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Post by Deleted on Nov 20, 2013 7:21:32 GMT -8
The middle aged doctor motioned for Vexxtal to follow her as she walked out of Raylia's bedroom into the small kitchen she had. The cabinets and fridge were well stocked with a manner of interesting looking vegetarian dishes and meals. She pulled out a container of something and sniffed it."Looks like Master Venci's veggie soup. Would you like a bowl of it warmed for you? I think I can round up some bread and cheese as well if you want."
"Thank you. Is there a shame inhibitor? Perhaps in the form of injection? The chemicals are uncomfortable and implore action." |
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Devlin Dewe
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Post by Devlin Dewe on Nov 20, 2013 14:27:03 GMT -8
"He is. The Vor worship him as a god, and he made a strong case to Master Nelente that trying to convince them otherwise would do them more harm than good. I know we do not condone despotic rulers, but he seems to be more benevolent than most. The people had an acceptable standard of living, so far as my limited observations could determine." Kel'Al tilted his head slowly from one side to the other as he considered his response. It was a complicated situation, and he was not entirely sure they had made the right call on Khar's treaty. But they'd been backed into a corner, and there had really only been one pathway out."Please tell me if I am wrong, Master, but I believe our main concern for the time being should be Khar's intentions beyond Vortex." He rubbed his clean-shaven chin thoughtfully. "He is confused about the political division between the Jedi Order and the Republic civilian government, and so he has made a request to the Corellian Jedi for a peace treaty that we have no standing to negotiate. Not wanting to tell him no and anger him, but also not wanting to endorse it, we passed the offer on to the planetary government of Corellia, and now it is bogged down in the bureaucracy." "Beyond that, however, I have no further plans." He sighed. "Khar is stubborn, and I fear we will hear from him soon enough, whether we dispatch a team or not. I came here to make sure that the Council was aware of the threat and would be ready to respond to his next move." ### Aside: If the Jedi Master had only known, months ago when this discussion was held, Khar planned to come to Coruscant itself, and is in orbit this very minute, negotiating for a meeting with the Republic and the Jedi. No team had been sent in the mean time, but Khar's new proposal might very well prompt further action. |
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Raylia Venci
The Jedi Order
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Post by Raylia Venci on Nov 20, 2013 19:04:51 GMT -8
And by the time the good doctor had turned back after procuring the aforementioned bread and cheese, she might have noticed that the criminal (after all, she had committed multiple acts of assault and battery, felonies on most Republic planets) had already swallowed down the soup with that damned stoic expression, and was licking the bottom of the container so as to get the remainder that had caked on to the plastic. When all is said and done a good amount of the stuff is smudged upon her nose and chin, along with splattering the lenses of those rather delicate looking spectacles. Unmoved by the cold fluid upon her face, the Construct speaks. "My archives indicate that if a target organic commits to a selfless act that increases my tenure of existence, I am required to be gracious."
"Thank you. Is there a shame inhibitor? Perhaps in the form of injection? The chemicals are uncomfortable and implore action." |
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Post by Deleted on Nov 21, 2013 14:46:05 GMT -8
Curious: feeding rituals. The Construct was aware of their existence, but considering who her supposed father and mother figure, it was frankly quite confusing to determine if they applied to daily discourse and maintenance. On one side of the memory spectrum, we have a being who simply has no need to masticate and digest nutrients to subsist. On the other, we have a figure that seemed to eat much in the way this doctor was showing. However, both beings did display a reckless tendency to commit selfish or self severing actions, so they were possibly Sith. Wouldn't it be better to avoid replicating their combined habits?
Or perhaps there was no proven connection between consumption and being a Sith. Though wasn't it a self serving action? Perhaps some self serving actions did not invoke a sense of shame unlike others? Further investigations would be required to satiate such queries. Considering that the teacher was obviously waiting for the Shard to show some form of comprehension, it was best Vexxtal mimics and mirrors exactly what she saw. And this she does to a tee, and the taste of cheese causes her eyes to widen.
"There are so many questions but as soon as my cerebral fluids enable them to be formed even more multiply from the base and progenitor thoughts. Is there a way to deactivate or neutralize this effect? It's also confusing."
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Raylia Venci
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Post by Raylia Venci on Nov 24, 2013 13:31:54 GMT -8
Dr. Gilana shook her head politely as she finished chewing and swallowing a mouthful of bread and cheese.
