Finding Elysium

[Demiurge]

Coruscant
Galactic City
Plains of Coruscant
Early Morning​

Coruscant. The center of the galaxy, the Queen of the Core, the galactic jewel; it was a planet of many, many names. The center of galactic affairs throughout tens of thousands of years of history. Some people saw opportunity in its vast cityscape, others saw corruption, and some saw nothing but durasteel and pollution. But to Aeslan, it was a piece of architecture. Designs from various cultures, enduring countless eras of time. For the most part, he was never able to fully appreciate if for what it was, never able to observe it all. But today was different. As an apprentice, Aeslan accompanied his master, Galak Avara, across the galaxy. Among his most common stops were Coruscant, the location of Galactic Congress.​

Oh, Aeslan had been to Coruscant numerous times before, but he'd never been into Coruscant's cityscape, never walked its streets. Ecumenopoleis were something Aeslan had never gotten truly accustomed to. Thick, lush forests and woods, but never urban worlds. They were foreign to him. But on this day, Aeslan's restlessness had gotten the better of him. With his master busy with diplomatic matters and concerns, Aeslan had more than enough time to himself. So the way he saw it, this day was as good as any. The young Padawan kept his hood over his head, feeling as if it'd make him less conspicuous.​

The streets of Coruscant were overly congested, like the crowds were swarming about. Bustling traffic and constant activity, the planet was like a hive. Always in motion, always moving. The influx of life there, trillions of lifeforms despite the lifeless terrain, it was overwhelming to sense all at once. Aeslan walked more slowly, steadying his pace as he moved through the heavily occupied Coruscanti streets. As he walked, Aeslan crossed district over district. He could still see the large pyramidal structure that was the Jedi Temple, but being this far made his somewhat nervous, despite giving his hyperkinesia an outlet. It was some time later when the young Padawan happened upon a cluster of skyscraping buildings touching the outermost exosphere, all built upon, strangely enough, flattened land. The Plains of Coruscant.​

It was a district in Galactic City of Coruscant that housed many buildings, from the galactic courts and municipal authorities, to many famous restaurants and diplomatic hotels. As Aeslan walked, he rested by propping his back against the wall of a nearby building. He didn't feel tired so much as he needed to take everything else in. Looking up, a holographic sigh levitated overhead, and the words above him read "Excelsior Hotel". He'd never heard of it before, but then again, he'd never ventured out into Coruscant's cityscape before. And even so, it's location within the boundaries of high-end diplomatic hotels and suites left little to be wondered. Either way, it didn't occupy his attention much.​

Suddenly, Aeslan's Force sense alerted him to a warped disturbance. He had felt the same kind before - whenever he'd be close to Jedi or natural Force Sensitive. Slightly shaken from the unexpected alert via the Force, Aeslan turned the corner sharply, only to collide directly into another sentient. The impact forced him back a bit, a few steps or so, but it didn't knock him down. Aeslan closed on of his eyes and lightly rubbed his shoulder as he spoke, all without looking at who he'd bumped into. "I'm sorry, I... I should have been watching where I was going. Are you alright."​

 

[Ser Gregor]

Galden never liked being this high up on Coruscant. It had nothing to do with a fear of heights, if you fell from a balcony you’d be caught in one of the thousands of emergency repulsors strung across the various ventilation chasms. What unnerved Galden was the fact that he was within spitting distance of the Jedi Temple, Senate Building, Judiciary Courts, and about five federal and planetary law enforcement agencies were headquartered here.

But he went where the credits went, and today they were with a fat old Sullustan hiding out in the Excelsior Hotel. He had been a legitimate business man up until three weeks ago when he unwittingly stumbled in to a criminal enterprise when he bought out a string of ‘pleasure palaces’ in Setalii, a city on Corellia’s Northern-most continent.

The credits were too good to pass up.

-=+=-

Galden couldn’t believe his luck. For a fat man like the Sullustan, he was deceptively fast, and Galden had hoped to catch him before he went in to the streets where every security camera could film the incident.

As the Sullustan turned the corner, though, he ran square in to a white-haired youth, knocking both of them to the ground and giving Galden the chance to line up a shot, a bolt of red plasma, with the Sullustan, knocking him unconscious.

Running up to the Sullustan and kid, Galden all but ignored the youth as he made sure the Sullustan was out.

