The Song of The Force

[Hol Horse]

Where the hell was he?

Athir sat on a beat-up chair on the isolated and uninhabited stretch of beach. The Otho, his freighter, was like a dead husk sitting about 30 meters or so away from him. The zabrak eyed it over his shoulder for a moment, noting the multiple black spots and holes in it that had been made by copious blaster fire. She might not have been the most glamorous thing in the galaxy, but she sure knew how to take a beating. Still, that didn't exactly help much when it ultimately had crashed down on some unknown spit of a planet on the edge of the Unkown Regions. Athir scoffed, he scoffed at the sorry state of his ship, he scoffed at the fact that he had been shot down by damned Bounty Hunters of all things, he scoffed at the fact that the distress beacon he currently had signaling for help would probably never reach anyone in the disrupted Unkown Regions, and perhaps most importantly of all: he scoffed at himself for being a piss poor smuggler.

Well, he had it coming, this is what he got for killing a Hutt crime boss.

The red skinned zabrak closed his eyes in contemplation, taking a sip of his last good bottle of vintage whiskey as he looked back at the gentle rolling waves lapping at his bare feet. It was beautiful here, wherever here was. The white clouds seemed like benevolent puffs lazily floating along, the blue sky was the must crystal clear and relaxing thing he had even seen, and the sound of the water rhythmically breaking against the sandy shore almost put him into a lull. If he weren't stranded and possibly stuck here, he would have made a mental note to come back one day, maybe chart out this place on some star chart, who knows. "No, no, no, can't be thinking like that. There's a good sign of needing more whiskey" he said to himself as he sat on the sunny beach.

The modestly sized distress beacon was placed into the sand next to him, it was spherical in shape, with flashing orange lights that were indicators of it transmitting an S.O.S signal in every direction as far as possible. Athir didn't know if anyone would pick it up, he had isolated the pirates who shot him down and their communications frequency, thus excluding them from the signal, but besides them he wasn't sure anyone else might be looking for him. His engines were toast, his hull was badly damaged, his hyperdrive was in a sorry state but not broken, and his protocol droid kept insisting the best thing to do was to make Tea- all in all, it wasn't looking hot for him right now. There was nothing he could do, he was stranded, maybe for the rest of his life. Realizing this, the zabrak stood up from his chair and screamed at the ocean, throwing his half-full bottle of whiskey as far as he could into the sea.

He cursed the lot of it: he cursed his sorry situation, he cursed his damned brother for writing him out of the family will and buisness, he cursed the Republic and Sith and their incessant fighting, he just cursed the lot of it as he threw a tantrum on the otherwise peaceful beach. His red skin felt burning hot as blood pumped through it in frustration and rage, all of his quick thinking and persuasion couldn't save him now. Suddenly feeling more defeated than angry, the man slumped back down into his chair and closed his eyes in thought. What could he do? What should he do? Athir thought back to what his father might tell him, that whenever he was stumped, the best thing was to simply breath and let his mind go blank, focus on one thing and let the world around you turn to white noise.

The smuggler sighed, the memories of his late father making him feel somewhat melancholy, yet he tried to the method nonetheless. The zabrak closed his eyes and sat back in his chair. The sun felt like a warm blanket as he slowly felt it envelop him. His troubled mind began to feel soothed by the sound of the waves gently breaking on the sand, easing tension throughout his body. The gentle rustling of the palm trees behind him seemed to fade away as he let his mind wander for a while. He could feel it all at once, the water, the wind, the warm sunshine, it felt like a cocoon almost the more that he let himself relax. He could feel it again, that feeling he had felt so much throughout his life since his father had died- that feeling of lightness, like the slightest brush of wind would send him flying throughout the sky, like he could feel something more than just the white noise of his surroundings. It felt almost like he had slipped into the background of a never ending painting that stretched on forever, like the sound of the water gently breaking and enveloping his sandy feet tied him to something bigger than this scene, than this planet, than his entire sector. He couldn't explain it, he never could, it was a feeling that seemed to creep up on him out of nowhere in the unlikeliest of places. Until now, he had never been able to call it at will, it was a joyous feeling almost, something that for once he didn't think he could buy with credits or money. That feeling of warmth, of something bigger, of his mind flying through the bright blue sky, of the cool water soothing his mind...

That feeling that there was someone, or something, out there calling his name. Something that was looking for him, and Athir was in turn looking for.

Something just over the horizon.

@Valen Pelora

 

[Valen Pelora]

General Valen Pelora sat silently in his sparsely appointed cabin aboard the Puddle Jumper. His eyes were closed as he let the Force wash over him. He rode the waves of the Lightside, his mind at peace. He was traveling from Dantooine to Jedha. The Great Temple of Kyber had been reopened to the Jedi. It had been closed for a century and was sorely in need of repairs. A contingent of Jedi had worked alongside the Guardians to finishing updating the Temple. It was a massive undertaking that had spread out into the Holy City. Annileen, Shae, and Corvo, were all otherwise engaged during the reconstruction. The task of examining the progress had rested at his feet. It was likely for the best, Valen had been instrumental in the reclaiming of the Temple. He had convinced the Guardians and the Elder to let the Jedi return. Progress had been slow at first, but the end result was magnificent. The Great Temple was the beating heart of the Jedi. He was proud of the work he had done. Now, he was headed back for a pressing Council meeting. He had not returned in far too long. His meditation was interrupted by the chiming of the commlink in his cabin.

“General Pelora.” He cracked his eyes open and reached out with the Force. He pressed the small button on the panel near the wall.

“Yes?” His voice was calm and measured.

“We’re detecting a distress signal from a nearby planet, looks like a downed ship.”

Valen’s brow furrowed. This brought back memories of the last time they had run across a troubling distress beacon. It had ended in Sigal nearly falling to the Darkside. Thankfully, his student was safely aboard the Peacekeeper. It was just him, Alara, and 2 Jedi Knights, this time around. He stood and stretched. His joints creaking as he moved towards the door. He had been meditating longer than he thought. He pressed the commlink again.

“Take us out of hyperspace, I’m coming to the cockpit.” He felt the yacht slow as he made his way towards the cockpit. He found Alara and the Knights waiting for him.

“We have pinpointed the distress signal, it’s a beach in the southern hemisphere of the planet. There does not appear to be any significant settlements.” He sensed the Force pulling him towards the planet. Odd.

“Take us down.” The Puddle Jumper descended smoothly towards the planet’s surface and set down a few miles from the location of the distress signal. He knew Alara would not approve of what he said next.

“I’m going myself.”

“Sir…”

“Alara, it’s fine. Search the Force, there’s no danger.” His administrative assistant frowned but did not argue. In short order, Valen was striding across the beach. His robes flowed behind him as he walked. He was not wearing his typical armor, he didn’t expect any trouble. He crested a small hill and spotted a lone figure sitting on the beach.

@Ravendark

 

[Hol Horse]

Deeper and deeper Athir seemed to slip into thought. The sound of the gentle waves, the feeling of the azure water gently lapping at his now-wet bare feet, the warm sun enveloping him more and more, all of it made the zabrak feel as though he were as light as a feather. It was strange, the more he let his mind slip away bit by bit, the more the feeling of this blissful peace seemed to intensify, despite the sensation of it all feeling overwhelming. Every drop in the sea that brushed against his legs with the waves seemed to stand out, every minuscule tropical breeze felt like a gale, the rustling of trees and grass sounded like a choir the likes of which he had never heard before. When he breathed in, it felt like the planet itself did the same almost, as if his heart were beating in perfect harmony with it's very essence. Deeper and deeper he seemed to fall away, perhaps slipping between inner thought and falling asleep- hell if he knew at this point. The only thing the zabrak could attest to was an overwhelming sensation of inner calm, a sharp contrast to his previous frustration.

Still, he fell deeper. In the dark of his shut eyes he could swear he started seeing vague lights and abstract flashes of color, passing by him faintly but at high speeds, as if he were soaring from this deserted planet into the depths of space. As he breathed and let the world envelop him, he felt more and more like his mind were in tune with the rhythm of a song he couldn't describe. He could feel every grain of sand under his feet, every ray of sunshine caressing his red skin, every second of time seemingly taking an eternity. He could see lights all around him in his minds eye as it continued to soar off of this accursed planet, the feeling of a birds eye view that only grew more and more distant, while retaining that same sense of harmony with what could only be described as life. With every slow and relaxed breath he took, he could feel his mind moving further and further away from him, becoming part of something bigger, something higher, something money would never buy him. He could see it almost, the light, it was overwhelming as his mind's eye flew higher and higher, the sounds, the warmth, the planet enveloping him more and more intensely until he could almost reach out and just-

Footsteps...