"I'm afraid not. This is called curiosity and it is one of the driving forces behind humanity's exploration of space, their history and themselves in general. They, like many sentient species in the galaxy seek answer to those questions to better understand their role in the greater scheme of things."
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Arty Orspach
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Post by Arty Orspach on Nov 27, 2013 9:13:28 GMT -8
His alarm sounded and woke him from his not so restful slumber. The life of a Guardian was not always an easy or a joyous one, there was dried blood on his forehead, he had decided that the infirmary was the last place he wanted to spend the few hours he had left before he had to present his report ot the council. What a mission, it had been a good experience for his young Padawan, but neither had emerged completely unscathed, but such is the life of a Guardian.
His robotic hand came up in unison with his real one and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Two hours was simply not enough, but oh well he was a Jedi and the force would give him the strength to get through the day. Now was time fora shower and maybe a shave as his stubble looked far from professional and the dried blood might give off the wrong impression as to just what might have happened on the mission.
The water from the shower head both stung and refreshed the young Jedi Knight, as the blood washed down the drain. The cut was deeper than he had originally thought, but taking the butt end of a lightsaber to the head isn't something that's just going to leave a scratch. Arty rinsed himself off and stepped out to get dressed. Black Jedi robes were always his choice, they showed the darker side of him that existed, the side that he recognized and was able to control very well, most of the time, it did exist and there was no point in hiding it.
Stepping into his main living area now, he sat down with a datapad and reviewed his notes from the flight home the previous evening.
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Arty Orspach
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Post by Arty Orspach on Nov 28, 2013 5:54:17 GMT -8
After about an hour of reviewing his notes and sipping on a highly caffeinated beverage, which had the added benefit of warming him up. Hoth was cold, colder than anywhere he had ever been before and having been born on Coruscant and training extensively on Tattooine, it was a bit of a shock to his system. Why couldn't all the planets just have a nice mild climate? As long as questions were in the air, what was that Sith doing on Hoth in the first place and why didn't said Sith seem to have any interest in winning the fight?
All of these, except of course the one about climates were indeed valid questions.
The Knight scratched his chin and looked up at the clock above of his desk. 0845, his Padawan should be arriving now, and by now he meant fifteen minutes ago. He sighed and shook his head, teenagers, even the Jedi ones love sleep. Arty stood up and cracked his back, the blood leaving his head made his open would throb. Note to self, visit the infirmary after your briefing.
This of course annoyed him, he did not like going to the infirmary, this was the Jedi who as a Padawan, got most of his forearm chopped off, fell from a moving transport and upon landing on some poor saps office desk, managed to collect himself enough to attempt to get back in the fight while his friend continued on. He then of course passed out once he reached the roof of the building, but that's neither her nor there. Guardians are a tough breed, a bit thick in the head, but a tough breed nonetheless.
So going to the infirmary for a cut in his head was far from something he would normally do...
Just as the Knight was about to retrieve his commlink and page his young and very late apprentice, there was a knock at the door.
"It's unlocked, you know that."
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Jarik Taran
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Hoth is kriffing cold.
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Post by Jarik Taran on Nov 28, 2013 12:24:58 GMT -8
*Jarik swallowed as the door slid open, his dark brown hair was disheveled and his robes were somewhat wrinkled as if he had done nothing more than go to bed the previous night. His light Jedi robes hid several bruises to his abdomen and arms, but his blackened left eye was far from hidden.
He knew he was late, he hated disappointing his master, but he just could not wake up this morning, he was far too exhausted. What was worse was he had to appear in front of the council in this condition, he knew that would look good, especially since he'd had time to get ready if he just would have woken up on time.*
"Good morning Master, I'm sorry I just overslept, I have no excuse."
*The fifteen year old bowed and swallowed hard once again, he knew what this meant, incredibly hard physical training today despite the fact that neither of them really felt like it.*
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Post by Deleted on Nov 28, 2013 20:05:37 GMT -8
"I am ready for the trials," Sihnyad thought confidently to himself as he sat cross legged in his chambers.
The chambers weren't very large; really only being large enough for a wall locker, desk and bed with a little space for meditation. A small, blue holocron lay on the small desk, emitting a faint shimmer of soft, blue light. The bed was made squarely with a covers pulled all the way to the head board, a single pillow centered, and flushed with it. The wall locker was pushed against the wall just left of the center of the bed.
