Naboo's Open Terrain

it was a beautiful portrait of an evening as I stood on the terrace overlooking the Massive maze. every moment or so my eyes would slip from visible light to seeing its the force as Puck entertained himself chasing fireflies and butterflies alike.

This was the what… tenth day? and already I felt like I was going to collapse more than any of the days that I spent in the cloning facilities where I either was doing some hazy combat training or I was stationed infront of a monitor and information was force fed hour after hour.

Each day I seemingly had to wake up before dawn if I had any hope of getting any sustenance before the heat of the day… a Hound’s horn would be sounded at the rising of the sun and my lesson in the force would begin… I had to evade them for as long as possible until I could gather my wit and a practice sabre, at which point ready or not the day went into swords man training. I got a treat if I could force my teacher to yield, but every time I was forced to, Lord Avery would cast a spell relocating me somewhere else and the exercise started anew. Once the Steward signaled the high heat of the day was upon us, lessons inside were more contained, Healing, history, craftsmen projects,… at night dinner would be called once the sun had set, and then there were fireworks… but after the first day, I headed to bed early so I could begin fresh the next day.

remembering that I had not yet journaled my thorns and roses for the day like JM had taught me to, I pulled out my journal intending o write, but a rouge gust of wind caught the book and opened it to recollections of the first day… taking a brief moment to scour the notes I remembered the first dinner in the estate where the question of “Who I am” was finally answered.



as I smiled I cast my mind once more towards the tiger doll that had taken a liking to its new body. pulling the book up and turning it to a more appropriate page, I wrote down the events of the day with such fervor and lack of awareness for the world around me that I did not notice the High lord approach me… alone.

“young Tulute, I have a bone to pick with you.”

Hearing the slightest anger in my host’s voice got me to stand at attention.

“This entire time when I or JM-528 are around your are silent when you are not addressed… and yet you outrank me as a prince in comparison to my Lordship… so I must ask, have I offended you?”

I was caught more off guard by his sudden change in tone….

“uh… no, you haven’t offended me… it is just… I don’t…” I looked as if the weight of the galaxy rested on my shoulders and the wrong answer would crush me beneath it. “… I have studied His… my former history… and I am not the Monte character that everyone expects me to be… I am glad puck is such a young spirit. if he expected me to be as quick witted as he was…i don’t think I would have anyone to rely upon… I may be Monte, but unless I have earned them in my own rite… then honoring me with titles he earned is a waste of honor.”

“well spoken young prince” a smirk behind his voice told me that he accepted my answer. “Would you show me how much you have progressed with your sorcery and wordsmithing? I have something to show the two of you, please have your friend return to us… body and soul”

I considered my options to get puck to return… Samuel wanted me to show him a particular skill, my wit, my knowledge, and my intuition… I had to form the spell that would bring puck back to m without leaving the toy on the lawn. when I thought I had the words, I closed my eyes and wove my spell

Gnuoy Kcup, esaelp ecar kcab ot em...

As the wind carried my command to the young sentience, the doll peaked it head up above the bush it was hiding in before racing through the yard and up the stone staircase and, once I was in sight… attempting a flying tackle. By the smirk on his face I took it that I impressed Samuel.

“Very well come along… I have something deep in the mansion to show you.”

I held out my hand for the doll to race up my arm and settle on my shoulder deciding whether to fight his hat, or use it to hide his exhaustion from the free period. as we passed the library towards the “Dungeons” that I was warned about… a thought occurred to me

“Where is Commander Jim?”

“He is taking a couple cases back to the shuttle… you two will be leaving tomorrow”

“Tomorrow? where would you have us go?”

“I have no oath of fealty from either of you, I have no authority to order you anywhere… but I can only teach you so much… even of the lost art of Ashla’s sorcery… you must Decide your path and seek out instruction. There is a Master on yavin named Man’sell if you wish to train as a pilot… A technician on Corellia named Frantz if you seek to become a tinkerer… or if you wish to become a fighter there is a Prince on Honoghr named Matango… but …”

<<’uncle Adi?!>>

There was a chuckle as Puck’s recognition surprised samuel

“It seems puck has met Matango before… I would caution you though. I have traveled all across that central finite curve, and nearly everytime I crossed paths with Matango, he was either a darksider… or potentially one step away and mentally disposed to fall away from the light.”