A new voice was singing in the song, a strange one, it was hard to describe- a recurring trend in this experience of his. It almost sounded like muffled and forboding drums, contrasting against the choir of the grass and plants, while never becoming as dull and booming as the ocean's waves. Perhaps what stuck out most in his mind's eye, as it now seemed to fall back down to this planet, away from whatever climax it was coming close to, was way in which it seemed to pull on him. It wasn't a shiver running down his spine, nor a fluttering heart of excitement, it was just a feeling of heightened perception and awareness. With every step that this new voice in the song took, the more Athir began to feel the deep thought he was in start to slip away. The water felt more cool and uncontrolled, the sun becoming more violently hot than warmly loving, and the wind biting at his hair a bit as it stirred him out of his inner thought. Instead of looking outward every which way, the feeling he had sensed before suddenly seemed to become entranced in its entirety with the figure now approaching him. Every step he took feeling like a mighty earthquake, his heart beating like a drum. Yet still, despite all of it, that feeling of pulling, like there was something deeper than he could explain, like a few moments ago, that made him feel drawn towards the newcomer, a sensation he couldn't say money could buy.

Finally, Athir opened his eyes, the sight of the infinite and island-filled blue tropical sea splayed out before him.

Suddenly feeling the urge to move around a bit, the zabrak pulled himself out of his jury-rigged beach chair and stretched out his back, letting out a groan of satisfaction as he did so. His black tank top contrasted with his cut up cargo pants as he turned around and walked up the beach a bit towards his ship, his protocol droid was making tea still probably, the bucket of bolts. Athir grumbled to himself a bit before shouting, "Are there any ships on the radar?" he asked the droid working over the portable stove. It only took the droid a few moments to look at a small screen nearby next to the ship to confirm his thoughts, "Affirmative. It does not seem to be the one that shot us down, fortunately" the metallic figure said before going back to his cooking. That was good news, whoever it was that had found them surely could help them get off this island-filled planet. Athir let out a sigh of relief, he could still feel that sense of being drawn, similar to the one he had had on Naboo with Ocean.

After confirming the ship wasn't belonging to the pirate that had knocked them clean out of space, Athir felt as though he could lower his guard a tad. He turned around then to look back up the beach, someone was coming, he could feel it.

@Valen Pelora

 

[Valen Pelora]

Valen marched steadily towards the figure in the distance. The sun beat down on the sand, the ocean air brushing against him. He felt a strange sense of peace. The unknown little world was a small slice of paradise. For a moment, he was alone with the Force. His mind was at ease as he walked. It was a much simpler life, the ocean, the beach and the Force. He lost himself as he wandered towards the downed signal. It was not a traditional meditation but maybe it was better, different. He was close to the distress signal. He could make out the lone figure on the beach. A strange sensation grew as he walked closer. The Force. He could sense the Force swirling around the mysterious man. It was rough and untrained. Neither light nor dark. This was a man who either did not know he was Force sensitive or didn’t care. A strange anomaly in these dark times.

The Jedi or the Sith had scooped up most of the galaxies Force sensitives. The war raged between the light and the dark. He could not remember the last time he had chanced upon an adult with the Force who had not been forced to choose a side. A soul on the edge. He finally understood why he had felt pulled towards the planet. The Lightside had been pushing him towards this encounter. A chance to bring the Light to a wayward soul. A chance to find one more Jedi. He would not waste the opportunity he had been given. Wars were won on the smallest of margins. It was impossible to know what would make the difference. He was close to the man now, a Zabrak. Valen raised his voice and his hands. He made it clear he was holding no weapon and meant no harm.

“Friend! Your distress beacon reached my ship, what are you doing this far out?” He purposefully did not use his name. He was not as trustworthy as he once had been. His position made his name well known. He wouldn’t take the chance a slip of the tongue would change the tone of their meeting. He wanted to help a man find the Light, not spark another conflict.

@Ravendark

 

[Hol Horse]

Slowly but surely, a long figure came into vision far on the opposite side of the beach. At first the haze of the heat coming up off of the sand made it hard to tell much about the presumed-savior, but as the stranger grew closer, slowly but surely plodding along the tropical beach to the downed freighter, more of his features became clear. Athir squinted as he could make out a slimmer of green atop the alien's body, that narrowed things down a bit. What was he then, maybe a Togruta? They were green right? Maybe it was a Twi'lek? The man was wrong on all three counts though as the answer became clearer, the black marks on the man's face giving away his species, a Miralan. The smuggler didn't know much about them, there were of course plenty of Coruscant, yet they mostly kept to themselves so far as he could tell... Then again, having red skin and horns may not have made zabraks like Athir look all that approachable in the first place.

A thought dashed across his mind as the figure continued to approach. What if this was another bounty hunter? Sure there was a feeling in his gut that told him this wasn't the case, but he was going to lose both his gut and his head if he was wrong. "Go get my blaster, it's in my quarters under that pile of dirty laundry you complain about so much" the red alien barked to his glitchy protocol droid, which gave a "Hmm" of disapproval before dawdling back from his makeshift kitchen back to the ship to retrieve the weapon as hastily as a protocol droid could. Athir may have isolated whatever ship it was that had shot him down, but that didn't mean there weren't more than one, or that some other bounty hunter could have heard of his disappearance over short-system holocomms and decided to scavenge for his beacon. Smugglers were easy pickings after all, professional cowards as it were, with Athir being perhaps the most elite coward of his kind. It was a good living, since it being a coward meant living in the first place for the most part these days.

Though, something strange began to occur as the green skinned stranger continued to approach him. A distinct humming sound began to materialize as the figure continued to approach. Athir squinted his eyes a bit more, wondering if he was just starting to hear things now and if he had contracted some form of island fever. Still, the sound of humming persisted, slowly growing louder as the Miralan approached him. Suddenly, as he stood there, the blonde felt thrown thrown out of his mind once again like he had a few minutes ago, the sound of the water, the trees, the warm sun, his own and this stranger's heart all of it seemed to beat in unision, creating a stronger and more powerful symphony than he thought possible. Lights continued to streak in his mind's eye, a distinct warmth radiated from the approaching alien, its power growing stronger and louder as it approached, breaking into a chorus of voices almost as he came closer to Athir. The zabrak didn't know how to explain it, he could feel the warmth and true inner peace that he had felt sitting on this beach coming from the man, like he had becone one with the trees and oceans and suns and now acted as the conductor of a symphony of life that expanded into infinity. The stranger's presence was overwhelming, his light and presence like a star growing brighter and brighter. Athir visibly took a few steps back as this figure finally came to a stop in front of him, his very being drawing on everything- whereas Athir had only felt the waves and this planet breathing and living as one thing, this man seemed to be in tune with the galaxy in its infinite song. It was deafening, it was too bright and loud and honed for him to comprehend, it was-

Silence.

The man blinked as the stranger spoke. Suddenly, Athir was back on the lonely beach again, the only sound being the wind and the sea gently continuing their eternal cycle. For a few moments, the man recollected himself. He was here, crash landed on some spit of a beach in an unknown part of the galaxy, this was someone he never knew, plain and simple. Still, it was a person at least, even if he would be captured, he was getting off this planet. At that realisation, the man gave a smile, "Haha! Yes! Oh gods yes! I never thought someone would find me out here! Eat that fate!" the zabrak yelled, dropping to his knees in the sand with a 'plop'. Against the odds, the beacon had worked, someone had found him, he was going to get out of here. Though, the next part of the stranger's question was a tad trickier to answer. "Uhhhhh...." the zabrak said as he realized now he would have to explain why he was out on the edge of the Unkown Regions where no normal freighter would usually travel. Athir looked up at his ship. The dead shell had multiple holes in it, a shattered glass cockpit, pieces of it were strewn across this island probably, black marks where blasters had struck the hull could be seen, and conveniently enough an antannae fell off it onto the sand as the figure approached. There was no hiding the fact he had been shot down. "I was shot down, tried to escape blindly into hyperspace to lose them and ended up in this system, but was followed here anyways. Damned pirates and their 'toll fees' tailed me for hours until I got caught in an asteroid field. Got shot down, my hyperdrive and engines are fried, the hull is riddled with holes, and to make matters worse I think we just ran out of booze" the zabrak said. The whole story was a half truth, he had blindly jumped into hyperspace, plugging in random coordinates and ended up here, and he had been shot down while getting lost in an asteroid field- it was only the bit about mercenaries that he may have fibbed about, but weren't Bounty Hunters and mercenaries just the same thing anyways?