The young Jedi, mediated intently in the room. He was what appeared to be human or a very close sub-species of a stature of slightly more than six feet and just under 200 pounds. His was a dark, dark brown, almost black in color. And his complexion only carried a slight olive hue. His eyes opened momentarily, revealing cool, jade colored eyes then closed once more.
Sihnyad had born in the city of Edethor on the Core planet of Rendili. In his days as an infant, before he had reached an age for the Jedi Order to recognize him and thus, take him away for training in the ways of the Jedi, a fire brought about in an attack by the ruthless Yuzzan Vong, had caused the death his parents. Shortly after, however, the then Supreme Chancellor, Cam Onasi, had taken him into his own personal care, becoming the adopted father to the young boy which so much had been taken from and yet so much more he might never remember nor ever know. These memories, these one of his his parents prior to their demise never surface and hopefully they never would. He had no clue as to what might happen if such memories surfaced at any given point, but prayed for himself and what he stood for, that his years of training would take control and therefore not allow such memories to cause him pain or tempt him to darker paths and perversions of the force. Such ways about the force he hoped to never experience.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 29, 2013 12:45:54 GMT -8
Mike wasn't terribly surprised that no one had noticed him up to this point. It took a lot of concentration for him to stop blending in, and he was just too tired from the journey to pull it off. Maybe one of the masters could have noticed him in this state, but they were all in the Spire, and Mike had no desire to set foot anywhere close to there. His own temple's masters had treated him well, but they had been gentle, kindly beings who would only fight as a last resort. They had been careful to warn the relatively inexperienced Jedi that the other masters might not share their views. Judging by what Mike had been able to find in the records, his masters had been right. Some of these beings seemed to thrive on warfare and destruction.
Such mentalities had baffled Mike. How could these masters, supposed paragons of the Light Side, so casually ignore the sanctity of life, even if they did so for a "good cause?" He didn't doubt that anyone elevated to the rank of master would surely be much more wise than he, and that they had turned to warfare only as a last resort. There were bound to be factors not considered in the official reports, things you would have had to be there to have understood.
Mike was just a knight, and his elevation to that rank had been controversial at his temple. No one doubted his sincerity, and it was generally agreed that he had a good head on his shoulders, but his reluctance to use his lightsaber, coupled with the difficulty he had with most Force powers, had earned him a great many detractors. The masters had agreed to give him one final test to determine whether or not he was suited for the role. It had gone disastrously...for the opposition. The room had been half lit for the test, and while Mike was far from the best duelist in the temple, it was widely acknowledged that, given a half a shadow and a pebble to hide behind, even the masters would have been hard pressed to take him. The small, wiry human had used his skills to evade the three experienced knights for a full fifteen minutes, before taking them down one by one with his tranq sticks. The masters had considered it an unqualified success, but the knights had insisted that Mike had violated the spirit of the test by never drawing his saber.
If he, a weak duelist with one single natural advantage, could take on a superior force without bloodshed, surely these masters could have found a less bloody path. And if elevation to the rank of master meant being perfectly willing to sacrifice lives when there might have been another way, our idealistic Jedi never wanted to make it past knight.
Lost in his thoughts, Mike wandered along the corridors, looking for nothing in particular. He would need to get settled in eventually, but for now, he just wanted to- hang on, that sounded an awful lot like someone being taught to eat. He paused outside the door, counting on his abilities to keep him hidden. What in the devil was going on?
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Arty Orspach
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Post by Arty Orspach on Nov 29, 2013 17:59:32 GMT -8
The elder Jedi shook his head upon giving his apprentice the once over.
"Did you even shower Jarik? You plan to go before the Jedi Council, looking like you just rolled out of bed? Never forget that you are a represenitive of this order and while at times you are not always going to look your best, there will be battles and there will be times in which it is not important, but this time is not one of those times. The council is expecting us in about fifteen minutes, go wash your face at least and at least splash some water on your hair so you don't look that bad."
He clapped his apprentice on the back, despite the tardiness, Arty was proud of Jarik, just the day before he had held his own against a foe who did his best to drive a wedge between master and apprentice. The younger Jedi was still a bit hot headed, but that was to be expected among younger Guardians.
"On a positive note, you did well yesterday Jarik, when i was fifteen...well sixteen, I went up against a Sith and that's how I got this arm."
