized in diplomacy and the force. The way of the blade was not something he even remotely enjoyed. It was always a secondary option. Always a last resort. If you could talk you way out of it or bluff then you did it. Mind tricking people was a low move but he knew it had strong viability among those who didn't feel the same way as a jedi. Ken did as he was told to do and kept his thoughts to himself. It would not do to share his thoughts as they would not do much for him and they would just make him out to be a coward or perhaps Zhar would see it as him trying to get out of his newly assigned training mission.

[boomlover]

Peace is a lie, there is only passion.
Through passion, I gain strength.
Through strength, I gain power.
Through power, I gain victory.
Through victory, my chains are broken.
The Force shall free me.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9nk_WHHTQtY

As Markus awoke he felt the sudden warmth of a blanket covered around him. And a comforting pillow which he lay on. He sleepily looked around the room seeing no sign of life beside the blanket and pillow that had been removed from his bed. He then felt and heard the grumbles of his stomach asking for something to eat. Markus stood up, stretched himself a little and proceeded to walk towards the cafeteria. It was morning and most Jedi where up and about doing there daily activities. The sound of younglings training could be heard in the distance. Cheerful laughter that sounded oh so sweet. Markus remembered when he himself was one of those children. So curious about everything and always so full of energy. Oh how times had changed. Markus tried to ignore the stares he was given. News must have been spread of his arrival. It was very annoying but not surprising considering that face he was still wearing his armor. He tried to walk into the cafeteria without getting noticed and grabbed some food from one of the food dispensers. He then walked to the Terrace somewhat to the left taking a seat in the corner and silently at. The sun had just risen above the horizon giving the clouds a pinkish hue. As markus looked at the farms and hills that seemed to go on forever he noticed something. The Jedi enclave always had a small hot spring and seeing that now Markus decided that it was a good idea to relax and to meditate a little. As he was about to stand up he heard a familiar voice in the background.

"Markus is that really you?"

It was Kale Jerikko his oldest friend he could remember. For a moment the two looked at eatch other stunned to ever see each other again. Then Markus broke the silence. Mostly cause it was starting to get awkward.

" It has been a long time hasn't it Kale?" Markus said bringing a smile to his face.

"You could say considering we all thought you had died 19 years ago. But it's good to see you my friend." Markus nodded, happy that Kale didn't fire a million answers at him like he did all those years ago.

" It is good to see you as well Kale." Markus said." How about you join me for some meditating in the hot spring we can talk further there.

Kale nodded and silently followed Markus. The two silently walked together not saying a word. Then again what could be said. Why he never returned? Why he left the Jedi order and future behind? All of these things where topics worthy of a proper discussion. Yet Kale didn't even utter a single word and just followed. When they arrived at the hot spring the place seemed almost abandoned beside a few of the older Jedi meditating. Markus turned towards Kale to ask why no one was meditaiting. but Kale answered before he could even open his mouth Kale answered him." There is a dueling exam going on for the pawdawans." Kale said calmly. as he started to unrobe himself leaving his private parts covered. He always had a rather slim build. And it seemed that had not changed. Markus did the same strapping of his heavy armor showing the scars he had kept away from every one. Most of them where former wounds of a sword. Kale again said nothing and was already in the water swimming towards one of the meditation stones. These stones where smooth underwater pillars that where deep enough so that you entire body would be covered besides your head. When Markus walked into the hot spring he remembered the first time he was here. A small little scoundrel that disturbed meditations and could never sit still. He swam towards the meditation stone beside Kale making himself comfortable. For half an hour the two peacefully meditated. Until Kale finally asked the question.

" Why didn't you come back?" A cold silence followed as Markus remained silent. Then like what seemed like an eternity he finally responded ." I had a thing to take care of." Again cold silence." And that thing took you 19 years? We thought you had died all those years ago and yet you didn't send a single message saying you where Ok . What happened to the old Markus i knew, always full of energy and curiosity?" Markus struggled to keep himself calm, The memories of that day coming back to him.

"Things change Kale, even you should know that."

"Things may change Markus, but not without reason."

To this Markus remained silent. Not having anything more to say. Kale scoffed and swum of the pillar swimming away from Markus." I will let you meditate then." Markus wanted to apologize, say that he had missed him. But he didn't his emotions where too strong. And releasing them would only bring more trouble. So Makrus simply closed his eyes and started to meditate once more.

[Gwynbleidd]

Mastar Kasari and Arren Kae
Coruscant

“There is only ever one thing that blocks one’s path. Some call it anger, some call it sorrow, everyone has a certain name for what it is but in truth it is but one thing. You. You are the block on your path.”

Kasari remained silent in the corner, not speaking or moving so she wouldn’t disturb the silver-haired Jedi from giving a lesson to Xeviiy. Where Kasari hadn’t been able to break through, Arren Kae had performed impressive feats of wisdom in which many padawans were left with the imprints of her questions upon them. The Council did not always approve of her methods, but Kasari couldn’t help but be in awe of someone like Arren. The woman seemingly had infinite wisdom to give, and behind that piercing gaze was a wealth of knowledge. An unreadable force who asked the questions that needed to be asked. Hard questions, never easy. Kasari gave up a long time ago trying to understand Arren’s ways, but she understood the uses. Right now, it was her place to wait and watch. Even she could learn something from the experienced master.

At the table, Arren Kae never moved her gaze from Xeviiy. “Ahh… So she sits. Yet, I wonder if the storm will be too much. The tower either stands, or it crumbles.” Arren looked out to the library. “I am Arren Kae. Kasari has told me much about you, Xeviiy. You’re resistant to using the lightsaber because you do not like to fight. I’ve known an apprentice like you. Strong in the force, very strong. You are too naïve to understand that your resistance is not an act of lightside mastery, but of ignorance.” Arren’s stare returned to Xeviiy. “The lightsaber is an extension of yourself. A part of your core being often truer than the lessons you receive. If you refuse to master your blade, who will you protect? That is what you want, isn’t it? To protect others. Ah yes, you understand the ways of healing and are on the path of mastering it. But, who do you heal if those you want to heal are dead? And, they’re dead because you couldn’t save them in time.”

Arren closed her eyes. “Close your eyes, breathe. I want you to see.” With her connection to the force, Arren let her own energy stream forth and connect with Xeviiy. The stream between the two became linked, merging the storm clouds with the padawan. “Can you see it?” Within the darkness, a vision appeared. A field on farmland, and a home. At the home, a mercenary held a man at blaster point. His wife and child stood nearby in terror, not daring to move. A second mercenary had his blaster rifle pointed at them, standing over the corpse of a young girl.

The voice of the mercenary became real, talking as if directly to Xeviiy. “Nothing funny, Jedi. You pull something, they end up like her.”

“What do you do? The choice is yours.” Arren asked.