"Speaking of that, do you want anything to drink? My protocol droid is a bit off but I'm sure he could make some refreshing drinks or something" Athir said before turning around and yelling into the ship, "HEY YOU BUCKET OF SPARE PARTS, GET OUT HERE AND MAKE US SOME TEA AND SANDWICHES NOW!" he yelled, making sure that the droid could hear him. Even if the droid tried yelling back, the zabrak didn't care, instead turning back to look at the stranger. "What brings you out here yourself? I'm grateful that you found me, but nobody comes out this far unless its an accident like me. What's your story?" he asked before opening up another beach chair and placing it down next to his own. With this done, Athir would sit himself down in his own perch and lean back, resting more at ease now that he knew he had been rescued.

@Valen Pelora

 

[Valen Pelora]

The Zabrak seemed taken aback by Valen’s arrival. He realized he was flooding the Force as he breathed deeply of the Light. He had let his mental walls fall when he walked along the beach. A trained Force user would be able to shut his presence out. It would be second nature to most Jedi or Sith to keep their mental walls high. An untrained Force sensitive would feel the full brunt of Valen’s Force signature crashing through the Lightside. He carefully pulled the Force tight around himself and rebuilt his mental walls. He would no longer be assaulting the untrained senses of the poor Zabrak. Depending on how their encounter unfolded he would need to apologize for his thoughtlessness. Typically, he would have known much better.

The Zabrak certainly had a lot to say. He couldn’t blame the man, no telling how long he had only had a droid as a companion. Valen would have been chatty too if he was stranded alone on a tropical planet. He smirked slightly as the man crumpled to his knees, explained his predicament, and called after the droid. He could sense the half-truth in the Zabrak’s story. It was easy to pick out in the Force. Not an outright lie, but a creative version of events. The Force hummed with missing details. His eyes lingered on the totaled ship. Pirates, outlaws, and bounty hunters, were a growing concern. However, they left most freighters alone unless there was something valuable. Valen began to wonder just what the stranded man was hauling.

“Thank you, but I don’t want to put more pressure on your droid than necessary.” He pulled a small metallic flask from his belt and took a sip of the cool water. “There aren’t many who come this far out any longer. It has become increasingly dangerous but I sometimes you must risk the danger. I have been traveling the Unknown Regions and Outer Rim on diplomatic missions. We were headed towards our next stop but we picked up your distress signal.” He matched the Zabrak’s half-truth with one of his own. He gestured at the freighter. “What were you hauling to attract such attention?” The question was banal enough to hopefully not arouse any suspicion. He was curious who exactly this man was. @Ravendark

 

[Hol Horse]

Athir eyed the Miralan as he turned down the offer of home brewed tea made by his droid/cook/nanny/slave instead preferring a few sips from his own flask of what looked like simple water. Fair enough, still, who carried a flask around with them anymore these days? The zabrak still waited until the man was finished, his mind continuing to sketch up a rough alabi of how he had gotten stranded here and just who exactly it was that had shot him down. This stranger was his ticket off of this planet, he couldn't throw all of it away by souring the other man's opinion of him. Fortunately, the red skinned man had been weaving webs of lies all his life, it came as naturally to him as breathing by now. Thus, the Miralan's next quip was enough for the Zabrak to work with, attempting to dissect just what kind of background his savior was coming from. He didn't look like the slimy criminal like himself, he carried himself with too well for that, plus he looked like he showered regularly- always a dead giveaway from telling the scum apart from normal folks. He could have been a bounty hunter perhaps, though then again he didn't have the aggressive or narrowed focus gaze that the smuggler had seen in so many others. Thus, despite the sparse words that the Miralan gave him, there was little Athir could discern save that 'diplomatic missions' placed the other alien fairly high up on the metaphorical totem pole.

"Yeah, any further than here and I probably would never have been found" the zabrak thought aloud, he was right on the fringe of the Unknown regions from what he could tell, before he crashed that is. Still, there was an air the stranger posessed that interested the smuggler greatly, "Where're you heading then? My ship is totaled, is there a spaceport at your next stop I could use?" he asked, trying to recollect his sparse knowledge of this part of the galaxy despite drawing a blank. Hopefully the 'yes' or 'no' would give him some sort of clue to use. Of course it wasn't lost on the smuggler how purposely vague the stranger's details were, as well as his identity, he had been dealing with liars and thugs for 5 years now, he knew how to tell when someone wansn't shooting straight with him. Then again, if this Miralan were here to kill him, why didn't he just do so at the outset?

The stranger's next question was the one he had been preparing most in depth for, as he knew when he said the word 'freighter' the next natural suspicion would be his cargo. Fortunately for himself, Athir wasn't hiding any Spice this time around. In fact, his cargo bay had been completely empty since the incident on Nar Shaddaa. He had unloaded his last haul before meeting with Nibezza the Hutt and promptly putting a blaster bolt into his slug-skull at the idea of transporting slaves. It was only when he and his associated, Damon, went different ways to split the mercenaries hunting them, that he had been chased into hyperspace here and eventually shot down. Still, he couldn't exactly say 'no', that would have surely aroused more suspicion than anything, the Miralan had a point in that the normal space pirate or thug wouldn't have harassed the average freighter unless they were well off the hyperlanes or hauling some serious cargo. Thus, the zabrak answered with the first thing that came to his mind, "I was hauling Bacta. Pirates love the stuff. Easy to store, easy to sell, and a limitless clientel who would love to get their hands on it. Unfortunately, my engines caught fire and it melted in the cargo bay upon entering the atmosphere, it's just a bunch of slime and ooze now- cleaned it up and washed it away earlier since it got everything horrendously sticky" the man calmly said. He had never transported Bacta before, he didn't know the first thing about its natural state or if it could even melt, but he doubted that the other man opposite him could claim to know the same, he was in the clea-

"Master Athir, I have your blaster pistol, you were wrong- it wasn't under your putrid laundry, it was stuck under a pile of Spice that wasn't properly collected in Nar Saddah by those ruffian Hutts!" the effeminate voice of the droid announced as it shuffled down the metal ramp onto the sand, holding the aforementioned blaster pistol in his metal hand in front of him before realizing what he had walked in on, as a silence quickly fell over the beach between Athir and the droid. Athir didn't think red skin could turn white, but he sure as hell must have been trying right then and there as his body froze up and tensed in preparation for what might happen next. "Oops, I-uh what Spice? There's nothing here, no sirs. I am a droid, beep boop don't mind me" the machine said before 'accidentally' dropping the blaster pistol on the sand behind Athir, "Uh oh, oilfingers, dear me, beep bop"

Athir didn't bother yelling in frustration at the droid however, all he could do was keep his complete and utter focus on the Miralan in front of him as a silent standown ensued until one of them made a move.

@Valen Pelora

 

[Valen Pelora]

Valen was tired. He was tired of the weight of the galaxy pressing on his shoulders. He was tired of watching lives be lost in a never-ending war. He was tired of feeling helpless. He was tired of lying. He was tired of liars. The tone of this chance meeting had changed. Tension hung between the Zabrak and the General after the droid had bumbled onto the beach. Spice dealers were degenerates who preyed on the weak willed. The drug they peddled was outlawed in most systems, even within the Empire. The Council had followed the policies of the planets they protected.

If Spice was found it was seized and the dealer imprisoned. It was not a small offense. Valen kept his face carefully neutral. He did not want this to escalate into something it wasn’t. Spice was a dreadful drug, he thought poorly of the dealers. However, in most cases they were not evil. They might lack a moral compass but they were not the dregs of the galaxy. They were not Sith. This was a man who may have lost his way, a man who could be brought into the Light. The Force could do incredible things if you trusted in it. He would not waste this chance. He kept his hands clearly visible as he started to speak.