Arty raised his skeletal robotic arm and smiled.
"Just get ready, we don't haev a lot of time."
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Post by Deleted on Nov 29, 2013 19:50:22 GMT -8
Sihnyad had been seated in a cross-legged fashion for some time now . . . well, enough time that his knees had begun to stiffen from lack of movement for the extended period. However, when his flashed open, revealing those soft, jade eyes, he managed to gracefully raise himself to his feet. His tunic was dark brown, almost black, in color and hugged the stature of his body, falling loosely at the top of his feet. The large hilt of hisdouble-bladed lightsaber was tucked beneath a brown rough leather belt. The Masters that had trained him through the years, had taught him combat with a double-bladed lightsaber, yet him tended to focus more intently of mastery of the force than that of lightsaber combat.
Air swished through his nostrils as he inhaled deeply, only to flow slightly more rapidly over his tongue and around his teeth before leaving him in the following exhale
Having recomposed himself after meditating, the young Jedi stepped forward and out into the hall that adjoined his quarters. In the hall, Jedi, Masters, Knights and Padawan learners alike, dotted the marble covered floor. A small Togruta female stood off to his right, head bowed deep in thought as she studied the holorecording she had clutched in her hands. To his left, a Twi'lek male stood leisurely as they engaged an Iridonian Zabrak in conversation. Approaching him from the from was a human female, about five feet and four inches in height. She had a slender, yet athletic frame with long, satin blonde hair which was pulled up neatly into a french style braid. Her white-blue eyes flashed quickly at him and she gave off a warm smile. When she got to him, she wrapped her arms around him and embraced him in a hug. "I did it," she said excitedly, relinquishing her hold on him. "I did it, just as you said I would."
Sihnyad took a small step back still listening intently to Luici as she spoke. As she was proud of her own accomplishments, so was he. Luici had been from Rendili, just as he had been and being of roughly the same age, their relationship with one another had become one nearing the strength of kinship as each regarded the other as their sibling. "Congratulations," he finally brought himself to say. "I knew you had it in you." He paused for a moment as he drew himself back in thought then proceeded turn and motion her to talk with him as they walked.
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Jarik Taran
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Post by Jarik Taran on Dec 1, 2013 18:07:59 GMT -8
*Nodding his head Jarik headed into the refresher sighing audibly at the slight chastising. The Padawan slide his cloak off and let it fall to the floor as he stared himself in the mirror, kind of admiring the black eye that he had received. Typical Guardian, he was proud of his battle scars to a certain extent, but he wouldn't flaunt it because that was not the way of the Jedi.
The water was cool as he splashed it in his face, washing away the sleep and perhaps adding a bit of pep to his young face. Then of course was his hair, the Padawan braid was good but the rest of it was just not the way it should be and sticking up at all angles. Sometimes he wished he could just chop it all off, but that's not really what he wanted, he didn't figure that would go over well with some of the female Padawans that were about his age, not that he cared.
He splashed more water on his hair and tried to part it down a bit so it looked like it normally did, albeit a bit greasy. When he was satisfied, he picked up his cloak and threw it on over his shoulders, making sure it looked as close to perfect as possible.*
Jarik then stepped from the refresher to nod to his master.*
"Better?"