Anna Sparvic
Coruscant

It took a lot of work for Anna to reach her position, but she took no shortcuts and never looked for an easier path. She did everything by the letter of the law, strictly upholding the tenants of law and justice the Republic provided for her to follow. Her hard work was noticed and after the Great Sith War, she found herself under the command of Leon Arthos: a well-known name in Republic circles for his heroism during the war. Anna never told him, but he was one of the reasons she joined the Republic. Reading about his brave exploits and others, she wanted to contribute in her own way. A duty to upkeep peace and prosperity.

What she didn’t expect was the way Leon cut corners sometimes. It seemed soldier work and officer paperwork style of work clashed with each other. The man was always restless and driving the superiors insane with the everlasting procrastination on paperwork. During those times it seemed Anna’s red hair was more than just red, but perhaps fire fueling her to kick Leon into gear. Normally even keel, she could lose her patience and the entire force seemed rather entertained when the lieutenant was directing Leon about to his work. Many mistook her as a completely strict robot for the Republic, but Anna surprised many with the fact she could make a wise cracking remark. Ninety-nine percent of them were directed to Leon.

Again, the lieutenant found herself in the position of watching Leon take one of his infamous breaks. Sometimes he didn’t come back for hours. Sometimes, he didn’t come back until the next day of work! Anna was not going to allow him to simply shirk his duties and leave her with the leftovers. Standing in the elevator with him, Anna had to ask.

“Where do you even go when you leave? Honestly, sir, I’ve never seen anyone more dedicated to not doing their job. Sir.”

[Gwynbleidd]

Zhar Lestin
Dantooine

Zhar clapped his hands together, looking forward to what might be accomplished with this saber exam. Once they were at the combat training room, he cleared out any apprentices crowding the area. The lights flashed on, beaming bright against the soft orange matting that was common for the training grounds. Though, with a flip of a switch the matting could be covered by hard durasteel to test an apprentice’s endurance. One could knock someone to the ground, but a true test of one’s mind was to be knocked down frequently and still get up for another round. “Do what you need to prepare. Meditate, equip the practice lightsaber shielding, or practice. Take the time you need. I sense the padawans shall be here soon.”

The Twi’lek took his place at the head of the room and sat down, cross-legged to begin his meditations. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, feeling the force around him. As the chief master of lightsaber training on Dantooine, this room was close to a home within a home. “I hope for Aria to learn that the lightsaber is sacred, every bit a part of her as anything else. She wants to deny herself this, despite her intense affinity for it. When she has her mind set within the duel, it’s a beautiful work of art though rough around the edges and not mastered. Your master tells me when you duel it is quite an impressive sight. Today I have the pleasure of seeing three different styles. There is nothing quite like the duel, Ken. The way the force can become one with you and guide your movements, like a soft flowing stream…” Zhar paused. “You’re going to be a great master, one day. So long as you keep upon your path. But perhaps we don’t ask enough, where is it you want to end up?”

Aria Blair and Alek Garrus
Dantooine

As his footsteps echoed down the hall, Alek casted a long shadow with his imposing height. Several students looked up at him in awe. Rarely did anyone see anyone stand so tall, and his build was that of a Jedi Guardian prone to heavy exercise habits. Strong, powerful. He walked with a confidence bordering on cocky as he flashed a smile to the other padawans. Two blue-gray striped tattoos adorned his bald head. His jaw was strong, every bit of Alek represented pure physical prowess. And already the padawans whispered about more than the incredibly tall Jedi, but also the stories about Alek Garrus and his adventures during training. The rumors went that he had single-handedly dispatched a group of mercenaries himself. He discovered their base of operations on Tatooine and promptly eliminated them. A small group of farmers who were disturbed by them gave him his thanks. It was there his fame in the Order began, as well as his high level dueling skills. His offensive style was one many predicted would become oft talked about.

Alek himself, he was sent by his master to come here. Coruscant did not have the necessary teachers and padawans to raise himself to an even higher level. Eventually he made his way to the combat room where Ken and Zhar were waiting. Already, he could feel himself becoming eager. What were the contents of this saber exam? Judging by what he sensed from Ken, if he were an opponent, then things were already looking up. Alek also heard the name of Aria Blair reach his ears on numerous occasions. A favorite of the masters and a padawan like him. Here was his chance, a chance to prove his strength to the council and step forward to becoming a jedi knight. Alek gave a quick bow to them both.

“Where is Aria?” Alek wondered.

“Late, it seems. This is, unexpected.” Zhar commented.

Aria burst up from the flowerbed. She had fallen asleep right there, and she had spilled her caffa all over the place! Not to mention that, the young girl noticed drool on her hand. “Gross!” Aria wiped her hand and shook her head, feeling that her hair was absolutely unkempt. The bags under her eyes from a long night without sleep were only partially helped by her unexpected slumber. “I’m a mess… What am I going to do with you, Aria?” She talked to herself before suddenly she leapt up from where she sat. “I’m late!” Without wasting any more time, Aria snatched her data pad and went sprinting down the hallways. She nearly knocked over several people on her way until she came to a skidding stop where everyone was already waiting for her.

“You’re never late, Aria. Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all master. I just…” Aria sighed. “This was my fault, master. I sincerely apologize.” She bowed her head. Though, her eyes scanned the room from Ken to Alek. Aria had heard of Ken and everything seemed to be true. The flow of his connection to the force emanated from him, like him and the force were old friends never to be broken up. To her left, was Alek; someone she did not recognize. He towered over her, and his massive form spoke of power. His energy reflected that, radiated a raw forceful rage. Ken’s energy seemed much more calm in nature than that of Alek’s.

Alek’s didn’t find Aria’s height or stature to be what he expected. Her presence was something else entirely. She captured his attention, and that of Zhar’s. He could feel her coming a few moments before she even came into the room, and now that he saw her… Words didn’t do justice to the whirling energy of force that rushed forth from her. A dam that had been broken, and the force swelled out in an endless tide; surging. It wasn’t one thing, or another: simply, overwhelming.

“Very well.” Zhar spoke. “Aria, this is Alek Garrus and Ken Grant. Ken, and Alek, this is Aria Blair; my student.”

[Gwynbleidd]

Kale Jerikko
Dantooine

After all this time, there he was. Markus Bionte. Back from the dead. He didn’t know what to say when he first saw him, but he forced the words out anyway. Kale was miffed, irritated by Markus’s seemingly nonchalant behavior amidst all this. The man was dead, or thought dead as well as his master. Gone. Never came back. Not for nineteen years, and yet here he is. There was an infinite amount of questions, none of them tasted kind on his tongue. So, Kale went to the other side of the springs; letting the water flush the anger from his body. Drain the stress and the powers of the dark side away. This was a place of peace and it would not do well to lift the restraints and barrage Markus. Despite his own anger, Kale was a jedi knight himself. Years of training, not yet a master although some of the friends he shared with Markus were.

“Nineteen years is a long time.” Kale broke the silence. He slowly waded through the water to return nearby Markus. “I have a million questions for you. What happened? Why did you leave? Why did you not come back until now? How are you? What the hell is wrong with you? I almost want to punch you in the face. But, there is no emotion there is pace.” Kale cracked a smile. “I’m just glad you’re alive. It’s a shock. A surprise. But… a good one.” He sighed. “I won’t force you to tell me anything, I figure you had your reasons. Perhaps in time you’ll share what some of those reasons were to me. Adventure stories we might share over a drink, I won’t tell the masters. But, all in good time.” Kale stared off, thinking about something.