“No more lies from either of us.” He was taking a chance. He could feel the Force pushing him to leap. He felt like a youth again. “I am on my way to Jedha to survey the completion of the Temple of the Whills. My name is Valen Pelora. I serve the Jedi as a General and Council member.” He paused mauling over his words. “Dealing Spice is a despicable habit, but I have no desire to arrest you, or whatever it is they do with Spice dealers. Rather, I think I can help you in more ways than one. If you let me.” It was often a shock to learn you were Force sensitive. Especially, when the person was older. He wanted to soften the blow. @Ravendark

 

[Hol Horse]

Athir watched the other alien's face carefully as a short silence presided over the two of them. The zabrak didn't know who this Miralan was, nor did he care truthfully, all he was thinking about at this point was trying to get on the next ship off this planet before someone less than friendly came along to find him. The stranger's face spoke nothing seemingly as it was all but explicitly revealed that Athir was a Spice smuggler who had been shot down near this planet. The red skinned alien narrowed his gaze a she felt his heart begin to beat faster, whoever this figure was, he was an ace poker player that much was certain. Athir was a creature who prided himself in posessing a silver tongue, as well as reading others intentions based off the smallest of physical or verbal cues, but this guy was a blank slate. The only thing he had access to were a pair of seemingly placid and glazed over eyes that stared right back at his own green ones with an unmatched calm and serenity that Athir found mildly unnerving.

Suddenly, the man felt the urge to whirl around and pick up his gun. He didn't have any of his hidden blades on him, nor his blaster or grenades, but he was a crack shot after 5 years of training, he'd stand a chance if he could draw a gun faster than he could. Still, that aura the strange had posessed earlier, it haunted the zabrak a tad, almost as if to warn that such an action would be folly. Athir knew what happened to Spice traders varied wildly on where you were. In the Republic it had been jail, the Empire death, and in the Outer Regions it was more akin to unspeakable tortures. He would rather take his own life here and now if it meant rotting away in some hole or being subjected to a living hell. Times were tough, he would admit it. The final years of the republic had been a golden age for smugglers almost. The borders were easy to cross, people were too busy fighting one another to notice them, patrols were irregular, it was heaven. Now, with the Empire and Mandalorians breathing down their neck, it was harder and harder to survive. Sooner or later, people like him inevitably chose sides.

Still, here he was. Red, black, and with no flag plastered on his back.

Finally, the stranger spoke, using a certain candid tone when he addressed Athir that made him feel he was speaking truth... Or at least trying to. The red alien's gaze narrowed, "Sure" he replied at the truce of sorts that had been called between the two before any real fighting had occured. Though, as soon as the word 'jedi' had been thrown out, Athir felt his hair go up. He had grown up on Coruscant, he had only heard rumors of what the jedi were like. Vagabonds who kidnapped children and forced them to be their soldiers at young ages, the millions of lives they had cost with their wars against the Sith, the warlike nature of their order, the strange religion they had, their secret cults, etc. Oh, there was plenty of gossip and rumors you could find on the former capital of the Republic, most of it less than flattering. Sure there were plenty that Athir dismissed with ease, yet still, from his basic knowledge growing up, jedi were not to be trusted.

The man raised his own hands up as well as a sign of good faith when the Miralan did the same, but internally his mind was still whirling about who he was now speaking to. A General, a council, a jedi. The only thing that the zabrak could manage was a simple, "Oh", as for once in his life, he was speechless. Suddenly, that music he had heard the stranger conducting earlier felt all the more like an ominous dirge than a triumphant chorus.

It was only when the word 'Spice' was thrown back into the mix that Athir came back to the present somewhat. The zabrak began to brace himself for a verdict and a hasty rush for his blaster, but upon hearing the Miralan's words, he felt more confused than anxious. He could have interjected to argue with the man about the morality of the Spice trade, after all, for folks like him who needed the odd Deathstick here or there to deal with their anxiety, Spice was a way of life, he couldn't live without it anymore. Sure, he might have killed his former employer and thrown away his time in the spice runs for a time, but he'd be back- he always had to come back, it was who he was after 5 years of being a coward. A professional coward at that, one who was paid premium to flee from others.

"Heh, it's your show now pal, I don't have much of a choice in the matter" he stated, still holding his hands up as he spoke. Although what he knew about the jedi were just veiled rumors far and few between, it was common knowledge they were expert warriors, putting scraps like him to shame with a flick of the wrist. He was at the other man's mercy, for now that is. "What did you have in mind?" the man asked, still vaguely Valen and his offer if still somewhat suspicious and confused by his words. There was that feeling though that persisted, that feeling of being pulled towards him like he had with Ocean, his aura, his very being, it still hummed slightly as he just stood there, like a soft melody in a song before it returned to the chorus once more.


------

Far above the nameless planet the two stood on. A new, silent, and massive freighter approached from the darkness of space. It emitted no transmissions, no hailing frequencies, and no general signs of life. Yet it slowly, oh so slowly, it came closer and closer to the planet that had drawn it with such power and strength in the Force. The Dark Side clung to the vessel, its essence embued in its very hull practically. It's captain and crew could feel the light calling to them even from the depths of the Unkown Regions, a beacon so bright that it could be seen even from their sweet home. Now, they had found it, now they would see if the two were worthy. She would see if they were truly family.

@Valen Pelora

 

[Valen Pelora]

Valen kept his hands plainly visible. The tension was beginning to melt from the confrontation but he could still sense a deep mistrust in the Zabrak. The man was not enthused about what the Jedi had to offer. He couldn’t blame the stranded spice seller. Most beings of the galaxy didn’t grow up with aspirations of running from the law, dealing in slowly injectable death. He didn’t know what kind of life the smuggler had but he guessed it was not an easy one. Valen had faced a lifetimes worth of struggles, watched friends die, worlds burn, but he knew he was fortunate for the upbringing he had. He was raised in the comforting embrace of the Jedi Order. He would never trade that for anything. He left all subtly behind.

“You are Force sensitive. I suspect there is a part of you that has always known, and that you have ignored. It’s likely the reason you are alive. It’s the reason you knew I was coming. It’s a tremendous gift and a terrible burden.” He kept his voice as neutral as possible. He knew he was wading into a delicate area. “Untrained you are a danger to yourself and others. I can teach you to use this gift, to leave this life of yours behind. The Force can give you a purpose.” He left unsaid his true fears. If the Jedi did not find a Force sensitive, the Sith would. The Imperial Inquisition swept across the galaxy, hunting for souls to corrupt. The Jedi fought endlessly to beat the twisted Priests to the punch. “You can say no, it would do me no good to try and force your hand. I’ll take you off this beautiful rock and you’ll never have to see me again. But you might wonder what your life could have been."

Valen’s commlink chimed in his ear. It was Alara, her voice strained with concern. “A ship has entered the atmosphere, it’s running dead. No transmitter, no hailing signal. Nothing.” He kept Alara’ warning to himself. He couldn’t rush from the planet now. The Force was tipping the scales in his favor, he just had to wait a little while longer. @Ravendark

 

[Hol Horse]

Athir could feel some of his paranoia regarding Valen start to leave him, now replaced more by curiosity than anything. A dangerous mistress whom had led him on many a misadventure. Still, he tried to come across as somewhat friendly to the green Mirilian- after all, they weren't so different right? Like, they both had black body tattoos after all, that had to count for something. Tomato, Potato, as they say. With this sage quip of advice fresh in his mind and taking root, the zabrak would grab his beach chair and place it down on the sand next to his and his droid's little mobile set up. The smuggler snapped his fingers and looked to Tin-Can with a commanding gaze, pointing at a small metal pod placed next to the jury-rigged comm link he had set up. Athir was getting hot standing out here in the sun. Sure enough, the slave droid shuffled over complicitly and opened up a small latch on the metal object, retrieving a metal cannister as well as a large spoon, before turning and handing both to its master. As the Mirilian began to speak, the zabrak would open the cannister to reveal its contents: a full tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream, his sole comrade for hard times like this, truly his greatest friend when all others failed.