As we reached the room we were intended to be in, Samuel began to rummage around the piles of things intent on finding items. every now and again he would fling a found item over his shoulder square at my forehead. a reflex test in which I would have to telekinetically catch the item and land it on the table. I do not recount how long he kept this up, but eventually he summoned me to the table to explain what he would be giving me.

Judging by appearance I was getting a Datacron, a pen, a multitool, and some sort of foldable Personal terminal.

“Start off simple” Samuel said, picking up the Multitool. “This is a Sonic Multitool, based off of the design of the latest generation. if you tinker, you will need some of the best tools at your disposal. this gives you access to a kit unparalleled by even richest factions.” he placed the item down and picked up the terminal “and indeed what is a student without a place to keep notes. the database is linked to into a subwave network more advanced than 17 of the Jedi Holonets that I have observed.” he handed me the device as he picked up pen and datacron. “Unassuming Datacron, unassuming pen, but slide the pen through the holocron…” he slid the pen in until a click was heard and the cube popped open to take the form of an indigo Condor. “… and you get a drone that you can either Control via Terminal command ZC-0, or … by inserting the Mimikkyu’s crystal into the pen’s shaft.”

“you mentioned in lessons that when puck matures he can make weapon constructs or possess weapons I use… will this…?”

“No, since puck will not be possessing this form but will be manipulating it from the comfort of his Crystal… he will not age anytime he uses the crystal… in addition to these gifts I have sent James back to the ship with some supplies and a lightsabre with a Basket guard for you to train with both as a weapon and as a gadget to tinker with… if you so choose”

“Thank you for your honor Lord Avery… I am forever indebted to you…”

Samuel placed a finger to his lips to silence me as a howl came from the bowels of the earth deeper than what the Dragon spirit could produce.

“The engine has started up already?”

With a bit of urgency Sam pulled a chain on the wall that would trigger an alarm designed for this occasion. the sound of a bellow rang from above as a passage opened. I gathered all of my “gifts” to me before following

“Ok so quick explanation. after the second time I Traveled along the Central Finite curve to save my Cheating Ex-wife and the Entire jedi order from a doomsday bringing Meteor, I learned how to build a machine called a world engine, a machine that not only allows me to not be affected by a temporal shift, but to move along the CFC, I have been jumping realities Trying to reunite with my truth… with my Ileniya… when I resigned my fate and settled here I attempted to deactivate it, but Instramtan tech, it has a consciousness of its own and I am needed in another reality… by the sounds i’d say we have 30 mins to get you into the air before the manor is gone… we will have to use the Sabre…”

We rushed to a cavern where a sheet was draped over starfighter for a “big reveal”

“My last gift to you… my Sabre… or it was. after I started Jumping some of the systems started to malfunction, so I attempted to rebuild it… and I got a fusion of the Delta 7 and Eta 2…”

“But I was never taught…”

“…how to fly… of course not. fortunately that Datacron is resource on two very important things, Ashla sorcery, and the collected knowledge of every Diamonte Tuhlute that exists on the central finite curve. there is also an AI onboard that should be of help as well.. now hurry, you should be out of the range of the pulse shield. GO! NOW!!!”

I hopped into the cockpit and strapped in as Samuel bade his last farewell and retreated back toward the manor. finding the slot shaped for the Datacron, I found myself linking with multiple other minds as I slotted the device into the square hole. pressing the throttle forward to max the Sabre screamed to life as the Cobwebs burned away and the engines pushed her through the tunnel and out of the waterfall as a clear violet bubble came down around the property before disappearing in a blinding light. I found myself committing to a jackknife somersault so that cockpit faced the property to find that the aftermath of the situation left… not a crater, but a field that gave no trace of the manor had ever occupied the space. as I righted myself, I found that the weight on my shoulder grow warm as Puck attempted to cheer me up.