“Did you ever contact Lonna?” Lonna Vash, a dark haired woman with a pleasant gaze. She grew up with both Markus and Kale within the order, and shared a rather powerful bond with Markus. “She’s a master now. More than that, she serves on the High Council on Coruscant. You can bet she’s going to hear you’re back, and I’ll tell you what Markus. I don’t envy you when that happens.”

[vancexentan]

Ken spent little time waiting after helping clear out the area and promptly grabbed a training saber. It would leave mild burns if it maintained contact but the saber would not leave any lasting injuries. He didn't want to end up hurting anyone and he hoped that he in turn wouldn't need to deal with any reckless abandonment from the learners. Ken ignited the saber and it turned green. Happy with his choice he turned it off and flipped it into the air with his hand before catching it with one hand. It was decently well balanced. Of course he much preferred his normal saber with it's different grip but he wasn't sure if this session would see the need for an actual lightsaber. He also focused his mind and body. He made his force shield as strong as he felt he needed it to be. It should hold up to scrutiny now and he wouldn't need to worry about force shoves or pulls. He stretched his body physically and jumped up and down to prepare his legs for movement. As he did this he considered what Master Zhar said to him and he couldn't find a satisfactory answer so he simply replied to Zhar that he had no answer to that question and time would tell.

Even if it was just a simple training round Ken felt he owed it to Zhar to prove he wasn't taking them lightly. When the new jedi appeared he felt something about her. Like the aura around her was weighted down with something. Her words were smooth and clear. The other man...Ken wasn't sure he liked him. He felt...malice around him and he was unsure of himself. But Ken didn't speak up it was not his place to judge. Ken walked over a cool and friendly smile on his face. "A pleasure indeed. I am glad to meet you Miss Aria. I am, as Master Zhar has said, Ken Grant; a Jedi Consular former padawan of Master Org Gle. And good day to you Mister Alek I hope you are doing well today. I hope that you are properly armed and prepared for today." Ken said his arms folded in front of him. His right hand held his saber and his left hand covered his right hand forming a cross. "I will do my best to instruct you in what lessons I can today though I don't believe you will find them clear. I let my actions speak for me and let words lay where they will."

[Sohtem]

Xeviiy Sinclair
Coruscant

“I block my own path?” She asked, which if the upper half of her face wasn't covered, would have shown her raising an eyebrow in slight confusion, “I'm not blocking anything, I'm going through my path unhindered.” She added, finding the woman before her more and more confusing as they continued to talk to one another.

Xeviiy turned her head slightly to look over at her master before returning her attention to the woman once more, she had no idea what game her master was playing, if it was a game, but she didn't like wasting time on something when she was supposed to be learning. When Xeviiy was addressed again by Arren, she couldn't help but feel a bit defensive, “I'm not afraid to use my lightsaber, I choose not to use it, it's as much a weapon for killing as it is for defending someone, there's always another option to fighting and I opt for that before anything else.” Her tone slightly irritated, but she did her best to keep her temper in line.

She continued to listen to the woman speak, finding her words to seem almost like a personal attack, though it most likely wasn't, “I will do everything in my power to protect those that are in danger without resorting to violence, no one will end up dead if I'm the one able to conduct order like a Jedi should.” She retorted back to Arren, her strong beliefs and ideals, whilst noble, were naive and she was still too young to realize that she couldn't stop every negative outcome, the folly of youth as it were.

Xeviiy was taken aback when a vision appeared before her, it seeming so real as she glazed over the area, seeing the crops of the farm land and the home that wasn't too far away, soon her gaze fell to the scared wife and child, along with a man being held at gun point. However when she saw the corpse of the young girl, she couldn't help but feel a pain in her as the lifeless child lay there; she was surprised though when the mercenary seemed to be speaking to her, she extended her hand out to the two men, “You don't want to hurt anyone else, you want to drop your weapons and let these people go.” She said, using the force to try and manipulate their minds to influence to do what she wanted, she may not have liked these men, but wasn't about to resort to violence right off the bat.

---

Leon Athos
Coruscant

Leon remembered when Anna first came to him, telling him how she was his newly assigned subordinate, he found how rigid she could be sometimes to be something amusing, though he respected how hard she worked and wouldn't say anything of the opposite in regards to that. He did however find her constant nagging of him to do his work to be something of a pain, but that wasn't a bad thing to him, she helped keep him up with his work, even if he didn't want to do it, probably one of the reasons why his superiors assigned her to him, but it wasn't in him to be a paper pusher, he had to be out on the front lines, fighting whatever enemy came knocking at their door, that was probably another reason why his promotions slowed down some.

As the two of them continued to walk, eventually heading into one of the parks that was nearby, he pulled out a thin metal case that held some cigarettes he occasionally indulged in, pulling one out, placing it between his lips before getting a lighter out and igniting the other end, taking a a fairly large drag from it, then exhaling the smoke.

“It's a secret place the higher ups don't know about, can't have my plan to destroy the Republic be found out early.” He lightly chuckled, it being an irony of sorts considering how blindly loyal he was for the Republic and would rather die for it than help in it's destruction. Taking another drag from his cigarette, “As for being dedicated to not doing my job, I'm a fighter Lieutenant, not a pencil pusher, I need to be out in the trenches with the troops, even if I was a General I'd still be how I am now, there's just something about being with your brethren in combat that makes you feel like your full self; you want one?” He added, holding the open container to her.

He was glad to have Anna with him, though based on how rigid she was, he was sure that she had seen little or no combat at all and those types of people, whilst good on the orders and documents front, really didn't know what it was like to fight next to someone, to be in a seemingly impossible situation and some how both of you make it out alive, but he didn't hold it against the Lieutenant, he knew she was a good soldier and that she wanted to serve the Republic just like him, so he cut her some slack in that regard.

[Tsar Gatto]

Moryr Ruzim
Coruscant

Moryr sat perfectly still as her senses extended all-around of her, the hum of life was almost deafening as she controlled her breathing and continued to calm her mind as she sensed the force around her. It was still somewhat strange to her, to feel such a huge concentration of life clustered together with layers upon layer of the city around her filled with thousands and millions of lifeforms both sensitive in the force and those who were not. Despite her attempt to remain focused her mind wandered slightly as her thoughts again turned to the council and the other Jedi who surrounded her, her thoughts returning to the decision they had made and the past week at the temple.

They had long schooled her on the danger of romantic connections and lectured her on the relationship between the fallen Cathar Jedi Crado and his life mate Sylvar and how their relationship had led to his fall to the dark side alongside Exar Kun. They had explained again and again how their feelings would lead them away from the path of the light side and into the darkness - to the point they were convinced she had accepted their opinions and she had promised each of them that she would abstain from working alongside or even seeing Mudarr in the future. Her thoughts turned to his own fate, wondering if he would be punished more severely due to his position of authority and what they undoubtedly would see as an abuse of his position. She found herself hoping that they would be lenient with him, for he truly like her only wished to do good and serve the Jedi faithfully.