*The tone of his voice was that of a typical teen, laced with a trace amount of arrogance and sarcasm, but that was just how he was, he'd grow otu of it soon enough.*
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Kel'Al Raganella
The Jedi Order - Corellian Jedi Academy
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Post by Kel'Al Raganella on Dec 3, 2013 23:11:29 GMT -8
Devlin sits a moment in silence, contemplating the situation, before speaking."A dicey situation at best, Kel'Al. But, I believe you've acted with the best intentions. I trust your judgement on this matter."Devlin nods."I thank you for your report. I shall notify the Council and we shall inform you of our decision and the plan."He knew the situation needed a quick response; but disliked making decisions without input from the rest of the High Council. He liked making hasty decisions even less. He knew his fellow Councilors would have useful experience. In this situation, however, he felt it prudent to ask one more question of the man before him."You're the contact for this, Master Raganella. What advice or input do you have?"Devlin smiles."How would you handle Seleevan Khar?" "Well." He sighed. "I wish there were some conclusive answer, a definitive strike we could make or an ironclad strategy we could follow, but I don't see one. And so I would recommend patience, and vigilance. Khar is not as patient as we Jedi, and I believe the Force is nudging me to trust in that patience. Khar will grow impatient and make his intentions known sooner or later. But in the mean time, we must warn our fellow Jedi to keep careful watch, and be ready to respond if his next move is another attack." He lowered his voice, even though they were alone. "I will also see if I can get our civilian Corellian Intelligence service to keep an eye on Vortex for any military buildups that might signal an invasion fleet being prepared. I can't force them to help, but in a situation like this with a mutual interest, they are usually cooperative." |
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Devlin Dewe
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Post by Devlin Dewe on Dec 5, 2013 18:59:57 GMT -8
The Corellian looked thoughtful for a long moment -- longer than he typically paused before answering. Master Dewe has pushed beyond the questions which Kel'Al had firmly settled in his mind, into an area on which he was much less certain. One of the main reasons he was here was that he didn't know what exactly to do next, and here the questions had been turned back around But the same caution and suspicion that he had felt upon his return to Corellia was welling up in him once again. He had to trust what his instincts -- and the Force -- were telling him. And they were telling him to wait, as strange as that seemed."Well." He sighed. "I wish there were some conclusive answer, a definitive strike we could make or an ironclad strategy we could follow, but I don't see one. And so I would recommend patience, and vigilance. Khar is not as patient as we Jedi, and I believe the Force is nudging me to trust in that patience. Khar will grow impatient and make his intentions known sooner or later. But in the mean time, we must warn our fellow Jedi to keep careful watch, and be ready to respond if his next move is another attack." He lowered his voice, even though they were alone. "I will also see if I can get our civilian Corellian Intelligence service to keep an eye on Vortex for any military buildups that might signal an invasion fleet being prepared. I can't force them to help, but in a situation like this with a mutual interest, they are usually cooperative." |
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Syren
The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Syren on Dec 6, 2013 20:50:23 GMT -8
*Syren poked her head into the training room where several padawans sat before the feet of wizened and bent figure. The Rodian's green skin was faded with white scarred patches forming a checkerboard above her buggy left eye. Her voice was creaky when she spoke to her rapt students. Briefly, she looked up at Syren and beckoned with her hand, cramped into a claw with arthritis.
Syren's eyes went wide for a moment, surprised that the teacher noticed her. She cautiously stepped into the room, she did not want to disturb the younglings in their studies. Almost all of them turned towards her when she came into the room. She stopped, with at least a dozen pairs of eyes boring into her. She offered a faint smile before taking a seat in the back row.
She could not understand the Rodian since she was unaccustomed to Huttese. She tried to stretch out into her limited grasp of the Force to at least understand the intent of the lesson, but the woman was too alien. Syren looked to her left where a young Mon Calamari was eyeing her cautiously. Syren turned her head slightly so that the little boy's fish eyes could get a better view of her.
He seemed to size her up a moment before scooting farther away from her. Syren sighed gently, this was a normal response from his species. She felt a tug on her sleeve from the right. She turned from the Mon Calamari boy to see a chagrian grinning at her. The elderly Rodian gave a wave of her hand and began to pair the students together. Syren was assigned to work with the chagrian girl.*
"Hi," *Syren began.*
"You're new." *The little girl pointed out matter of factly.*
"Yes," *Syren answered.* "What are we supposed to be doing? I cannot understand our teacher."
*The chagrian's continued on her vein of to the point questions.* "You talk kinda funny."
*Syren nodded.* "I think you talk kinda funny, but we can still communicate, no?"
*The girl nodded, though she looked at Syren cautiously. Syren sighed slightly* "My name is Syren. What's yours?"
*Before the girl could answer, a whir of motors and servos announced that a droid had arrived at the door. Everyone looked up to see C4-G6 at the entrance way.*
::Oh Master Lewie! I'm so glad that you found her!:: *The droid approached Syren to offer her a hand.* ::Miss Syren, there is an individual at the front entrance who would like to see you. I have been searching everywhere for you since you were no longer in the council chamber.::
*Syren looked at the droid for a moment without seeing it. Someone at the entrance to the temple was asking for her by name? She thought this immediately strange and suspicious. At the same time, however, this could be an excellent opportunity to learn more about herself, despite the danger it could present. She wondered briefly why she went immediately to the negative and paranoid thoughts rather than to the beneficial ones. She really must have been a piece of work in the past.