“Thanks, kid,” he commented, muscles straining as he hoisted the fat man on to his shoulder, trudging over to a dumpster and dumping him in, taking out a marker and scrawling ‘right here’ in Huttese. The men who wanted the Sullustan would pick him up in three hours.

Holstering his plasma-bolter, Galden looked to the youth, only then noticing the lightsaber hanging from his belt (OOC: assuming here he has one, if not I’ll edit and say Galden notices his padawan braid.).

“Bantha shit, you’re a frakin’ Jedi.”

 

[Gambler]

Clouds rolled in from the horizon, dampening the sunrise. The morning gray was thick, but diluted by the sun's early rays. Skyscrapers rose above the cityscape as far as the eye could see. Most were silver, dulled by age, but others held a bronze or copper sheen. The Excelsior rose above them all to hover behind Naomi. Proximity made it the largest to her untrained eye, which isn't to say that a trained eye would fare any better. The Excelsior was as high end of an establishment as one could wish for. Its purpose was to impress, and it did so with excess.

Naomi's clothes were clean. Her blouse was pristine, freshly ironed without a hint of dirt. Her pants all but glowed. Her skin, her hair, everything about her was fresh. Nothing suggested what she had gone through the night before. Her torn clothes were in a trash compactor along with her old shoes. Her body had been cleansed several times to remove all traces of grime. She emerged appearing just as she had the day before.

The early birds were out and about, paying Naomi little to no heed as they went. Crowds were just beginning to form along the main pathways and in the speeder lanes above. Groggy crowds, but still crowds. People held briefcases and cups of caf as they walked. Most were silent, and the few who held conversations kept their voices low. It was a time for solidarity.

Naomi skirted the edge of the crowds, ghosting them as she walked. She lacked direction. Aimlessly, she weaved in and out of the shadows, eyes cast warily ahead. She kept herself apart from the crowd as well as she could. She walked behind it, in front of it, parallel to it, but never with it. The people were a comfort, one she couldn't bring herself to accept.

She needed to hear her own breathing, to feel secure in a bubble exclusively for her. She couldn't let herself get swept away by the crowd. Awareness was a necessity. Shuffling feet and murmuring voices drowned everything else out. It would lull her in, and individual awareness would flee.

She didn't know where she was going, or why, but she had to go. The where had never been important to her. The why coated in black and white perceptions. It was the act of going that held the colors in between. Crimson was her favorite. It was sharp, a perfect contrast for violet, but not harsh. It was the beginning of the adventure where the anticipation and excitement painted millions of possibilities. It was the color of...

"Matthias," she said. The name was strange on her tongue. It rolled with the flair of nobility yet held an edge of softness to it. It was a light name that hid tremendous weight. There was a hint of gravity to it, importance. It was a privileged name to be spoken with a downwards lilt, as if calling down some mighty force onto the world. It was crimson.

Blaster fire startled her from her thoughts. She looked up to see a dent in the crowd. A tall man with the grizzled look of a barbarian stood in its center, an unconscious form near his feet. He spoke to a younger man, who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. But the weight was distorted, as if to mock the young man for trying.

"Jedi?" Naomi asked, too caught up with the pair to notice that she was edging nearer.

 

[Demiurge]

Whatever moment of shock or distraction that came from bumping into the obese Sullustian was utterly purged with the piercing electronic whirring and red flash of the plasma rifle. Aeslan's mouth froze in place from the sheer unexpected factor.

"Thanks Kid," said the man, after holstering the gun. His hair was dark brown, long and styled in dreads. He was overly rugged, as if he hadn't groomed himself in years. Perhaps out of lack of care, or maybe that was his look.

But that wasn't the most noticeable thing - the man was towering in stature, with muscle built upon muscle. His look said it all; mercenary. In this particular case, there was little doubt that he was a bounty hunter. After dropping the unconscious Sullustian in a nearby dumpster and marking it, Aeslan flipped his hood back on just as the man turned to look back at him, around his waist; and Aeslan knew exactly what he was looking at.

"Bantha shit, you're a frakin' Jedi."

Partially out of exasperation and partially stemming from his own pride, Aeslan's eyes narrowed at the bounty hunter without him even realizing it. "And you're a hired gun," he said, with obvious insincerity, "Nice to meet you too." Aeslan's hand twitched slightly as his palms discretely opened. Mercenaries weren't known for being the most honorable sort, least of all bounty hunters.