Opening her eyes she sighed aloud as she realised that her attempts at meditation had once more failed, her mind simply unable to stay away from the questions and doubts that still plagued her. Moryr resisted the urge to chastise herself, feeling more than dejected she tried to push the feelings aside as she stood and flexed her arms and legs as a sudden urge of restlessness swept over her and she felt the need to distract herself from her thoughts. Normally she would have engaged Mudarr in discussion or a metal exercise, failing that a practise duel or other physical contest of some type. But she knew that such things were no longer an option, and seeing how she herself was now a Jedi Knight as opposed to a Padawan she felt that she should be able to operate more independently without the need to lean on another individual so much.

Leaving the small room that was hers she began to walk brusquely through the large halls and corridors that intertwined through and around the temple, unsure to begin with which exact direction she was heading in. As she walked her eyes darted to each Jedi she passed in the halls, the majority of them politely nodding their heads or murmuring a greeting – gestures which she mirrored despite her gloomy mood. Eventually she found herself stood atop one of the large ornate bridges that swept over what could have been called an atrium of kinds, the combination of smooth metal and living plants that swept through the buildings gave it a somewhat tranquil appearance, something she was grateful for. She paused and glanced down at the numerous individuals and groups that were making their way to a fro across the floor of the lobby and she watched them somewhat uninterestedly for several minutes before she turned her attention back to herself and her course of action.

She longed for something to do, some assignment or other task that could occupy her – but no such instructions had been presented to her. She stood wondering if the council would see fit to assign anything to her again, assuring herself that surely she would be of use one way or another. Eventually her thoughts turned to what she could do in the meantime and it occurred to her that if nothing else she could perhaps make herself useful in the archives or the library – after all there was always more information to be catalogued and sorted, more information to be sifted through and analysed. Soon she found herself once more making her way through the uniform corridors before she arrived within the colossal structure that was the archives.

A few moments later she felt her attention drawn to one of the study rooms that sat aside from the library just several doors down, through the force she felt the presence of several individuals engaged in what she quickly assumed was some kind of training exercise. Her curiosity took a hold of her legs as she steered herself closer, her eyes finding a pair stood towards the centre of the room. She herself remained at the edge of the room, her feelings of uncertainty forgotten at least for the time being as she watched with her curious feline eyes, not wanting to intrude more than her presence already was. She silently made her way along the edge of the room to come and stand beside a tall woman who was watching the pair in the centre of the room, bowing her head in greeting as she did. She recognised only Master Arren Kae in the centre of the room, one of the many more accomplished members of the order – the silver haired woman practically hummed with the force as she and the younger woman faced each other. Normally Moryr would not have imposed without a prior invitation, however in her current mood she hoped that the intrusion would not be opposed as she watched with interest eager to distract herself from any wandering thoughts.

[Lucky Knight]

“The Force is a sword with two edges. Cut one way and vanquish. But be careless on the backswing, or allow your mind to wander, and you risk undoing all you’ve accomplished.”

The Aundus-Valay, Above Zetrea
Outer Rim

At first there was only darkness, a vast emptiness that stretched across time and eternity to engulf all that there was.

Stars swelled into being amidst this abyssal void and grew with strength, gaining and losing their light in equal measure. A symphony of celestial scale that could only be witnessed, never heard, never touched. In the vastness of that score there could be no noise. Only an aching expanse of lonely silence and the cold chill of a place that had never known the heat of life.

From nothing, from nowhere – the first arcing edge of a world. A dull thing, bland, a swirling mass of white and blue and green, with more than its fair share of browns. Here and there, as more of it pulled into view, could be seen splotches of darkness on the canvas of white. Smoke, perhaps, the blight of industry slowly tainting, slowly poisoning the sky. The world of Zetrea; a world of machines, of artifice … of war. Deep beneath the clouds, beneath the whites and blues and greens and browns, down far below the hues of a natural sphere, factories of impossible size burned their forge fires long into the night.

In the heart of that world lay fuel. In the heart of that world lay metal. And both were the prize. Both were the contentious fruits that had pulled worlds to the brink of war for want of Zetrea's resources, and some far beyond into conflicts of utter ruination.

Zetrea. Seat of the Margrave. Home of the Palace of White Fire, of the Gardens of the Midnight Eye. Of the Ten Thousand Forges and the Militant Court.

A cradle for ships that reached out into the void above the surface of the world and laid waste to cultures far removed from their own – or so close as to be kin. Wounds that scarred the galaxy and left lives asunder, most never knowing nor caring that the instruments of their destruction were built here. Wars were won and lost with resources and the means of manufacturing the tools of war, and Zetrea was no stranger to the game.

Centuries of practice had perfected their arts. It made them wealthy, made them powerful. Where once they played their rivals off one another, now they did little to stay their own hand. Now they had the soldiers (mercenaries in the main, but not all), now they used the weapons and ships they made to keep what they'd earned. Red-gold banners snapped above their towering cities and their sigil – the Rakau Talon – was blazoned proudly onto hundreds of outposts at the edge of their ever-increasing territory.

That wealth spilled out beyond the borders of their world, beyond the pale silver moons that circled them, beyond the outposts that walled their influence from the galaxy at large. They held no seat within the Republic, nor with any grand coalition of worlds, but their credits spilled into the accounts of all who held the power to ease Zetrea's way. Senators and warlords alike knew the scent of Zetrean alloy and Zetrean lucre, and most fell beneath the shadow of one or both.

And so it was that the world required a place to demonstrate to outsiders the majesty of their vision, the breadth of their strength, and the immensity of their glory.

Across the world which spins against the sea of stars passes a massive phantom of white and silver.

It gleams with opulence, with the expenditure of wealth without heed to function. One could surmise that the ship could have begun its life in the blueprints of a fleet warship, a flagship fit for kings or emperors. But it had grown fatter, grown wild. Buttresses of marble and liquid silverine alloys swept the length of it. Viewports dwarf the upper levels and allow those outside it to glimpse the seemingly endless storefronts and gardens within.

Into and from this monstrous pleasure warship – the Aundus-Valay – flow ships of all makes and sizes. Some slink into the lower ports beneath the surface of lights and glamor, shaking and creaking and groaning as they make their approach. Some are dignified and of the utmost grace. Others are shuttles of various makes and models – some of the Republic's merchants, others of the Hutt-controlled worlds, and yet more from worlds with equal weight but far less exposure. These were flanked by bodyguards and honor guards, and swept into the highest and most prominent ports the Aundus afforded.

For it was within the Aundus that the business of Zetrea's Clans was conducted, and there no small taste of the river of Zetrea's wealth could be had for the right set of skills at the right time, or a mind devious enough to play the system to their own advantage, consequences be damned. Games of chance and games of politics merged into one seamless ebb and flow within the marble promenades and the rusted inner decks within it, a crucible far enough from the core of the galaxy that choices mattered and lives had weight.