She turned back to the little chagrian.* "I guess I will learn your name later, little one." *She offered another smile before flowing upward into a standing position so that she might follow the droid to the atrium of the Jedi Temple.*
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Syren
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Post by Syren on Dec 9, 2013 10:32:48 GMT -8
*Very few find the sensation of drowning comforting. But the ease and silence of those black depths helped to soothe away the intense burn that had engulfed her in consciousness. Subconscious pulled on her heavy limbs down, down, down into a seemingly endless pool, cool and far away from that perceived notion of pain. She did not want to move, lest she be thrown back into that. Somehow it felt better to remain here rather than face the surface, even if here was death. Darkness.*
~Welcome back.~ *Her own voice echoed around her in those depths, but very different. Confidence seemed to stretch from the void along with a great weariness.* ~Giving up is never as easy as it seems.~
*She turned in midst of her fall to see a shadowy and ragged image of herself, sitting in a lotus position within a fractured corner of the darkness. The world of Syren's mind had become a surreal lottery with the newest trauma. ~Are you the darkness inside of me?~
*The one sitting snorted a short laugh.* ~No. Merely a piece trying to find solace in nothing. The jaded, nihilist, shell of you. I am broken.~ *This one was bitter. The one hidden away, forgotten. Broken...
Syren cast her eyes about the darkness.* ~Are you afraid?~
*The Broken sat silent for a few minutes, almost long enough to make Syren think that she would not answer.* ~Of the dark? No. But of failure...~ *Words hung unsaid between them as they drifted.
After a time, Syren looked back to her broken part. She could not remember, but this one seemed so full to the brim.* ~Who did we fail?~
*Another bitter laugh came out and the ragged hood rolled back as she lifted her head. The face was the same, but the eyes were almost fractured like...
Syren vaguely recalled catching a glimpse of the eyes shaded beneath the hood of the woman who had given her the lightsaber. They were fractured in the same way. An indication of madness. An exile. She gasped sharply.~No! No! We lost our people?~
*The broken one made a soothing sound, trying to calm Syren.* ~Our people were lost, but contrary to your belief, it was not our fault.~*She paused waiting a moment for Syren to calm again.* ~But there were so many others...~ *She rattled the planets off, the ones that immediately came to mind. Carida, Bastion, Anobis, Corellia, Coruscant, Tatooine... how many others were there? She had tried to staunch destruction in all of these places only to have her efforts be meaningless. Failure.
The heat behind the fractured irises seemed to fade so that the face seemed to take on something more sane. She gave a faint smile with a hoarse chuckle.* ~But rise, and rise again until every piece of me lay battered and broken unable to assemble again. For there is no shame in the fall so long as you stand to rise again.~ *It seemed like a tired phrase, but the Broken One looked like she had some hope renewed from saying it.
Syren felt herself drifting further down and away from this incarnation of herself. The part that had been hidden away for some reason that she could not quite recall.* ~Where are you going?~ *Syren called out to the Broken, but the image held out her hand to the falling Syren. Tentatively, Syren reached back for the memories, painful as they might be, and was pushed back into the waking world.
Oh thank the maker! *C4-G6 shouted as Syren came up spluttering from the tank. The EM-D80 medical droid took a step back from his patient so that his delicate circuits would not be caught in the deluge.
Syren's green hair was plastered to her face and back, gills flapping wildly along the sides of her neck as she tried to assess if she were back in reality and no longer drowning within the confines of her subconscious.
She fixed her gaze upon the droids. She croaked at them both, "Where am I?" *Her accent seemed to have disappeared, now affected as something between Corellian lower class and Coruscanti underbelly. The protocol droid did its best to look startled, while the medical droid went about its business of extracting the patient from the tube and making new medical assessments.
Syren was not getting answers fast enough from the automatons so she forced the hair out of her eyes and whipped her head around the room. It was a medical facility, but it was impossible to tell which planet she was on from the surroundings. She focused on the protocol droid since the medical droid was still trying to diagnose her.* "Are we on a planet controlled by the Republic?" *Syren tried to speak slowly and clearly in case the droid only looked like it was programmed for protocol.*
Oh my yes! But Ms. Syren, how do you not remember that you were on Coruscant, in the Jedi Temple? *Syren noticed that the droid was trying to mimic concern while she processed the location in terms of her memories. There was nothing really that seemed to relate her battle with Aydyn on Tatooine to being here on Coruscant. She cast her eyes about the room again and they landed on the black cylinder of her lightsaber.