<<Wee will se L’rd Avwy ‘gain sum day>>

I chuckled and reached a hand to scratch the Plush’s Ears when com call came in

::Delicia to Sabre, come in sabre::

::Sabre here.  I made it safely out::

:: glad to know you are safe kid. sending coordinates to rendezvous… then where do you want to go?::

::Monte… the real one must have trusted Prince Matango if Puck named him as an uncle… we should try to start our search on Honoghr::

::Fair enough, see you onboard. Delicia out::

I flew aimlessly toward the setting sun for a while, letting puck tell stories from the Adi that it knew. when the last rays of pink dyed into the darkness of the night’s sky I pitched up toward the Rendezvous point and Puck attempted to let off a Mighty roar… that was more of a “Meow” but still echoed ‘cross the galaxy to Adi

<<Uncle Adi!!! We Coming!!!!>>

Great Grass Plains of the North

Dikeledi frowns as she watches the last of the Crusaders fall, tracking the woman's movements with her scope to try and confirm that the head wound is fatal. Fortune favors the Crusader, her prone position one from which Dikeledi is unable to visualize her entire head due to a convenient, or inconvenient depending on one's perspective, rise in the terrain that conceals the fact that the wispy tendrils of smoke snaking upwards from the Crusader's head are not from a smoking crater. Sweeping her E-11's scope to confirm the other Crusaders are just as dead as she believes Vartouhi to be, Dikeledi stands from cover once she is satisfied the short, one-sided battle is over, and uses her comlink to contact Fumnanya, captain of the smuggling crew she serves with. "Gonna wanna get gone PDQ, Captain, Dikeledi opines as she watches the assorted survivors of the gang that has hired the Geheim Masjien's crew to transport their mined spice off of Naboo tend to their dead and wounded, waving when one motions for her to join them as they get ready to set out for the mine they operate out of. Figure the Crusaders aren't gonna be too happy about the three we just killed, and we might not wanna be around when they come looking for 'em when they don't report in."


Fumnanya, nodding even though his co-pilot and first mate cannot see him, sighs heavily and says, "Understood. We'll get everything loaded as quick as we can, he assures the Shownarri, and then asks in a concerned tone, Are you alright?"

Laughing, Dikeledi scoffs, "Like, am I traumatized by the fight, or do you mean not wounded? No to the first, yes to the second. We're moving out now, see you when we get there." Not waiting for a reply, Dikeledi shakes her head as, beginning to jog towards where the others are gathering before setting out, she reminds herself that Fumnanya, while appreciative of the credits the crew brings in, has never seemed particularly comfortable with the violence their line of work can occasionally require.

Trisada pauses as she pulls the Royal Crusader's comlink from its pouch, unaware she holds her breath while, her eyes scanning the humanoid woman's still form for any signs that life has not yet left her entirely. A moment later, Trisada releases the breath when she sees, or thinks she sees, the faint rise and fall of the Crusader's chest. Panic or apprehension or some complicated combination of emotion fills her as Trisada reaches out to place her fingertips on the side of the Crusader's neck to feel for a pulse.

The tangle of emotion intensifies when Trisada feels a faint, thready pulse beneath her fingertips, and she tries to summon all of the knowledge she possesses about triage while, the comlink suddenly forgotten, she looks for all the injuries she can find after confirming the Crusader's airway is in no immediate danger. Using what scant medical supplies she finds in the Crusader's small medkit, Trisada dresses the more grievous looking wounds she can find and, knowing that the woman will need more care than she can provide here, whistles to summon her Kaadu mount, Piknab.

Lifting the Crusader as gently as possible onto Piknab's back, Trisada begins leading her mount towards where the Crusader's own mount had been tethered. Later, Trisada will not remember what led her to look over her shoulder when they were a few yards from cover, only the panic she felt when she saw the pair of figures just cresting a small rise, their gazes, fortunately, on another area than where she is headed. Quickening her pace, Trisada gets her mount and herself behind cover, her fingers tightening on her cesta as she cautiously peers from cover to see what she can of the figures she had seen.

Fortunately for Trisada and the lone surviving Crusader, the scanner they are blissfully unaware is currently being consulted will more likely than not reveal that the plains are occupied by a multitude of lifeforms that will make picking a particular one among them out all but impossible. The scanner's results notwithstanding, Trisada knows that she and her unconscious and wounded charge are in dire need of relocating before the two schutta hunting for, she presumes, the Crusader she has found herself trying to rescue from certain doom start narrowing down the possible places to search. Glancing towards a Guarlara that must have belonged to one of the female Crusader's fallen comrades, Trisada frowns as she considers using the poor beast to improve her chances of getting away from the immediate vicinity, and then, after deciding that the Crusader's life merits putting the beast's life in danger, picks up a small rock and tosses it at the flank of the Guarlara nibbling at the grass nearby.