With tub of ice cream in one arm, a large spoon in the other, and a full mouth of mint chocolate chip, the red skinned alien looked back up to Valen as he dropped the metaphorical bombshell on him. 'Force', so that was what they called that magic then? Rather unsinspired name. Then again, all these jedi and sith- the lot of them, weren't known for their originality it seemed. There was still a flood of emotions and questions that dawned on the alien as he processed what he was hearing. Did that mean those times he had escaped to meditate, to get away from the foul things in his life, to breathe in calm, was all of it rooted in this mumbo jumbo that the Mirilian kept spewing? Perhaps, or he had been dopin on a bad strain of spice. It was hard to tell all things considered, still, his reliable friends of Mr. Ice Cream and Ms. PoorLifeDecisions kept him company as he took the news well. It was true that he hadn't felt thes esporadic moments, that sense of music or sound he had gone through on this beach among other places, until recently. He had certainly never felt them on coruscant growing up. Perhaps there was some sort of subconscious barrier at work? Athir mused these thoughts over as he ate his ice cream, staring expectantly up at Valen as he continued.

The notion that he was a danger to himself made him chuckle a bit. He already was his own worst enemy, how bad could a little well deserved karma be? Perhaps more amusing was the notion that this stranger, Valen, wanted to be a good samaritan and pull him out of the muck and mire of the only life he had come to know and thrive in. He was a good guy, or at least tried to be, it might get him killed like it had gotten others. Poor chump. The zabrak's mind thought back to Ocean though and her time training with the jedi, she had come back different than before, more in tune, more calm. Ocean may have been many things, but she was a Dathomirian he could trust, for better or for worse. Currently, she was the devil's advocate in his mind. Valen's words might not have fallen on deaf ears after all, maybe a tad numb, but not deaf.

Perhaps more remarkable though was the idea that the Mirilan would simply let him leave after he dropped him off on some planet, let him go on his merry way if he so pleased. Well, that was refreshing. Athir kept his gaze trained on the jedi as he thought these things over. It was a lot to take in naturally, there was still plenty that didn't make sense to him. For one, why was he only feeling this sensation of greater awareness now then when he was a youngling? True, five years ago he had felt similar sensations, but only in the past few months had he felt strong connections like this. Did his father know anything? His family? So far as Athir knew, they were as in the dark with this jedi buisness as he was. Still... It was hard to deny the fact staring him dead in the face. A jedi master, the creme de la creme, of all things, was standing in front of him telling him he was one of him, an unknowing actor in the star wars that raged across the galaxy. Heh, things really must be taking a turn for the worst if a lowly smuggler like him was being dragged into it all.

"What could have been... Mhm... I've been wondering that for five years now" Athir said as he closed his eyes in thought, his memory stretching back to the moment he had been cut out of his family, losing the vast wealth and influence he had enjoyed growing up. How different would his life had been if he hadn't become a smuggler like his ancestors once had? Would he be smoking himself to death? Injecting spice of all kinds to kill himself faster than anyone hunting him could? No, there wasn't a day that went by when Athir didn't think about what his life could have been like, though the Mirilian's words now offered a second divergence. Once again, he had a sinking feeling that a chance encounter was going to come back to haunt him sooner or later. He was a good deal maker, a buisnessman as he had been raised, and this deal, it was one with too many variables to keep track of. It was all something bigger like what he had felt sitting on this beach.

"I hear a lot of things about jedi, running around the galaxy fleeing for your life lets you hear an awful lot of things" the zabrak started as he put down his tub of ice cream and looked back up to Valen, "I hear they kidnap children, that they're butcherers no better than the common soldier, that they follow some religious magic that makes them crazy- there's plenty more, believe me" he stated, listing off only a few of the many rumors that seemed to surround the strange and mysterious order that held the remnants of law and order in the galaxy together. "Hell, there are some who say that what happened on that planet, Tython, was an eye for an eye, a long overdue revenge" he continued, crossing his arms as he spoke his mind. There was no money in any of this, but there might as well have been in his eyes as this deal being offered was just as good as gold, "I don't know what to believe anymore truthfully. Jedi, Sith, Mandalorians, Republics, Smugglers, Hutts- the lot of it all. I could care less about it, because at the end of the day, it's people like me that always survive 'till the end. Because, in the end, who really cares about us? The little people I mean, the insects" he started, he had seen it all before, in every system he had traveled to, in every person he had looked at who had been affected by the countless wars, in the eyes of the spice addicts he smoked with, "Millions die every day, planets desolated by every faction. This galaxy doesn't give a shit about any one of us, all they care about is war and dominance, and they'll step and crush anyone who gets caught up in it. Sure the sides have different names and masks that always change, but at the end of the day its all the same: the powers that be keep fighting their eternal war, and the rest of us just try to survive day by day until we manage to die by our own accord" the zabrak said, feeling the pointlessness and depression of it all weighing him down a bit as he remembered the helpless feeling of knowing that they were all just garbage meant to be used by all these factions.

"I wonder if they ever thought what life could have been, before they got killed as well" he mused to himself as he looked up at the crystal clear blue sky. He could feel a quiver of sound and flow from the world around him as its energy plucked and plinked at the strings of life itself- the force, as Valen called it. He would need to find another name to address it as. After a brief pause, the zabrak looked back to Valen, "So, why the jedi? If you're right, and I'm attuned to this Force as you are, why should I trust you? The Sith might be cruel, but that cruelty comes from strength and order. Why should I look at you of all people and agree to let you teach me a single thing? I've survived for this long on my own, sure I use spice to keep my anxieties and depression subdued, but that's just the way the proverbial cookie crumbles. What is it you're selling that I should buy?" he asked.

--------

"The One who Makes the Greatest Spirit will Show you a Path For the Fools.
Follow the Mazes of the Fake to the Home of the Mightiest in the Realm.
Speak with the Vain and Follow the Glorious to the Homes of Those who have Zero.
Bring no Companions except for The Three and Ignore their Advice Until the End.
Sacrifice something Dear To Your Heart in order to Gain the Worst.
When all you have is A Lack of Hope, Give Up.
When all you want is Out of Reach, Stop Reaching.
When the world is Pushing You Down, Stay Down.
Do Not rise do Not move, Your End is Nearer than I Want.

It's not easy changing the world like I do,
Especially not when you are hated as much as I.
When those with power are told they have me,
And yet they do not often fall to my call.
But those without power more often show it,
The world they live in has so much more temptation.
I am not so bad though, despite what the others say,
I simply want to change everything to me"

Mother sang her lullaby to her children as the bright light ahead of her called her forwards. There were twin stars, beautiful in their utter perfection. She could see them flicker and glimmer together, an awe inspiring sight. One coalesced with a subdued brilliance, concentrated into a single yet intensely powerful rotation. The other was more sporadic, more scattered- it was beautiful in it's own way, yet there was so much more there under the surface being hidden both voluntarily and by external means. She could see their beauty, their perfection. She wanted them, craved them, needed them in her loving embrace. They were her children, they all were her children. Their home in the Unknown Regions was a far cry from this strange place on the verge of the corrupted space. Still, it would only be a few moments to steal them both away to better things. She would protect them, she would keep them safe. She loved them, unconditionally, she knew what was best for them.

For only Mother Knows Best.



The black ship silently descended to the planet below, eerily floating without a sound towards the beach where her children stood in perfect harmony.

It would be alright, they would both be with mother soon.

 

[Valen Pelora]

Valen silently listened to a tirade he had heard a thousand times before. He did not interrupt, he did not grimace, he did not speak. It would do him no good to try and impress his feeling on the stranger. He knew exactly how the man felt. He agreed with him on a fair bit of what was spewed in Valen’s direction. It was a worry that kept him up at night. The war swept across planets. Terrible, horrible, things happened to good honest people. The innocents of the galaxy had not asked for this war. They had no understanding of the Force or why the war envelope their worlds. Battle would come and destroy what they loved, then it would leave. Valen had spent the first years of his time in the army cleaning up the mess left behind. He had seen first-hand the destruction wrought by Jedi and Sith alike. He knew how callous the warriors of the Light could be. It didn’t matter to him anymore. The Empire was the manifestation of evil, a deep pervasion of the Darkness. They drained the soul of the galaxy and had to be destroyed. He would stop at nothing until that plague was destroyed.

“We are not perfect. We have made mistakes, but at our core the Jedi serve the good of the galaxy. Imperial propaganda may paint us as emotionless killers but there was a time the galaxy remembered who we truly were. Healers, peacekeepers, and diplomats.” He ran a hand through his greying hair. He could feel sweat beginning to drip down his back. “The Sith serve only themselves. They care nothing for others or the galaxy. All they want is power, destruction, and death. They burn the souls from their soldiers so they serve without question. They lose who they are. The Darkside corrupts absolutely. As your soul dies, so does your body. The Lords of the Sith are slowly decaying monsters. The Jedi are not perfect, the Republic was not perfect. The alternative is far worse. I can give you a chance to make a real difference, to make a change.”