Syren vaulted out of the tub of water for the weapon. Once in her hand, it felt warm and hummed softly. She held it up to eye level to find a tiny data card hidden just beneath the ignition switch. Her head snapped back up towards the protocol droid.* "Cee... whatever your serial code is, can you get me a data pad that will read a 2x2 mil disk or point me in the direction this newest iteration of the Jedi Temple has for an archive?"
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Syren
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Post by Syren on Dec 11, 2013 6:55:52 GMT -8
*The training room was empty as she peeked her head around the corner. The droids had parted ways from her to go about regular duties, and now Syren was completely alone, unless there were others about who were interested in her presence. The temple seemed conspicuously devoid of Jedi. Perhaps the Jedi were finally taking the Madalorians as a serious threat and thought it best to meet them in battle rather than waiting for them to show up an destroy their planet.
Syren frowned at this thought. There was a school of thought among majority of the Jedi that she knew were opposed to this strategy. Fighting was seen as a last resort and looking for trouble was reckless. Syren felt that they were right, in a sense, but where her thoughts diverged was a when it became too dangerous for others.
While Syren may not when a Jedi of the year award, she held onto the concept that she was a servant of the Force. This translated to her that she was supposed to be a protector or caretaker of all life in the universe. If there was a threat to life, her mission was to dispose of the threat. Or that is what she told herself. Often her frustration with the Jedi Order came as a result of these differing opinions.
It was true that the Jedi had always tried to remain apart from life in the galaxy, but some struggle always pulled them back into the thick of things. Ideally, Syren thought of the Jedi as peace loving monks searching for enlightenment and trying to understand why life was equal to suffering.
While she ruminated on philosophy, she picked up a training remote and set it for an easy, but gradual increasing difficulty setting. It hovered and buzzed in the air for a moment, rotating around an axis that seemed scan her body looking for weaknesses. It did not fire until she ignited her saberstaff.
The weapon hummed throatily when the azure blades were activated. The sound brought a smile to her face, she could not supress that thrill that battle could invoke. The remote spun and aimed a ray of pain towards Syren's chest. She reflected the bolt easily enough and the remote stepped up its pace. Soon enough, Syren was bent less on philosophy and more on defending herself from the pinpricks of light lancing out of the toy. It did not shut itself off until she missed a particularly well aimed lancet to her backside on level seven.
Syren rubbed the spot, trying to massage some feeling back into it as she turned the remote off. Her breathing was not ragged, but it was coming hard and the occasional gasp was interspersed and a sheen of sweat lacquered her skin.* "The mind is willing, but the body is weak." *She mused to herself as she went about stretching and moving through a few series of strength training exercises.
Three years of doing who knows what had left her a little saggy and not nearly as flexible as she tried to maintain. Everything was a little too loose or thin as she checked herself over.* "What have I been doing?" *She caught a look at herself in a reflective surface. Her face looked thin and hollow, as if she were in need of sleep and a good meal. She frowned as she patted her stomach. That also sounded hollow as if she needed a good meal. She sighed when she finally heard it rumble in protest of this fast and she resigned herself to moving in the direction of the mess hall where she might feed and ruminate further upon Jedi philosophy and what she exactly she should do in this place.*
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syla
Member
Posts: 44
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Post by syla on Dec 11, 2013 10:09:10 GMT -8
In one of the corridors of the residential area, one of the computer terminals was being... scandalised. A woman with spikes out of her head, wearing an "Ungreatefull Dead Rising Blob" band shirt (Black, with tons of sculls) and a ripped, tattered jeans ending in military boots was kicking and yanking at the terminal at the end of the hall. As she was crouching beside the computer, half her ass hung out of the tool belt her oversized pants were hanging from, littered with tools and, if you happened to be force sensitive, you could feel the faint humm of a lightsaber crystal amongst those. She had a cigarette leaning out from her mouth, and recent battle scars in her face and over her arms where shrapnel had cut its way through her skin just a day or so before. A skin, I might add, that looked like it never saw sun. Especially since she was bald except that one lonely padawans braid.
"Come on you piece of shit, let go... mommy wants to see whats inside..."