As Trisada had hoped, the impact of the rock startles the Guarlara, the majestic beast rearing up on its hind legs with a loud neighing before galloping away. Moving quickly, Trisada removes the Crusader's armored vest and gloves, both thoroughly bloodied, and then uses the knife sheathed at her side to cut some blood stained fabric from the woman's sleeve, intentionally making the cut sloppy. Scattering the armor and cloth around to suggest a predator had taken advantage of the presence of the free meal a corpse would present, Trisada gauges that enough time has passed that those hunting them will still be occupied by the Guarlara, and then, keeping low and to the opposite side of the Guarlara she took as the last surviving Crusader's to that facing the hill she had seen the Gungan and Weequay on, begins leading the mounts quickly away from the site of the battle, hoping to put some distance between her and those hunting for the Crusader.

Great Grass Plains of the North

Vartouhi dips in and out of varying degrees of consciousness as events unfold around her, her vision obscured those times she is able to briefly summon the energy to open her eyes by the tacky, blood soaked strands of her hair that hang over her left eye and have dried to her face. The swaying of the Kaadu she has been placed onto jostles her wounds enough that she cannot sink entirely into unconsciousness for any more than a few moments, and yet Vartouhi cannot find the strength to lift her head or reposition herself to see what is occurring or seek a more comfortable position.

When, upon scanning to one side with her right eye, she sees that Hravard is walking beside her, Vartouhi is able to relax somewhat despite the fact that she has, through the fog of pain and fatigue, been able to reconstruct the majority of what happened to bring her to her current state. If Hravard is with her, Vartouhi reasons murkily and slowly, things cannot be as dire as she recalls they had been before she was wounded. Surrendering to a wave of blackness that swirls up to claim her, Vartouhi is finally able to permit unconsciousness to claim her.

Her head is throbbing dully, and Vartouhi can feel the wounds to her chest and side just as clearly. Looking up at the ceiling of the hut she has awoken in, Vartouhi collects herself before trying to move, trying to distract herself from the pain by piecing together her memories of the battle and endeavoring to make sense of where she has awoken. The hut looks relatively primitive, and the amount of pain she is in suggests that she has not been given anything for it. When she feels ready to move, Vartouhi first pulls herself into a sitting position, resting with her back against the wall and breathing heavily once she has. After looking over her dressed and cleaned wounds, Vartouhi searches her surroundings for any sign of who has treated her wounds, gathering from the fact that she is not fettered in any way that she is not a captive.

Spotting the female Gungan laying on a mat, Vartouhi considers whether or not to wake her for a moment before, deciding to let her rest, pulling herself to her feet and, after resting once she has gotten to her feet, looking around for any water, her throat feeling uncomfortably dry. Moving slowly and in fits and starts, Vartouhi makes her way towards a set of shelves that looks promising for a spot the Gungan might keep her water and food, and then, her hand shaking as she reaches to search the shelves, knocks one to the floor where it shatters at her feet and in all likelihood wakes her rescuer . . .

Lowering her head, dark hair falling to conceal her face as she accepts the news that she alone survived the ambush, Vartouhi only half attends to what the Gungan says afterwards. The grief Vartouhi feels, and the guilt accompanying it for surviving when her fellow Royal Crusaders did not, is an immense weight that she can feel trying to drag her down and down into the unfathomable depths she can sense opening up to claim her. It is, in the end, the cold fury she feels that keeps Vartouhi from surrendering to weight, for she tightens her grip on that anger and thirst for revenge, pulls it close and lets it buoy her above the depths yawning within.

"No, Vartouhi whispers quietly after Trisada says the can contact other Royal Crusaders to come for her and risk their lives to bring the scum that killed her comrades to justice. Maybe, Vartouhi thinks, she was spared so that she could avenge her fellow Crusaders. No, she repeats more firmly, the idea of becoming an avenging force taking root in her. Let them think I died beside the others, Vartouhi says as she rests her hands on either side of her head, smiling beneath the curtain of her hair as it occurs to her that the smugglers and Royal Crusader alike will believe she died if she does not report in. Let everyone think it." In a way, Vartouhi thinks, it is true; it feels as though a part of her died in the grass along with her comrades, and if she does not stay dead she would almost surely not be permitted to go the lengths she is prepared to go to hunt down each and every last scum responsible for the deaths of her fellow Crusaders.