"Jedi?"

Aeslan's focus suddenly shifted when he heard another voice coming from the crowd around him. This voice was distinct to his ears for one thing alone - it was definitely a female's voice. Turning his head slightly, a young woman, no older than himself, began steadily striding out of the masses of others. Her appearance was as distinct as her voice; she clean like a polished Corellian diamond, and was in attire that screamed 'prestige'. Given the district he was in, it wasn't too surprising; she was probably foreign nobility or held some sort of upper status.

At seeing her approach, Aeslan was hit with suspicion and some slight bewilderment. He hadn't been raised around the galactic core, but even he knew that this was an odd approach. He couldn't tell if she was talking to him, reiterating the bounty hunter's words, or what. Although not his intent, Aeslan responded to her without a single word, and instead only a blank, if not puzzled, stare.

 

[Ser Gregor]

“When it suits me,” Galden replied, holstering his blaster and dusting off his hands. He was just a kid, but any Jedi was one to be treated cautiously. Right now Galden was caught between a rock and a hard place. He couldn’t hide the Sullustan somewhere else without risking being seen by more than just the kid. At the same time, if he left what was to stop the Jedi from retrieving the Sullustan and waking him up?

“Jedi?”

Galden swore to himself, looking at the girl so very obviously out of place in the busy street. The way she carried herself and the way she spoke made him wonder if there was something wrong with her. She seemed to be half in a world of her own.

“Yes, he’s a Jedi. You look like you could use some help,” Galden said to the girl, turning to the white-haired youth. “You’re a Jedi, you have to help her. So go help her and forget about what you saw here.”

 

[Gambler]

Color rose in Naomi's cheeks. She could feel the heat rising, not quite crimson but darker than pink. Clouds passed over her face, leaving storms in her eyes and lightning on her tongue. She didn't care that the bounty hunter towered over her. She didn't care that he looked like a brute.

"Something wrong with me?" she asked. Her eyes glinted. "What gives you the right to decide if something's wrong with me? How dare you even think that?" She stepped forward, chin hiked up to stare down her nose at the bounty hunter.

"What's wrong with you?" she returned. She alternated looking at the Jedi youth and the bounty hunter. "You shoot someone in the back and act like it was nothing. You have a sulky look in your eyes like your trying to avoid... something!"

 

[Demiurge]

Forget about what he saw there? Yeah, he does that, the bounty hunter drags the Sullustian off to Chaos knows where. That was not going to happen; like the merc said, he was a Jedi. Helping people came with the profession. Aeslan's eyes narrowed as he prepared to speak out in rebuttal, his words were caught in his mouth at the sudden and unexpected outburst from the girl nearby.

Even before her words came out, Aeslan could empathically feel the surge of emotion rapidly build up. He was always especially sensitive to feeling surface emotions of others nearby, but it was rarely involuntary. This girl was seething.

"Something wrong with me? What gives you the right to decide if something's wrong with me? How dare you even think that? What's wrong with you?You shoot someone in the back and act like it was nothing. You have a sulky look in your eyes like your trying to avoid... something!"

Aeslan caught himself with a dropped jaw as he witnessed the girl he'd previously barely paid attention to rattle off the bounty hunter and then at him. "Um," Aeslan said, attempting to interject before the bounty hunter did, "Who exactly are you?"

 

[Ser Gregor]

If Galden had any doubts about this girl’s sanity they were quickly wiped away from her petulant, childlike outburst. As she inched toward him, trying, almost, to stretch herself out to his height he had to struggle not to laugh.

Pulling the plasma bolter from his thigh holster he flipped the rusted switch from stun to kill, brandishing the weapon for the girl. “This, pointed at your head, gives me all the right in the world. Do you think the Jedi kid is going to act quickly enough to stop me from pulling this trigger? Now back off, girl, before you get yourself killed.”

He had no intention of following through with the threat, but he found his impressive stature and gritty voice was usually enough to dissuade any confrontation.

Turning to the white-haired Jedi child, Galden shook his head slowly. “She’s someone very clearly out of her element. I suggest you take her home, wherever that is, before she gets herself killed. You have her life or the life of a scummy Sullustan on your head. It’s your choice.”