Against a backdrop of the starry void, against a backdrop of a world painted in the colors of nature above a beating heart of war machines and industry, passed the burning dream of the Aundus-Valay.

And it was within this last piece of the set that a momentous play would begin to unfold.

****

“I don't care who you are and I don't care where you're from,” the Yarkora attendant wheezed, leaning into the counter dividing him from his persistent – and most unwelcome – guest. “You will have to wait. A thousand suns could blaze their heat upon me all at once, relenting only should I permit you early entry, and still I would say the same.”

The noise of the ship beyond the audience chamber filtered through the doors behind Kujata as he stood contemplating how best to respond. The world of the Aundus-Valay was a strange one, a thing of jagged edges that intersected in strange ways, a juxtaposition of fabulous wealth and extreme poverty. A place where the upper decks shone with golden light and the verdant breath of greenery, while the lower decks stank of rust and fouler things. Of cramped spaces and closer shadows.

Its people were no exception. In his very brief time aboard the massive vessel Kujata had seen firsthand how varied the denizens and guests of this place were. Some dreamt of honor and of duty whilst others searched for weakness and showed none in return. Some were hard and others weak, some wore masks of bravery to cover their fear while others feigned fear to gain an advantage.

As more people gathered, as more betrayed who they played at and played at being what they were not, the less solid his grasp of the natures of those around him became. The pulsing, vibrant threads of life that bound them to the Force – to Kujata – sang a cacophonous symphony to his senses and made it difficult to gather a sense of the singular being before him. Without an anchor, without a brush of his senses through the deeper parts of the mind of the man, he'd have to guess.

So.

How best to respond?

He could try bullying, and it would be by far the easiest course of action. In sizing up the strange long-faced and wispy-bearded beast he'd determined immediately that there wasn't much physical prowess to be had in the attendant’s lanky frame.

An alternative might be appealing to the attendant's presumptions of high culture. Unlike himself – garbed in a worn-out long coat and simple tunic of moderate quality – the Yarkoran's lanky frame was draped in a two-layered vest and the opulent flowing tunic of the Zetrean upper crust. On top of that, a pair of synthetic rubine glasses peeked out from one of his outer vest's pockets – the glasses of a gentleman or gentlewoman who could not bear the blaze of the mid-day sun. Not something a poor laborer could hope to afford, and to display it so brazenly …

“Look,” Kujata began, taking care to leave the Yarkoran enough breathing room that he wouldn't feel crowded. “I understand the position you're in. I really do. And I wouldn't be asking this if I felt there was any alternative solution. As a gentleman, I'm sure you understand the pressing urgency and the stresses of business … the rewards and losses that come with timeliness and delay.”

A slow, sympathetic nod. Good.

“So you must understand the position I'm in. I'm on a tight schedule, a very tight schedule, and the sooner I can meet with your employer the sooner I can present the deal I've come to present. I've no doubt that she will accept and that such a deal would be of immense benefit to the people I represent and to the company which employs you – a benefit that would likely trickle down into the pockets of those who helped to make this happen, who helped to seize the opportunity before other could get to it.”

Conflict raged across the Yakoran's muzzle. The poor man was trying very hard not to imagine the potential benefits of a galactic-scale business arrangement and the commission thereof … and was failing terribly. Kujata could feel the anxiousness and the avarice practically radiating off of him. And still.

And still.

The conflict came to a cool, icy conclusion. A professional, to the very end. “I'm afraid, Master Turazi, that the answer is still no. The Matriarch of the Britu Clan is does not permit her schedule to shift at the whims of her lessers.” A pointed look told Kujata that he fell firmly into that category. “The most I can do for you is to offer to page you on your comlink when the appointed hour arrives.”

It had been building for some time now – and growing stronger with each denial and each measured, dismissive word out of the Yakroan's smarmy muzzle – but the irritation that swelled within Kujata flared at once into a white-hot rage. How dare this underling, this glorified droid, deny him the chance to cut his travel time in half? How dare this … thing … speak to him like that?

Wouldn't it be so easy to lay a hand to the hilt of your lightsaber? To thumb back the switch and let its crimson light spill forth? Would the smug little bastard still deny relief from the heat of a thousand suns, or would he shit himself and spoil those fabulously expensive trousers?

His hand shook, his fingers aching to touch the cold black steel of his weapon. To let his flesh caress the familiar ridges and pads that lined it and unleash the fury that welled within him. But he took a breath instead, then another. He let the memories that welled up alongside the fury settle back down.

“There is no passion...” he sighed. There is serenity.

Easy to say. Easy to chant. Much, much harder to grasp. Little glimmers now and then, little moments where the Code made sense … these were his solace. His comfort. But they seemed to grow rarer the older he became, the older he felt. How easy it is to lay claim to wisdom when you're too young to understand how slippery it is. How naive, yet … he couldn't deny that naivete was a comforting mantle when embraced without thought.

“Did you say something?” the attendant asked.

Kujata shook his head. “Nothing worth repeating.”

Sensing that his antagonist was conceding the fight, the Yarkoran had the temerity to chuckle. A deep, wheezing sound, and not at all pleasant to listen to, nor to stomach.

“Very well then, Master Turazi. It was a pleasure making your acquaintance. I shall let you know when we approach the appointed hour and the Matriarch is ready for you.” A thick, hairy paw laid itself on Kujata's hand, still splayed against the counter. “I shall endeavour to speed up the process should I spy any appropriate opportunity, if it is any solace to you.”

And it was clear the arrogant underling would do no such thing. Especially now now that he'd won.

So be it. Some fights were not worth fighting. Especially the ones that meant nothing.

Kujata acknowledged the attendant’s words with a grunt and pulled his hand from the empty gesture of solidarity. He whirled from the counter and made his way towards the door, seeking only to be rid of the foul, bitter taste on his tongue. But if he'd expected to find serenity in the promenade beyond the Britu Clan's main offices he was sorely mistaken.

At once the whole of the Aundus-Valay's noise came crashing down on him, smothering his senses and blinding him to the subtle threads of the universe for want of a moment to reorient himself.

The crowd was endless, thousands of faces bearing down and passing him by, pushing and shoving as they tried to get to whichever pressing meeting or profoundly important errand awaited them. Most were dressed in the finery of a dozen Outer Rim cultures, some bearing weapons and others only the sharpness of their jewelry. He recognized most of the species around him – a Twi'lek, a half-dozen Ithorians, even a blasted Jawa who eyed the crowd with a deep topaz shiftiness – but some eluded him.

Voices sang their chorus of languages in a sea of sound around him. He understood some, though the rest would give him a headache if he focused on them too long. Little bits might find translations in his head but the rest would only feel comprehensible, driving him mad for his inability to remember translations he didn't posses. He'd known some Knights and Masters of the Jedi Order who had a gift for linguistics … it was never a talent he shared with them.

One learns what one needs to on the field of battle or in the course of a hunt. The rest? The rest is dross.

Or so it once seemed.