A cold dark shiver ran down his spine. Something horrible was singing through the Force. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. It was time to leave. “But you need to choose now. We need to leave.” He did not want to stay any longer. He did not know what was coming but it did not bode well for the pair. @Ravendark

 

[Hol Horse]

Athir kept his arms crossed as he looked up at the Mirilian expectantly. Perhaps the red skinned alien had gone just a tad overboard, after all, he was one to avoid lofty arguments like this, though something in him felt forced to speak- the same part of him that had forced him to place a blaster bolt inbetween Nibezza's head when ordered to start transporting slaves. Maybe all this sun was starting to get to him, who knew. Whatever it was, the feeling of frustration with his admittedly miserable life and the depressing state of the galaxy as a whole had finally bubbled up from underneath the surface in this rant of his. Hey, at least green face was taking it well, the guy must have been made of stone or something to just stand there and take the onslaught of softcore verbal abuse coming from Athir. Again, the smuggler tried to pick out some sort of twitch or small detail to tell what the jedi was thinking, yet it was no use. Finally though, after soaking up a flood of frustration from a normally laid back zabrak, Valen spoke.

It was Athir's turn to be respectful, for once at least, and listen to what the patient jedi had to say. He had never known much of jedi, yet the role that Valen painted seemed starkly contrasting to what he had originally assumed they did. While he was no healer, nor a peacekeeper... nor a diplomat... he was imperfect, and that had to count for something, right? Sure the whole serving the good of the galaxy might be just a tad over the top for him, but that was just a minor detail all things considered really, a cherry on the top of the cake. One thing was for certain though, the way that Valen seemed to run his hand through his hair and contemplate his next words made a deafening statement, the smugglers questions were ones he often fought with himself it seemed- or, at least, he assumed he did. The zabrak gave a small and somewhat wearily grateful grin as for a moment, he thought he had found a kindred- albeit vastly different- spirit. Sure he was a Grandmaster-whatever but again, tiny details.

As Valen gave his description of the dark nature of the Sith, Athir made sure to keep a kernel of suspicion in the back of his mind. Sure, he had visited Sith planets during runs, and yeah they were pretty gloomy, but the Mirilian likely was at least somewhat hyperbolic in his statements... right? The smuggler had never actually technically met a sith in person before, but it was the thought that counted. Mentally though, the man was unnerved with how he felt already like he belonged with this other dark faction. While he certainly wasn't a fan of the whole evil or corruption bit, a part of him already felt these days like it was fading away bit by bit, often through his own volition, one stressed puff of spice at a time. That was life for ya. Valen's sale pitch had finally concluded though, knocking the ball back into Athir's court, who in turn could only close his eyes and think things over- this stranded situation of his had certainly taken an abrupt turn for the unexpected.

A part of him wanted to simply play along with the Mirilian and hop off to some cesspool planet to refuel and get a new ship before going on his merry way, after all, the jedi said he'd let him walk- and Valen didn't exactly seem like the kind of cheap lying bastard who'd go back on a promise like that. Still, that feeling he had experienced on the beach, the way he felt like he was breathing with something bigger than himself- it was unlike anything he had felt before, naturally or artificially. It was better than any high he had had, more calming and tranquil than one as well. It entranced him, the way he could sense it all. While Athir still held some suspicions about this whole deal, and the kind of people he'd meet like Valen, he had to admit, it was pretty tasty. The zabrak kept thinking to himself, recalling Ocean's experiences with kind jedi who had helped and taught her so much. Alright, he would concede defeat on an emotional level, Valen had piqued his interest enough for him to say yes...

Of course, if he just judged everything on every homeless spice addict and did what they said based on some mumbo jumbo magic, he'd be a dead man by now. At the end of the day, what spoke with all the certainty of the galaxy no matter what? Money. He was a smuggler, he had become one, and survived as one, for the sole purpose of amassing a ludicrous fortune illegally after being cut out of the family company. Sure people got axed left and right by the bucketloads every second, but having a fortune tied to you certainly increased your life expectanty no matter what faction you were. Money talked to Athir, perhaps just as much as Valen was now- and it he were to join the Mirilian, he would be giving up on his greatest mistress. Perhaps that notion, more than any other, frustrated him the most... Still, if he learned what these jedi had to offer, became proficient in it, then he'd have a natural edge over any half-rate smuggler. Yeah, if he could learn to use this force, then he'd be making money at an exponentially increased rate than prior. Plus, after all, he had no home to go back to. The Otho I was totalled, he had every Hutt mercenary and Bounty Hunter with some free time hunting him down, and his semi-good name had been dragged through the mud. Perhaps a temporary change of scene was what he needed? If not to just lay low for a while, at least.

Athir made his decision, standing up from his lawn chair and nodding at Valen, "Not perfect sounds right up my alley. I'm in" he said, extending out his hand to shake the Mirilian's, "I'm Athir, ex-smuggler" he said with a small smile. He didn't know how all of this would play out, or if he'd even last more than a month with these people, but he would try at least.

Almost immediately after this introduction however, an intense and bitter chill ran down his spine. The tropical and relaxing air felt like it suddenly was in an artic tundra almost as the atmosphere seemed to mutate and change as something now approached. Athir was unable to feel anything, unlike the grandmaster in front of him surely, but now that whatever this was was close, he could vividly feel something wicked coming their way. Waves of fear rippled through the natural coward's heart as he heard a new sound unlike what he had hear in the presence of Valen, a mighty discordance. The wind screeched and screamed in agony as it wailed a painful cry, the rustling of the leaves now seemed to whisper urgent warnings and threats that grew louder and louder, the once gentle waves now ominously crashed upon the sandy shore with a darker sheen and greater aggression. Something horrible, something dreadful and utterly terrifying, was coming- it was nearly upon them. The world around them on their spit of beach seemed to darken almost, gray clouds now filled the sky as a similarly gray tone seemed to fill the world around them. He could hear a voice, different from Valen's. A female voice belting out in a tongue and dissonance that filled him from top to bottom with dread. For although he could not understand the language of her song, its leering screeching and cello-like strings meticulously plucked at the cords of his heart, piercing him with every passing second.

In short, it was time to make like a tree and get the heck out of there.

Athir didn't bother to grab his pistol or any of his belongings, the song now echoing and growing closer to him told him that all was worthless in the face of the coming threat. Still, he did manage to retain the memory to bring one article, "Tin-Can, we're ditching the ship. Time to get off this rock" he said to his sometimes victim-slave sometimes confidant droid, before grabbing his moderately heavy frame and throwing it over his shoulder with ease. He had carried plenty of heavier droids as a one-man cargo droid, one measely protocol droid was bliss compared to the things he had to unload during his tenure. With this sole posession hauled onto his shoulder, the man would immediately turn to Valen and start running after him if he had began to depart, or begin to follow him if he only now began to leave the wreck.

As the two would begin to leave however, a rather unsettling development would begin to occur. As Athir and Tin-can fled alongisde Valen, the sound of the dark song would grow louder, an aura of malice and defeneration unlike anything the zabrak had felt before. As it grew louder, and closer, he could feel it begin to overwhelm his senses, eventually to the point of barely being able to muster more than a slow walk. It was so powerful, so painful, so discordant in the way that it eschewed the beautiful and perfect song he had heard early and rednered it a pervese shell of its former harmony. The words of Valen came to the semi-smuggler's mind as he tried with all his will to force himself forwards alongside the grandmaster to his ship, yet, with every step he took he felt that dark song grip his very being more and more. Eventually, he fell down to his knees, in a cold sweat and his mind flooded with that dark and unnatural discord, deeper and deeper it penetrated, until finally overwhelming his senses. Athir felt his mind twist and contort, his body spasming uncontrollably as with every note in the woman's dark melody, his being felt stretches. Louder and louder until, finally, his mind gave way, and he passed out- followed, soon after, by Valen. There was something unnatural about this song, this force, it was mutated, unnatural, yet still powerful.

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

​

The first thing that he noticed while regaining consciousness was the smell.

