Cloud City, Bespin
If there was one subject Laeonas had studied over the years, whether it was in the form of quiet observation and contemplation of the world around him, or in the texts of the Jedi archives on Yavin, it would have to have been the relationship between the individual and his limitations, both natural and imposed. Most high concept ideas went over the Brentaalan’s head due to his lack of an academic background, but he’d become acquainted with these studies long before he’d even learned to read. From the day he was born he’d tested his own natural abilities in the force, slowly training himself in the very basics of object manipulation and other low skill techniques. He’d tested his physical abilities every day, with next to no interruption, for almost a decade by this point, constantly training his body. He’d tested the limits that society attempted to put on him as well, whenever he stole a loaf of bread, held up a cashier at a convenience store, or kneecapped someone for not meeting a loan payment.
All of this had given him a fairly comprehensive idea of what he could do on his own, and how long it might take for him to get there. His force abilities had dramatically improved after his training with the Jedi, and his recovery period following the traumatic experiences he’d suffered on Firrerre had seen him reach a level of physical fitness that he’d never reached before. All the signs pointed to the fact that Laeonas had a long time until he finally reached his limits physically and spiritually, and he had a hell of a lot of work to do morally, but when it came to challenging the limits of society… well, he’d hit a wall.
It was one thing to commit petty theft, extortion, and drug trafficking– all vices that he’d given up after joining the Jedi. His priorities had changed, and he’d found that he simply couldn’t get what he wanted done alone.
What he wanted, ofcourse, was the complete and total collapse of the Sith Empire and extinction of the Sith Order, and it took him a grand total of zero seconds to realize that, even if he reached the apex of his abilities, he was no match for the empire all on it’s own. It wasn’t like he wasn’t doing anything either; every world he arrived on that had Sith presence, he’d stirred up trouble. Sometimes he beat the hell out of patrolling soldiers. Sometimes he stole (and resold) cargo on imperial vessels– but nothing he did ever achieved anything beyond maybe a poorly drawn rendition of his face being slapped on a wanted poster on whichever backwater world he was screwing around on.
For the first time in his life, the man was fighting for something bigger than himself– and he’d found that it was a hell of a lot harder than he’d thought it would be.
Thankfully, he knew that there were many likeminded people in the galaxy, and even if he wasn’t on the friendliest terms with them, there was still one group that he knew he could turn to– in this case, at least.
It had been a simple signal, on an old radio frequency, of all things. To most it would’ve meant nothing, but to the few who knew what it meant, they were bound to come. At least, that was what he was hoping for. Really it was the only thing the man could think of that wouldn’t immediately arouse the suspicion of the authorities. He didn’t know how long it’d take for the Jedi to show up, but in the meantime he’d wait in the most inconspicuous place he could find, that being on one of Cloud City’s many small cantinas. The force had a way of doing things that would (probably) sort everything else out, and he figured leaving it up to fate was the best way to avoid being tortured to death in a Sith black site.
@Altaris