Seeking refuge from the storm, Kujata pushed his way against the crowd and passed through the winding paths of the upper levels of the Aundus, squinting against the glare reflected from marble pillars and glowing signs and advertisements scrolling across most of the empty spaces on the vaulted ceiling above. There were no hawkers here – they were not permitted, lest they intrude on the sanctity of this illusory district of the elite – but the Jedi Knight felt as if he were assailed on all sides by the grasping hands of all the mercantile empires of the galaxy, a fate far worse.

Places like this, which catered to those who felt themselves far too important or influential, tended to dress up the usual downfalls of society with fancier clothes and prettier names, but no matter where one went it usually ended up being all about the credits. About who can get the most from you. Who can sell you what you didn't know you needed, be it a fancy new speeder or a dream that would grow to consume you.

It wasn't until he pushed free of the Aundus' main thoroughfare that he discovered a moment of peace. Adjacent to the primary row of shops, offices, hotels, and temples was a small little garden. In the heart of the garden bubbled a gentle fountain. On all sides save the one he'd passed in through were the walls of storefronts which held no windows. The only light in this place came from the path behind him and a viewport above which laid bare the starry expanse beyond the Aundus' bulkhead.

Or a projection of it, anyway. Kujata no longer knew how deep into the ship he was, and had no immediate way of knowing if what he saw was truth or illusion. Though it didn't matter – whatever the case, it was soothing. Seconds slid into minutes, and minutes into an hour.

He found himself crossing his legs beneath him upon the grass and sinking instinctively into a shallow state of meditation, the hustle and bustle beyond the garden melting away.

Finally he'd found the inner calm he'd been searching for back in the Britu Clan's foyer.

Too little, too late.

But such was life.

****

To dance was to live.

From somewhere beyond the walls of her quarters aboard the Dellenum came the thrum and hum of a ship in motion, and the dull muted voices of those who moved within it. But these things were white noise. They were the static hiss of the universe – present, but unheeded and irrelevant.

She danced.

Sweat streamed from her bare skin and flung itself free as she stepped through the forms she'd learnt by heart. In her hands swept twin swords, thin-bladed vibroswords from a time long before her birth, but no less deadly for their age. In the hilt of each was set a pale blue gemstone and from the end of each swung thin tassels which whipped at her hands as she moved. They were as familiar to her as breathing, and as necessary.

A pace forward, two back; do not show your back, do not give in to momentum lest you plan to use it, be wary of those who would seek to trap you in your weakness and seek to trap them with it instead...

There was a beautiful simplicity to combat. To the dancing of swords.

Within the dance there was little beyond the edge of the blade. The galaxy divided itself into two spaces – that which was within the reach of her swords and that which was beyond. A clean line, sharp and clear as crystal. Everything else that exists in the space beyond lost its importance, lost the value affixed to it. The memories of what was and the coming of what will be. There was no hate out there anymore, no sadness.

When Zeti Trankan danced the swords there was only peace.

She had a sense that the galaxy was less complicated, more connected, and bereft of the artificial complexities of a life lived within it. She set aside that which did not matter and focused instead on the movement, the whistle of the vibroswords as they sliced through air, the feel of each exertion straining her muscles, and the void her strikes left behind.

Ten years and six had passed since the day of her birth, and she only grew quicker, her strikes more sure. Beneath the dark green of her skin rippled a coiled strength honed from ceaseless practice and the rigid discipline of her father's stern hand. The soft lavender of her eyes belied the hardness of the mind beneath them. She was a Mirialan compact of frame but who lacked no heart, and had overcome the weaknesses of her size with technique, with determination.

Her proudest moment had been the look on her father's face the day she'd passed muster. The day she'd been ordained a Crusader and been fitted for the blue plate armor of a soldier, though that mirror sheen was split with a pair of emerald strikes down the front and shoulders. A Crusader, it told any who cared to look, but still green. Still unbloodied. That would change soon enough.

What would her father say when he watched her fight her first battle? What would he think when she slew her first opponent in honorable combat? Would he smile again, that smile he saved for her and her alone? Would he praise her before the others of the unit and show them all his pride? Or would he save the gestures of love for the quiet moments afterward as they dined and swapped stories of the field?

With a start she realized that her pace had faltered. She'd lost the concentration and focus of the dance. The outside world crept into her mind and dispelled the moment, and she'd been mired in thoughts of what was to come. There was nothing wrong with this, nothing strange or unseemly, yet she felt … cut off, somehow. As if it was a violation of some rule she'd never been told.

A deep breath, and a pause. Push all that away, she told herself, closing her eyes. Focus on a single point, let everything else rush past. Lift up your swords, yes, and breathe. And step. Forwards, and back. Let the vibroswords hum their melody as they move, let them lead and surrender to their will ...

She was lost to it again. Zeti danced the dance of swords and poured the whole of her being into it, and in return she found solace in its steps. Shame it couldn't last forever.

After some time a rap on her door put an end to her practice. “Who is it?” she demanded, putting an ounce of duracrete into her tone. Trying to mask the breathlessness of her voice.

The reply was curt. “Your father demands your presence in the hangar. It's nearly time.”

Boots thundered away down the corridor. When the last trace of them was gone Zeti released all the rest of her tension with a heavy breath and an explosive exhalation, then set her blades down upon the cot she called a bed.

Beside the place they rested lay her black compression suit and the plates of the armor that attached around it, and she took little time in donning everything. Straps tightened, her double-looped belt clasped tightly, the seal for her helmet aligned correctly, mobility of arms and legs assured, and the weight resting easily against her. Blaster rifle and pistol strapped and unobstructed. Simply wearing and knowing how to wear the armor brought her to a place of confidence, of assuredness that she imagined few outside the Crusaders would ever know.

Ba’jur bal beskar’gam.

There was a reason that line came first in the mantra.

When at last she was suited she reached down for her swords, considering them a moment before sheathing them at either hip. In the battles to come she would rely on her blaster rifle and the pistol at her side … but right now, for the day ahead, for her first blood and her first stroke of honor amongst the Mandalorian people, she could not possibly leave them behind.

One last look around the room – one last moment of her childhood – and she switched down the lights and sealed the door behind her.

It was time.

****

Time passed.

Stretching out.

The garden consumed him.

He saw nothing.

Moments on the chrono, slipping away.

The sound of the fountain, its water heedless of thought.

A drop of water in the heart of undeniable artifice.

The weight of consideration, passing through.

He let it go.

And he was empty.

And at last the spell faded away.

For a moment there, a long moment, he'd felt the gentle touch of the Force in its purest form. The simple truth that all things exist, that all things are bound.

That between each living thing, each breathing being, was the energy of potential and the threads of communion that wound around them. That passed over and under and through all that stood between these husks of flesh and carapace, the shells that gave shape to the luminous light of the beings within. From before the first moment of time and long beyond the last, the Force was.

He felt dizzy, lightheaded. What had awoken him? What had torn him from the moment?

No missed communications on his comlink. The Britu Clan wasn't ready for him, so he could not yet discharge his duty. What then? What had torn him from the brink?