Athir groaned, keeping his eyes closed as he sniffed the air, it was putrid. Slowly but surely, the zabrak began to regain consciousness, opening his eyes to find a metal grated floor beneath him with metal tubing and such visible underneath. The semi-smuggler groaned as he looked around his immediate surroundings. He was in a makeshift cell it seemed, with a metal sliding jailbar door in front of him. The thing looked old and rusted, like it hadn't been used in years, yet still had a strange red pale sheen that made him more unsettled the more he looked at it. As Athir panted, conscious once again, he noticed he still wore his same clothes, though he had been stripped of all his tools. Valen was with him at least, a positive he was grateful for, though it seemed he no longer had his lightsaber on him, as he had been frisked as well. Wherever they were, they were now at the heart of the dark aura from earlier, and although it was no longer overwhelming to the point of passing out, it still eerily could be felt from all directions. This place was saturated in the dark side of the force- as Valen would no doubt call it.

The zabrak felt his heart beat fast as the utter silence of the jail quarters his cell was connected to unnerved him. The red skinned alien didn't feel safe without the grandmaster here, so, he shimmied over and did the natural thing anyone would do in this situation: start poking them in the cheek until they wake up. They needed to cook up a plan to get off this ship fast and back to Valen's transport. Athir had a hunch that they were still in the planet's hemisphere and, more importantly, they were going to die if they stayed here complacently in these cells.

This place was covered in red stains after all.

@Valen Pelora

 

[Valen Pelora]

The last thing Valen remembered was learning Athir’s name. The brusque zabrak had agreed to come to Jedha, to learn the ways of the Jedi. For a brief moment his heart has swelled with hope. It had been ages since he felt he was moving in the right direction. The galaxy was filled with death and despair. The small victories were the important ones. His world had shattered as they ran along the beach. The Darkness had blossomed above them. Loud, violent, and terrifying. It had stormed through his mind, ripping at his soul. The powerful hammer of the Darkside had battered down his staunchest defenses. He was powerless against such terrible dark.

It was unlike anything Valen had ever felt. He remembered reaching out in the Force towards Alara, begging her to flee. He would not risk the rest of his crew. Then blackness had consumed him. The pounding had overtaken his mind and soul. He fell into the darkness. Valen’s mind slowly returned to the present. His thoughts moved sluggishly and a rhythmic thump ran through his mind. His eyes slowly opened. His body was sore. His head left like it was filled with linen. Through cracked eyelids he saw Athir awkwardly close and poking his face.

“I’m not dead.” His voice was horse. He pushed away from the zabrak and quickly scanned their surroundings. They appeared to be in the belly of a rusted wasting ship. The Darkside pressed down around them, but it was less than before. The same strange melody hummed through the Force. He could hear his own thoughts but everything was tinged with the Darkness. Where in the Force were they? For the first time in a long time, the General was utterly confused. He doubted this was some trick of Athir. No. This was something else entirely. “What is this place? I have never seen nor felt anything like this.” He breathed deeply of the Lightside, shielding himself from the pulse of the Dark. “Tell me truly how you were shot down. Our lives could depend on it.” He had none of his gear. If they could find his Lightsaber and commlink he could summon Alara to get them away from this mess. @Ravendark

 

[Hol Horse]

Poke. Poke. Po- oh good, he was alive. The poke method had worked for him yet again.

Athir let the green alien push him back, falling onto his bum as the trained warrior scanned their surroundings. There wasn't much to see truthfully, they were stuck in a primitive cage, the thing didn't even have energy shields to protect from blaster fire. Instead, of all things, what looked like an ancient key-activated lock now held their cell door shut. There were some red stains on the wall, the words 'Stop the singing' was written in dark, long since dried, blood. The ground was dirty, with rusted steel floor panels that shook at the slightest movement. The zabrak sat with crossed legs as he sniffed the air, the place stunk- and for an ex-smuggler who was familiar with the scent of his own filth and poor hygene, that was saying something. The red alien could feel his eyes watering as his senses fully came to. Slowly but surely, Athir stood up, stretching his back while Valen seemed to sense some of the things that he couldn't.

The grandmaster spoke after collecting his thoughts, earning a sigh in return from the zabrak who contemplated the situation. There was something about those cell doors that felt strange, perhaps more out of place than the literal bloody writing on the wall. Athir crossed his arms as he looked at the lock on the cell, it looked familiar to him, despite being clearly old. This was no jail cell, it couldn't be, if someone even had a blaster on them they'd be able to melt the lock. Then again, there was that eerie feeling that Valen spoke of, the older man referring to the powerful chill that seemed to permeate the very essence of the ship. It felt like a breeze that permanently covered and caressed the back of his neck, gripping his spine like earlier with a terrifying grasp. "I thought you were supposed to be the expert on this sort of thing" the zabrak retorted, being as clueless as the grandmaster when it came to the strange haze and permanent dark whispers that clouded every open space and every dark corner.

Then of course, the harder question to answer hit. Considering where he now was and his current situation, the zabrak saw no further reason to speak in half-truths to the jedi, despite not yet fully knowing the Mirilian nor his character. It wouldn't get them out of this cell, but it would at least calm his nerves perhaps. Athir sighed, wishing he had one of his spice cigaras with him, it felt like once again a great weight was burdening his shoulders with a mountainous weight. "Since the day I became a smuggler, my calling was running spice. I was an ace pilot, even at a young age- the son of a wealthy CEO on Coruscant, learned how to talk and how to coat my tongue in silver. When I got cut out of the family inheritance, I turned back to the ancestral roots of smuggling. Worked for one of the Hutts, a fat slug called Nibezza" the zabrak said, walking over to inspect the lock to their cell more carefully, its shape familiar to him somehow. "I made my own fortune under him... You ever try launching a CZ-PCT01 Freighter into hyperspace while dodging pirates and avoiding cluster upon cluster of black holes? No one else did. That little job launched my career, made me one of his most trusted smugglers. The jobs kept getting bigger, and so did the money and infamy- it was like a dream" he reminiscied as he squatted down, reaching through the bars of the cell and fingering the hole of the lock a bit. Yeah, this thing was old, it had tumblers. No half wit smuggler worth their salt would ever use a freighter tha-

Suddenly it hit him.

"Son of a Rancor, I know what this is. It's a damned freighter. These cages aren't cells, they're animal pens" Athir said, his eyes growing wide. He had used one of these things to, coincidentally enough, transport a Rancor off planet for Nibezza. It certainly explained the primitive nature of the lock, though, it raised just as much unsettling questions as answers. Realizing that these locks were easy to pick, a grin of small relief appeared on the alien's face. He quickly took off his shoe and pulled the bottom of it off, revealing a hidden blade. It was a tad large, but it would work, he only needed to hit one of these tumblers, the right one, to open the lock. Athir reached around while squatting again, placing the blade into the keyhole and fiddling with it, attempting to recreate what he had done during his escape from Dathomir a few years back. As he tried to break them out, he realized he had dropped his story halfway through. "Ugh- anyways, once the Republic fell, times got hard. The Empire took over and tripled patrols, securing the borders. The damned Mandalorians butchered what smugglers they found, scaring people away. I was on the run for nearly five years, my partner, Ocean, and a hearty amount of Deathsticks kept me sane. The jobs still paid well, but they got harder and harder, sucking me away with each job and hit of spice I completed. Eventually, I hit that point of no return" the alien said before feeling a 'chink' sound next to his ear as it was pressed against the lock.

A quick shove was all that was needed to open the cell door, it slid sideways easily, opening the two tattooed aliens to the dark ship's hallway. Standing up, the zabrak put the knife under his belt in case he should need it again. Though, it would be wiser to find that Mirilian's lightsaber and get off this freighter asap. Still, there was one last bit to tell, the most important bit, the end. "Eventually, Nibezza gave me an ultimatum. If I started running slaves for him, he'd make me richer than beyond my wildest dreams, the ultimate pact of faith in a loyal follower. I balked, I told him I couldn't do it- I don't know, something just snapped in me that had been building up for years, I wanted the money of course, but I couldn't take any more of that life. So, I shot him in the head, killed him right then and there. I got out of Nar Shaddah, blindly launched the Hyperdrive, got shot down by the bounty hunters after me, and crashed on that beach... Now here I am" the man revealed, finishing his little tale of gold and glory, and how quickly it had all fallen apart in one bolt of a blaster pistol.

There it was then, no more lies. Whatever the Mirilian wanted to think, he was free to. He was Athir, no more, no less.

