The towering trees, their gnarled branches intertwined, cast elongated shadows that danced upon the forest floor. The air hung heavy with the earthy aroma of moss and the distant murmur of unseen creatures. Gram, ever the lone traveler, felt the weight of the wilderness enveloping him, in stark contrast to the nebula he'd flown through on his way here.
As he ventured deeper, Gram's thoughts lingered on the complexities of his chosen path. The Jedi Order, once a beacon of unity, now scattered across the galaxy like leaves in the wind. The New Republic's demise had left him at a crossroads, and the journey into the uncharted territories of the Jedi sects seemed his only way forward.
The Vahla's attire, a blend of rugged spacer's garb and the peculiar grace of his kind, melded seamlessly with the organic tapestry of Kashyyyk. His leather jacket, adorned with frilled yellow shoulder pads, seemed to absorb the dappled sunlight filtering through the dense canopy above. The insignia of the Sorosuub Corporation on his leather belt gleamed subtly, his brown leather holster devoid of it's usual blaster.
In his hands, Gram held a holopad, its luminous glow casting a soft radiance on his focused expression. The chrome commlink, now a conduit to his thoughts, recorded his musings as he navigated the labyrinthine undergrowth. The forest whispered secrets, and Gram, unburdened by the weight of his spoken words, recorded his travels on the holopad - something he had taken to after his injuries.
“Personal Log. I’ve managed to convince myself that leaving the Mantis at Thikkiana City was a good idea. That, and asking the Jedi directly for tutelage or membership…”
Gram paused, ducking under an overgrown branch.
“Taken me all day to walk through the wilderness these wookies call home. Can’t say I’m unhappy the locals have left me be. Should be arriving at the site of the Temple in a few moments. I’ll update my log after that.”. The path may be tangled, but I tread willingly."
As Gram spoke, the forest began to shift around him. The underbrush, once an impenetrable maze, yielded to a secluded clearing. Meticulously crafted stone railings bordered an overgrown walkway, leading the way to a hidden destination. Moss-laden statues, guardians of an ancient legacy, stood as beacons to the Temple that lay ahead.
Undaunted by the possibility of danger, or a hostile welcome, Gram pressed on.
His footsteps echoing in the serene hush of the Kashyyyk wilderness. The Temple awaited in the clearing ahead, even as the sun sunk ever lower into the noon-day sky.
As he ventured deeper, Gram's thoughts lingered on the complexities of his chosen path. The Jedi Order, once a beacon of unity, now scattered across the galaxy like leaves in the wind. The New Republic's demise had left him at a crossroads, and the journey into the uncharted territories of the Jedi sects seemed his only way forward.
The Vahla's attire, a blend of rugged spacer's garb and the peculiar grace of his kind, melded seamlessly with the organic tapestry of Kashyyyk. His leather jacket, adorned with frilled yellow shoulder pads, seemed to absorb the dappled sunlight filtering through the dense canopy above. The insignia of the Sorosuub Corporation on his leather belt gleamed subtly, his brown leather holster devoid of it's usual blaster.
In his hands, Gram held a holopad, its luminous glow casting a soft radiance on his focused expression. The chrome commlink, now a conduit to his thoughts, recorded his musings as he navigated the labyrinthine undergrowth. The forest whispered secrets, and Gram, unburdened by the weight of his spoken words, recorded his travels on the holopad - something he had taken to after his injuries.
“Personal Log. I’ve managed to convince myself that leaving the Mantis at Thikkiana City was a good idea. That, and asking the Jedi directly for tutelage or membership…”
Gram paused, ducking under an overgrown branch.
“Taken me all day to walk through the wilderness these wookies call home. Can’t say I’m unhappy the locals have left me be. Should be arriving at the site of the Temple in a few moments. I’ll update my log after that.”. The path may be tangled, but I tread willingly."
As Gram spoke, the forest began to shift around him. The underbrush, once an impenetrable maze, yielded to a secluded clearing. Meticulously crafted stone railings bordered an overgrown walkway, leading the way to a hidden destination. Moss-laden statues, guardians of an ancient legacy, stood as beacons to the Temple that lay ahead.
Undaunted by the possibility of danger, or a hostile welcome, Gram pressed on.
His footsteps echoing in the serene hush of the Kashyyyk wilderness. The Temple awaited in the clearing ahead, even as the sun sunk ever lower into the noon-day sky.