There. At the other end of the garden, watching him. A pair of golden eyes, a small figure wrapped in brown robes decorated with curving, winding black ink in what he could only have described as tribal patterns. Great. Another blasted Jawa, and one with an inclination towards fashion.

Sighing, he rose from his seat upon the grass and stood, stretching. When he felt loose and limber again he gestured over to the Jawa who had not yet looked away. “Something I can do for you?” Kujata asked, wary.

The little being took this as an invitation and trundled over to him.

“Kindly one looks like man in need of drink,” it said in highly clipped Basic. “Stiff drink. Fair price. Am right?”

Was this creature a peddler of some sort? Kujata laughed. “You're not far wrong, little friend.”

The Jawa blinked. Once, then twice. Then shook its head. “Little, yes. Friend … not yet. Will show you, but need pay services, kindly one.”

The Jedi Knight grinned. Not a peddler. A guide. So it was going to be like that, was it? Well, that was just fine with him. Everyone had to make a living somehow. Playing tour guide on a tub full of spice-addled nobles and merchants with overflowing accounts was probably the least harmful thing the little Jawa could be doing on a ship this size, so why not indulge him?

“Alright, my not-yet-friend. I'm Kujata, and I am definitely in need of a very stiff drink for a very fair price.”

From within the patterned robe came a curt nod. “Kindly one is Kujata? Little one is Leej.” Pleasantries out of the way, the little tour guide turned and began to march back towards the crowd, gesturing for Kujata to follow. “Let us take path, kindly one. Stick close. Dangerous place if not careful.”

In the back of his mind Kujata thought of a half dozen distant worlds where once he'd hunted, the fire and blood that soaked them. Shattered bone and gore clinging to him as blaster fire rained down through the trees, a perverse sunrise amidst the darkness of the jungle.

And he thought – how dangerous could a ship full of merchants and politicians possibly be?

The last lingering touch of his comprehension of the Force fled him as he set foot beyond the garden and plunged back into the crush of the crowds of the Aundus-Valay.

[Gwynbleidd]

Master Kasari and Arren Kae
Coruscant

Master Kasari noted the arrival of Moryr with a returned nod of acknowledgment. She raised her finger to her mouth to signal a need for silence while the other master continued her work with the padawan at the table. Arren Kae was a different breed of Jedi Master, Kasari always thought. The way she taught contradicted much of what other master’s believed, yet there was no arguing with the results of her teachings. Her apprentices became strong and firm, capable of standing without breaking against the currents of difficult choices.

In the back of Xeviiy’s mind within the vision, Arren Kae’s voice softly brushed her consciousness. “Your path is never unhindered. Even when an enemy seems to be blocking the path, the only one in your way is you. The only question is: what will you do?” And within the vision of the family in danger, it seemed Xeviiy had made up her mind. The mercenary by the wife and child appeared affected by the use of her mind powers. He seemed hesitant, slowly pulling his rifle away. “I don’t want to do this… I’m going to--!” The sound of a red bolt of blaster fire blew his face away, sending the man crumpling to the ground dead. On the other side was the mercenary with the father, he shoved him over to his wife and child. Boots crunching heavily against the ground. “I told you not to pull anything funny, Jedi…”

The gun raised towards the father’s head, and then he pointed it over at the wife and child. Slowly, deliberately, like he was making a choice. The time for Xeviiy to decide was now. There was no choice given like the ones shown in holo-movies. The great heroes of the entertainment world were presented with black and white choices, heroic options that made them appear like paragons of justice and light. However, this was different. Was it just a vision? Everything about it seemed so real, right down to the last detail of the farm home. A framed holo-photo seen through the window opening. Scuff marks on the side of the house, footprints in the dirt. A slowly setting sun. There was no verbally provided selection of options. Do. Or do not.

Blaster fire rung out again and the father crumpled to the ground in a sickening limp crash against the dirt. Lifeless. Still. Limp. His face stared out at Xeviiy, and eyes that were moments ago bright with fear were devoid of anything. The spark that was human life and emotion had faded into nothingness. There was only the smell of smoke and the burnt skin of his chest where he had been shot and killed. Now, the mercenary slowly began his turn to the mother and child.

Arren Kae remained silent as death itself.

Anna Sparvic
Coruscant

“Something tells me we’re going to a cantina and you’re just going to get yourself in trouble.” Anna remarked when he made his joke about overthrowing the Republic. “I’ll make sure not to report your joke to the higher ups, sir. For some reason I feel the humor would be utterly lost on them.” She continued to follow him into the park as he pulled out a cigarette and began to smoke. Floating vehicles flew through traffic above them, or stopped completely in the often horrendous Coruscant traffic.

Anna cringed at the sight of the cigarette, her face curling into an expression of absolute disapproval. “No thanks, I’m partial to my life sir. You do know that those are literal death sticks you’re holding, right? Might not be a blaster, but you might as well be shooting yourself with one over a span of twenty or more years.” Drinks and smokes, Anna didn’t understand either one of them. Willfully poisoning the body seemed positively insane if one thought about it for a reasonable amount of time.

Though, once Leon went into the feeling about being in combat with fellow soldiers. Anna’s disapproval disappeared. Rather, she was more like a child caught up in a well-told story from a mother or father. Lost in the awe and wonder of it all. A jealousy and an air of appreciation and respect. Sometimes she forgot Leon was a war hero, even though that’s what made her excited to serve under him in the first place. At times he wasn’t what she expected a hero to be, but when he talked like this: it made the holo-vid portrayals of the man seem much more real.

Of course, Anna wasn’t without a sense of disagreement with him. Especially when it came to paperwork. “I think you’d find a lot of us who didn’t serve in the Great Sith War because we were too young wished we had been able. You shouldn’t be so quick to judge us ‘pencil-pushers’. We might not be on the front lines yet, but we make sure the order of the Republic stands and it functions. Long hours with no appreciation. We don’t get medals for resolving crimes and other matters that might seem minute to you. Like, like returning a sentimental memento to someone who lost somebody to a murder or something else. We do good work, and I’d like it for you to remember that… Sir.”

Anna didn’t want to give him a chance for rebuttal. “Lead the way to your secret criminal organization, sir.”

Aria Blair and Alek Garrus
Dantooine

“I’ve heard of Org!” Aria seemed to be pulled away from her mental restlessness at the moment, drawn into her student-driven fascination of learning all she could. If she was about to duel either one of these Jedi in front of her, it would do well to study them. Aria measured Ken carefully, noting his calm. She sensed a certain connection with the force, and knew because he was a Knight it meant he should not be taken lightly. Not that that mattered, Aria never took any opponent lightly if she was forced into a lightesaber training match. Zhar knew of her resistance to fighting, but Aria also hadn’t actually lost a duel to any other padawan within the temple. He sat in silence, allowing them all to interact. It was his hope to push Aria beyond her bounds and hopefully push her into the direction of recognizing the importance of mastering the blade. Mastering the lightsaber was like mastering oneself.