 

[Gambler]

Naomi shot the Jedi youth a glare. "Naomi Castelle," she said, her chin tilted petulantly. "Maria Castelle's daughter. Senator Maria Castelle. And who are you?" Her eyes were poison. Most people would wilt beneath that glare. Blue ice from the eyes of a cobra.

Before the Jedi could peace together an answer, she gasped. Fear replaced anger in a heartbeat. Her eyes widened, her breathing quickened. She looked down the barrel of the pistol and gulped. Then the bounty hunter opened his mouth.

"Just try it," she whispered. Her voice was hoarse, but she couldn't help it. "Shoot me and... and you'll have a bounty on your head!" Her words held a note of conviction, even though they lacked the weight of confidence.

"If you even try to take me home," she said, unsure of who she was talking to, "I'll... I'll scream! Someone will call the civil guard and you'll be arrested! And who're they going to believe?"

 

[Demiurge]

What started as a seemingly insignificant confrontation suddenly turned into a seemingly threatening issue. The suddenness of it all took the young Padawan completely by surprise. Without warning, albeit with provocation, the bounty hunter turned his blaster onto its lethal setting and aimed it at the senator's daughter.

Acting on pure instinct, Äeslan stretched out his hand while simultaneously calling upon the Force to telekinetically call Godheart to his hand. In a fraction of a second, a golden-amber blade ignited from the hilt, defensively extending between the aimed blaster and Naomi, as if drawing a line of protection between them. "Put it away - Now."

Äeslan was appearing otherwise, but he was nervous as hell. He'd never been in such a situation before, alone, and his impulsive nature caused him to act without really thinking it through. But in the moment that passed from his drawing his lightsaber, he realized that defending others should be a reflex, not a decision.

Strangely enough, Äeslan could sense no malicous intent building up within the mercenary, but he passed that off as his senses being blurred from the excitement of the moment. The next passing moments were of Naomi's somewhat panicked rebuttals, which were, whether she realized it or not, overridden and laced with fear. Even without his empathy, he knew she wasn't speaking through confidence. "Would you please," Äeslan began, cautiously, "Please, just stop talking right now."

 

[Ser Gregor]

A Senator’s daughter! Galden was in such luck. The Sullustan was a job that’d pay well enough, but a Senator’s daughter would set him up for months.

Her fear was palpable, and somewhere in the back of his mind he felt a bit of shame for threatening a young girl like Naomi. His family, the ones who stayed with him throughout his trial, would be ashamed right now.

His thoughts were interrupted by the orange, humming blade of the young Jedi padawan. It was placed well, right in the vicinity of his blaster. Looking sidelong to the youth Galden grimaced. He’d have to deal with him.

Fortunately for Galden, Aeslan’s extended blade was held far from his body, leaving his body exposed to attack.

“Kid, you have a lot to learn,” Galden quipped before shifting his weight to the ball of his left foot, his right coming out to collide with the boy’s defenseless chest, his torso twisting as he followed through with the kick, his blaster coming to line with Aeslan and firing, the blaster set back to stun. Galden didn’t need the blood of a child on his hands.

 

[Demiurge]

Äeslan saw it all, saw it happen. Every sequence. He knew it was coming, like any intermediately trained user of the Force, his senses alerted him. But despite that, he learned a hard lesson from it; seeing the future happen and having the honed skill to respond to it are two very different things.

The bounty hunter's swinging right foot crash-collided into the core of Äeslan chest, knocking him backwards and partially off the ground. The pain instantly paralyzed just long enough for him to see the crimson ring-like bolt of plasma hurling at him. In a last ditch effort, Äeslan instinctively swung his lightsaber in an attempt to deflect the bolt simultaneously to the grim realization; stun bolts were unaffected by the electromagnetic fields of lightsabers.

The shock of the bolt was like an intense heat surging through this body, wracking his head with pain and rendering him, by outward appearances, lifeless. Despite that, he was fully awake, able to see the bounty hunter that had shot him and hear all around him, but unable to summon any strength. His lightsaber had deactivated, but his muscles had constricted in his body, extending down to his hand, and was still gripping the hilt tightly.

His mind was screaming for him to get up, to fight, but his body was not responding. For the time being, he was helpless.