The smuggler slowly and quietly stepped out into the hallway. Looking around, it would only take a quick glance to see that none of their gear was here. The hallway they were now in was equally as dismal as the animal pen. The zabrak looked up and down it, trying to create a vague mental map of what a freighter of this size would have in terms of a layout. Whatever kind of model this was, it was big, as well as old. It could be a labyrinth for all he knew, or as easy to navigate as a smaller ship. Still, he had a hunch about these sort of things, and although he may not have heard the clarity of the dark song now playing all around them like Valen might have, he was a filthy smuggler, and a filthy smuggler knew how to navigate just about any freighter. The hall they were in now, went down into the darkness in one direction. In the opposite way, the hallway split into two different paths. Athir frowned before speaking, "Alright, I know freighters. This hallway here I think will take us to the Cargo Bay. The other one will branch, with one side taking us to the Upper Decks, and the other down further into the Engine Room. I don't know where they have your light sword, but maybe you're hearing something I can't yet" the smuggler said, looking to Valen expectantly. Indeed, the highly trained jedi would feel varying amounts of concentrated and warped dark side energies depending on which way he looked. The path leading to the cargo bay was overwhelmingly potent in the dark forces tainting it, the path leading to the Upper decks had perhaps the least but would feel... strange, while finally the path to the engine room would feel somewhat less weak than the corruption clinging to the cargo bay.

@Valen Pelora

 

[Valen Pelora]

The strange melodic humming of in the Force continued to batter at his mental walls. His mind was a fortress, erected to keep the noise out. His strength in the Force was unwavering but he did not know how long it would last. Even the strongest walls crumbled against the constant push of the ocean. Nothing lasted forever, no matter its strength. They had to get off this ship. He did not want to consider what would happen when his defenses failed.

Valen had no doubt it would be a terrible fate, for both of them. He kept his thoughts to himself as Athir rambled on while fiddling with the lock. It was a sad but perhaps not uncommon tale. A history filled with disappointment that hinted at a good soul buried beneath trouble. If they survived, Valen may have made the right choice. Unfortunately, nothing about Athir’s life or crash gave him any clues about where they were. It helped that his fellow prisoner knew the type of ship they were on but it didn’t solve the mystery of the melody. He followed Athir from the cell. He reached out in the Force, searching for the right answer.

“When a Jedi constructs their Lightsaber, we meditate. The kyber crystal in the blade call to us, and from that moment there is a bond. A connection between the crystal and the Jedi. A bond that is difficult to break.” He reached through the Lightside. He called to the blade he had wielded for most of his life. He felt the crystal answer back. The greater the distance the harder it was to follow the bond. They were not so far apart that he did not know where his Lightsaber rested. “The upper deck.” He waited for Athir to show the way. He breathed deeply of the Force, pulling in the Light. @Ravendark

 

[Hol Horse]

"Sure, a bond, got it" Athir replied, still somewhat skeptical about the power of the force as a whole. Money and blaster bolts were forces he could better deal with, not immaterial things. Still, it seemed Valen had a better idea of where to go than him, deciding that their next move ought to be to go to the Upper Decks, presumably sensing his lightsaber there. With a silent nod, the ex-smuggler began walking down the dark hallways of the metal ship. The sound of his feet gently but switfly moving along the metal rusted flooring was a tad unnerving, for although he and the jedi could feel something truly off about this ship, there were no sounds save for that of the ship itself. It was quiet as the grave, with only their breathing and footsteps as company. The ship proved to be a massive beast, as it took some time for the zabrak to navigate his way through the dark halls until finally reaching what he sensed to be the ship's Bridge.

The red alien tapped the sensor next to the door, causing it to slide up and reveal the abandoned yet large room. The Bridge was spacious with a large U shape protruding out into space, as Athir stepped into the room, he could see the tropical planet below where he and Valen had been taken from- at least, he presumed as such, unless they had hopped to another ocean filled planet by chance. Controls lined the edge of the Bridge, surprisngly, they were still functional. Dozens of buttons flashed on the variuous control boards, the Holocommunicator in the center of the room had a green hue implying it still had power, and a cup filled with what was probably a long abandoned early morning coffee sat still on a nearby desk still almost full. Valen's intuition had proved right however, as laying on a small table adjacent to the Holocommunicator was his lightsaber. Athir breathed a small exhale of relief, at least the Mirilan had his weapon, that made one of them.

"Try hailing your ship. I'm going to tinker with this Holocommunicator and see if I can pull up any ship records" Athir stated before walking to the center of the room and stopping just in front of the aforementioned machine. A few button presses later and the zabrak was filtering through some basic diagnostics, he wanted to know what this thing was so that he could get off of it as quick as he could. Still, the data log's he retreived were rather strange, "It's an old Imperial ship. The Karakum, it was commissioned almost 2000 years ago at Korriban..." Athir started, his green eyes scanning what features he could from the long-since abandoned machine. "It was transporting recruits to the Sith Academy when it apparently moved to respond to a distress signal on the fringes of the Unknown Region. The official logs drop off after that" the red alien reported, feeling uneasy about the new info. This whole thing was above his pay grade, hell, he'd rather have been fighting bounty hunters again instead of putting up with sketchy stuff like this.

As Athir finished looking at the official logs for the ancient ship, he noticed a series of medical logs that dated from beyond the last confirmed entry. The medical reports were compiled by the oversized transport's head doctor, Hec'ubah of Dathomir. The thought of that red planet sent a series of chills down the alien's spine as he tapped the first entry in the remaining records. Sure enough, a young Dathomiri woman clad in a doctor's labcoat appeared, her image was fuzzy, a result of the holocomm's ancient age- it was a wonder the thing was working at all. The doc was tall, bald, and covered in the traditional tattoos expected of her kind. Slowly but surely, her words began to stabilize and be comprehensible, "-for two days now. The child displays a form of fungal infection, the like of which has not yet been recorded in our records. Attempts at communication with the contaminated have been unsuccessful, nor have been attempts and learning where the boy came from, his escape pod did not contian coordinates for us to reverse engineer its trajectory. For now, I, Dr. Hec'ubah, will remain the child's chief contact during treatment as we exit the Unknown Regions" Hec'ubah stated before the record ended.

Athir clicked the next entry, one from a few days later. Once more, the doctor appeared on the holocomm, though this time with bags under her eyes as well as a noticable slouch and slurr in her speech. Like before, it took a few seconds for the audio to stabilize, "-child has died. The contaigon it seems has spread through the ship to the recruits. Our hyperdrive has stopped working. I will not let the future of my empire die, I will not let any more children fall to this unknown disease. I have begun surgically treating my patients to resolve the problem" Athir's frown deepened as he quickly cut to the next entry, Hec'ubah now had am almost abnormal hunch to her back as she stood, her eyes seemed to bug out of her sockets a tad, a strange liquid was dripping out of her mouth as she spoke, "-I have cured my children, my patients, they are now as healthy as could be. Yet, I fear there are others aboard this ship who are so very sick, so very very sick. They need to be treated, to be made perfect. The dark man has told me of these things, and more. He has told me of the evils of our galaxy and its impurity, the wretched lot of them. They do not deserve such utter perfection as my kin, my sweet sweet young ones who I care with all of my heart. This place, this dark place away from others, it is here we shall fester and grow. We will become a family unlike any before, just, like, he, promised before he died" Hec'ubah said, her eyes glazing over as her body went slack while still remaining standing. A strange and eerie smile appeared on her face as she began to hum a happy tune, "When I was a young girl, happy and free, I'd wait for my prince to come rescue me. Together we'd be wed after we'd fled, leaving the fools at home scratching their heads-" the holocron cut out abruptly, its record having finally ended.


Yet, the song did not stop.

Far away from the bridge, echoing through the hallways in some dark corner of the ship to where the two now stood, a beautiful yet haunting voice gracefully continued the children's song, "-yet tis better to have lived cuz we'll soon all be dead. And the little cute things that through whom we live on- are the sweet sweet children, all tucked in bed". Athir felt his blood freeze, the aura he had felt on the beach suddenly started creeping through the open door with the woman's voice into the bridge, grabbing at his very soul with its icy touch. After the woman's song fell silent, Athir anxiously stepped away from the Holocomms, looking at the open doorway as a now raspy and decrepit voice echoed down the halls:

"Come to mother children, she will kiss the boo boo and make it all better"

Someone was coming for them.