“I’ve heard much about you Ken. I’m happy to meet you. And you too Alek, your actions on Tatooine are much talked about.”

At that Alek nodded his head in acknowledgment. “I only did what was necessary.”

Necessary. Aria wondered if there was more to the situation, but perhaps he was right in what he had said. She sensed a certain aggression to him, and he carried himself with power. It could be a ruse, a front, but somehow something within the force made her doubt that. “Are we to be dueling in a certain fashion, master?” Aria turned to Zhar.

“Yes, yes. I’ve brought Ken here to test your combat techniques. He’s amongst the finest of our Knights, and I believe you have much you could learn from him. You will each have a turn dueling against him. One on one. Afterwards, you will take your lessons from that duel and face each other.”

It was a lot of fighting Aria thought, more than she had engaged in for quite some time.

“I leave it to you who goes first.” Zhar stated.

Alek stepped into the ring after grabbing training shielding and a training saber. The blade shimmered with the blue vibrancy of a Jedi Guardian. “I hope everything said about you is true. Practicing with my fellow padawans on Coruscant has become rather dull.”

Zhar smiled at this, for Alek was sent to him for this exact purpose. The imposing figure of a Jedi had grown excessively comment. For good reason, he had developed far faster than most had expected. But, Ken Grant would be his first true test.

Aria grabbed a yellow training saber and patiently waited her turn, taking a seat next to Master Zhar.

“Watch them carefully, Aria. I want you to study the ebb and flow of the battle. When Jedi lock blades, it is a movement of the force. A dance, if you will.”

She never understood the idea of elegance fitting battle, especially an art like dance. But, nonetheless, Aria nodded. “I will watch carefully, master.”

Alek readied himself on the far end of the dueling floor and took the stance of form one, Shii-Cho. Aria was curious. It was a form taught to all padawans, but at Alek’s level: it couldn’t be his preferred form. Nor did Shii-Cho particularly fit his temperament.

[vancexentan]

"Then you know he is not one to take combat training likely. He never went easy on me even when I was a learner. Master Nim made sure I had a hard trainer so that I could reach the best I could possibly get. I'll let my training speak for itself though." Ken said as he made his way across the room at an even pace away from the two of them and clutched his lightsaber in his dominant right hand. "Though I am flattered to know that one of Zhar's prized pupils thinks so much from a simple man from Coruscant's temple. I'll do my best to show you what I can as I said. I recommend watching intently but not intensely. Focusing too hard on one thing leads you to forget other things around you. That's a friendly tip to both of you before we start." Ken said as he watched Alek step forward his lightsaber ignited. "For the sake of being on even grounds and preventing harm I have chosen not to use my own lightsaber. My blade is a curved hilt blade. A slight twitch of my hand can change blade direction. Something I'm sure you've not experienced with a standard hilt like this training saber." Ken continued as he ignited his own blade. It's emerald green illuminated the sides of Ken's body. He felt uncomfortable with this blade. It was a drastic change from his standard blade and his spare saber was slimmer. Still Niman would afford him an advantage of not needing precise bladework that his second form Makashi would need him to do. Ken held his saber away from his body holding it at a steady angle facing away from his body. His other hand was held slightly away from his body. "I am ready come and face me Alek. And may the force be at your side." Ken said patiently as he awaited Alek to come at him. He knew what was coming. A strong offense. Guardians were tough and strong. Not as focused as Sentinels but more than ready for a head on fight. Ken however knew how to use Niman to dangerous effect. The reason he had practiced hard on it without a true master who knew it was because he knew of Exar Kun's talent with the style. A true master of Niman could defeat many foes. He was not a true master though but he was still competent.

[Sohtem]

Xeviiy Sinclair
Coruscant

Xeviiy had sensed someone else enter the room, though it was quickly forgotten when the life-like vision continued on, it had seemed to be working out so far, the man was obviously falling under her suggestion, then all of a sudden, she was startled as the man was struck by a blaster bolt and crumpled to the ground. Looking at where the shot came from, the other man seemingly unfazed by killing his partner, she couldn't believe someone would be capable of such things, then it only became worse as he directed his attention to the father of the family, she couldn't watch him die, but before she could speak out against what he was planning to do, another shot rang out and the father too was dead.

Xeviiy felt her heart sink, but in that same light, it also filled with anger, seeing the scared family who just lost a husband and father. Her hand shook it hovered near her waist, just begging to pull her weapon to her hand and strike the man down, but she couldn't draw herself to do such a thing, she believed that all life was sacred, though when it came being face to face with someone who killed two people in cold blood without an ounce of remorse, it was hard to believe her own idealism, surely someone like him was okay to kill if it mean saving a family, right?

She was drawn out of her thought when the man started to put his sights on the rest of the family members, “No!” She shouted as she used the force to try and blast the man away from the family before quickly sprinting over to them, she couldn't let them die, she just couldn't, what kind of Jedi would she be if she did, no what kind of a person would she be? But that same question also drew her mind back to her weapon, how was she supposed to know if drawing her blade was the right thing to do? Whilst the man was unpleasant, surely he also had a family and how would they feel should he be removed from this world, regardless of his crimes.

That's what the problem was with being a Jedi, even when they did right, someone always ended up hurt in the process and right now this conflict felt like it was pulling her in two different directions, draw her weapon and strike the man down, saving the rest of the family but also take a son away from another family, though the opposite was just as bad to where the family she was trying to save would be dead, what was she to do?

---

Leon Athos
Coruscant

Leon was in the middle of taking a drag from his cigarette when Anna showed she wasn't too fond of his joke before hearing her speak her mind, “Yeah, well there's a lot of things they don't like me doing, if I hadn't performed so well in my early career, I'd probably only be a Sergeant, and I don't always get into trouble, it just has an unnatural attraction to me.” He responded, a small crack of a grin appearing on his face.

When she refused his cigarette though, he couldn't help but laugh a little at her comment “Yes Lieutenant, but with things like war so much deadlier, things like these are small in comparison.” He spoke to her, taking one last drag before throwing it to the ground and then crushed it under his foot. “But for you, I'll try to cut back on it, can't have you being completely bored if I die.” He chuckled to her once more.

Her next remark did surprise him the most however, figuring she may have felt a tad insulted in regards to his comment, but before he could say anything, she was ready to leave and he figured he shouldn't upset her more. Soon standing up, he began to walk in the direction where the Jedi temple was located, it wasn't far, but it'd be a bit of a walk. In silence, he couldn't help but feel he needed to say something, “Look Lieutenant, I'm not saying you aren't valuable to the Republic, you are, you're valuable to me as well, I don't know how many times I would've fallen behind on my paperwork if it weren't for you...” He let out a sight, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them and continuing, “I apologize if my comment seemed insulting, all I was trying to get at is how much harder it is on the field, watching brothers and sisters you trained with, die or end up maimed right in front of you, you can't just ignore what you've seen...or what you've done.” He trailed off, looking at his prosthetic hand, clenching it into a fist tightly before releasing it, lord knows that he's done a few things during that time he wished he hadn't.