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Dr. Levi Rose
Member
Posts: 48
Affiliation: Galactic Republic
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Dr. Levi Rose on Dec 27, 2013 18:59:51 GMT -8
It was around 2 A.M local time when it started up in the lower levels of the Residential Area. A horrid, off-key singing that drifted closer and closer to the dorm rooms accompanied by the occasional splash of liquid on pristine tile. "Oooooooooh! He must have been an admiral a sultan or a king! And to his praises we shall always sing! Look what he's done for us, he's filled us up with cheer! Force bless Charlie Mops the man who invented beer beer beer, tiddly, beer beer beer!"
Levi Rose slid casually along the wall as he tried to remember which way was to his room, going this way and that as this Jedi temple blended with the Temple on Yavin from which he'd recently fled. The fact that one hand clutched a whiskey bottle while the other had a pint of frothing (and in his mind pitifully weak) white wine indicated he wasn't suffering from any sort of dementia that wouldn't fade by morning. Still, it was no doubt annoying to anyone trying to sleep through the racket.
"Here's to Valo Fo! Best damned gunner on the whole planet," he yelled to the assembled pillars lining the hallway. "Mandos took both his arms with hand knives- sawed em off like twigs they did, made him scream so loud half the temple guard peed themselves from the sound- and bastard still took a good hour to bleed to death. Here's to you, Valo!" Levi tipped the whiskey bottle back, sipping some of the sweet amber liquid before turning around- staring intently at a statue.
"Oh, yeah- Geor! Couldn'a forgot about him. Both his knees shot out carrying Velum back to the temple. Blew 'em clean off- POW-POW! Beautiful shots! Didn't even whine when the bacta tank rejected 'em. Wasted the whole fething tank on him- half the supply. Here's to Geor!" Back went the wine cup. Another swallow.
"Oh. Oh oh oh! We can't forget the lovely, lovely little Nnunba. Best Sullustan sniper in the whole sector too. Not one Mandalorian. No. Killed a whole fething platoon of them. While all the other troopers were crying for mama and the Jedi were shitting their robes, she was popping them off like clockwork. Killed by a falling starfighter- fuselage plate right through the cerebral cortex! One Mando." Whiskey. "Two Mandos." Wine. "Three Mandos." Whiskey. "Four!" Whiskey and wine.
"That is enough." No accusation in that voice. No blame or anger. Just a calm, cool statement of fact. Levi had had enough and it was time to stop.
Unfortunately, even completely Sith-faced and beside himself in joy, grief, shellshock and love of drink, Levi was perfectly capable of remembering that voice. He dropped the goblet of wine, spinning in place to see a blur of green which refused to focus at the end of the hall. Damn hallway just wouldn't stop spinning even when he stopped.
"You!"
The green blob shifted, hints of a brown robe becoming visible before the skin tone became formless at the end of the long hallway.
"This is a place of learning, Mister Rose. Many students are trying to sleep."
"Don't talk to me like you ruined my life!" Wait, that came out wrong...
"I did no such thing, Mister Rose. Now, good night." The green blob shifted, turning into the shadows at the end of the hallway.
"Don't you run, Thax. Come back here. Come back here! You killed him and called it justice! I'll fight you now- I'll fething kill you right here! Right here!" The whiskey bottle found its way to the wall, smashing into a thousand brown shards, clipping Levi's wrist while leaving him with the neck of the bottle. "Where you going Thax? Where you hiding? I'll find you! I'll fething find you you little squid-skulled monster! Send you right up there with all the rest from Yavin. I want my duel! I'll have it too! Hit me! Fight me! Give me a hug!"
"Maybe I would indulge you, were I here."
Levi paused. Scratched his cheek with his free hand. " 'sat supposed to mean?"
"It means you're drunk and imagining me, Levi. Or maybe you're not and I'm a Force projection. Or maybe I'm actually in this temple, standing around the corner thirty-seven feet from you."
Thax kept talking but Levi didn't bother listening to it. Instead, the human/Zeltron doctor sprinted as fast as his inebriated legs would allow, mustering all his sober brain cells to count up from one to thirty-seven with every step forward he took. With the last ten steps, Levi threw everything he had into his charge, shouting a battle cry that sounded more like the call of a dying tauntaun, rounding the corner-
-Smashing face-first into a solid marble wall. His nose cracked along with the glass bottle in his hand, sending delayed pain signals up to his skull.
"Owwieeeeeeee..."
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